Pico's Crush

by Carol Van Natta

  “What’s boom-down?” asked Pico.

  “Munitions. Explosions,” said Jerzi.

  “Just a flyby to see your daughter, Commander?”

  “Visit and a short vacation. It’d be longer if it wasn’t seven transit days from–”

  “And who do we have here?” The resonant voice came from behind him. He turned to see a tall, very sharply dressed man with a wide, professional smile that almost reached his brilliant green eyes. He looked to be in his late fifties, though if he followed regular health maintenance protocols and good body-shop work, he could be twice that age. His face was too thin to be called handsome, but his tanned skin was as perfect as his full head of wavy blond hair, tasteful ear jewelry, and skin art in geometric ovals.

  The man caressed the gold, glowing nametag on his chest pocket. “Master Benedar Vestering, Department Leader for Materials Science.” His naturally rich voice rang with pride bordering on condescension.

  “Adams.” He tilted his head toward Pico and gave her a quick smile. “Peregrine Adams is my daughter.”

  Vestering’s smile faltered as he stared at Jerzi. “You’re not, eh, that is, you don’t look like a Sankirna.” There was a hint of accusation in the tone.

  Jerzi felt his face freeze. “No. Were you expecting one?” Surely Pico would have told him, but maybe she didn’t know about it.

  “Oh, no,” said Vestering, brushing invisible lint off his tunic hem. “I just happened to see a tuition transfer this morning for a Peregrine Adams from a Sankirna account. It’s an unusual name.” He looked down at Pico as if seeing her for the first time.

  Jerzi felt Pico’s hand slip into the crook of his elbow, causing him to automatically fold his arm to support her. “Chodźmy, tato. Coś jest śmierdzący tutaj.”

  She was rarely that overtly insulting, so she apparently knew Vestering didn’t understand Polish. While it was true that something was stinking, Jerzi didn’t want to encourage her rudeness.

  Vestering’s professional smile returned. “Such an expressive language, Russian.”

  Jerzi patted Pico’s hand and smiled indulgently. “Yes,” he said, “it certainly is.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Andra cover her mouth and turn her head away to cough. He remembered she’d always been good with languages.

  Vestering might not speak Polish or Russian, but he appeared to suspect they weren’t being respectful, even if he couldn’t pinpoint the specific offense. His disgruntled gaze landed on Andra. “I don’t care how popular your Practical Applications class is, it’s not rigorous educational practice.” He waved an arm toward the improvised rocket display. “Encouraging this kind of childish nonsense isn’t preparing your students for anything but a career in a shady jack crew.”

  Jerzi wondered if Vestering thought there were aboveboard jack crews that engaged in punching and hauling cargo from space stations and interstellar freighters.

  Pico let go of Jerzi’s arm to step closer to Andra, then gave Vestering her best wide-eyed, innocent look. “Really? Will they have a booth on recruiting day? I’m told they pay very well.”

  A couple of nearby students tittered. They looked away fast when Vestering shot them a glare.

  He frowned at Pico, clearly not sure if she was needling him or if she was really that naïve. Her petite frame and doll-like features often caused people to underestimate her. He opened his mouth, then closed it as he glanced at Jerzi, finally recognizing he’d either look like an idiot or a bully if he engaged. He turned to Andra. “I’ll be at the presenters’ station, if anyone important is looking for me.”

  He straightened his nameplate and brushed his tunic flat, then smiled and waded into the crowd.

  Andra sighed and put her hand on Pico’s shoulder. “You shouldn’t have baited him. Now that he knows who you are, he could make your life difficult in a hundred little ways.”

  Jerzi wanted to chime in and agree with Andra, but held his tongue. Pico was adult enough to make her own decisions, and only experience would teach her how to pick her battles. A lecture from him wouldn’t change anything. Besides, he wasn’t exactly innocent.

  Pico looked briefly mutinous, then sighed loudly. “Point taken.”

  Jerzi wished he could take credit for her mature behavior, but she’d always been a good kid, even at her most rebellious. He was grateful she respected Andra enough to learn from her.

  “I was hoping to find the rest of your team,” said Andra. “I’d like to reschedule the launch next week.”

  Pico looked around and shrugged.

  A young woman with shaded, sea-green hair and pearlescent blue skin appeared from around the pillar. “Hey, Pico, did you hear when Ravlenko’s phase gate failed?” She slowed to a more sedate pace when she saw Andra. “Heyo, Professor D.” Her tight sarong dress and elevated sandals were glowing. She looked like she was in costume as an alien sea creature, complete with what may have been gill slits on her neck and upper chest and actual webbing between her fingers. He’d heard about the “native” body mods that were all the rage on Nila Marbela, designed to make people look as if they’d evolved locally, instead of settling on it like every other terraformed planet in the Concordance. She was the first he’d seen up close.

  Andra nodded. “Ms. Grien.”

  Grien leaned in toward Pico, as if speaking confidentially, but didn’t lower her voice. “Their mix chamber nearly launched itself through the east wall. Bet he’s sorry he didn’t get you to check his calcs this morning. Now that whole area stinks, like they all ate at the Death Court.”

  Pico shook her head. “Anyone could have checked his calcs.”

  Grien snorted. “Yeah, but it would have taken them two days with a math AI to do it.”

  Pico frowned and dropped her gaze.

  “‘Death Court’?” asked Jerzi, nudging Pico’s shoulder with his arm.

  “Food court.” She pointed vaguely toward the west. “Replicators, pouches, junk food, failed experiments from the Chem lab.”

  Andra smiled. “So, Jerzi, what are you doing with yourself these days?”

  Jerzi smiled back. “I’m in the Personal Security Division of La Plata Security and Investigations, in Etonver on Rekoria.”

  He didn’t expect her to recognize the company. A lot of larger security firms had their headquarters in Etonver because of its anything-goes policies for buying and carrying weapons, and its hundreds of martial arts studios that made it an attractive home base for mercenary companies.

  “He’s the assistant director,” said Pico. He was warmed by her pride, but he wished she hadn’t mentioned it. Providing bodyguards and security drivers for celebrities and visiting dignitaries wasn’t nearly as impressive as the title implied.

  Recognition dawned on Andra’s face. “La Plata. Isn’t that where Dom DeBayaud went after he got out? Is he still there, too? And is he still cohabbed with that crazy woman?”

  Jerzi shook his head. “No, he died in an accident about four years ago.” It had been much more complicated than that, and had nearly cost Jerzi and his friends Luka Foxe and Mairwen Morganthur their lives, but “accident” was the official public version the lawyers agreed to.

  “Dad just got promoted,” added Pico.

  Jerzi tilted his head toward her and smiled. “My publicist.”

  Grien, who had been fussing with something under the table, stood and put her arm around Pico’s shoulders. She turned wheedling eyes on Andra. “Can we start packing up? Since we can’t launch or anything?” Pico followed Grien’s lead and did her best to look pitiful, but her mouth quavered as she fought off a smile.

  Andra shook her head regretfully. “That will be up to Department Leader Vestering.”

  Jerzi gave Andra a questioning look, but she shook her head minutely, meaning she didn’t want to discuss it then. Funny how with some people, unspoken connections were never lost, just paused. He’d missed that.

  Grien made a disappointed whimper and sat on the edge of the table. She took off one o
f her sandals and stretched her blue toes, which were webbed like her fingers.

  A sudden, sharp percussion of an explosion echoed in the lecture hall, accompanied by a vibration through the springy silcrete floor. A second, deeper explosion followed, shaking the floor and walls, accompanied by the sounds of things falling off tables.

  Grien scrambled up from the skittering table, bouncing one-legged as she tried to put on her sandal. “What the hell?”

  Jerzi got a whiff of acrid smoke and looked around, then up. Smoke was pouring from the high ceiling vents on the western wall.

  Fire-suppression spray triggered, covering everything in a fine, powdery mist, but the smoke kept coming. A stuttering alarm began to sound.

  “Fire!” someone yelled. Panic spread, and the crowd started to move. It was going to get ugly, fast.

  Chapter 2

  * Planet: Nila Marbela * GDAT 3241.142 *

  Jerzi looked around. They needed to get to a wall. They were in the middle of too many people and nowhere close to an exit.

  Pico tried to help Grien, but they kept getting jostled by people who were passing by, trying to find a way out, and the chemical mist was making the non-skid floor slippery.

  When a bigger man nearly ran Pico down, Jerzi scooped her up into his arms, and looked for options.

  “The pillar,” ordered Andra. She shoved the display table aside and quickly herded Grien toward it. “Put your back to the pillar.” Grien looked pale, and flattened herself against its surface.

  Jerzi carried Pico there and let her down. “You, too,” he said, and she nodded, her eyes round with nerves, but her expression determined. He was proud of his kid.

  He edged toward Andra, but not close enough to get in her way. “Stay or go?”

  A young, dark-skinned woman tripped in front of them, terror in her eyes. He and Andra each grabbed an arm and lifted her to her feet.

  “Let go of me!” she screamed, kicking at Jerzi’s knee and twisting out of Andra’s grip. They both let go at once. She stumbled forward, then picked up speed. “Norro, wait!”

  Jerzi forgot about her and turned to watch for new threats.

  Screaming and shouts punctuated the sounds of tables skidding and toppling. His lizard brain was telling him to run with everyone else, but years of experience said it had to be done smartly, with a goal in mind. He suddenly realized he was wet, and he looked up. The ceiling was obscured by smoke, but he could see a watery mist drifting down. On his sleeves, and wherever the mist fell, a pale pink foam began to form.

  “Seawater,” yelled Andra. “Catalyzes the suppression chemicals.”

  Everywhere he looked, people were scrambling and running, some with purpose, some in fear. The exit markings were being obscured under the pink foam, but Jerzi had already memorized their locations.

  “Stay or go?” he asked Andra again. She knew the environment far better than he did.

  “Go.” She looked back at the girls behind them. “Grien, lose the shoes. Pico, help her stay upright.” Andra paused to wipe foam from her face, grimacing. “Espuma maldita tastes like crap. We’re going with the flow, but angling toward the north doors.” She pointed toward them. “Work through the crowd, but don’t go against the flow. Stay together.”

  A loud, stuttering alarm started up, apparently intended to tell occupants to evacuate. More than a little late, in Jerzi’s opinion.

  Andra waited while Grien finished tying the straps of her shoes together and slinging them around her neck. Jerzi mostly kept his eye on the crowd, but he saw Pico grab an umbrella from the display table.

  By tacit agreement, Andra took point, followed Grien, then Pico. Jerzi took the rear, using his bulk to protect them and his height to watch for potential trouble in front of them. They moved at a fast walk and let others run past them. The annoying pink foam broke down when trampled, but it clumped and obscured obstacles. Several small, mobile obstacles turned out to be cleaning robots. At a guess, someone forgot to override their normal instructions to automatically deploy in the event of a major spill.

  Up ahead, he saw a knot of people start to form around some unseen problem. “Left! Twenty degrees!” he shouted to Andra. She veered that direction immediately, and Pico and Grien followed. Grien slipped and slid several times, nearly taking Pico with her. Pico put one arm around her friend’s waist, to help keep her on her feet.

  The loud alarm stopped in mid-stutter, replaced by Vestering’s voice, booming over the noise.

  “Attention. Please continue to exit the building. A minor lab accident on the second floor has been fully contained. There is no fire. There is no danger to the building or the lecture hall. The safety systems are doing their jobs. Head for the nearest exit in an orderly manner. Emergency responders are outside waiting for you, and will direct you where to go.”

  His tone was the perfect blend of authority, confidence, and reassurance. He might be a jerk, but he was excellent in crisis communications. He repeated his message three more times, each time sounding warmer and calmer, making it sound like the evacuation was just a realistic drill.

  It worked. People began to slow down and started paying attention to their surroundings.

  Jerzi was impressed, despite himself. He half expected to see a Minder Corps crowd-control team, but a minor local panic was beneath the notice of the Citizen Protection Service. Just as well. No one he knew would enjoy the notice of the government’s minder testing, elite military operations, and covert operations agency.

  Their little band was about twenty meters from the wide-open exit when more trouble started, in the form of what looked like a homemade, meter-tall combat robot that glowed orange-red. Whether from a flawed design or damage from the foam, it was ramming into people from behind, knocking them aside or to the ground, then using its treads to roll over them. When an angry young woman kicked it aside, it responded by deploying a plasma loop and administering a burn and a shock that felled her where she stood. Two people dragged her out of the way as it tried to climb her body. It spun again.

  “That’s Dortief’s Doomreaper,” said Pico. “The black beads are motion sensors.” Its bulging round chassis was studded with them. “It goes for any movement under about forty centimeters.”

  Andra pushed Grien toward the exit and urged her to keep going, then went back to rejoin Jerzi and Pico to see what the trouble was. She muttered in Spanish, probably colorful curses. “I told her not to bring that thing.”

  A young woman with hair in long braids tried to edge around the bot, then screamed when it started lumbering toward her.

  “Everybody freeze!” ordered Andra. Her command voice compelled compliance, even from civilians. “Movement at knee level and below triggers its combat sequence.” She stared at it a moment. “We need tables to box it in.” She pointed to three people on the other side of the bot. “You, you, and you. Tell the people behind you we need four tables. Don’t turn around, just tell them.”

  An older man in a green, casual suit kept glancing toward the exit, then slowly started edging toward it. The bot spun toward him. The man started running, and the bot made a beeline for him. Other people in its path started screaming and backing up, and running into other people.

  “Stay still!” yelled Andra.

  Jerzi jumped into the clear circle, knowing its plasma loop was going to hurt like hell if he couldn’t avoid it. He delivered a solid side kick to the bot, causing it to skid sideways, then leapt back toward Pico and Andra as it spun quickly toward him. He froze. It was hard not to flinch when it came closer, but his tactic seemed to have confused it. The plasma loop retracted, but the bot slowly drifted closer. He hated that Pico was in the line of fire, too.

  Andra scowled at the robot and muttered, “And me without my shockstick.”

  Despite the tense situation, Jerzi smiled. The mugger’s weapon of choice had been one of Subcaptain Lightning’s favorite accessories, but it wouldn’t go well with her conservative professorial attire.

 
“What if I break the safety off my umbrella and knock the cap off?” asked Pico, pointing to it with her chin. She’d wedged it between her arm and her body.

  Andra gave her a crooked smile. “Good thinking, but you’d have to bend the ribs together, and you’d need micro forcewires to kill the power limiter series, like the stasis box we took apart in class. It’s only good for one shot.” Her expression turned innocent. “Not that I’ve ever done anything like that.”

  “Three tables coming through,” shouted a man’s voice from behind the crowd.

  “We need a fourth,” shouted Andra. “Don’t break the line until they’re all here.”

  The robot was indecisively rocking back and forth about a meter from Jerzi’s legs. He tried not to think about it and kept his gaze on Andra and his daughter.

  Andra eyed the robot. “We’ll have to distract it, no matter what.”

  Pico touched his arm and Andra’s. “Dad and I can do this.” Her voice was barely audible. She held up the umbrella and gave him a meaningful look. It only took him a moment to realize she meant she was willing to use her hidden micro telekinetic talent to do what Andra had described to turn the umbrella into a one-use shockstick. He slightly raised an eyebrow, asking her if she was sure she wanted to take the chance. She nodded once.

  “Yes,” he confirmed to Andra. If push came to shove, he’d take full credit for Pico’s actions. Let them try to prove it wasn’t his own negligible talent, which heretofore had only been good for targeting his long sniper shots.

  Andra gave them each a considering look, then said, “Do it. Ribs first, then the cap, then the safeties. Limiters last.” Her unquestioning trust was a warm relief.

  Since Andra was far enough back to move freely, she directed the people carrying the tables to get into position behind the people stuck in the ragged circle around the robot. Jerzi bent the umbrella’s ribs up into a bundle, using the hem of his jacket to protect his hands against the sharp edges. It took longer than he’d have liked because he could only use his upper body to do it, since his legs had to remain frozen. Next, he removed the cap, again relying only on his arm strength to twist it off. He started to slip it into his pants pocket, but it made the cloth shift, which caught the attention of the robot.