“We need to go back to Atlanta,” she asserted.
“Because Atlanta is The General’s primary base of operations?” asked Johnson.
That, and because Poly wanted to be with her sister Pomy, who was being sued by EUA for blowing up Factor-E-Flor’s headquarters.
“Sounds like a plan,” I said.
“How do we get back there without having a close encounter with a surface-to-air missile?” asked Winfield.
I could appreciate why he was sensitive about the question.
I noticed Max had moved away from the back of the room and was again getting dangerously close to the front where the floor-to-ceiling windows had been. He was pointing.
“Mommy, mommy!” he shouted excitedly.
“Yes, Max?” asked Rosalind, moving quickly to intercept our son before he could get closer to the edge.
“We’ve got visitors,” said Chit’s deep voice.
I never understood how she produced a resonance like that using only tiny breathing spiracles.
I canceled my fear-flight-fright reaction when I saw the size and color of the approaching dirigible.
It was Queen Sherrhi’s giant private airship in all its Dauushan-pink glory. The Matriarch of the Skies had arrived.
Chapter 6
“Friends are the best to turn to when
you’re having a rough day.”
— Justin Bieber
I found the controls that extended the airship docking platform and watched it slide out with a series of clanks. I smiled to realize one of the windows had been a sliding door that would have made my earlier entrance easier, if much less exciting.
Small multi-armed robots working under the direction of the Matriarch of the Skies’ crew tied lines to the platform’s mooring mast. When the airship was secured, Martin, Shepherd, Terrhi and Spike joined us in Nicky Stone’s fortress villa. Terrhi’s parents, Tomáso and Queen Sherrhiliandarianne, stayed on board. Since adult Dauushans are the size of full-grown African elephants, there wasn’t really room for them inside and I wasn’t confident the slender docking platform could handle an adult Dauushan’s weight.
I made awkward introductions all around, ending with, “And this is Rosalind, the mother of my son Max. We met when I was in graduate school back on Orish.”
I was on the receiving end of several raised eyebrows, but Terrhi took it in stride, beamed at me, and trumpeted her delight with three sub-trunks. After giving me a hug, she and Spike bustled off with Max. The three of them played happily together in the back of the living room while the grownups talked.
The new arrivals were surprised to discover that we’d joined forces with our former adversaries and would be working together to identify and defeat The General. As our mutual information exchange continued, Poly and I learned that the royal Dauushan dirigible had picked up Martin and his vehicle and had stored the latter in its capacious hold.
Shepherd told us that Tomáso and Queen Sherrhi were making great progress recovering from being drugged and brainwashed by Winfield and Johnson. We agreed that it was just as well that the Dauushan monarch and her consort could be briefed on the C&C executives’ new status before seeing them face-to-face.
Martin kept a distrustful eye on Cornell and Rosalind, but paid special attention to Sally. She had been the one to trip him back in the K Street Bar, causing Martin to accidentally trigger his mini-sweetener and freeze places a man emphatically does not want to be frozen.
Shepherd was more concerned about Winfield and Johnson. He was almost salivating over the possibility of interrogating them. I’d have to talk to him privately about that. For them to be useful, they’d need to be treated like allies, not prisoners.
The Pâkk seemed quiet and thoughtful when he found out about Max. He nodded to acknowledge the news, nothing more. I could sense gears turning in Shepherd’s head as he fit Max’s existence into his complex model of the galaxy. Then again, with Shepherd, gears were always turning.
Martin, on the other hand, couldn’t let it go. He slapped me on the back, told me about the joys of fatherhood, and congratulated me on missing out on changing diapers, late night feedings, and croup. It was hard to take, since I deeply regretted missing out on seeing Max go through those stages. I wasn’t there to hear his first word, help him learn to walk, or teach him how to play catch. I didn’t let on how I was feeling and was glad when Poly changed the subject.
“…so that’s why we need to get to Atlanta fast, without getting shot down in the process. Any ideas?”
Terrhi spoke up from the back of the room where Max was rubbing Spike’s belly.
“I know how you can do it, Aunt Poly.”
“You do?” replied my partner. “How?”
“You can go in the Charalindhri. It’s got plenty of room and will get you there in minutes. Mom needs to get back to Atlanta soon for a big meeting, so they’re headed there anyway.”
The Charalindhri is an asteroid mining ship twenty kilometers in diameter that the Dauushan monarchy had repurposed as a warship. It was currently floating in synchronous orbit above Las Vegas—and my mom was on board, working in the engineering department.
I wasn’t looking forward to telling my mother she had an almost five-year-old grandson. I’d been too embarrassed to let her know about Rosalind, so it would hit her out of the blue.
Maybe Gus could carry me back to Atlanta?
“Thanks, Terrhi,” said Poly. “The Charalindhri is a great idea.”
Terrhi waved her sub-trunks with pleasure and Max did a series of moves that resembled modern dance crossed with acrobatics and involved jumping and tumbling over Spike several times. The tri-sabertooth cat took it in stride, but managed to lick Max from his sternum to the top of his forehead with a raspy tongue when he strayed too close to Spike’s mouth. Max just giggled.
“I will contact Lohrri and Naddéo on the Matriarch of the Skies and have them make arrangements for a shuttle to transport you up to the Charalindhri,” said Shepherd.
“They can land on top of the butte to reduce the time we’re at risk from missiles,” said Josephine Johnson.
“The top of the butte is mined,” Scott Winfield reminded her.
“Who cares?” said Johnson. “Melt the surface with a heat beam and the mines won’t be a factor. They’ll melt, too.”
“I don’t think Nicky Stone would approve of us eliminating part of his security system,” I said.
Johnson continued her dismissive attitude. “So what?”
“So you’re already going to lose your security deposit and then some over the windows,” I said.
The former C&C executive laughed. “No way,” she said. “We rented the place through a shell company so that The General wouldn’t trace it back to us. Even if Nicky Stone’s property managers did trace it back to us, as far as the world is concerned, we’re dead. And if they somehow discover we’re alive…”
Like from the fortress villa’s security cameras…
“…we’ll blame the damage on you.”
“Thanks for that,” I said, in my most insincere voice.
Martin had been following our conversation and joined in. “Once we’re all out of here, I’ll send an anonymous message to the Clark County Sheriff’s office, letting them know about the broken glass. They’ll send an official county dirigible out to inspect the place and can contact the property management company. Once they evaluate the damage, they’ll see to the repairs.”
“Great,” I said. “Thanks for your help.”
I just didn’t feel right about leaving the place open to the elements and anyone light-fingered with lighter than air transportation.
“Don’t worry about anything getting wet,” said Sally. “It never rains in Vegas at this time of year.”
I ruefully shook my head from side to side, remembering the brief rainstorm that had caused me to lose my hold when I was climbing the side of the butte. Climate is what you expect—weather is what you get.
It
would probably also be a good idea for us to delete the fortress villa’s security videos to cover our own tracks. I was sure Poly and Rosalind incapacitating more than a dozen goons would play well on YouTube and would quickly come to The General’s attention. I reached for my phone to start the process, but it wasn’t there. I checked the room and spotted it crawling down the near wall just under a beautifully jeweled sconce light that would make a perfect hiding place for a miniature camera. I moved closer and my phone hopped over to my shoulder.
“Did you get everything?”
“From the local server and local backups,” said my phone. “A custom-tailored virus took out the cloud copies.”
“Thanks! Nice use of initiative.”
I didn’t know it was possible for a phone to glow with pleasure, not just internal LEDs.
“You did save me a copy of Poly and Rosalind kicking butt, didn’t you?”
“Of course,” said my phone. “Max was impressive, too.”
“For an almost five-year-old?”
“For anybody.”
Now it was my turn to glow—with paternal pride.
“What do we do with all these goons?” asked Rosalind, pointing at the frozen henchmen piled up against the far wall.
“We’ll take care of them,” said Shepherd. “We’ll put them in a cargo hold and guard them for a few days to give you a running start before The General learns what happened.”
“You could just drop them in the middle of the desert,” Scott Winfield suggested.
I realized I’d have to work with the man, but I didn’t have to like him. I caught his eye and gave him a disapproving look.
“Hey,” said Winfield. “We’d give them food and water.”
Maybe Winfield wasn’t a complete ogre?
“I’ve got a better idea,” said Poly. “Let me have your phone.”
I gave her a quick hug and my phone switched from my shoulder to hers. The two of them conferred for a few seconds and Poly smiled.
“There are only two telecommunications links for this complex,” she said.
“Simple redundancy,” I replied.
“Right,” said Poly. “One is a congruent connection to Nicky Stone’s corporate network facility in Houston and the other is a fiber-optic cable tied to the Las Vegas grid. If we go to the server room two floors down and disable the hard-wired phones, then take the goons’ cell phones, they won’t be able to communicate with the outside world. I’m sure they’d be happier waiting here in comfort instead of trying to survive on their own in the desert.”
Cornell, Rosalind and Sally understood our plan and started searching the goons’ clothing for phones and other communications devices. Poly and I followed my phone’s instructions and headed downstairs for the server room. We held hands as we walked.
“Jack,” said Poly. “We need to talk.”
Boy, did we. For hours—but we didn’t have that long right now.
“Let’s do what we came for, then talk,” I said.
She squeezed my hand extra-hard in confirmation. It only took a few minutes to erase any incriminating evidence.
My phone figured out how to throw the deadbolt on the inside of the server room, then crawl back out to us through the plenum overhead. We paused outside the room’s now-secured door with me looking tenderly at my partner.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?” said Poly.
She sounded like she did when she’d told me about her relationship with her sister Pomy—all raw nerves with her fears close to the surface.
“For getting you stuck in a relationship with a guy who’s got a child.”
“Why? You didn’t know. It was just as big a surprise for you. I can see how much it hurts you not to have known about Max from the beginning.”
“But it changes everything…”
“Not really,” said Poly. “Max may make things more complicated, but his existence doesn’t change the way we feel about each other, right?”
“Uh… right.”
“Good answer,” said Poly. She sounded rational, but still was really concerned about something. I kept listening. “Max is a cool kid. Seeing him helps me imagine what you were like at his age. I’m not thrilled by the circumstances or having Rosalind a permanent part of your life—our lives—but now that he’s here I’m glad Max will be part of our lives.”
This conversation wasn’t going the way I expected. Poly wasn’t angry, though she’d made it clear that Max was welcome but Rosalind was not. Poly’s body language was projecting something more like anxiety than anger.
“So you’re okay with the situation?” I asked.
“Okay is too strong a word—accepting and appreciating are probably better ones.”
“I can see that,” I said, now puzzled. “If Max and Rosalind aren’t the problem, what is?”
“I’m scared,” said Poly.
I gave her a long hug, then released her and moved a step back, keeping my hands on her shoulders.
“You just took down more than a dozen goons. What do you have to be scared about?”
“When we get to the Charalindhri, I’m going to meet your mother!”
Chapter 7
“The Shuttle is to space flight what Lindbergh
was to commercial aviation.”
— Arthur C. Clarke
Rosalind and Cornell zapped the goons one last time to give us more time to make a clean getaway. My understanding was that sweetening someone three times in one day was the maximum recommended dosage of chilling out. More than that was tied to cumulative physiological problems akin to football players getting too many whacks on their helmets. It felt odd to be more concerned for the goons than Winfield and Johnson, though. That pair were blasé about their henchmen’s fate, even though they’d been, you know, their underlings.
I hoped I’d never turn into the kind of corporate leader who considered the people who worked for him to be mere cogs in a corporate machine, replaceable components who could be abandoned at a moment’s notice. I was confident I wasn’t the kind of CEO who scored high on tests to identify psychopaths and sociopaths, but realized that belief could be a sign that I was one. In the far from likely event I ever strayed in that direction, I knew I could count on Poly to keep me from embracing the Dark Side.
The Sky Mama ferried our not-so-merry band of Atlanta-bound travelers down to a flat stretch of empty desert near the butte. Eighteen of us were waiting for the shuttle to the Charalindhri. We ranged in size from Chit to Queen Sherrhi, including Spike and three of the Queen’s royal body guards—my friends Diágo, Lohrri, and Naddéo. I’d hoped the shuttle wouldn’t be too crowded, but soon learned that wouldn’t be an issue. A boxy, not particularly aerodynamically-shaped Dauushan-pink craft descended toward us, making a low-pitched whoosh as displaced air moved out of its way. Its intense, highly saturated color made it stand out in distinct contrast to the blue sky overhead. The rain clouds that had plagued me earlier must have retreated over the eastern horizon—or, given the relative humidity, simply evaporated.
The shuttle pilot angled the vessel’s congruency-powered thrusters away from us so we didn’t have to endure a sandstorm when it touched down. Human skin is far more delicate than a Dauushan’s hide, which meant my epidermis was particularly grateful for the consideration.
The ground-to-orbit transport looked like a Borg cube or a toy block for a Godzilla-sized Gojon. It was only slightly smaller than a basketball court, so there was plenty of room aboard for five elephant-sized aliens and the rest of us. The shuttle’s hold was huge and the floor below us was resilient, made from a mutable meta-material I recognized from my graduate school days back on Orish.
We’d just gotten ourselves sorted out. Our suitcases from Martin’s Jeep Land Rover were stowed and whatever the Queen and her entourage used for luggage—something the size of a fifty-two-foot shipping container—was bolted to the outside of the hull.
We organized ourselves into small clumps. Poly a
nd I were standing together holding hands. Sally, Cornell. Rosalind, Max, Terrhi and Spike were in a group, with Terrhi playing a reflex-testing hand-slapping game with Max using two of her sub-trunks. Shepherd and Martin were next to each other, but they most definitely were not holding hands. Winfield and Johnson stood in a corner apart from the rest of us with a shared wary expression on their faces. The adult Dauushans were on the far side of the compartment. Tomáso and Queen Sherrhi were looking particularly tender towards each other, their sub-trunks entwined. Diágo, Lohrri, and Naddéo formed a protective perimeter around their monarch and her consort.
Where was Chit?
I spotted my little friend perched on Rosalind’s shoulder and wondered what the two of them might be talking about. I didn’t have much time to reflect on that, however, because our pilot started to deliver an announcement from the cockpit as soon as the loading ramp had closed.
“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlebeings, and thank you for flying with Royal Dauushan. Our flight time from ground to docking with the Charalindhri in orbit will be fourteen minutes, twenty-seven seconds, and our maximum acceleration will be one point five Terran gravities. At this time, please make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright position and that your personal restraint systems are correctly fastened. Your flight crew will be circulating around the cabin if you have any questions. Weather at our destination will be perfect, as it is every day, since the Chara is fully climate-controlled and maintained at Dauushan planetary optimum. Have a nice flight and enjoy the ride.”
Poly and I laughed.
Terrhi let out a girlish squeal of delight. “Cousin Pattéo is so funny,” she exclaimed. “I’ve missed hearing his voice. Did you know he makes the most amazing furniture?”
The Shetland pony-sized princess turned to Max and winked her upper eye. “He’s been giving announcements like that ever since he finished Terran atmosphere pilot’s training with Southwest-Air New Zealand last year.”
Max didn’t know what his new friend was talking about, so he made a goofy face at Terrhi and pulled Spike’s tail—gently. I was glad to see my son had at least some instinct for self-preservation. The big cat didn’t react at first. I think he indulged Max initially, treating him like some sort of clueless kitten. When he didn’t stop pulling, Spike turned his massive head, looked directly at Max, and yawned, showing off incisors that would make a Pleistocene-era Smilodon jealous. Max dropped Spike’s tail like it was an angry rattlesnake and moved closer to his mother.
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