“Not at all, Sir Giles.” Smythe pulled out a fifty power loupe from his pocket and handed it to Sir Giles. Nanette lifted her hand so her grandfather could inspect the bug under magnification. There Sir Giles saw the traces of molecular realignment on the stomach of the dead creature. The circuitry could easily be seen running the length and breadth of the beetle’s abdomen. “Yes, I see you’re correct my dear. A very clever device. A real bug as a bug. How in the deuce did you divine its presence?”
Nanette took the listening device and sealed it within a small plastic bag. Then she handed it to Smythe. “Because I had it placed in here with one of our field agents three days ago, as a test.” She turned to Smythe. “Sorry for the deception. But I needed to see whether the Euripides’ crew was capable of general security.”
“I’m very sorry we failed,” said Smythe. “We appear to lack the necessary skills of a trained SLASP agent.”
Nanette brushed the air with her hand nonchalantly. “Don’t fret, Smythe. I didn’t expect you would find it. I just wanted to know if you could. Now we know that security can be breached on board the Euripides without too much effort.” She walked throughout the suite with a small handheld device, scanning for more unwanted bugs. She moved like a stalking panther probing even the smallest of possible crannies that could conceal something.
“Amazing, isn’t she?” asked Sir Giles of Smythe.
“Yes, she is, Sir Giles.” Smythe looked on, admiring her strong body and vibrant hair. “She’s quite—”
Sir Giles smiled. “Intriguing?”
Smythe nodded. But in his mind he was thinking of the word beautiful. Sir Giles nudged the young man with his elbow. “You can say it. I know you want to.”
“She’s beautiful.”
Sir Giles laughed. “And deadly. Mark my words, she’s lethal. A femme fatale to the tenth degree. Don’t tell me I didn’t warn you. Us Thackerys are an odd bunch. Look at me. A relic from the twenty-first century and my prodigy an elite assassin for Terra. Our family tree is filled with plenty of brains, strength and wealth.”
Smythe nodded fixating on Nanette’s lithe form, admiring the feminine curves.
“Do you realize I hadn’t actually met my granddaughter—to the eighteenth generation—until early yesterday, when I was revived?”
“No sir, I didn’t.”
“It’s nice to know one has good genetic stock that one can rely upon.”
“I’m afraid,” began Smythe, embarrassed, “my genetic material will never yield such prestigious offspring.”
“Nonsense, my boy,” retorted Sir Giles. “I can see good, stout, Terran genetic strands in you, just waiting to show their true mettle. All you lack is a pairing with a complementary mate to produce superior offspring. Say . . . someone like my granddaughter.”
Nanette perked up her ears when she heard herself being mentioned. “Grandfather!”
“Yes, my dear?”
“You’re embarrassing Mister Smythe and me.”
Smythe smiled. In a low whisper he said, “I’m not embarrassed, Sir Giles.”
* * *
SMYTHE LEFT THEM ONCE NANETTE was sure their privacy was secured. Each unpacked and stowed away their own luggage. Sir Giles found Nanette in the bathroom arranging her toiletries. There were little pink bottles, creamy tubes, curvy brushes, multicolored globular orbs in round crystal-lidded bowls, and many other personal fineries.
“It’s comforting to see women haven’t changed much since my last waking,” said Sir Giles.
“Huh?” She stopped her arranging.
Sir Giles swept the air with his hand. “The feminine boutique.”
“No, I suppose we haven’t.” She continued adding to her collection.
Sir Giles wondered if there was a bathroom big enough to contain all her goods. “Do you mind leaving me a spot for my toothbrush and sundries?”
Nanette slid a small cup to the back corner of the vanity. “How about here?”
Sir Giles took his two items and put them into the cup. “This will be most adequate for my needs.” He put his elbow in his hand and cupped his chin with the palm of his other hand. “Do you really need to use so many products? You appear to be lovely enough to capture the heart of any young man just as you are.”
“You think so?”
He stood there admiring her femininity, which he knew was just a surface illusion. SLASP training left very little vulnerability, no matter which gender survived the training. She finished displaying the last of her personal items, tucking extras in the side vanity cabinets.
“Absolutely, my dear. Who could resist your charms? After all, you are of Thackery stock. We exude a sense of likability.”
“Likability isn’t enough for a girl. Men may like me, but they also are intimidated by my prowess. A SLASP agent is a lethal weapon. Terran males don’t want to fear for their lives every time they have an urge to plant a kiss on me. My training might kick in and I’d pull a sensitive part of their bodies off by accident.”
“Well, maybe you should look into an inter-species relationship with a more hearty race?”
“Grandfather!” She blushed. “That’s so—inappropriate.”
“Is it, my dear?” He looked shocked at her response. “Inappropriate . . . meaning inter-species sexual relations are taboo or inter-species sexual relations aren’t possible?”
“Oh, they’re possible all right. Medical science has even successfully blended a few of the species to create offspring. What I’m talking about is, why the sudden interest in my sex life?”
Sir Giles nudged a curious device which was encroaching upon his cup’s personal space. “No reason.”
Nanette tapped her foot in irritation. Sir Giles smiled and gave into her with a sigh.
“You seem lonesome. We haven’t had much time together for me to know you very well.”
“No we haven’t.”
“I’d hate to think of you growing old without a little companionship,” he said.
“At the sake of being crude,” she responded, “you wouldn’t mind it if you woke up tomorrow to find me in bed with a Flimian?”
Sir Giles’ forehead furrowed. “That’s an image I’d like to erase forever.”
Nanette continued to make Sir Giles uncomfortable. “I’m healthy and strong enough to handle three at one time.”
“My dear! Please. I get your point. All I meant was I think you should enjoy yourself a little while we are on such a beautiful Galactic Guild Luxury Space Liner. If you happen to meet a handsome young man aboard—well, you never know. You may like the company of a suitor.”
“Someone like—Mister Smythe?”
Sir Giles looked sheepish. “Maybe.”
Nanette flexed her hands making her knuckles crack. “Let me worry about my love life. If Smythe wants to pursue me then I’ll be the one to make the decision whether to allow it or not. Agreed?”
Sir Giles nodded. Nanette slammed one last cosmetic jar on the counter. Silence hung in the air for a short while. Taking a deep breath, she continued in a slightly softer voice. “You will permit me to inspect your gear before each use.” It was a statement of fact.
“Of course,” he agreed. “I wouldn’t want to be poisoned with my own toothpaste.”
“And your clothes,” she reminded him.
He nodded.
“And that hand baggage from the twentieth century you brought along.”
“If you must,” he said. “Is it really that dangerous in these times?”
“Yes, Grandfather, it is.” She gently turned him around. “No time like the present.”
“Oh, child,” he groused. “I’m very fatigued. The rejuvenating process has repaired my body, but not my consciousness. My mind tells me to rest.”
“You can rest when I know it’s safe to do so,” she commanded. “Now, let’s have a look-see into your mysterious bag.”
“I’m afraid you won’t find my belongings to be of a high-tech nature.”
&n
bsp; “High-tech or not,” she said, “we must be thorough or something bad could happen to you.”
“Yes, I can see your point. I wouldn’t want any surprises.” Sir Giles trudged into his bedroom and opened an old leather case about one meter long by a quarter meter wide and high. “Here is my notorious crime-busting gear you’ve heard about in the vidi-history files. Nothing so magical as today’s technology—mind you—but still very functional.”
Inside was a cluttered collection. Nanette inspected the mass for any harmful items. She found a stethoscope, tweezers, baggies and ties, scalpel—very sharp—a spindle of strong twine, a small hammer and other tools, a three centimeter block of C4 explosive with detonators, and a small Beretta Pico six-shot pistol with extra magazines loaded with rounds of ammunition. There was also a small Bible, a few pictures, a journal with a matching mechanical pencil and other various personal items.
She held up the C4 and the pistol. “Really, Grandfather. If you wanted weapons, I could’ve provided much better ones for you.”
“I wouldn’t go anywhere without Ole Gerty,” he said, lifting the ancient firearm, cocking back the slide assembly to peer down the barrel of the weapon. “A gentleman must have his preferences.” He clicked back the slide assembly, primed the magazine and placed the weapon under his pillow.
“If that’s all,” he said, “I wish to be awakened at four bells.”
* * *
SOMEWHERE IN THE DEPTHS OF SPACE between planets, an aging RJX-45 Worldcruiser Class Personal Space Vehicle lumbered along. This particular RJX-45 Worldcruiser had the unusual appearance of a custom, vintage 1959 Cadillac, tail fins and all.
“Herbert!”
“Yes Martha?”
“It looks like we’re holding up traffic again,” she said, viewing the Galactic Positioning System.
“Makersakes! I’m going over the speed of light,” he retorted.
“Well, dear,” she said with a condescending tone. “The GPS doesn’t lie.”
He urged a little more speed out of the vehicle. Martha scanned the GPS and frowned as three more blips lined up behind them. Anticipating the upcoming statement from her demeanor, Herbert overreacted and jammed the accelerator. The engine groaned, coughed asthmatically, then shook violently until the fusion drive stabilized.
“There!” shouted Herbert. “I’m givin’ it all its got.”
Martha looked at him and shook her head. “Maybe it’s time—”
“No! I’m not going into that again. We don’t need a new vehicle. And that’s that!”
Martha mumbled something under her breath. Herbert either didn’t hear or decided it wasn’t worth delving deeper. So he changed the subject. “Must be some of those Skylovian bitches behind us. They’re a bunch of speed demons.”
Martha snorted her disgust. “That’s rather speciesist of you.”
“M-Dammit to hell! I don’t like being pushed around.”
“Dear, your blood pressure.”
“Harrumph!” He calmed slightly. “Frickin’ mechanical heart barely pumps enough blood to raise my Johnson to half-mast.”
Martha snickered. “Maybe we should get it tuned up then.”
Herbert grinned sinfully, causing Martha to blush. He patted her leg. “You’re my gal.”
“Forever?”
“Forever.”
She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Just change lanes into slower traffic and let them get by.”
He nodded. She settled comfortably back into her seat, adjusted the air conditioner, and said, “Isn’t Dr. Goodvalve’s office near here?”
“The mechanical heart specialist?”
“Yes.”
“I believe he’s only a couple of lightyears away.”
“I wonder if he’d allow us a walk-in appointment before we get to the Euripides?”
“Only one way to find out,” said Herbert. And they turned toward their new destination.
* * *
IT WAS LATE ACCORDING TO NANETTE’S internal clock. All she wanted to do was take a hot shower and get a little sleep before four bells, which was only a few hours away. The trip, security and tomorrow’s affairs weighed heavily on her mind. In the bathroom she stripped her leather uniform off and hung it neatly on a hook walking naked and relaxed into the shower. The tile on the floor and walls felt pleasingly cool to the touch. After she started the water she turned and scrutinized her womanly form in the mirror. Her breasts were small and firm and her belly was a washboard of tight muscles.
“You’re not much of a girl,” she grumbled. “I’ll never catch a man’s fancy with only five percent body fat. Girls are supposed to be soft and squishy.” She flexed her arm and tweaked her bicep muscle. Hard as a rock. She shrugged and stroked her slender hips and turned to view the curvature of her buttocks. She pumped her muscles making the round cheek mounds bounce. “Yep, not much of a girl.” She shrugged again and strode into the hot water shaking her hair before lathering up. With military precision she soaped up head to foot and then rinsed. The shower was over in less than two minutes.
Mussing her hair, she tossed the used towel to the floor and walked into the common room to relax. She could hear her grandfather snoring deep in sleep in the adjoining bedroom. Then her training kicked in . . . she felt a presence in the suite. She reached around for her uniform and found it was missing. Her las-pistol and dirk were attached to its waist belt, now gone, meaning the intruder was armed.
The lights dimmed, her instincts went into overdrive. Crouching like a panther, she slunk around the perimeter moving from shadow to shadow searching for the threat. By her bed she saw a figure with its back to her. She watched as the slightly built intruder unbuckled her weapon belt and laid it on the edge of the bed. She sprang, leaping high in the air and plowing into the form about shoulder height. The small figure tumbled to the ground with Nanette, dripping and naked, scissored to the intruder around his midriff. Twisting, she pinned the assailant to the ground and raised her arm with the heel of a palm ready to plunge deep into the face with a death blow. Her legs on his waist tightened until she could see the intruder’s eyes bulge.
“Yeow!” squealed the little man. “Valet! Valet! Don’t keel me-e-e!”
Nanette lowered her arm and rolled off of the frightened man onto her back and sighed, releasing her adrenaline rush. “What are you doing in my room?” She whipped up and onto her feet like an acrobat. The little man was much slower in rising.
“I turn down the bed,” he said indicating the folded sheets. “It’s my job. I take care of you.” He grinned. Then he covered his eyes and grabbed a robe that was folded at the foot of the bed. He shook it at her.
Nanette snatched the robe. After she cinched it up she asked, “What’s your name?”
“Roderick, Señorita Nanette. I big fan of your abuelo.”
“Abuelo?”
“Hmm.” He thought. “Grandfather. Roderick biggest fan of Sir Giles.” He thumped his chest with pride.
“You’ll be the deadest biggest fan if you try that again. Sneaking around the suite.”
“Sí, Señorita Nanette. No come in until you say so. I came in to check on room. Make sure it met my standards. Nothing too good for Thackery family.”
“Fine. Did I hurt you?”
Roderick patted himself down. “No.”
“Good. I’d hate to have to fill out forms for an accidental death.”
“Me too, Señorita Nanette.” He picked up her uniform. “I leave. Have uniform back before quatro bells.”
“That’s not necessary.” She tried to extract it from Roderick’s hands. “I don’t want to be a bother.”
Roderick’s feelings were hurt. “No bother.” He tugged the uniform back. “My job. I take care of you. All comforts big and small. Roderick is very discreet. Ask Roderick. Roderick get. Roderick know everything to know on board Euripides. Things even Captain Aubrey don’t know. I begged Señor Smythe to allow me the privilege to be your valet. You wouldn’t w
ant Roderick lose his job?”
Nanette softened her anger towards the little man. “No, I suppose not.”
“Bueno. You get into bed and Roderick bring you a surprise.”
Nanette hesitated. Roderick flicked his hand towards the welcoming bed. She relented and slunk under the sheets. With her hand she motioned for Roderick to turn around. He did and she slid off the robe and snuggled into the cool linen. “All right. I’m in bed. What’s the surprise?”
“Be right back,” said Roderick. “Close your eyes.”
She heard him fumbling in the near dark. There was a swishing and swirling noise. Finally, whatever he was doing was complete. She peeked an eye open to see just what had happened.
Roderick saw her cheating. “No fair,” he said waving a finger at her. “Must close eyes before I give surprise.”
“Okay, fine.” She clamped her eyes close. She heard him come to her bed and snug something up to her face. It smelled clean and fresh and glowed with a comforting warmth.
“Open.”
To her amazement she was hugging a teddy bear made out of warm towels. The snuggly bear looked so real she thought it was a machined toy.
“I make you bed partner. No pretty woman should go to bed lonely. Señor Snuggles will protect you while you sleep.”
“How?”
“I make towel animals my whole life. Roderick comes from a poor family. No afford fancy teddy bears. I make for my guests. You like?”
“I like. I like very much.”
“When you lonely. You hug. When you sad. You cry. Señor Snuggles can be washed and remade every night. You see. Roderick make you many fine friends while you stay with us.”
“Thank you, Roderick. No one’s ever given me a towel pet. Señor Snuggles is just what I needed.”
He nodded. “Goodnight Señorita Nanette.”
“Goodnight Roderick.”
She snuggled the makeshift teddy bear, smelling the fresh fragrance. “Goodnight Señor Snuggles.” And she was fast asleep.
* * *
AT FOUR BELLS, NANETTE RAPPED lightly on Sir Giles’ door. He opened his door and met her; bleary-eyed, yawning. “Time to get up already?” he mumbled.
Murder on Euripides Page 2