3rd World Products, Inc., Book 4

by Ed Howdershelt

  Karen said, "I don't think that's the answer they'd be looking for on this range."

  "Then what is?" asked Myra.

  "I think the answer is to tell the flitter to grab as many as possible according to the individual immediacies of their danger."

  I nodded. "No favoritism. Grab people in the most danger first and keep doing that until there's nobody left to save. You just fly by and snatch them aboard as quickly as possible and without any discussion. If someone is afraid to take a step from the building to the flitter deck, you grab them and move on. If they're so fearful that they retreat beyond your reach or endanger others, leave them and move on. You're going for numbers of people only."

  With a skeptical look Myra asked, "That's really how they train people here?"

  "It is," I said. "If you try to be selective, you'll lose a lot more people."

  We moved back to the pond and hovered above the floating platform. Steph siphoned up a column of water from the surface of the pond and began building a ball of ice in front of the flitter. When the ball was approximately three feet in diameter, she let it drop into the water, where it made a huge splash and bobbed merrily.

  "I shaped my field as a sphere and froze the water as it filled the sphere," said Steph. "Watch again."

  She formed a grey tendril and extended perhaps six feet of it into the water for a few seconds. When she withdrew the tendril and brought it alongside the flitter, it was covered with an inch or so if ice.

  "Any shape is possible," said Steph.

  She swung the tendril over the side and canceled the field. The six-foot ice cone fell into the water and we moved back toward the shore, stopping beside one of the small buildings by the shore.

  Through the open doorway we saw a fire ignite that quickly spread within the one-room building. Steph lanced her grey field tendril through the doorway, where it began to expand until it filled the room. The fire guttered and extinguished within moments.

  "The field shape I used in this example was hollow," said Steph, "Somewhat like a balloon. It blocked oxygen from the fire, but if there had been any people in the building, they'd have been able to breathe."

  A man stepped from the other building and began rather mechanically firing single shots at us with an AK-47. The bullets impacted our flitter's field and blossomed into foot-wide balls of plasma as the field disintegrated them into bursts of energy.

  Myra dragged Karen out of her seat to the deck and screamed, "Get down! Get down!"

  Steph remained in her seat and I moved to kneel beside the ladies, placing a hand on each of their shoulders.

  "Take a look around," I said. "Nobody has any new holes."

  Frantically looking up at me, then back at the man with the rifle, Myra watched him aim right at us and fire. She saw the bullet flash into nothingness several feet from the flitter and stared at the spot for a moment, then looked at me again. I motioned her to get up, helped her do so, and then reached to help Karen up.

  The guy had stopped firing to change magazines. As we watched, the tip of Steph's field tendril touched him and he collapsed like a rag doll while the rifle remained suspended in firing position. The rifle retracted into the building's doorway on its robotic arm and the man disappeared.

  "The man was a hologram," said Steph, "Imposed over an automatic firing platform. A flitter can defend itself against direct hits from the projectiles from all known Earthly weapons other than tactical nuclear weapons. It may also be used to stun to unconsciousness any creature on this planet."

  "Uh... What would it do about a tactical nuclear weapon?" asked Myra.

  "Flitters constantly monitor their environments once they've been activated. An incoming missile or other projectile would be detected and neutralized at a safe distance."

  Karen gave Steph a rather stark look and asked, "You could actually disable a nuclear missile, Stephanie?"

  With a slight nod, Steph said, "Yes."

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Myra stared at Steph for a moment, then sat down and asked, "So why doesn't every country on Earth have a flitter parked over their capitol?"

  "Commercial flitters aren't quite as gifted as Steph," I said. "Government issue flitters are nearly as capable, but those who made the rules decided against allowing certain specific field capabilities. They were probably worried about flitters somehow being turned into weapons."

  Steph said, "That's exactly the reason."

  Looking at me, Myra asked, "Um... How many flitters like Stephanie are there?"

  "You'd have to ask Linda," I said. "I'm not in the production loop."

  "Stephanie could find out, couldn't she?"

  "I wouldn't," said Steph. "You have no authorization to ask such a question."

  She then moved us to the area between the little buildings where a sign warned of mines in the area. Steph formed a three-foot ball at the end of her field tendril and let it sink about halfway into the ground, then detonated the mine it enclosed.

  The ladies had thought Steph had been only searching for a mine, so the loud 'whang!' and flash of the explosion caught them wholly by surprise. Both women shrieked and ducked somewhat as their arms covered their faces.

  A slight indentation of stained and powdery soil and a small pile of metal fragments where the mine had been was all there was to show that anything had happened there at all.

  "Are these just practice props?" asked Myra. "Why aren't there big holes in the ground?"

  "They're real mines," said Steph. "My field let nothing escape but the gases, so all that's missing is the mass of the explosive charge. I left the fragments on the surface to make them easier for the maintainence crew to find."

  "My God," said Karen. "Can all flitters do what you've been doing?"

  "Yes," said Steph, "But non-sentient AI's may at times have to be directed to do some of these things by a pilot."

  "Which is why there's this course, of course," said Myra with a small grin.

  "Of course," replied Steph with a small smile of her own. "The pilot will have to know what's possible."

  "Non-sentient?" asked Karen. "You mean they aren't all like you?"

  "No, they aren't. Interaction with Ed and various enhancements have allowed me to become considerably more than a simple control computer."

  Myra looked Steph up and down for a moment, reached to feel Steph's arm, then in a slightly taunting tone, she said, "Obviously. Interaction with Ed, huh? Now I'm kind of wondering what kind of 'interaction' that might have been."

  Steph sat very still for a moment. I started to say something, but Steph held up a hand and turned to face Myra very directly as she spoke.

  "Myra, you could be instantly replaced as a liaison by someone else from your agency. I could recommend that to Linda and reasonably expect her cooperation."

  It was Myra's turn to sit very still. Her gaze at Steph sharpened slightly, then she glanced at me in a questioning manner.

  Nodding, I said, "Linda wouldn't give a rat's ass who the NSA sent to watch this show, and she sticks by her people, human or not."

  Karen sat forward a bit and said to Myra, "I didn't particularly appreciate your comment either. I'd support Stephanie's recommendation."

  When Myra looked back at Steph, Steph said, "Your replacement would have to wait several months to join a regular group training cycle. Being the cause of such a delay might seriously affect your status and popularity within your agency."

  Another moment went by before Myra forced a small smile and said, "That really isn't necessary, Stephanie. I'll behave. I was just joking with you, you know. You have to admit that most computers don't look or sound anything like you."

  Steph said, "How other computers look or sound is irrelevant." Turning to Karen, she asked, "Are you ready to break for lunch?"

  Karen looked at her watch in mild surprise and said, "It's after noon already! Certainly, Stephanie. Lunch would be fine."

  With a nod, Steph disappeared and the flitter lifted and head
ed back to the complex at just under the speed of sound. Karen looked at me and I shrugged, then we both looked at Myra until she gave us an exasperated sigh and faced front.

  Through my implant, Steph asked, "Did I handle that properly?"

  I nodded slightly and smiled as I softly whispered, "Well done."

  At the dining hall I discovered that I wasn't very hungry and settled for raiding the salad bar for a plate that consisted largely of green pepper slices. When they were gone, I told Karen that I'd meet them out front, then rose to leave the table.

  Karen said, "Give me your watch number and I'll call you when we're finished."

  "Steph will let me know when you're finished."

  The ladies looked around, saw no Steph, and seemed doubtful. I left them to their doubts and headed for the little convenience store where the main hallways intersect.

  Keying my implant, I said, "You really put Myra in her place out there, milady."

  "It seemed necessary," said Steph.

  "Agreed. And if you feel the need, go ahead and make that recommendation to replace her. Flying with us with a bug in her purse probably accomplished her mission. What's the range on her bug, anyway? Or are they bouncing it off a satellite?"

  "They're using a satellite relay. The bug sends coded burst transmissions every fifteen minutes."

  "So we could be anywhere on the North American continent. Damn. I remember when bugs had a two-mile range under the best possible conditions. Oh, well, at least we know they've heard everything."

  "No, not everything," said Steph. "She left her purse in her room last night."

  "Are you wondering why?"

  "Yes."

  I grinned as I said, "That's easy. She didn't want an audience."

  "But she proceeded to proposition you even though I was in your room, Ed."

  "I don't think you actually counted as 'real' to her until this afternoon, Steph."

  "That would seem to indicate that her attraction to you is genuine."

  I laughed softly as I neared the doors of the store.

  "Possibly, but not necessarily, milady. Not necessarily at all. Could be she was just horny and I'd have fit the bill reasonably well. Could also be that she prefers to work without her agency audience on certain occasions."

  "Her readings didn't indicate that she was lying when she said that spreading her legs wasn't part of her job description, Ed."

  Stopping outside the doors, I said, "Steph, that isn't actually stated in any agent's job description, but it sure as hell happens fairly often. How did her readings look when I talked about licking my way up her legs?"

  "They rose noticeably. That would seem to verify that she's attracted to you."

  "That only verifies that she likes sex and doesn't consider me ugly, ma'am. Nothing else, and definitely not that she wouldn't be on the job while having some fun."

  The store clerk -- an attractive brunette in her thirties -- was peering at me through the window as she came around her counter and approached the open door.

  She poked her head out and asked, "Are you all right, sir?"

  "I was just talking to a friend," I said.

  Looking around, the woman said, "I don't see anybody else out here."

  Steph appeared beside me and smiled as she said, "He was talking to me."

  The woman squeaked in startlement and retreated a pace into the store. We followed her inside as she retreated behind her counter. When I placed a pack of Teaberry gum, a bag of Gummi Life Savers, and a five-dollar bill on the counter, she rang up the sale with trembling hands, all the while barely taking her eyes off Steph.

  I read her name tag and said, "Joan, this is Stephanie and I'm Ed. Didn't they tell you that you'd meet some unusual people here?"

  She nodded tersely and said, "Yes. Amarans. But I've never seen an Amaran do that. Is she an Amaran?"

  "Nope. Amarans can't do what she does." I looked for a ring on her finger. No ring. I asked, "Are you dating an Amaran, perchance?"

  Her eyes widened slightly and she said, "Uh, yes. How did you know?"

  "Lucky guess. Don't worry. Amarans are just people like us."

  "Us? You aren't an Amaran, either?"

  Shaking my head, I said, "No, I'm a local. How long have you been here?"

  "About three months."

  "Thought so. Take it easy; you'll get used to things."

  The woman looked at Steph again and said, "She doesn't have a security badge."

  Shrugging, I said, "She doesn't need one."

  "Uh, they told me to report anyone without a badge."

  "Call it in, Joan. They'll tell you she's legal. Bye."

  I picked up the gum and the candy and turned to leave, then remembered about halfway to the door that I hadn't received my change.

  Before I could turn or say anything, Joan said, "Wait! Do you know a lot about Amarans?"

  Turning to face her, I asked, "What do you want to know?"

  She seemed to have to think about something for a moment, then asked, "Are you sure they're human?"

  That was an odd enough question, and I'm sure she saw that on my face.

  "Yup. I know it for a fact. Why?"

  Again she hesitated before saying, "My... boyfriend... Sometimes he just seems... Well, he just seems too... perfect, I guess. Does that make any sense to you?"

  "Perfect how?" I asked. "Physically? That's fairly normal for Amarans. Mentally? They're all pretty smart, too. They wouldn't send dummies to set things up here."

  Shaking her head, she said, "No. That's not what I mean. Look, I signed on to come here because... something else... didn't work out. I needed to get away from Denver and... things the way they'd been for too long. Then I met Barry."

  She fidgeted and glanced at Steph, then back at me.

  "He walked in here one afternoon and bought a few things, then we talked for a while and he asked me to go to dinner with him. He said he'd be down here for two days and some company would be nice. I asked what he meant by 'down here' and he said he works on the station shuttles. We've been seeing each other about three times a week for the last month."

  I said, "I don't mean to rush your story, but what makes you wonder whether he's human, and why didn't it occur to you to wonder that before you started seeing him?"

  Joan twisted some wrapping paper tightly as she hesitantly asked, "Well... Look, I just want to know... Do they, uh... do they read minds or something?" She reddened slightly and asked, "I mean, how does he know... uhm... How could he know just what to say or do at just the right time to..."

  Holding up a hand, I said, "Could be he's just the right guy for you, Joan, if he thinks and wants about the same things as you. I'll bet you left Denver because of some guy, right? And I'll bet he was just the latest mistake, right?"

  The paper came apart in her hands as her eyes widened. "What..?"

  "One step further," I said. "I'll bet that guys like your exes didn't seem to exist here, or at least they weren't walking into your shop, so you began to think you'd be spending a lot of time by yourself, right?"

  "Well... Yeah. Something like that."

  "That's because they aren't here, ma'am. And then Barry walked in and liked what he saw and you felt warm all over when he looked at you. You went out with him and he made you feel like a queen, right?"

  She reddened further and said, "Uhm... Yeah. Something like that, too."

  "And suddenly you wondered what the hell you'd seen in the other guys and Barry started to mean a lot to you, just like they did, only he isn't using you or treating you the way they did. In fact, he's still treating you like a queen and you're beginning to wonder when the other shoe will drop and you're becoming seriously afraid that you'll screw things up somehow. Am I still right?"

  "Oh, Jesus..." she muttered.

  I shrugged. "Take it easy, Joan. He's an Amaran. He wants a wife and kids and everything anyone else wants, but he's been raised a little differently. If you hitch up with him, you'll be the center of h
is world. Could you handle that?"

  "I... I, uh..."

  "Look, Joan, you've had it before. Every time you met a new guy, you were special until the new wore off. With Barry, it'll be like that for years. Maybe forever."

  She simply stared at me for a few moments, then asked, "Who are you? How do you know so much about... me?"

  Grinning, I asked, "If I tell you, do you think it'll help you deal with being someone's queen?"

  Giggling softly, she said, "I don't know."

  "Steph," I said, "May I see her file?"

  Steph looked at Joan and said, "If you allow it, I'll put your file on a screen."

  Joan seemed hesitant again.

  "Just to show you why you're here," I said. "Nothing else."

  "Uh... Okay, I guess."

  A field screen manifested in front of me and Joan again squeakingly retreated a pace, then stared at her face on the screen and reached to touch it. Her hand passed through the screen and her gaze narrowed. I hurried to the next page.

  "College," I said. "Two degrees; one in English and one in journalism, but apparently you found that you didn't want to teach or work for the media, because no such employment is recorded. Several jobs, all middle-range management. Here's something notable; you part-timed at a kindergarten for three years at typical pay. To me, that would seem to mean that it wasn't about the money. Then you came here to run the general store. I'd say that was a means of breaking a cycle that you couldn't seem to break on your own back home."

  I looked her over once and said, "A fine figure and very attractive ten years after high school, so you're taking care of yourself well. Smart and compassionate and you like kids. Competent or better at least, according to your records. Think about it, Joan. You're a perfect candidate for marriage. How many guys have you dated since you've been here? Three? Four, maybe?"

  "Five," she said softly, blushing as her eyes fell.

  "I said 'dated', not 'slept with', and it wouldn't matter to me if you had. What I mean is; you didn't meet Barry right away. You'd been here for a while and met some of the other men on base, but for some reason, none of them seemed right enough. But Barry seems right enough, doesn't he?"