Flying
Page 8
Imde reached out to touch it. Wet rubbery skin, splashed by the waves, barnacles here and there. More than he'd expected from pictures.
"You must be a very old whale. What's the problem? Who can I ask about what ails you?"
A whale? How odd. Does it hurt anywhere?
Imde closed his eyes and felt the whale mentally, as he'd mentally felt—and affected—any number of willing women.
Dull. Lonely. Alone.
Imde blinked . Somehow his hands had run up the side of the whale's head.
There's something wrong with his hearing. Let me look this up . . . the ear's down low, actually in the jaw, not the skull . . . Oh, calcium deposits, like bone spurs, see, the tympanic plate can't vibrate . . . but dissolving the extra deposits and strengthening the tympanic bones . . . and the ossicles could use a little work . . . that should help. Can you reach the other side? The other ear is just as . . . arthritic? Or is that just joints?
Imde backed off and circled the whale's front. Had to swim around and reach up to the jaw . . . Please don't swim away quite yet! I don't want to be squished!
He ran his hands along the whale's lower jaw, struggling to stay in contact while the sand flowed away underfoot.
There! Now you can hear the song.
Imde blinked, shook his head. What was that? There's nothing I can do out here, other than washing him back off the sand bar.
The whale's tail rose and fell, the mountainous creature shoved him.
Imde threw himself backwards, stroked and kicked away, watching as the whale tried to flounder free of the sand bar.
I need a wave! He tread water and spread his arms to gather the shallow water and shoved it at the whale.
Imde staggered as his feet hit bottom and he backed away and watched as the wave lifted the whale off the sand bar and shoved it seaward. Then he turned and galloped for shore as the next wave crashed over the sand bar and flooded toward him.
He floundered back onto the beach to cheering.
Not at him. All eyes were on the whale.
"Look! He spouted!"
"There he goes!"
"There's his tail!"
Imde walked up to the soft hot sand and flopped down. What did I just do?
***
Fourteen thousand kilometers away Paer Withione shook herself awake and looked at her computer screen where, half-asleep, she'd apparently decided to look up whale ears, while she dreamed of healing one. "Weirdest dream ever. Whales? Why would I dream about whales? With hearing problems?" She flipped back to her last medical report to make sure she hadn't actually called the rather heavy woman patient a whale, and vowed to start getting to bed earlier.
An Excerpt from an upcoming story:
Chapter One
16 Rajab 1405 yp
"Yes! Paer's comm reads as being home. But turned off." Ebsa scowled at the screen of his comm. "Eat first, see Paer later? See if Paer's even home? She may have left her comm here and gone back across."
Ra'd snorted. "It's almost midnight. She's probably already eaten and is sound asleep. So go wake her up and find out. I'm going to eat, then crash. Remember we've got a meeting tomorrow."
Ebsa looked around the warehouse. The vehicle bay was empty; Team Leader Acty had returned the last crawler to maintenance before heading for a much deserved vacation. He shrugged and headed back out.
Bus service was slow, this late. Paer had an apartment in a nice neighborhood, at the insistence of her bodyguards. The president's daughter might be a trained, active, directorate agent, and frequently assigned across, but when she was home, she got treated like, well, the president's daughter. Living someplace she could be guarded. At least she gets across regularly, with her medic certification, and no bodyguards allowed.
Here, that was a nice flat in a seven story building. A small park across the street, other apartments and a few shops up and down the quiet street. Dark, just a few streetlights, the sidewalk in front of the building lit by the glass doors of the lobby.
The doors recognized his implant and opened as he approached. The elevator whisked him up to the seventh floor.
He walked out to see Paer kissing a man in the hallway.
Ebsa recoiled back into the elevator. He reached for the doors as they slid shut . . . then let them close. Staring numbly at the wall while the elevator dropped back to the ground floor. Stupid of me. To have expected anything else. He walked back out to the street and started walking. I'm just a clostuone. I should have expected something . . . something . . .
So immaculately timed.
Right out of a stupid movie script.
He crossed the street and turned at the first corner, circled the block at a run. He tapped at his mini comp. Video recording, transmission to storage . . . He eased into the little park from the back. Slight movements, whispers. Didn't sound like necking teenagers, so he slipped quietly closer.
" . . . hoping for a big scene. This is pretty much a bust."
Newsies. The obnoxious sort.
"Nah, her punching that idiot Offe is pure gold. Pity he kept her busy long enough for the Closey to get away. A tearful attempt to convince the lout to not believe his own eyes would have been amusing."
They have hidden cams up in the hallway. Or they've hacked the building security system.
Ebsa found a bench and placed the minicomp for best aim at the group, and taking in the entrance of the apartment building across the road.
Paer blasted out of the building, looking both directions. "Ebsa? Oh dammit, dammit, dammit!"
A man, and a frowning woman were on her heels. My rival and one of Paer's bodyguards.
"Paer, don't be like that!" He reached for her, recoiled as she whipped around to glare.
"You lying moron. Go. Away."
He stepped closer, trying to loom over her, and the bodyguard grabbed his shoulder and jerked him back.
"Damn it, we need more fireworks, can someone distract the guard?" A whisper in the dark. At least three shapes, two with shoulder mounted video recorders.
"But I love you!" The Lying Moron didn't know when to just shut up.
"And I don't give a damn. I told you, I have a guy. You are just one of my colleagues that I used to occasionally socialize with. So. Just. Go. Away."
"No, no. I refuse to give up on you. Just because an old boyfriend showed up and embarrassed you is no reason to throw away what we have."
"One!" Paer patted her pockets. "Dammit, I don't have my comm."
The bodyguard lady stepped between her and the man, offered her a comm.
Ebsa hastily pulled his out and switched it to text only.
Paer frowned at the comm, tapped at the virtual keyboard.
Ebsa, where are you. I need to talk to you.
He grinned and retreated a bit.
Recording the paparazzi recording it all in the park across the street.
He stepped to where he could see her face before he sent it. And watched her eyes widen and her lips turn up and part, spread into a grin as she fairly glowed.
"Ebsa, you, you! Oh, dear One, no wonder I love you!" She charged across the street.
The bodyguard charged after her, pulling out a flash.
The three newsies flinched back in the sudden light.
"You again. Not enough news, you need to create some? Trying to look big, here in the cultural backwater so you can get a job in Paris?" She spotted Ebsa and pounced.
After a nice long kiss with lots and lots of body contact, Ebsa pulled his thoughts back together. Glared at the woman reaching for his comp. "Don't touch. Private property."
"You have no right to record me!"
"A public figure on public property? Sorry, but I do. Or are you too small and insignificant to count as a public figure?" Ebsa watched her grit her teeth and refuse to admit it. Then he looked over at the bodyguard. "On the other hand, from what they were saying, I think they must have a cam somewhere up there. Is the hall public space? It's behind security doors. Or pe
rhaps they hacked the building security system, and that is definitely illegal."
"Why you pathetic little Clostuone. I will blacken your name . . . "
Ebsa glanced at the minicomp.
The newsie hissed. "Oops." She swung at it.
Paer snapped over and snatched it. So fast the newsie was left blinking. She handed it to Ebsa.
He turned a contemptuous shoulder to the reporter. "So. I just finally escaped from an all day debriefing, and I'm starving. Why don't we go out for a midnight snack? Your guards will probably appreciate having an opportunity to sweep your apartment for any pickups." Ebsa steered Paer away, kept between her and the glowering Lying Moron and headed down the street.
Around the corner, Paer stopped him and put her arms around him. Crying silently.
He rubbed her back and held her.
"I thought they were my friends. Then they trapped me like this."
Ebsa hugged her harder. "No one ever does anything from pure motives. Just because they might have started with thoughts of getting close to power doesn't mean that they didn't come to value you for yourself, once they got to know you. Which just makes them all the more ready to pull dirty tricks to get rid of an obstacle."
She loosened her grip long enough to thump him. "Stop being so logical. Off didn't care how much he hurt me. It probably never occurred to him that I would be hurt. Probably all the rest of them are the same."
Ebsa shook his head. "Nah, judge them as individuals. Group guilt or innocence . . . is just going to make your job more unpleasant."
"Ugg. They're a pack of analysts. They can analyze my middle finger." She shook her hair back and released him. "C'mon, let's find a restaurant. We can both talk all around the classified stuff we can't even tell each other. I just got back a couple of hours ago. Had dinner with my friends."
"S'all right. There's plenty of other stuff we can talk about. Did I mention we were incubating some Triceratops eggs? Wait till you see the pictures of the hatching."
"Ohhhh! You know me too well. If you ever get all manipulative, I'll be in real trouble."
"Tell you what. If there's anything so important that I'd try to get you to get your dad to do something . . . I'll just tell you about it, and you can use your own judgement about whether to just tell your dad about it and ask him to do something about it."
"There, see? You know me too well."
The auto café was . . . close, handy, and at this hour, empty.
Ebsa wolfed down a quick noodle and beef dish, ignoring the excess salt and chemical aftertaste, while Paer nibbled cookies and watched his recording of the baby dinosaurs hatching.
"Oh, I wish I'd been there." Her comm beeped. She glanced at it. "The guards say the apartment and hallway are clean. Now. C'mon. You can tell me all about Nighthawk and Ra'd on the walk . . . oh, never mind. The ride home."
The nondescript car pulling up to the curb was no doubt armored and vastly over powered.
"My place." Paer added. "I may be sent back in three days, so I'm hanging on to you as much as I can." She sighed. "I have a meeting at eight."
Ebsa cocked his head. "So do I. HQ. Room 820."
"Oooo. I think we may be able to talk to each other about all sorts of stuff, tomorrow."
They didn't talk a whole lot after that. They did get some sleep.
Available from Amazon Fall 2017
What I'm Reading Now
I just finished Penny Dreadful and the Clockwork Copper by J.M. Anjewierden. Very different . . . or maybe I just don't read enough Steam Punk. I really didn't expect an AI having to deal with a major conflict between direct orders, basic programming, and a fast developing conscience. Very nicely plotted. Even the one unnecessary—I thought—death turned out to be important, in the end. And the story wraps up well. Satisfying, but with plenty of potential for a series. Highly recommended.
I'm in the middle of chapter thirteen of a dynamite Urban Fantasy. Unless Daniel Jose Older blows the ending this is going to be great. Shadowshaper plays on Caribbean myths in a New York neighborhood. Highly recommended and I'm not even finished.
About the Author
I was born and raised in California, and have lived more than half my life, now, in Texas.
Wonderful place. I caught almost the first bachelor I met here, and we’re coming up on our thirty-seventh anniversary.
My degree's in Geology. After working for an oil company for almost ten years as a geophysicist, I “retired” to raise children. As they grew, I added oil painting, sculpting and throwing clay, breeding horses, volunteering in libraries and for the Boy Scouts, and treasurer for a friend’s political campaign. Sometime in those busy years, I turned a love of science fiction into a part time job reading slush (Mom? Someone is paying you to read??!!)
I've always written, published a few short stories. But now that the kids have flown the nest, I'm calling writing a full time job.
Directorate School was my seventeenth novel, and first in a spin-off series. These stories aren’t quite right for that series, but No Confidence fits in between Trouble in Paradise and First Assignment. Star Struck happens during First Assignment.
I've also issued four collections of novellas and short stories, and published other short stories separately.
I've got two new books in the Wine of the Gods Universe under way, and another novella in The Directorate series. And some unrelated work . . . So I may manage to squeeze in a few more titles before the end of the year.
Email pamuphoff@gmail.com to join the mailing list for notifications of new releases.
Other Titles by Pam Uphoff
Wine of the Gods Series:
Outcasts and Gods
Exiles and Gods (Three Novellas)
The Black Goats
Explorers
Spy Wars
One Alone
Comet Fall
A Taste of Wine (Seven Tales)
Dark Lady
Growing Up Magic (Four Novellas)
Young Warriors
God of Assassins
Heirs of Crown and Spear
The Fiend
Empire of the One
Warriors of the One
Dancer
Earth gate
Mages at Large
Art Theft
Triplets
Sea Wolves
Bad Karma
Dark Side of the Moon
Cascades
Olympian
Embassy
Rael
On the Run
God of the Sun
Cannibal World
No Confidence
Pure Poison
The Directorate Series
Directorate School
A Tale of Three Interns
Trouble in Paradise
First Posting
Surveillance
Fort Dinosaur
The Lawyers of Mars
Fancy Free
Time Loop
Writing as Zoey Ivers
YA Cyberpunk Adventures:
The Barton Street Gym
Chicago
Atlantis+
Fantasy:
Demi God