"You've told it to accept only your commands?"
"Had to. Ellen would have ordered her to drop the hallway field."
"Are you going to rescind that command?"
"I don't think there's a good reason for doing that just now. Maybe later."
"Ellen could probably override it."
"I'm supposed to be with her at all times, so there's no good reason."
Linda nodded. "What about me?"
"Okay, what about you? You need to be able to command my flitter?"
Linda glanced at me sharply and said, "Never mind. Forget it."
"Done. You still want a ride?"
"Like you said, Ed... Maybe later."
With that Linda gave me a little 'bye-bye' wave and walked out of the bay. I watched her go, noting that her legs were shaping up pretty well. She must have spotted my gaze in a reflection or assumed that I'd be looking, because she turned quickly and gave me a wry grin as she put her hands on her hips and stretched her left leg toward me, flexing the thigh and calf.
"They're coming back, Ed. A few more miles and they'll be as good as before. I'm sure you remember how they used to be?"
"Sure do, Linda. I'm happy for you."
She smiled a bit too sweetly and continued leaving.
"Linda," I said. She turned again and waited for me to say more.
"Don't be too quick to acquiesce if Ellen says she wants a new partner. Make her explain it and make her tell me herself before granting anything."
"I don't like being told how to do my job, Ed."
"Then don't flaunt your legs at the hired help until his assignment's over."
"Maybe it should occur to you that your assignment is over when I say it is."
"Or when I say it is. If I have to walk out because of a power tripping boss, I won't be available later and I won't keep my reasons for leaving a secret. What happened to the woman who wouldn't dally with men working under her?"
Linda walked back into the bay and directly up to me. At a distance of perhaps six inches she quietly said, "That woman spent seven sexless years in a wheelchair before a man she had once truly enjoyed was again within her reach. If I choose to assign someone new for Ellen, that someone will be as good as you and you know it, Ed. It can't be any other way with this project."
She backed off a foot or so and asked, "Are you in love with her? Is that why you won't let her go?"
"If I loved her you wouldn't have to ask. You'd know."
"Then what is it? Why shouldn't I reassign her?"
"Because that would make me choose between being your payroll pet and going back into retirement, Linda. If you can take advantage of Ellen's possible embarrassment now, why wouldn't you take advantage of me later if it suited you? If Ellen truly wants out, okay. Done. In that case I'd visit you here or even move in for a while, but I'd be re-retired and no longer working for you."
"Is that all, Ed?"
"No."
Linda stood silent for a moment, then spread her arms and said, "Well, I'm just dying to know what else is on your mind, Ed. Are you going to tell me or not?"
"I'm still thinking about that and I'm kind of wondering if you're the one I should be talking to about it."
That set her back for a moment. She looked hard at me and decided I wasn't simply being difficult. She was suddenly all business.
"I see," said Linda. "Maybe we should take that ride. Where to?"
"How about a beach?"
"We can't land this thing near a tourist trap."
"We'll find a place. Stephanie, open up. We're flying."
Fifteen minutes later we'd found a stretch of Florida beach that was devoid of people. There were a few no-trespassing signs at the edge of the pine forest and the remains of a boat some distance up the beach from where we landed.
I tossed my watch on the pilot's seat and Linda tossed hers beside it, then we exited the flitter and walked toward the wreckage. Neither of us said anything much. Linda was enjoying the open air and sand between her toes.
"This was a good idea, Ed."
"Thought you might like it, ma'am."
At the wreckage she found a place to sit. I didn't have to tell her to sit facing away from Stephanie and to keep her voice down.
"Well?" she asked as I sat down beside her.
"Linda, one of my uncles used to raise hunting dogs. He never sold anyone a dog that couldn't or wouldn't hunt. Not once in thirty years."
Linda said nothing, but she looked at me oddly.
"I was twelve when I met him, and when people talked about how he never sold anyone a bad dog I felt kind of proud. I didn't give a rat's ass about dogs or his dog business, but never turning out a clunker seemed pretty impressive. I figured the ones that didn't work out were sold or given away as pets."
Linda nodded. "Ah, I see. But they weren't, were they?"
"Nope. One night I heard a shotgun go off twice out by the kennel. The next day there were two fewer dogs in the pack. At least he didn't try to bullshit me about it. He said his reputation was on the line and that his dogs were what made him special in three counties. Without that rep he was just another farmer."
Linda reached down to let a handful of sand dribble through her fingers onto her toes, then said, "I see where you're going, but they gave me my legs back, Ed. They didn't have to. They offered to fix me the day they met me."
"They had the means to repair you and it bought the project some instant goodwill early on, Linda. It cost a few doctors a bit of sleep, but that's all. It was a godsend for you, but - to them - just an impressive trinket for the natives. What happens to the factory seconds on Amara? Are they given away as pets?"
"There are other things for people to do, Ed. Remember how much trouble Gary and Ellen had with a killing shot at the range? Somehow that doesn't fit with what you're suggesting."
I shook my head. "They're carefully designed products, Linda, not leaders of worlds. Limited facilities and resources, yet they make more people for export. What's the failure rate for that sort of manufacturing? They aren't just stamping out sheet metal parts, Linda. Where do the rejects go?"
I tossed a shell into the water and asked, "Remember the phrase 'acceptable losses'? It was real popular for a while in Washington some years ago. What do they call it these days? I haven't really been keeping up, you know."
Linda stood and dug her feet into the sand by the water's edge.
"It's their world and their culture and their solution to their problems. We can't tell them how to live, so what's your point, Ed?"
"Maybe I don't have one. Maybe it just bugs me that Ellen and the others are products of a puppy farm somewhere in space and that I know what can happen to puppies that can't hunt."
"If you're worried about Ellen..."
"Nope. She'll be back on-line shortly. She's fixable."
"Then what's left to talk about, Ed? Things are as they are, as you used to be so fond of saying. It's the way Amarans support themselves."
"I'm not even sure we ought to pass the question along to see what comes of it. If the Nazis had managed to hold onto Europe, would the U.S. be trading with them today? Sure they would. They'd be finding ways to rationalize the wheeling and dealing. The Jews wouldn't have Israel and they damned sure wouldn't be opening Holocaust museums here in the States 'cause such things would be considered bad for business. Chances are we'd run into a lot of that sort of sentiment if we tried to push this issue."
Linda gave me a wry grin and asked, "And if we found out that they shoot the rejects, would you feel a need to give that flitter back?"
"Nope. She'll never have a better home and giving her back wouldn't fix a damned thing. But if I had one on order, I'd cancel it. How's that?"
Linda laughed. "Such a theoretical sacrifice, Ed. I'm impressed."
"Uh, huh. A lot of people wouldn't want to buy them if they had my suspicions about the Amarans. Making flitters the only vehicle available would be the only answer to that - a move which is
already underway - so I'm not prepared to believe that I'm the only one who suspects, or maybe even knows things for a fact. The big-assed ball of commerce is rolling now, and I think we'd be officially discouraged from sharing any suspicions about the Amarans whatsoever. We might even have tragic accidents if we aren't very careful who we tell."
Linda seemed thoughtfully quiet for a few moments.
"Something else, Linda. Gary said they were short on social training; relating to other people. Why do you suppose that is?"
"Maybe it seemed less important than their marketable skills."
"Maybe it was more important to let the exports pick up the customs where they're going to be staying. Instil some basic programming and lock it down, then send them to wherever and let them go native, within reasonable parameters, of course. Damned few, if any, of the mission people will be going back, I'll bet. I think they and their descendants will be with us forever. Gary called it leasing, and maybe it is, sort of, but I'd say they're installed like their flitter engines."
"This is getting a little harder to accept, Ed."
"Let it gel a bit and tell me that again later. They're exported labor. After their initial training they'd go away and stay away and generate income for mother Amara as long as they lived. We have religious orders that run such systems. Maybe the Amarans do it on a societal and somewhat grander scale."
Linda said, "That would make one wonder who is really in charge, then. Who is putting up the - money? - for the ventures? Who leases Amarans for projects?"
"Could be they dreamed up these projects themselves, Linda. They needed income and had only people and knowledge to offer. Could be the Amarans are marketing their knowledge, their product people, and the products of the others they've set up in business. There may be no one else in charge; just separate corporate entities organized to handle various aspects of things."
Linda said, "I've tried to look up info about Amara using the pads. There isn't much in the database that isn't very like a sales brochure. Nothing is mentioned of there being any Amarans who aren't at least on a par with Gary and Ellen."
"Makes sense to me. If you make something, why not use it yourself? Could be they've been at this so long they've re-engineered themselves from the top down. There may be no Amarans in the general herd who are less than Gary and Ellen."
Someone emerged from the tree line and headed for us. He appeared to be a real Forestry Ranger, not a fake like the guard at the trailer.
"Didn't you people see the signs?"
I said, "We didn't go into the woods."
"They're for this area in general."
Linda said, "Fine. We'll leave, then."
The guy squinted down the beach and said, "Your boat doesn't have registration numbers. Care to explain that?"
I said, "There's nothing to explain. She isn't a boat."
"I don't see any tracks on the beach."
"She doesn't have wheels, either."
"Then it's either a boat or a hovercraft. Either way, you need registration numbers to use it. I'll need to see some ID from both of you."
"Whatever," I said, reaching for my back pocket.
When I stunned him lightly Linda grabbed his gun as he went to his knees. She unloaded it and stuffed the shells in his shirt pocket as he stared dazedly up at her, then she tossed his gun into the trees at the edge of the beach.
"We're leaving now," I said. "You'll be fine in a few minutes."
The guy was looking in the direction Linda had thrown his gun as we walked away. He tried to move and fell over, then managed to sit up.
"Stephanie," I said in a conversational tone.
"Yes, Ed."
"Come to meet us. We need to leave fairly quickly."
"Yes, Ed."
The flitter zipped across the sand toward us and stopped near us. We got in and took a last look at the Forest Ranger. He was on his feet already, staggering toward the trees. I saw something move some distance inside the treeline and told Stephanie to take a look at it.
"What's moving in the trees, Steph?"
"It appears to be a small black bear."
"Small? How small?"
"It is only two meters in length."
"Damn. Can't leave yet, Linda. Let's stay between the man and the bear, Steph. Elevate to three feet and leave the canopy open."
As we pulled near the guy I said, "We'll park over your gun and stay between you and the bear. Where's your vehicle?"
"Who are you people? What bear?"
"Look for it near your gun and get moving. We'll cover you."
The Ranger heard something and looked toward the trees. The bear was messing with something on the ground up there. When it raised its head we could see it was trying to chew on the Ranger's gun.
I said, "Another change of plans, Ranger. Hop aboard and remember that the lady has a stunner like mine, so behave."
The Ranger stared at us for a moment, then swung himself onto the flitter. I headed us toward the bear, who seemed not to notice us right away. When it did, we were closer than it liked and it tried to rear up, but its right leg collapsed under it. It fell with an agonized roar and haltingly tried again.
"Steph, take control and take us to within three feet of the bear's tallest reach. Ranger, I'll zap the bear and you get your gun. Don't load it, please, just get it."
He looked at me for a moment, then said, "Okay."
The bear tried to reach for us as we hovered above it and I had to zap it several times before it finally lay quiet. The Ranger dropped down to get his gun and stayed to have a look at the bear.
"Her right leg is broken," he said. "Probably got hit by a car out on the highway. I'll have to get help to move her."
"Wait one. Steph, can you somehow lift the bear?"
"Yes, Ed."
"Without injuring it? If so, how?"
"Yes, Ed. I can extend a field that will hold the bear against my underside."
"Ranger, get back aboard and we'll take the bear to your vehicle."
As he was re-boarding the flitter, Linda said, "He has a radio. Let him call for help and do it their usual way."
"This is more fun, ma'am, and it may save the bear some pain. Okay, Steph. Let's grab that bear and find the Ranger's vehicle."
And so it went. We picked up the bear, lifted above the trees, then lowered back among the trees a few moments later to settle beside the Ranger's truck. The bear was reviving as we released the field and backed away, so I got out and zapped it again until it lay quiet.
The Ranger watched me aim at the bear and apparently do nothing and he saw nothing to indicate the stunner had fired, but the bear nonetheless went limp.
He said, "That's an interesting gadget."
"Yeah. Sorry I used it on you, but we didn't have the answers you were going to want at the time and we aren't allowed to let ourselves get busted."
The Ranger opened his truck and pulled out a tranquilizer gun and Linda immediately aimed her stunner at him.
"Linda," I said, "It's a single-shot Benjamin air rifle. He couldn't possibly reload before one of us got him, so it kind of has to be for the bear, I think."
The Ranger nodded. "It is. I want her quiet until I can get her to a vet. Thanks for helping me haul her over here. I see now why you two didn't want to show me ID. That's quite a vehicle. Are you two aliens?"
"No," I said. "You mind if we drop by that beach again now and then? We're trying to work some things out without an audience."
"What kind of things?"
I nodded toward Linda. "Personal stuff, man. You know how it is. There's just no damned privacy on that ship. Everybody knows everybody else's business."
The Ranger stared at me and then at Linda in her jogging outfit and then he chuckled as he came to the most obvious conclusion about us.
"It sounds a lot like my office," he said. "Yeah. I think I've got the picture."
He looked at the bear and put the gun down to get a stretcher out of the truck, took it over
next to the bear and unfolded it, then went back for the dart gun. After pumping it once, he aimed at the bear's flank and fired, then pulled the dart out of the bear's butt and set it on the ground.
When he started to shift and roll the bear onto the stretcher I went to help him do it and then helped him lift the stretcher into the back of his truck.
"Tell you what," he said. "You haven't acted like poachers at all. I only check this area on Thursday afternoons, if you really want some privacy."
He looked at the flitter and said, "I can truthfully say that I haven't seen any unregistered boats or cars today. You're not fishing or hunting or camping on protected land, and since you weren't disturbing the wildlife, whatever else you may have been doing sounds like none of my business. Good enough?"
"Good enough."
He put his rifle on the back seat and said, "I have to deliver a bear to a vet, so I'd better get moving before that shot wears off. See you around, maybe."
He waved as he backed up to turn his truck around, then drove away through the trees. I climbed back aboard Stephanie and asked Linda if she wanted to go back out on the beach. She said she wouldn't mind staying right where we were for a while and soaking up some outdoors.
We left the canopy open for air and folded the seats back and stretched out in the shade of the pines and talked about people and places and events we had in common until something occurred to her.
"Ed, where are the mosquitoes? The flies? The bugs?"
"The field must be up. Stephie, are you keeping the bugs out?"
"Yes, Ed. Should I let them in?"
"Oh, no, Steph. I just wondered about them, that's all. Thank you."
Linda laughed. "I think Stephie's going to be your new girlfriend, Ed."
"I could do worse. She's not like other women, you know. She'll never be on my ass about toilet seats or forgetting holidays or having other girlfriends."
"True enough. We should make this a regular thing, Ed. I'd forgotten how good sand and wind feels. And real privacy."
"Just work something out and tell me when to pick you up."
If we'd thought about that trip to the beach before heading out we might have taken something to eat or drink, but we hadn't, and only a couple of hours went by before Linda suggested that we go back to the ship because Stephanie hadn't come equipped with a toilet.
3rd World Products, Inc., Book 1 Page 20