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.
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.
Once everybody was settled, I said to Sue, “Ready, milady."
Sue took us up to about a hundred feet and thirty miles per hour.
"Don't you want to know where we're going?” asked Davidson.
"She knows,” I said.
Davidson looked ahead of us, saw that we were definitely heading toward her office, and glanced at Sue.
"Exactly how do you know where we're going?” she asked.
Sue called up a field datapad and turned it to face Davidson, then poked up a strip map of Ft. Bragg.
Once Davidson had gotten over the sudden appearance of the datapad, she asked, “Would you mind telling me where you got that map?"
"Not at all, Colonel,” said Sue, “This map is over two years old and is on file in many libraries."
With a glance at the sergeant, Davidson said, “I see."
By then we were nearing her office. Sue set us down in the parking lot and we disembarked, then I stopped to key my implant and whisper, “Let's use the opaque canopy, Sue."
Sue nodded slightly and the fields surrounding the flitter instantly seemed to turn to stainless steel. Both Davidson and her guard took a pace back from the flitter.
"That's just a parking mode,” I said.
Davidson nodded rather staringly.
"Elkor,” I said, “I'd rather that Tiger didn't wander around here. Would you make him a platform?"
"Yes, Ed,” said Elkor, then he morphed into a floating disk and spoke to Tiger, who jumped aboard and sat down.
I said, “Great. Thanks, Elkor,” then turned to Davidson and said, “All set, ma'am."
As we were walking into her building, the Army sedan arrived and the other officers followed us in.
When we got to her office, Davidson ushered the rest of us in, then said to Copeland, “Thank you, Sergeant."
He saluted, gave the rest of us a long glance, and then left her office. At her request, Davidson's office clerk brought in a tray with coffee, cups, and condiments and set it on top of a short file cabinet, then left.
"Now,” said Davidson, “Let's get comfortable and talk about why Colonel Meyer was delivered to his new post in a flitter."
"Well,” I said, “It seemed convenient and I was stationed here a long time ago. Call it nostalgia. Curiosity about how things have changed."
Before Davidson could reply, Tiger said something and Elkor said, “Tiger wants to know if he may get down."
"Colonel?” I asked.
Even as she stared at Elkor, she nodded. “Yes. Of course."
"Okay,” I said, “But tell him not to eat any of the plants."
Elkor spoke to Tiger, who jumped to the floor, then Elkor returned to his cat form and sat down on the coffee table to spend a few moments meeting Davidson's gaze.
Davidson eventually looked at me and said, “Okay. We'll say that nostalgia may have been a contributing factor, but I want to know why Col. Meyers was transferred here at all. I knew Col. Moffatt, the man he's replacing. Moffatt was in the middle of a routine two-year assignment here when he suddenly received a posting to the Pentagon."
"Kent said that he received his transfer orders without warning or explanation, too, ma'am."
"And he decided to use his leave to visit his aunt and uncle instead of his parents or anyone else? His aunt and uncle who just happen to live in your neighborhood?"
"I take it you don't buy it, either?"
She laughed softly. “No, but I'm paid to be suspicious."
Davidson sipped her coffee and regarded me for a moment, then said to Sue, “It's hard to believe you're a computer. Where's the rest of you? Aboard the flitter?"
Sue said, “Yes. I use this form for convenient interaction with people."
Nodding, Davidson's eyes met Steph's.
"And you're a computer, too?"
"Yes, I am,” said Steph.
"Why does the flitter require more than one computer?"
"It doesn't,” I said. “Steph and Elkor are friends of mine. Only Sue is involved with flitter operations."
"I see,” said Davidson, her eyes meeting mine for some moments. “May I ask why one of your friends appears as a cat and the others appear as women?"
Shrugging, I said, “Personal preferences."
"Theirs, or yours?"
"Both. In Sue's case, if she later decides she'd rather be a man, I'll get a new pilot program."
Davidson's eyes narrowed. “You'd erase her?"
"No, I'd just get a new program and she'd get a new job."
Looking at Sue, Davidson asked, �
��Do you have any feelings about that?"
"None negative,” said Sue. “I have a female persona because I was assigned to his flitter, but I was allowed to design my appearance and I rather like it."
When Davidson's eyes met Steph's, Steph said, “I am as I choose to be."
Nodding silently, Davidson gave us all another sweeping look. Tiger jumped onto her desk, moved to stand nose-to-nose with her for a moment, then flopped on her calendar blotter.
Recoiling slightly, she said, “Ahh ... Excuse me, little one, but uniforms tend to attract animal hair like magnets."
"No problem,” said Sue. “I can remove it.” At Davidson's skeptical glance, she said, “Really. No problem."
Half an hour of coffee and discussion later, Kent arrived. He went through the motions of reporting to Davidson, then she told him to be at ease and join us. He got a coffee and sat down in one of the sofa chairs in her office.
Davidson turned to face us and said, “Colonel Meyer is close enough to my own rank and the rest of you are civilians, so I'm going to bend the rules a bit. I'm Sandra and we'll use first names in private, if nobody minds."
"Fine with me,” I said.
"I'm okay with it,” said Kent.
Sue shrugged and Steph nodded.
"Good,” said Sandra, then she turned to Kent. “Stephanie said you've been given something called a PFM. May I see it?"
Kent nodded and took off his jacket, then rolled up his left sleeve to display the PFM.
"PFM detach,” he said, then he handed it to Davidson.
She studied it intently as he said, “She says it's a prototype. I've already flown with it in hang glider mode. With it, I won't need an issue parachute and I'm told I won't need body armor. It's tuned to me, so nobody else can use it."
Looking at me, Sandra asked, “No body armor?"
"Its protective field will stop or turn most regular small-arms fire,” I said. “It'll also stand up to radiation, chemicals, biologicals, and fire."
Kent said, “You didn't say anything about that."
"Figured I'd get the chance sooner or later."
Flicking my knife open as I said, “Five suit on,” I drew the blade across my hand, then offered the blade to Kent.
"Try it,” I said. “It won't cut me."
Book 4: 3rd World Products, Inc. Page 54