Xenotech Queen's Gambit: A Novel of the Galactic Free Trade Association (Xenotech Support Book 2)

by Schroeder, Dave

  “How did it go?” she said, with feigned nonchalance.

  “Wonderfully,” I said. “Your parents are charming and your sister is a delight.”

  “Are you sure you picked up the right family?” said Poly.

  I sat all the way up and gave her a stern look.

  “You owe me,” I said. “This went way beyond earning boyfriend points and into combat pay.”

  “Thank you, Jack,” she said. “I just couldn’t face them. Not all together. Not all at once.”

  My expression softened and I drew Poly into my arms and held her until some of the tension unwound in her body. Then we sat up and held hands.

  “You’re so brave,” I said, squeezing her hands reassuringly.

  “I wasn’t brave at all. I let you pick them up on your own. I didn’t even meet them at the hotel.”

  “You’re very brave,” I said. “You were courageous enough to invite your family to your graduation ceremonies. That couldn’t have been easy.”

  “It took me days to find the strength to push the send button,” she said.

  “But you sent it.”

  “I did. But I’m scared,” said Poly, “really scared I’ll lose it and take my sister’s head off, or get in a shouting match with my mother so loud that people three floors away will call hotel security.”

  “After meeting them, I don’t doubt they’d deserve it,” I said. “And your father?”

  “My father,” she said.

  Her eyes got cold, then her expression changed and she looked at me and smiled.

  “Do you love me enough to post bail for me?” she said. “And hire me a good criminal defense lawyer?”

  “Sure,” I said, “If I’m not in the cell next to yours. I’ve met your father now. He’s a piece of work.”

  “He’s a piece of…”

  I kissed her. It caught her by surprise. We both laughed, the worst of our stresses released. I kissed her again, slowly and tenderly. We held each other, sitting close together on my bed, alternately kissing and laughing until our mutual senses of equilibrium were restored.

  “Maybe I can get through tonight and the next three days without resorting to homicide after all,” said Poly.

  “For you it would be patricide,” I said. “It’s only homicide if I kill him.”

  She laughed, and her laugh wasn’t as brittle as it had been minutes earlier. Then she saw me get a serious look on my face.

  “What is it?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me anything about your parents and your sister and what you were going through? We’re partners now. We can help each other through rough times.”

  “I tried to warn you,” said Poly.

  “Yeah, but you never actually shared specifics,” I said.

  “Sorry about that.”

  She really did look contrite.

  “You’ve only been in my life for the past six weeks,” she said. “I’ve been carrying my anger at my father around for most of my life. My sister and I haven’t spoken in seven years, and my mother and I in three. I’ve been so used to holding it all inside.”

  “Shared pain is lessened,” I said.

  “Shared joy is increased,” she said.

  “Let me help.”

  “Okay.”

  She kissed me this time.

  “I know one way you can help me,” said Poly.

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m sure my mother expects me to come to their suite and change for dinner there, but I can’t deal with my family right now,” she said. “I just can’t. I’m not ready for the drama. May I change here?”

  “Sure,” I said. “You didn’t need to ask.”

  “Thanks. There’s a duffle with all my stuff by your dresser.”

  “I may even scrub your back in the shower,” I said.

  “Some other time when I can really appreciate it,” said Poly.

  Her eyes sparkled. She’d get through this.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Hey?”

  “About your sister…”

  “What about my sister? She didn’t try anything with…”

  “No,” I said, fingers mentally crossed. “We got off to a rocky start but then things got better. She asked me to tell you that she loves you and she’s really sorry. She wouldn’t say about what, just that she wanted you to give her another chance.”

  Poly didn’t frown or seem upset, just thoughtful.

  “I did invite her,” she said, after a few seconds of contemplation.

  “And you’ll have an opportunity to connect with her if you want to,” I said. “Your mother is going to try to talk you into staying in their suite for the next few days. She wants you to share a room with Pomy.”

  “She wants us to bond again, like we did when we were kids,” said Poly. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

  “I’ll be close by if you need to escape,” I said. “Unlimited hugs.”

  “Maybe I can do it on that basis,” she said. “Let me have a free sample.”

  I hugged her.

  “Thank you, sir, may I have another.”

  I hugged her again.

  “I’m glad you’re in my life, Jack Buckston,” she said, tenderly.

  My phone chirped.

  “Ahem,” it said, “It’s six fifteen and you need to pick Poly’s family up at seven fifteen to be at the Teleport Inn on time.”

  “Thanks for the reminder,” I said.

  I looked at Poly.

  “You can have first dibs on the shower if you’ll help me with my tuxedo,” I said.

  “Sounds good,” she said, “If you’ll make a pot of extra strong high-caffeine tea. We’ll both need it.”

  “I can do that,” I said, “and I’ll get your dress from the living room.”

  I gave Poly one more hug, then went out to the kitchen to start a kettle of water. I moved the box with Poly’s dress from the coffee table in my living room to my bed and left my bedroom, closing the door this time. I could hear water running in my shower. I moved to the far side of my living room, close to my wall screen, and sent Pomy a text.

  “I did my part,” it read. “You may have a chance to do yours. Poly and I will meet you and your parents out front at seven fifteen.”

  I got a short reply.

  “Thank you. We’ll be there.”

  The kettle was whistling, so I walked to the kitchen and turned the burner off. I took my yellow smiley-face teapot down from its place in a cupboard—I’d bought it at a First Contact Day street fair two years ago—and put in eight bags of Midnight Obsidian Black Tea, the strongest kind I had. The bushes it was made from had been genetically modified to enhance their leaves’ caffeine content, so it was nearly as strong as coffee. I poured hot water into the cheerful teapot and inhaled deeply to appreciate the rich, warm scent of Camellia sinensis espresso, then pulled two large, plain white mugs from a shelf.

  The few minutes later the water stopped running in my shower and shortly after that the door to my bedroom opened part way and Poly stuck her head out.

  “Your turn,” she said, looking more awake.

  “On my way.”

  “Mmmmm… what smells so good?”

  “Midnight Obsidian Black,” I said.

  “That will put hair on my chest,” said Poly.

  “I hope not.”

  She smiled and pulled her head back into the bedroom, leaving the door ajar.

  When I entered my bedroom, Poly was wrapped in “her” large white towel. She had removed her new dress from its box and protective tissue paper wrappings and was holding it out to admire. The Orishen morphic silk shimmered through a rainbow of colors. The dress was psychical
ly sensitive and would change color to match Poly’s mood once in full contact with her body.

  “It’s lovely,” I said, “and you’re not even wearing it yet. It will be twice as beautiful once you are.”

  “Awww, you’ll make me blush,” she said.

  Looking at the top edge of her towel I thought I might be having that effect already.

  “Keep it up, Lover Boy, and you’ll make me wish I’d taken you up on having you scrub my back in the shower.”

  “You had your chance,” I said, smiling. My walk-in closet connected my bedroom and bathroom. I stepped in, closed the door, took off all my clothes, and dropped them in my laundry basket. Then I continued into the bathroom and hopped in the shower.

  “Earl Grey, hot. Make it so,” I said.

  My intellectually challenged shower A.I. complied and I enjoyed the jets of warm water. Then I heard the bathroom door open.

  “I need to dry my hair and put on my makeup.”

  “No problem,” I said. My glass shower door was translucent, not transparent, and all steamed up, so I didn’t have a clear view of Poly. I could hear her, though. Electric hair dryers make a lot of noise. I drew a large heart on the inside of the shower door so that Poly would see it if she turned around. I was ready when my Earl Grey shower program switched to its cold needle spray and didn’t scream like a hungry Orishen nymph. I opened my shower door just enough to grab my towel and dried myself off, then wrapped the towel around my waist and left the shower. I kissed Poly in the middle of her upper back—after making sure she wasn’t applying makeup at that moment—and beat a hasty retreat to my bedroom, the business end of the hair dryer pointed at my groin.

  “Go, get started,” she said. “I’ll help with your studs and cuff links when I’m done.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said.

  I put on clean underwear and an undershirt from my chest of drawers and rescued my Orishen pupa silk shirt from the laundry basket. Columbia Brown was still out there, and the shirt supported my sore ribs. Then I slipped on the unfamiliar, thin, black, formal socks that came with my tux. They came up over my calves, like tall athletic socks, but weren’t as comfortable. Next, I put on one of the starched and pleated white shirts. It was stiff and hard to button. I knew I was doing something wrong, but hoped that Poly would know how to fix it. I didn’t even try to make sense of the French cuffs.

  I got the pants for my fancy outfit from their hanger in my walk-in closet and stepped into them, then looked at myself in the mirror. As soon as I stopped holding them up, they were down around my ankles. I smacked my palm against my forehead and remembered the suspenders on my dresser. I took the pants off and tried to figure out how the suspenders fastened on. Wait, aren’t they called braces for tuxedos? Who knew? There weren’t any alligator clips, so it took me a minute to puzzle out that they were attached to buttons sewn into the waistband of the pants. I fastened them and put the pants on again, sliding the braces over my shoulders.

  “One of them is twisted,” said my phone from its vantage point on the charging station on my nightstand.

  I took the pants off again, corrected the problem, and put them back on.

  “All systems nominal,” said my phone.

  I think it was getting a charge out of watching me get dressed while it was getting a charge for its batteries.

  Then all systems weren’t nominal. My attention and my hormone levels spiked. I considered the consequences of being late for a dinner with the Queen of Dauush. Poly had just entered my bedroom wearing only her underwear.

  “You should warn a guy when you’re going to give him a heart attack,” I said, grinning and appreciating.

  “Sorry,” said Poly in a teasing tone, “but what a way to go.”

  “Should we tell Terrhi’s mom we can’t make it?”

  “That would not be advisable,” she said. “Put your shoes on while I sort out all your accessories.”

  I sat on my bed to put on the shiny leather shoes and admired Poly reviewing the various items on top of my dresser. I wondered if I’d ever wear the shoes enough so that they’d feel broken in. It only took me a minute to tie them. Poly turned, holding a small plastic bag filled with studs and cuff links.

  “Stand up,” she said, “and unbutton all those buttons.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I knew I’d screwed something up. After I finished unbuttoning, Poly stood close and refastened the shirt properly, using the tiny silver and black onyx studs as they were meant to be used. I watched carefully, but still couldn’t figure it out. I was spending too much mental energy on not putting my arms around her and incurring Her Matriarchal Majesty’s royal wrath.

  “There,” said Poly, finishing with my shirt front. “Right wrist.”

  I dutifully presented the requested body part. Poly adjusted the folds of my French cuff and inserted a silver and onyx cuff link that matched the studs.

  “Left wrist.”

  The process was repeated. When she was done, I started to give Poly a hug but she turned away and went back to the dresser.

  “This next,” she said, holding a length of black silk that I assumed was a bow tie.

  Poly was tall enough to position the tie around my neck and tie it without me needing to bend down. I could see in the mirror above my dresser that it looked sharp.

  “How did you learn how to do that?” I said. “And how do you know so much about helping men get into tuxedos?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” said Poly. “Is there a cummerbund?”

  “Several,” I said. I walked to my closet and returned with the hanger where I’d hung them.

  “This is perfect,” she said, picking a bright pink plaid one. “Terrhi and Sherrhi will love it.”

  “Terrhi and Sherrhi probably picked it out.”

  Poly put her arms around me to fasten it around my waist and this time I did give in and gave her a hug. She hugged me, too, then quickly stepped back to survey her handiwork.

  “You’ll do,” she said, “once you comb your hair. Did you brush your teeth?”

  I didn’t say anything. I was overwhelmed by Poly in her underwear sounding like my mother.

  She stroked my cheek.

  “And you may want to shave again. You feel like sandpaper.”

  “Fine grain?” I said.

  “Medium fine. And don’t get any shaving cream on your bow tie.”

  “I won’t, Mom,” I said.

  She looked suitably chastised, but smiled. We saved any Freudian analysis of that exchange for later.

  I headed to the bathroom to follow my instructions. I wrapped a hand towel around my neck and applied a thin film of shaving nanites, taking care to make sure I avoided getting any on my mustache or my new finery. A quick burst of ultraviolet light triggered the little beasties and I removed them with a damp washcloth. I rubbed my cheek. It was as soft as Poly’s. Mission accomplished. I brushed my teeth, combed my hair, removed the protective hand towel, and looked in the bathroom mirror. My mother’s little boy looked halfway presentable.

  I moved to my walk-in closet and put on my tuxedo jacket. Except for the pink plaid cummerbund, I was a tall, somewhat dashing penguin. Oh dear! I’d almost forgotten the top hat. I retrieved its box from a shelf, took out the hat, and put it on my head. Now I looked like an even taller, somewhat ridiculous flightless bird. I hoped Poly wouldn’t laugh. My phone hadn’t made any sort of announcement, so we must have a few minutes left before we had to leave. Then I walked into my bedroom.

  My phone had used its initiative and photographed my expression, so I had external confirmation for my reaction. My eyes were bigger than Terrhi’s, and my jaw was touching the tops of my patent leather shoes.

  “Wow,” I said.

  “You like it?” said Poly
.

  The morphic silk of her dress had modified its shape and color to match the occasion and her mood. Now it reached down to her ankles in flowing curves. Long slits on either side of the skirt let Poly move freely, and the fabric swirled as she turned her hips left and right, admiring my reaction. It’s neckline reminded me of the chiton dress Poly had worn on our first date, except her right shoulder was bare. I couldn’t see the back of the dress until she turned completely around, and then it was clear there wasn’t much to see except Poly’s own lovely skin. Wait? What had happened to her bra? I decided not to ask.

  The color of the dress changed from a pensive purple to a cheery blue when she saw how much I liked it. Poly also wore long white gloves that went up past her elbows. Her morphic shoes were currently configured with a modest heel. Their color shifted in sync with the ever-changing hues of her dress. Poly looked poised and perfect, ready to hand out an Academy award, or accept one.

  “Close your mouth,” said Poly, smiling.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said, extending my arm.

  Poly took it and my phone snapped a few “prom pictures,” then climbed up my leg to attach itself to my cummerbund.

  “Time to go,” it said. “You can’t keep the Queen waiting.”

  “Furthest thing from my mind,” I said, staring at Poly.

  We left the bedroom. I poured two cups of Midnight Obsidian Black into to-go cups with lids. We could drink them on the way.

  When we left my apartment, I didn’t grab my backpack tool bag. I didn’t have a free hand, for one thing, and I had no intention of doing any technical support tonight. Client emergencies would just have to wait until tomorrow.

  Chapter 22

  “When the Queen says ‘well done,’ it means so much.”

  — Prince William

  Poly and I walked arm in arm toward Peachtree Street, where my van was waiting. When I saw it, I laughed. Its exterior had been washed, waxed and polished. Its hubcaps gleamed, its windows sparkled, and even its tires were clean. It didn’t look like the same vehicle.