3rd World Products, Inc., Book 4

by Ed Howdershelt

  Deliberately misinterpreting her words as a sign of disgruntlement, I said, "Oh, hey, now, don't let it get you down, ma'am. It's an animal thing, y'know. You have your talents and we have ours. No biggie. Right, Tiger?"

  As if he'd understood every word, Tiger responded, "Yahh!"

  Sue giggled. Steph sighed expressively. Tiger took her sigh as an indication that she needed comforted and went to affectionately rub his face against hers.

  Sue giggled again and asked, "Do you feel better now?"

  "Oh, yes, much," said Steph, rubbing Tiger's chin and stroking him. "Thank you, Tiger."

  Taking a seat at the table, Sue said, "Linda also seems to know when we manifest in her vicinity, Ed, but she doesn't seem able to identify us as you do."

  "She's had less..." -- I shrugged and settled on a word -- "Exposure... to your presences. Have you tried your switch-trick on her?"

  "No," said Steph. "But when we've manifested near her -- invisibly or not -- she's responded by turning to face us or at least looking in our direction. We've tried not to be too obvious about testing her, of course."

  "Why test at all?"

  Steph shrugged. "It's interesting."

  "Interesting why? Because you haven't figured out how we do it, or because not everybody seems able to do it?"

  Nodding, she said simply, "Both."

  Sue said, "You knew who was in the kitchen before you got out of bed and I noted your metabolic change when I arrived. Do you have any idea why you're so aware of us?"

  "Because you're so beautiful, of course. Your radiance gives you away. Back to my original question, Steph. Why'd you make half a pot of coffee? Expecting someone?"

  "It seemed likely that you and Kent might want to discuss your arrival at Ft. Bragg. Remember our visit to Cuba?"

  Hm. Good point. With all the terrorist paranoia of late, a military base might react poorly to a surprise visit.

  "Yup. You're right, milady. We probably shouldn't just drop in on 'em. Kent'll have to make his first stop at the Welcome Center, so we can use the Bragg Boulevard gate."

  After looking thoughtful for perhaps a tenth of a second, Sue said, "There appear to be two Welcome Centers. E-6 and above should report to building 1-3571."

  With a nod, I said, "You seem to have a handle on the situation. I'll call Kent and tell him we're up and moving."

  Fielding the phone to my hand from the kitchen counter, I dialed the Meyers home. When Steve answered, I greeted him and told him to let Kent know we'd be ready in thirty minutes or so.

  He said, "Just a minute," and handed the phone to Kent, who said, "Hi, Ed. What's up?"

  "Hi, Kent. We're up. Coffee's on if you want some. The ladies can entertain you while I get ready. Got all your stuff ready for show and tell?"

  "Uh... What stuff?"

  "Well, let's see... At least five copies of your PCS orders, your DA 31's for the leave time, your 201 file, finance records, medical records, your most recent SF 312 CINA... Oh, yeah, and unless the Army's changed a helluva lot, they'll probably want you to report in uniform. Did I leave anything out?"

  There was a brief silence, then Kent said, "No, I don't believe you did, but how is it you're up on the latest leave and security forms?"

  "My CINA's on file and the son of a bartender friend is a Ranger. When he was home on leave I saw his paperwork."

  "Oh. Uh, just curious. Okay, I'll be over in a few."

  "Leave your luggage there and we'll pick it up."

  "Okay. Anything else?"

  "Nope. See you in a few."

  After hanging up, I excused myself to shave. When I returned to the kitchen some minutes later, Kent was seated at the table with Steph, Sue, and Tiger.

  On my way to freshen my coffee, I said, "Hi, Kent. Watch out for cat hair. It shows up real well on dress greens. Got any thoughts about how to get past the front gate in a flitter?"

  He chuckled and said, "That shouldn't be a problem. I have a few connections in the Army, you know."

  "Yeah, but I'll bet the guy at the gate isn't one of them. We'd better plan on being delayed while he calls it in. Sue, would you pull up the Ft. Bragg website on a datapad?"

  Kent asked, "On a what? Are you sure Ft. Bragg has a website?"

  Nodding, I said, "It'll be 'something-dot-mil'. A few years back the government got upset about units putting up their own websites and info on unsecure servers."

  Sue gave me an odd look, but manifested a datapad as I'd requested. When it appeared and hovered just above the table, Kent's astonishment was readily evident, frozen as he was in mid-sip. After a moment, he leaned to examine the datapad from various angles. He reached to touch it, then pulled his hand back slightly.

  "It's solid," he almost whispered. "How the hell..?"

  "You'll have to ask Sue about that," I said. "I just use 'em. I don't know much about how they work."

  Sitting down at the table, I poked the link for the jump schedule for the 18th Airborne. Nothing on the list until Friday. Same for the 82nd. Oh, well; it looked as if the Army still wanted anybody's broken bones to happen on a weekend.

  I asked, "You want to look anything up right quick, Kent?"

  He glanced at me, then returned his gaze to the pad. After a moment he put a fingertip on the "In Processing" link and read the page, then tapped a few other links.

  When he finished, he leaned back, said, "That's it. Thanks," and looked at me.

  "Thanks, Sue," I said, poking the pad's 'off' icon.

  The datapad instantly vanished. Kent's eyes got bigger, then narrowed slightly. He took a long look around the table as if realizing something.

  "What?" I asked.

  Kent seemed to collect his thoughts, then said, "Stephanie and Sue, computers that look like showgirls. Flitters. PFM's. Datapads that appear and disappear. At first I thought it was just an act, but I can tell when someone's really comfortable with things. This is all pretty much normal to you, isn't it?"

  With a slight shrug, I said, "I've had three years to get used to it, and these ladies haven't exactly been a hardship."

  Meeting first Stephanie's gaze, then Sue's, Kent chuckled and said, "No, I can't imagine that they'd be that."

  Tiger spoke for a moment, then Sue said, "He asked if we're going somewhere. Do you think we should take him with us?"

  "Sure," I said, "Won't hurt a thing."

  As Sue spoke to Tiger, Kent stared at them, then at me.

  "Uh... Is the cat real?" he asked. "I mean, it isn't like them?" He noddingly indicated Steph and Sue.

  I said, "Yup. He's a real cat. Elkor?"

  "What?" asked Kent, then he almost yelled, "Jesus!" when Elkor appeared on the table near Tiger.

  Kent nearly fell out of his chair in startlement. Steph and I chuckled and Sue snickered.

  Elkor calmly regarded Kent's self-reorganization as he asked, "Yes, Ed?"

  "Will you be coming with us?"

  "Yes."

  "Great. Elkor, I'd like you to meet Kent Meyer." Turning to Kent, I said, "And vice versa."

  After a moment of hesitation, Kent whispered, "Uh, what do I do? We can't exactly shake hands. Should I pet him?"

  I grinningly whispered back, "You could try saying hello."

  Kent's gaze narrowed slightly, then he turned to Elkor and nodded as he said, "Hello, Elkor."

  "Good morning, Colonel Meyer."

  There was a moment of silence that seemed awkward for Kent as he and Elkor studied each other. Kent finally spoke.

  "May I ask... Why you, uh, don't appear like..." he glanced at Steph and Sue and finished, "Uh, them? Human, I mean?"

  In a flat tone, Elkor said, "I prefer this form."

  "Ah... hah. I see. May I ask why?"

  Elkor said, "Yes," and nothing more, of course. How often had I made the same mistake when asking him questions? No idea, but it was entertaining to watch Kent anticipate more of an answer and not get it.

  "Kent," I said, "You have to be more specific. You asked him if
you could ask him why he prefers a cat suit. You didn't ask him why he prefers a cat suit."

  Glancing at Sue, Kent said, "I don't think she would have answered that way."

  "She might have. It depends on her mood and whether she wants to talk about something. Could be that Elkor's hinting that he'd rather not discuss his outfit."

  With a somewhat staring nod, Kent looked around the table again and asked, "They have moods? They're computers."

  Shrugging, I said, "They're a bit more than the computers you're used to, Kent. Want another coffee before we go?"

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  We'd anticipated a number of reactions from the gate guards; from a simple and sane ID check to outright panic. What we encountered was something in the middle.

  Joining the line of cars created a bit of a stir, of course. Sue cleared our fields so we could be seen harmlessly sipping coffee and talking as we approached the gate.

  I hadn't realized that there'd be so much traffic, but then, when I'd been stationed at Ft. Bragg, I hadn't owned a car and hadn't had much reason to go off-base, so the shuttle bus had suited my needs well enough.

  "Damn," muttered Kent. "Is it like this every morning?"

  "Can't be as bad as DC beltway traffic," I said.

  "Well, no, but this isn't DC, either."

  One of the guards continued to direct cars with base stickers through the gate as the other guard made a call while staring at us.

  When we finally arrived at the guard shack, the guard who'd been on the phone moved to stand in our path, waved us to a parking area nearby, and walked behind us as we went over there.

  When Kent made to step down from the flitter, the guard held up a hand and said, "Please stay in -- uh, on -- your vehicle for now, sir. We're waiting for someone."

  A HUMVee and pair of official sedans -- one blue and one green -- came to a quick stop not far away. Six men with rifles quickly poured out of the HUMVee and surrounded us, their rifles not exactly aimed at us, as half a dozen officers got out of the two sedans. One of the officers remained near the sedans and aimed a camcorder at us.

  A female light colonel glanced around the scene once, then led her group of officers forward to within about fifteen feet of the flitter. Her eyes flashed over us one at a time and lingered briefly on the two cats on the dash.

  I looked her over in return. Brunette, early forties, well-kept, and a woman with a firm manner. Airborne wings above her left pocket surprised me slightly. Oh, well; she was admin, but maybe she hadn't always been a desk jockey.

  Eyeing the silver leaves on her shoulder, I wondered how much longer she'd be in the Army. A woman like her probably wouldn't have too much trouble making bird-colonel before fifty, but the rank of general was something only a bare minority of women would achieve. There just weren't many star slots for people in admin or similar positions who hadn't seen combat of some sort, somewhere. Even with some time in a zone, a lot of politics were involved.

  Kent and I hopped down, then handed Steph and Sue down like the perfect gentlemen we happen to be, then we turned to approach the woman. Kent stood at attention and saluted and the woman returned his salute.

  She said, "I'm Lieutenant Colonel Sandra Davidson. You are..?"

  Kent said, "Colonel Kent Meyer, reporting for duty, ma'am. These people are friends of mine."

  The woman accepted his ID and a copy of his orders, glanced at them, then passed them to a major on her left. She then looked at me.

  "May we also see your ID, sir, and those of the ladies?"

  I fished out my driver's license and handed it to her. It, too, was worth only a glance before she passed it to the major.

  Indicating Sue, I said, "The ladies have no ID, Colonel."

  "No ID?"

  "No, ma'am."

  "Why not? Surely you didn't expect to bring them onto this post without ID?"

  "Well, actually," I said, "Yes, ma'am. I did."

  Her eyes locked on mine, then she sharply reappraised me from my golf shoes to my green fatigue shirt, but apparently made no changes in her assessment of me.

  "Colonel Meyer," she said with a sweeping gesture at us, "Explain, please."

  He nodded. "These people are from my aunt and uncle's neighborhood. They offered to bring me up here from Florida this morning. That's really all there is to it."

  She simply nodded and eyed the flitter and us, then said, "Your aunt and uncle must live in a rather... unusual... neighborhood, Colonel."

  "Yes, ma'am," said Kent. "It would seem so."

  "Colonel," I said, "Would you like to step aboard and take a look at my flitter?"

  Davidson eyed me archly and asked, "Your flitter?"

  Nodding, I said, "Yes'm. My flitter. It's registered to me."

  "How is it you own a flitter?"

  "That's a long story, ma'am, but the paperwork is in the glove box if you want to see it."

  With the first hint of a smile, she said, "As the Provost Marshall, I probably should at least take a quick look. That thing has a glove box?"

  "Sure it does. Sue, would you do the honors?"

  Sue nodded and disappeared, then reappeared next to the console and popped open the storage compartment access panel. I heard some mutterings and the clatter of rifles and saw that several were now pointing at my flitter.

  Taking a nickel from my pocket, I held it up as I said to Davidson, "Watch what happens to bullets," then said to the guards, "There'll be some noise, so hold your fire, guys," and flipped the nickel in a high arc at the flitter.

  It hit the top of the perimeter field and brightly flashed to plasma with an impressive 'bang'. Sue smiled as she handed me the paperwork from the 'glove box'.

  One of the guards had snapped the charging handle of his M-16, loading and locking a round. A staff sergeant stood before him almost instantly, locking the guy at attention with his rifle at port arms, and spoke intensely in low tones.

  The guard dropped the magazine from his weapon, handed it to the sergeant, then pulled the charging handle back to remove the round from the chamber.

  After the guy manually closed the breech and dry-fired the rifle, the sergeant took the round and put it back into the magazine, then handed the magazine back to the guard, who put it back in his rifle.

  In the meantime, I'd handed the flitter's paperwork to Davidson, who took time to match up some of the info to my driver's license before handing everything to the major. He, in turn, took everything to the hood of one of the sedans and took out a cell phone.

  As she stepped forward, another major touched her arm and whispered something to her that I didn't catch. I glanced at Sue and suddenly I could hear what they were saying.

  "...doesn't add up, Colonel. How can this civilian -- if that's what he really is -- own a flitter? He has to be with another agency or maybe even an Amaran. And I can't believe their only reason for being here is to deliver Col. Meyer."

  Her answer was, "Another federal agency or an Amaran; does it matter? Whatever he may be, Major, I don't think he and his friends pose a threat to this post. Do you?"

  When the major made no reply, Davidson then turned to me and said, "Yes, I would like to have a look aboard your flitter. I've seen them, but I've never been aboard one."

  I handed her aboard, then followed. She stood looking around for a moment, then moved to examine the console.

  "Where are the controls?" she asked.

  "That egg is one of them," I said, pointing to the egg atop the console. "Sue, here, is the real control system."

  Davidson looked at Sue, then at me.

  "She's a pilot?"

  "That too. She's the ship's computer."

  "The what?"

  "The flitter's computer," I said, "This is her interactive form, a tactile field image. So is my friend Stephanie, there."

  Disappearing and reappearing a few paces toward the rear of the deck, Sue then disappeared and reappeared by the console to extend a hand as Steph appeared beside her.

&
nbsp; Sue said, "Pleased to meet you, Colonel Davidson."

  Taking her hand, Davidson replied in a somewhat awestruck and dubious tone, "Yes. Likewise, I'm sure."

  Glancing down at their hands, she said, "She feels real."

  "Yeah, she's a real artist."

  My answer made Davidson look up sharply as she let go of Sue's hand. When she saw my grin, she chose to accept the joke and gave me a small return grin. Sue chuckled softly.

  I said, "And this is Stephanie Montgomery," and Steph also extended a hand.

  Davidson took it as Steph said, "Nice to meet you," and replied, "And you, Miss Montgomery."

  Tiger said something and Sue said through my implant, "He'd like to be introduced, too."

  "Now, Colonel Davidson," I said, "Meet Tiger, our morale officer, and our good friend Elkor."

  Elkor said, "Hello, Colonel Davidson," and she froze.

  In almost a whisper, she said, "It talks."

  "He talks, Colonel. Elkor is like Sue and Steph." When she glanced at me with a raised eyebrow, I added, "Well, not quite the same, I guess. But similar."

  Tiger said something else and leaned far forward to make himself available. As Davidson patted Tiger, she told the major who'd whispered to her to see that Colonel Meyer was taken quickly through in-processing and then delivered to her office, then she turned to me.

  "You and your friends are invited to my office for coffee."

  The guard sergeant stepped forward and firmly said, "Ma'am, one of us should go with you."

  He gave me a rather direct, hard look as he waited for her answer. I read his nametag.

  "No problem, Copeland," I said. "I'd feel the same way if my CO was about to take a ride with us."

  Davidson said, "Of course, Sergeant," and he came aboard.

  I didn't offer to shake his hand because it would have required him to either release his rifle or refuse my hand.

  Kent made his goodbyes and got into the Army sedan as one of the guards returned my documentation. Steph disappeared and reappeared smiling in one of the flitter seats, further startling both Davidson and Copeland.

  "No seat belts?" asked Davidson.

  "Nope. We use fields. Try to get up."

  Because I'd said that, Sue slapped a restraining field on them. Both tried unsuccessfully to get up and Sue briefly explained what held them.