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

by Schroeder, Dave

  That was everyone accounted for, except…

  Wait! Where was Shepherd?

  Into the post-conflict quiet came a crash and a boom from outside loud enough to bring down a less well constructed building. The sound was followed by a splash like dropping half a dozen Tōdons into an extra large hot tub, followed in turn by a crunching sound like splintering wood. We all stood in shock. Kijanna and Pierre stepped tentatively into the hall from the kitchen, where they’d been staying out of harm’s way. François emerged from under the other end of the table.

  So that’s where he’d disappeared to.

  We looked at the wreckage and incapacitated Macerators scattered around us. Somebody whistled a long, descending scale. It might have been me.

  Then Shepherd entered the hall through the large species door. He motioned for us to follow him and led us all, including Kijanna, François and Pierre, out of the hall and to the left, toward the river. I looked over my shoulder. François was the last in line. He flipped some switches by the door and the exterior lights came on again. Then I turned my head back and was gobsmacked for the third time that day.

  In the lights’ bright, congruent-energy glow I saw a heavily armed, two-hundred-and-fifty-foot, matte black robot. It was on its back, its ankles bound in the heavy fabric ribbon that had previously been wound around stanchions at the entrance to the restaurant. Some of it was still attached to its stanchions. The robot’s feet were pointing toes up in the landscaping next to the building. Its hips and lower torso were blocking the river, and its head and upper body were crushing the trees on a neighboring section of Georgia state nature preserve.

  “Oh my goodness, oh my goodness,” squeaked Pierre, his normal cultured accent deserting him.

  Oh my goodness indeed.

  Chapter 25

  “I’m completely operational and all my circuits

  are functioning normally.”

  — HAL 9000

  “Please go back inside, Your Majesty,” said Diágo. “This may be just a ploy to get you outside and unprotected.”

  “There’s a two-hundred-and-fifty-foot robot passed out on the grounds of the Teleport Inn,” said Queen Sherrhi. “That’s quite a lot of trouble to go to for a ploy.”

  I nodded in agreement, still processing everything that had happened.

  “It’s a robot, so it’s not passed out,” said Terrhi, who was rubbing Spike’s head. “And its butt is in the Chattahoochee.”

  Terrhi rolled that word around a few times, enjoying the sound of it.

  “Chattahoochee, Chattahoochee, Chatta-HOO-chee!”

  “We get it,” I said, smiling. “But Diágo’s right. This whole stunt might be a diversion.”

  “To take me hostage?” said the Queen.

  “Or me?” piped Terrhi. “I’m the Princess!”

  I smiled, remembering what had happened the last time someone had kidnapped Terrhi.

  “They clearly stated that their objective is to capture Sherrhi and Terrhi,” said my phone.

  “So please, Your Majesty, Your Highness,” said Diágo, “get back inside.”

  Tomáso spoke up. He’d been checking for injuries.

  “Lohrri and Naddéo will both be okay,” he said.

  “The Dauushan security guard out front and the bodyguard inside?” I asked.

  “Correct,” said Tomáso.

  He started to head toward his family.

  “Wait,” I said. “Where is everybody?”

  “What do you mean?” said Tomáso.

  “We just fought a couple of dozen Macerators and a giant robot fell over and shook the rafters,” I said. “Where are all the other Teleport Inn diners? I’d expect a hundred rubberneckers out here taking pictures.”

  “Didn’t Sherrhi tell you?”

  “Tell me what?”

  “We reserved the entire Inn for the night.”

  “Oh,” I said. I was honored, I think.

  Tomáso left me to guide Queen Sherrhi, Princess Terrhi and Spike back into the large alien side of the restaurant. Diágo looked grateful. He and the other functional bodyguard followed.

  Kijanna and François took Pierre back inside as well. He was wringing his tentacles and babbling in broken French. I hoped they’d get him a dose of whatever Pyrs drank to calm their nerves.

  Poly and Pomy were standing with their parents. It looked like they were all speaking to each other for a change. CiCi was holding Mike and Apple was telling Martin that he sure knew how to show a girl a good time.

  Shepherd took me a few feet aside.

  “Jack,” he said.

  “If you’re not going to tell me how you took down this robot I’m not going to listen to you.”

  “Okay,” said Shepherd, “but I need your help.”

  “What do you need my help for?” I pointed at the robot. “It looks like you did quite well on your own.”

  “It was luck, not skill,” said Shepherd, “And you’re the only person here who’s been inside one of these things.”

  “Not just luck, I’m sure,” I said. Shepherd was always in the know. “Fortune favors the prepared mind.”

  “I wasn’t prepared for another one of these,” he said.

  “Are we sure it’s another one?” I said. “Could it be the robot fabbed at WT&F?”

  “You’d know better than I,” said Shepherd.

  “I could see if Mike is willing to go down and check the hangar.”

  I looked at my somewhat piratical-looking friend standing nearby. He had a bloody “bandana” wrapped around his head and was standing really close to CiCi. The two of them seemed absorbed in conversation. I hated to disturb them.

  “Why don’t you get a look at this robot’s control room first,” said Shepherd, who’d made the same observation. “You may be able to tell from that.”

  “Makes sense,” I said.

  “A visual examination of the control room should provide sufficient data to make a determination,” said my phone.

  The initiative it was showing continued to prove helpful.

  “If its flight systems are still operational, I can probably get it down to the hangar tonight,” I said.

  “That would make Pierre and the Teleport Inn’s insurance company happy, I expect,” said Shepherd.

  “Before I try to get in the control room, tell me again how you took the robot down.”

  “I never told you in the first place.”

  “Stop splitting hairs,” I said.

  “Why shouldn’t I split hairs?” said the Pâkk, rubbing the fur on his forearm. “I’ve got so many of them.”

  Did Shepherd just make a joke? He was always so serious. I still had a lot to learn about Pâkk humor.

  “Be that as it may,” I said. “How am I going to get into the robot?”

  Its head was on the other side of the river and the hatch on the back of its neck was probably blocked by a couple of snapped off conifers.

  Mike and CiCi joined us—maybe he had attention neurons available for subjects other than CiCi after all, even if she was only wearing a slip that would barely count as a little black dress. He had an answer.

  “I’ve been reviewing the fabrication plans,” said Mike. “There should be a maintenance door where the ‘collarbones’ come together.”

  I needed to talk to Poly right away and get her okay on hiring Mike yesterday, or maybe the day before.

  “Great,” I said to Mike. “Show me, please.”

  Mike pulled out his phone and brought up the plans for the WT&F robot. He pointed to a spot just above the center of the main chest plate.

  “I found it when I was reviewing the specs Monday night.”

  That’s right, I thought. Mike was going to check o
ut the robot’s design after the octovacs.

  Mike and I kept talking. CiCi excused herself and walked over to Poly and her family. She came back with Poly in tow.

  “Was there something you wanted, Lover Boy,” said Poly, giving me a quick kiss. “I need to get back to my family. We haven’t talked this way in years.”

  “I’m glad the threat of imminent death was a bonding experience,” I said.

  Poly gently punched me in the shoulder—luckily not on the side where I’d been shot.

  Now that Poly was here, I could see how she felt about hiring Mike.

  Wait. Was CiCi a mind reader? No, probably just someone with a vested interest in Mike’s happiness.

  I whispered in Poly’s ear. She grinned.

  “You should have done that weeks ago.”

  “We should have done that weeks ago, partner,” I replied.

  “Hey Mike,” I said.

  He looked a bit puzzled, but rolled with it.

  “How would you like to work for Xenotech Support Corporation?”

  “Please,” said Poly.

  “Really?” said Mike. “Sure, I’d love to. I thought you’d never ask.”

  “Welcome aboard, Employee #1,” I said.

  “I wonder what my uncle will say,” said Mike.

  “Your uncle?”

  Poly looked like she was figuring it out.

  “My uncle,” said Mike. “Jean-Jacques Bonhomme.”

  “I thought your last name was Goodman,” I said.

  “We anglicized it when my family moved to the States.”

  I let that revelation sink in, driven by a sledgehammer.

  “You’re a good man, Mike,” said Poly, giving him a hug.

  Literally, I thought.

  CiCi nudged Poly out of the way and gave him a hug of her own.

  “I’ll say,” she said.

  “Hey Mike,” I said again. “I thought you were an Army translator, but you took out Macerators like an expert. What gives?”

  “Translator was my specialty when I left the service,” he said, “but I spent two years in the Mobile Armored Infantry.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Nice to know.”

  Mike had been a Macerator operator, but with the state-of-the-art military version, not a second hand, surplus model.

  “You can put all that on your employment application,” said Poly. “When you complete the required employment paperwork.”

  “We have employment paperwork?” I said.

  “We will,” said Poly.

  She gave me another kiss, nodded to Shepherd, smiled at Mike and CiCi, and headed back to her family.

  “Ummm…” I said. Having an employee was going to be more complicated than I was used to.

  Then it turned out I had something else to worry about. Martin came over to us with a serious look on his face. Apple was with him and she looked concerned. Both of their outfits were still perfect. How his tux and her dress stayed spiffy after they took out two Macerators each, I didn’t know. Spandex?

  “Jack,” said Martin, “we need to talk.”

  “In private?” I said.

  “No,” said Martin. “I just needed to tell you that I know how much you hate publicity, but I have to call this in.”

  “Of course you do,” I said. “Pierre’s going to need a police report to file a claim with his insurance carrier.”

  “It’s bigger than that,” said Martin, now in his Lieutenant Lee role. “This was a kidnapping attempt aimed at Dauushan royalty. I’m going to need to push this up the chain.”

  “You may want to talk to Tomáso before you do that,” I said. “I expect he’s already contacted the Dauushan Rangers, the Defense Department and the FBI.”

  “You’ve got a point,” said Martin. “I’ll check with him first.”

  “It was a pleasure to meet you, Jack,” said Apple over her shoulder as she following her husband inside.

  “Great to meet you, too,” I said, before she was out of earshot.

  “We’ll only have a few minutes before this place is filled with members of the military and law enforcement,” said Shepherd.

  “Then we’d better check this robot out right away,” I said. “Come on, Mike.”

  “Me?”

  “You’re part of Team Xenotech now,” I said. “Consider yourself on the clock.”

  “I’m coming too,” said CiCi.

  “You won’t be covered under the XSC liability policy,” I said, smiling.

  “Who gives a…”

  “I’ll tell Poly where you’re going,” said Chit from my shoulder.

  “How long have you been there?”

  “Since the Keen-Jones family discussions started getting sappy,” said my little friend.

  “That’s good news, right?” I said.

  “Yeah, but it would get lousy ratings on TV.”

  “Go tell Poly, and let her know I’ll be careful.”

  “Like she’d believe that, bucko.”

  Chit flew over to Poly’s family clump and, I hope, conveyed my message. Shepherd and Mike and CiCi and I made our way to the robot’s feet. I grabbed a length of the fabric ribbon wrapped around the robot’s ankles and started to pull myself up to its shins. My ribs informed me that climbing was a bad idea, but I kept going and even turned around to offer a hand to the others. My phone made my gesture meaningless, however. With an assist from the two octovacs, Mike, CiCi and Shepherd were already above me. When I joined them, I rubbed the nearest octovac’s red dome. If it had been a dog it would have been wagging its tail. Chit rejoined us.

  “Poly has a message for you,” said Chit.

  “What is it?”

  “How’s your list coming?”

  I’d completely forgotten that we’d agreed to make lists of our favorite romantic vacation spots. I guess that was Poly’s way of saying she wanted me to come back in one piece. I smiled. Then I laughed. Then my ribs hurt where I’d been shot. I’d have to cross some of the more strenuous potential vacation destinations off my list. Which reminded me…?

  “How did you take down the robot?”

  Shepherd was next to me as we climbed over the robot’s left kneecap. Mike and CiCi were over on the other leg, climbing the right kneecap.

  “Luck,” said the Pâkk.

  “You said that already.”

  “I’d heard a thump outside,” he said.

  “I heard it too,” I said, “like Dorothy’s house landing in the Wizard of Oz.”

  “What?” said Shepherd.

  “It’s not important. Go on.”

  We were making our way along the robot’s upper leg.

  “I saw the robot standing next to the large alien side of the Inn,” said Shepherd. “It was reaching forward as if it was going to take the roof off the building.”

  And then pick up Queen Sherrhi and Terrhi, I thought.

  “What did you do?”

  “I grabbed as many crowd management stanchions as I could carry and wrapped heavy-duty fabric ribbons around its ankles.”

  We were crossing the robot’s waist now.

  “I saw that,” I said.

  “Hard t’ miss,” said Chit from my shoulder.

  “When the robot tried to take a step forward to have a better angle to lift the roof,” said Shepherd, “it just fell over.”

  “That’s it?” I said. “You tripped it? No secret Pâkk technology tricks? No wisdom gained from childhood rites of passage?”

  “No,” said Shepherd. “I got lucky.”

  I shook my head back and forth, incredulous. My illusions of Pâkk invincibility were shattered.

  “Uh, Jack,” said Chit.

  �
��What?”

  “That means the robot’s not necessarily deactivated,” said the Murm.

  We were up to the robot’s chest now.

  “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” I asked Shepherd.

  “I didn’t want to shatter your illusions of Pâkk invincibility.”

  I didn’t say anything. We’d reached the maintenance hatch between the ‘collarbones.’

  My phone hopped down and used its mutakey function to circumvent security and open the round entryway. Mike led the way—he was the one who’d studied the robot’s design, after all—and we hunched over to follow a tube with a low-ceiling that led from the robot’s chest to its neck to its head. CiCi was behind me and Shepherd brought up the rear, except for the pair of octovacs.

  When we approached the internal hatch leading to the control room I had to step around u-shaped pieces of steel rod welded to the floor. It was a ladder, for use when the robot was vertical, not horizontal. I checked, and this hatch wasn’t locked. I moved in front of Mike in Captain James T. Kirk style, opened the hatch, and stuck my head into the control room. I couldn’t see much from this angle so I stepped all the way inside. Mike, CiCi and Shepherd followed. Then I walked around to the far side of the pilot’s chair.

  How many times in one day can a guy’s eyes get as big as saucers?

  Cornell, one of Anthony Zwilniki’s more annoying henchmen, was lying on the floor, out cold.

  “Seat belt,” said my phone.

  I looked. Cornell hadn’t fastened his safety harness. When the robot fell over, Cornell must have been tossed around the control room and knocked unconscious.

  Shepherd produced a couple of zip ties from his vest. Was he always ready to immobilize someone?

  Mike fastened the ties around Cornell’s wrists and ankles.

  “Do you think you can pilot this thing?” I asked him.

  “Sure,” said my first employee. “You did it. How hard can it be?”