Book 4: 3rd World Products, Inc.

by Ed Howdershelt

  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 ex's 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 his 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?"

  She grinned and spoke softly. “Yes."

  "That's probably only because he has what the other guys were missing and that makes him pretty much just right for you, ma'am. I know it sounds simplistic, but I'll bet you don't have a better answer."

  I tapped the ‘off’ icon and the screen disappeared.

  "Joan, stop worrying about when the good times will end. Stick with Barry a while and look for the reasons why he seems so right for you. Be as good to him as he is to you and let it become a habit. He probably won't ask you to marry him until you've known each other a while longer, but when he does, have an answer ready."

  Thumbing at the door, I said, “We have to go, but don't feel as if you have to duck every time you see me. Nothing happened here that shouldn't have if it helped you in any way, so don't be embarrassed later, okay?"

  Her lips compressed nervously and she said, “Uh, okay. Are you saying that I was chosen for this job because I was ... marriageable?"

  I shrugged and grinned. “Well, I'm pretty sure they needed a store manager, too, but I think being marriageable might have been part of it. Did Barry say anything about being married before, Joan? Fairly recently, in fact?"

  She nodded. “Yes. His wife was killed in a car accident almost two years ago. How did you know...?"

  "They've only been on Earth a few years,” I said, “But damned few of them are still single.” Leaning forward across the counter, I said in a confidential tone, “Here's something about Amarans, Joan; they don't feel complete alone. They seem to be made that way or something. If you two turn out to be right for each other, he'll come to need you like air and water and he'll always treat you well."

  Standing straight, I looked at my watch as if a few more minutes really mattered and said, “Whoops. We really have to go now.” Heading for the door I tossed back, “Hope things work out for you, Joan."

  She gave us a little wave and said, “Thanks. I mean that."

  In the hallway Steph asked, “Is there some reason you didn't simply suggest that she talk with one of the counselors on the base?"

  "Yeah. She needed an answer she could use today, not a month from now. If she didn't, she never would have confided in a total stranger."

  My watch beeped; I tapped the button and said, “Hi, Linda."

  "Hi, Ed. Steph accessed Joan Belmont's file a few minutes ago. I wondered why, so I traced the transmission and eavesdropped."

  "Any complaints?"

  "No. Your reason became apparent and you had her permission. I would like to have a look at what transpired before the records request, though."

  I said, “Sure. I bought some Lifesaver Gummis."

  "And that led to a discussion of marriage?"

  "There may have been a bit more, I guess. Want a copy?"


  "Yes, please."

  Steph said, “I'm sending a copy to your datapad, Linda."

  "Thank you,” said Linda. “How did training go this morning?"

  "Seemed okay,” I said. “Steph had to offer to dump Myra, but Myra seems to understand her position a little better now."

  Linda laughed and said, “She only stays if she plays nice, Steph. Her mission isn't at all critical to ours and the NSA could send someone else later."

  "That's essentially what I told her, Linda,” said Steph, “Thank you for your support."

  "De nada, Steph. You're cadre; she's just a nosy guest. Later, people. Bye."

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Karen and Myra—apparently engaged in some spirited discussion—hadn't left the dining hall yet, so I grabbed a coffee and Steph and I joined them at the table. As we neared the table the conversation devolved into a few harsh whispers, then died altogether as I sat down by Karen and Steph sat down beside me.

  I looked at Mills, then at Myra. Neither seemed inclined to say anything.

  "Sorry to interrupt,” I said. “Do you guys need a few more minutes?"

  Myra sat back with a wry grin and sipped her own coffee. Karen said nothing as she rose to take her tray to the bus bins. She came back with a coffee and sat down in silence, but her glare at Myra spoke volumes.

  Sighing once to preface matters, I said, “Okay, people, here it is; I'm not up for any more personality clashes. If things aren't all friendly again before we finish our coffees, Karen comes to the flitter with us and Myra goes to Linda's office to wait for a ride home."

  "I've about had it with ultimatums,” said Myra. She set her cup down and leaned across the table slightly as she said, “This was a simple disagreement between Mills and me. I'm here on behalf of the NSA and you'd better damned well think about that before you make any final decisions."

  I matched her gaze and posture and said, “I don't give a damn what it was, Myra. It was disruptive and unnecessary, so I'll have Linda send a security team to the dining hall. She won't want to let you try to find her office all by yourself."

  As I raised my watch and reached for the call button Myra said, “You don't seem to realize what you're doing, Ed. You don't want to mess with us."

  "If I ship you back to them—pardon, if we ship you back to them—with a request that they provide someone else, they'll want to know why. Steph can provide copies of her recordings and all of us will provide our opinions. The NSA wants info, Myra. That's what they're all about. We aren't keeping them from it. You are. If you can't get that info it'll be your problem, not ours."

  Myra's voice was ominous as she said, “Trust me; it'll be your problem, too, Ed."

  "Steph,” I said, “Would you play that last bit back for us? Let her have a taste of what we'll be including in our report to her boss?"

  She nodded and used Myra's voice to say, “Trust me; it'll be your problem, too, Ed."

  I looked at Myra and said, “We let you stay aboard and only asked you to knock off the nasty bullshit. You didn't. Now you're threatening me as if you think you can use the agency in a personal vendetta against me. That's strike three, lady. You're out. The NSA can send one of their regulars to join a group training cycle."

  As I was about to press the call button on my watch, Myra said, “Wait one, I'm expecting a call,” and put her purse on the table. She pulled out a cell phone and sat looking at it for a couple of seconds. When it buzzed, she flipped it open.

  "Berens,” she said, then, “Okay."

  She handed the phone to me. I took it and said, “I'm here."

  "This is Stan Maxwell,” a man said. “Do you know who I am?"

  "I know who Maxwell is, but you're a voice on a phone. Call Linda Baines and run this call through her. If you're real, we'll talk in her office."

  He was saying something as I handed the phone back to Myra. She interrupted him and said, “It's me. He handed the phone back to me.” A pause, then she said, “No, I really don't think he will. Okay."

  She flipped the phone shut and said, “Linda Baines will call you shortly."

  Maybe five minutes of sipping coffee and staring at each other went by before my watch beeped. I pressed the ‘receive’ button.

  "Yes'm,” I said.

  "Stan Maxwell's on my datapad,” said Linda. “Bring everybody to my office."

  "You got it."

  Linda clicked off and so did I, then I stood up. Myra dumped her phone into her purse and stood up as well, then Karen sighed and stood up. We ambled in silence down the hall to Linda's office, where the secretary gestured us to go on in.

  Linda waved us to take seats, turned her datapad to face the room, then said, “They're all here. Go ahead, Stan."

  A dark haired middle-aged man looked at us and singled me out.

  "Ed,” said Stan, “First, my apologies for the deception. I'll keep this short; Myra was instructed to be difficult with you. Linda knows why. Myra."

  Myra said, “Yes, Mr. Maxwell."

  "Be your usual sweet self from now on, okay?"

  "Yes, sir."

  Maxwell's eyes turned to Linda. “Good enough, Linda?"

  "That's up to them, Stan.” She looked at me and asked, “Good enough?"

  I looked at Steph, who said, “It's your decision, Ed."

  Nodding, I turned to Linda and said, “You tell me, Fearless Leader. Is it?"

  She nodded. “Enough so."

  "Okay, then,” I said.

  Karen looked from me to Linda with a slightly confused expression.

  "Yes, Dr. Mills?” asked Linda.

  Mills shook her head and said, “What the hell. Sure. I'll go along with it if he will."

  Stan said, “Thank you all for your patience. Linda, I'd like a little more of your time, if you can spare it."

  She nodded. “Sure. Everybody, back to whatever you were doing.” Aiming a glance at me, she added, “Let me know if there are any further difficulties."

  I tossed her a small salute and held the door for the ladies. We were in the hallway before Karen stopped walking. We stopped, too.

  "What the hell is going on?” she asked. Pointing at Myra she asked, “After all that crap, we're just going to keep on keeping on?"

  Nodding, I said, “Yeah. That's about the size of it."

  "Well, I want to know why she's still here."

  Myra gave her a sheepish little grin and said, “Sorry about everything. I was just doing what I was told."

  "Why?” snapped Mills. “Why were you told to give us a hard time?"

  Shrugging, Myra said, “I wasn't told why, Karen. I was just told how to act, but now I don't have to act that way anymore."

  Mills stared hard at her for a moment, then said, “We'll see."

  She set off down the hall at a quick march step toward the front doors. Myra, Steph, and I moved to follow her at a more normal pace. Karen shoved one of the doors open rather brutally and marched outside, then stepped aboard the flitter and sat down firmly in the pilot's seat.

  "I think she's still a little pissed,” I said to Myra.

  "So I see,” said Myra. “Are you?"

  "Not if you were really acting under orders."

  As I opened the door and held it for them, Myra said, “I was. Stephanie, are you okay with this?"

  "As Dr. Mills said, we'll see."

  Myra nodded slightly as we walked to the flitter. She sat down on Karen's left and I took one in the row behind the pilot's seat as Steph sat on Karen's right. The flitter lifted in silence in the direction of range nine.

  Until around three I was content to watch as Steph demonstrated field uses and quizzed Karen about which type of field would be appropriate for various problems, but to tell the truth, I was getting pretty bored with it all.

  When Myra showed similar signs of boredom and glanced at me, I decided to abandon ship for a while.

  "Steph,” I said, “If you'd be so kind as to let me off at three thousand feet, I'd appreciate it."


  The flitter rose immediately and Steph said, “Three thousand, per request."

  I said, “Thanks,” then, “Glider on,” and dove off the flitter's deck.

  Heading toward an area where two vultures were spiraling upward without flapping, I keyed my implant and said, “Steph, I'm going to make a call. I'd like you to listen in."

  "Okay, Ed."

  Bringing my left arm up, I used the tip of a tooth to press the call button on my watch. Linda answered almost immediately.

  "Yes, Ed."

  "I'm away from the others,” I said, “How come we kept Myra?"

  "The flitter is still moving around the range, so that means you bailed out, right? Just a minute while I check the screens. Oh, damn. It looks as if you're just hanging up there, Ed."

  "Gimme a minute and it should look as if I'm falling up."

  The birds were perhaps a hundred yards ahead of me as I joined them on the edge of the thermal column. They seemed uneasy about my presence; when one began flapping to increase height and distance from me, the other followed.

  "How's this?” I asked as I began my upward spiraling.

  "Weird,” laughed Linda. “It might look better if you made the glider visible."

  "Green on. Better now?"

  "Yeah, it is. Seeing you sailing around without wings was beginning to bother me."

  Both birds reacted poorly to the abrupt appearance of what must have seemed to them to be another huge bird. One screeched and they broke away from the thermal column in a westerly direction.

  "Sorry, guys,” I said.

  "What? Who are you talking to, Ed?"

  "A couple of vultures were up here with me. The glider scared them away."

  "I can understand that. It scares me, too. Almost as much as seeing you putz around up there without it."

  "Yeah, well, sorry, milady. Back to why Myra is still here."

  "Okay. Stan said his boss wanted to be sure we weren't holding anything back. She was to poke and prod and see if anything new would jar loose."

  "I thought Stan was near or at the top of the NSA heap."

  "He is,” said Linda. “His order to verify flitter specs came from the White House. He didn't say who at the White House."