Marlowe and the Spacewoman
Page 34
“You are right. It does end with me. But not here, and not now.”
And with that, Lafayette hurled himself out the still open window. Marlowe fired after him, but his hands shook so much he kept missing. He could here Lafayette’s maniacal laughter as he fluttered away, not as injured as he looked. “I won’t forget this, Marlowe. You may get a medal for what you stopped today, but you haven’t heard the last of Lafayette! Remember that!”
Marlowe slumped against the wall, the gun slipping from his clammy, limp hand.
Nina stepped forward and patted him on the shoulder. “You want to tell me who Lafayette is, and why he has you so spooked?”
“Who’s Lafayette? He’s the leader of the GMPs. His evil and cunning are without precedence or equal. Oh sure, the City propaganda videos lay it on a bit thick, but I’ve seen what they can do. I always thought Lafayette was a legend, a creature you told kids about to scare them into behaving. But he’s real, and he’s out to get me now.”
Nina started to laugh, but the look on Marlowe’s face stopped her cold. “You’re really worried about this, aren’t you? Well, don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”
Marlowe started laughing. He laughed for about two minutes straight. “Thanks, I needed that.” He stared at the access panels visible in the closet. They were wide open, tiny parrot-sized tools scattered on the floor in front of them. “I wonder what they did to House. Couldn’t have gotten very far.”
“Nobody move!” Jebediah burst into the bedroom, Marlowe’s ion piston in hand. Marlowe nearly leapt out of his skin from fright. Nina jumped too, but by the time her feet were back on the ground, Jebediah was in a headlock and the ion pistol on the floor.
“Sorry, thought you might need help,” squeaked Marlowe’s father. “Did I miss anything?”
Nina released Jebediah, who tried to recapture some of his dignity by standing up straight and smoothing the wrinkles out of his shirt. “How’s House? Did they damage him too much?”
Marlowe had just about gotten his heart rate and respiration back to normal levels when he realized he’d done this without his PDI. While impressed by his ability to do this, he still fired up his PDI. “House, are you all right?”
No answer.
Marlowe let out a sigh. “Come on, lets find out what they’ve done and how hard it will be to get House back up. Father, you were the one who brought him online. Think you can help?”
“Oh, so now maybe I’m useful to have around? You didn’t seem so sure when your brother ordered me to live with you.”
Marlowe clenched his jaw, suppressing a snappy and cutting response. “If you can help me get House back up, then I will freely admit I was wrong earlier.”
Jebediah went into the closet and began examining House’s guts. “Hmm, interesting. Yes, very interesting indeed.”
Nina looked up at the ceiling as she called out to House. “Are you there, House? Can you hear me?”
Again, there was no response.
Jebediah tut tutted. “Oh dear, this could take some time to sort out. Quite a long time.”
Marlowe leaned over his father’s shoulder, examining the parrots’ handiwork. “Can you tell what they did?”
“Guys?” asked Nina. “Just a quick question. Is House even turned on?”
“What?” sputtered Jebediah. “Is he turned on? Turned on!?” He bent down and stared at a circuit board with wires and veins running across its surface. “Hmm. Well I’ll be a son of a parrot.” He reached in and toggled a large silver switch, which clicked loudly. The whirring sound of several small fans started up from inside the closet.
“House?” asked Marlowe.
A bewildered voice answered him. “Goodness me, what’s happened?”
Nina smiled smugly. “Lucky for you guys, I’m pretty good with computers.”
“I beg your pardon?” asked House. “I’m sorry, I’m a little disoriented. I should be able to think more clearly when my processors have gotten back up to temperature.”
“Not to worry, House, I can explain everything.”
“I look forward to the explanation,” said House. “It’s all very confusing, you know. You going for a walk to think, very out of character. And then muting your audio feed. Obviously a desire to communicate privately with Nina and Jebediah. I was about to ask what it was all about when the garbage truck attacked. Seemed a bad time to pose awkward questions about trust, so I decided to wait until things settled down. And then, within seconds of your PDIs going offline, all my systems shut down. Most distressing.”
“Sorry, House,” said Marlowe, “but I suddenly figured it all out. I knew that Gomer had-”
“Lafayette,” corrected Nina.
“Sorry, Lafayette. I knew Lafayette was probably monitoring our-”
“Did I hear you correctly?” asked House. “Are you saying Gomer is actually Lafayette? The Lafayette?”
“Yes,” said Marlowe waving his hand dismissively. “But that’s not important right now. As I was saying, I suspected he was-”
“Not important?” asked House incredulously. “The bird you’ve been housing for the last eleven months and six days turns out to be the most wanted criminal mastermind in the City, and you say it’s not important?”
“Well, yes,” admitted Marlowe, “it is important, but not to the immediate narrative at hand. I was trying to explain why I muted my audio. It wasn’t that I doubted your loyalty or friendship-”
“It’s just you thought Lafayette was listening in and needed to have privacy so you could warn the others and formulate a plan. I figured that out the first time you mentioned Gomer’s real name. Actually, after you uttered the second syllable of his name.”
Marlowe titled his head and squinted at Jebediah. “Well, I know we haven’t run any diagnostics yet, but House certainly sounds like his old, normal self.”
“Yes,” said Jebediah somewhat disconsolately. “He does, doesn’t he?”
Marlowe turned to Nina and grinned. “Say, are you hungry? Because I am starved.” Then he turned Nina around, put his arm on her shoulder, and guided her out towards the kitchen. “You have to admit, though, we worked together pretty well these last couple of days.”
“Yes,” said Nina, nodding in agreement. “And just imagine how much smoother things will go once I get the hang of this place.”
“Careful, son,” emailed Jebediah. “If you’re not careful, she’ll be running the show once she’s got her sea legs.”
Marlowe ignored his father’s text message. “Yes, just imagine.” He let out a wistful sigh. “If you ask me, kiddo, this looks like the start of a beautiful friendship.”
Nina socked Marlowe playfully on the shoulder. “Kiddo? I’ll have you know I’m a hundred years older than you!”
Marlowe just smiled, thankful the nano probes had managed to block most of the pain from the blow. Yes, he could hardly wait to see what tomorrow would bring.
When a dangerous cult of Beethoven fanatics possessing a state of the art cloning facility and a diabolical plan to take over the world cross paths with Marlowe and Nina, it can mean only one thing…
Music!
Lost Martians!
Illegal detention!
Balloons of the Apocalypse!
(OK, four things, but mostly that last one)
Be sure to check your local bookstore (or mental facility gift shops) for Balloons of the Apocalypse, the thrilling new installment in the Marlowe and the Spacewoman adventures.
About the Author
Ian M. Dudley was born in California in 19--, in what will undoubtedly go down in the history books as a dark year indeed for literature. At age 18, he ran away to New York City to find fame and glamor in the New York literary world. He didn’t.
In 1993, Ian was forcibly committed to the New York Municipal Hospital for the Criminally Insane. It was there that he created the Marlowe and the Spacewoman series, of which Marlowe and the Spacewoman is the first. He has always claimed these mad ravings are no
n-fiction, dictated to him by a fellow patient claiming to be the protagonist Marlowe, thrown back in time as the result of a diabolical plot. Hospital orderlies regularly tried to disabuse Ian of this notion, but the beatings were either too infrequent, or not severe enough.
Ian has written numerous unpublished works of fiction and non-fiction, the titles of which are too terrible to duplicate here, except for The Killer Party: How to Host A Murder Mystery. The promotional activities for that book are what led to his incarceration.
In 1996, Ian escaped from the New York Municipal Hospital for the Criminally Insane. He is believed to have migrated to the West Coast, where the extradition laws are more lenient. His exact location is unknown, and no current photos of him are available. The above photo was taking while posing with a fellow patient at the hospital.
Ian has never won, and never will win, any literary awards for his efforts, but he is believed to be responsible for the theft of five Hugos, three Nebulas, and the 1998 Nobel Prize for Literature (José is still pissed about it). He is considered armed and extremely dangerous. If you see Ian, do not approach him, but contact local law enforcement.
His blog, ianmdudley.com, is shockingly nondescript given the deviant nature of his abnormal brain.