by Peter Hartz
After all, with that traitor NSA contractor leaking everything that he could about the NSA’s forays into encryption in the last few weeks, which they were only doing to make sure we were all safe from terrorists, something the NSA couldn’t touch would be worth billions on the open market. That would occur to Michelle and David eventually, and it was a temptation way too big for anyone to refuse. Everyone was human, after all, and everyone had a price. The new technique had to be brought into the NSA so that it could be analyzed and worked with until it was safe for release into the commercial market.
But Michelle in particular had shown such contempt for the government people that had come to visit with her last year that she had actually ordered them off her property after refusing to even discuss the idea. She had assured them that she had no intention of ever making the technology available to anyone else, but no one anywhere had believed her one bit. Everyone was out for themselves, and she was no different. All these altruistic things that the company did just simply had to be a cover for darker ulterior motives, in the eyes of the NSA.
So he had agreed to the plan. He had walked away from that meeting with a smile on his face. This was his chance to get to the top, and he was committed all the way. Everything was accounted for, and nothing would be left to chance.
But when David had shown up for work, he had been shocked. He’d called the contact number for the team leader, but that had gone directly to an announcement that there was no voicemail on the line, and hung up on him. His call to the Senator’s aide had also been met with a wall. The man had said he would convey the message that David had returned, and someone would get back to him. But no one had gotten in touch with him since, and he wondered what was really happening over there.
At first, he had assumed that someone was looking into what happened, and that the opportunity had just been missed to grab David. He’d heard nothing about Allison, and he had no idea what was happening with her. That wasn’t surprising, as she had no official role in her brother’s company. She did have enough card access to get to the non-technical areas of the facility, he’d been shocked to learn when he started, and she came and went whenever she wanted, wandering in at random times to meet with David in his office, or sometimes to have lunch with him or his team of combat veterans in the free company cafeteria. He was certain that they were getting it on in the office with the door locked and the blinds shut, but he’d never been able to catch them at it. Truthfully, he didn’t want to. She was, frankly, smoking hot, in his opinion, and while it would be nice to see her in the midst of a nooner, he had no interest in seeing David in a hedonistic pursuit.
But now, he decided to push the issue a little bit. There were legal documents that needed signing, and it was a wedge he could leverage to try to get more information on what was going on. So he requested a meeting with David for some point this week to get things rolling in that direction. He would get results, he was certain. It was only a question of being careful, subtle, and asking the right questions. And he was good at that.
Chapter 25
Her mind wandered as she ran, covering her route while she considered everything that had happened to her in the previous three weeks. The sounds of the footfalls behind her brought her back into the present moment as she smiled at the sound. Some were still straining somewhat, but in the last few weeks, every city guardsman that had decided to take up the offer to train with Allison had made progress in their conditioning. She looked over her shoulder, and spoke up in the Elven tongue.
“Three more times around the city, and we’ll call it a day.” A mixture of good-natured groans and laughter answered her as they heard the joke in her voice. They knew by now that she would not push herself that far. Her regular route carried her for what she guessed was about five miles. Three more laps would put that at more than twelve miles, and that was more than she wanted to do unless she was training for a marathon or some other event.
The Elven guards ran in their boots, something she was prepared to be upset about, until she examined a pair for herself. Each set of boots was hand-crafted to the owner’s specific feet in a labor of love with which she was incredibly impressed. There were proper arch supports in them, and soft soles that cushioned and supported the wearer’s feet almost as well as her running shoes. They ran in tunics and leggings, the standard wear for when they were in training. During colder times, they would add a cloak or heavier outer coat that would provide additional warmth.
One of the guardswomen had approached her after her first morning run, asking her what she was doing running all around the city in that way. When she explained the conditioning regimen she maintained, the elven woman had nodded. Word of her exploit in the throne room had made it near and far across the city in the usual way that rumors seemed to travel, and was the talk of the various races in the taverns and merchant counting rooms.
Some merchants had inquired respectfully if she was available to serve as protection for their caravans to the other cities around the continent, but she had turned down the offers of work that came her way. As long as the strike team that had attacked Michelle was still in the Queen’s jail cells, she would be close by. She knew what they were capable of, and had tried to impress that knowledge on Karonashkk, the Minotaur jailer. She wasn’t certain she was succeeding at first, but the eight and a half foot tall red-skinned being had listened carefully to everything she had said, and had asked thoughtful questions, gravely made careful notes on a parchment scroll to make sure he had everything down.
Karonashkk had asked her to spar with one of his Elven guards, to better understand what the strangely dressed humans in his care were capable of. It hadn’t been much of a contest. Allison had trained in various martial arts since she was four years old, starting with Aikido, then moving on to Krav Maga at age twelve, the art developed by the Israeli Defense Force for its Special Forces soldiers. She had added some Japanese kenpō and Kenjutsu for a few years, mainly to get some weapons training and experience, and then moved on to Taekwondo and found that she enjoyed it immensely. At thirty-five years old, she had been studying the fighting arts for over thirty years, and it showed as she went through the guardsmen and women like they were practice dummies. Even unarmed against those holding swords and spears, she had been able to stay unscathed, dealing out quite a bit of damage in the process.
It was a strange feeling to not be holding back in any way in training and demonstrations. A mage had been asked to oversee the training to heal any injuries that might happen. Expecting to have to attend to the brash human female who had been delusional enough to think she would survive against trained Elven guards dedicated to the defense of the Queen and the capital city, several of whom were centuries older than her and had been training for many decades longer than she had been alive, instead he had been forced to heal an ever-growing litany of injuries to those same guardsmen.
Yintarin, the Dwarvish mage, had looked at her in awe after two men with real swords had set on her, only to see her easily overcome the odds and put both senior guards down without getting injured herself. Astonishment had made Karonashkk speechless for a time, followed by consternation as the ramifications of what the four men in his jail could be capable of raced through the Minotaur’s brain.
Karonashkk and Allison had several minutes of conversation over the fallen guardsmen as the mage attended to their wounds, as the other Elven guardsmen listened, still in shock to what they had witnessed.
Allison’s mind returned to the present as the cavalcade approached the guard barracks. She slowed down to a walk, continuing to move as she checked her pulse in her neck, feeling pleased as the rate slowed quickly. Somehow, the spell that Giltreas had cast on her at Michelle’s cottage had also returned her to the height of her physical conditioning, and had stripped away what little extra weight she had been carrying.
The sight of her abdomen that evening had been a pleasant revelation, as the much-coveted six-pack she’d had in the Marines was bac
k, along with the muscle definition of the highly-trained athlete and modern warrior of her younger days across her upper body and her legs. Michelle had given her a mock gasp, hand dramatically over her mouth, as she stood in her sports bra and panties, which had earned her sister-in-law an upturned hand with her middle and adjacent fingers flashed at the older woman (who looked nothing of the sort anymore), with the phrase, “read between the lines,” and a wide, happy smile accompanying it.
She frowned as she contemplated the dilemma that Michelle faced. Her husband’s sister seemed to have lost most of her appetite now, and didn’t really sleep anymore, either. Most nights she wandered the huge building the Elven queen had said was their home as long as they wanted and needed it.
Whatever had happened to Michelle seemed to have transformed more than just her appearance. Allison had spoken with the Dwarven mage about it, and he was at a loss to explain what had occurred. He asked to examine Michelle, and Michelle had agreed after considering the request briefly. But the mage had not uncovered anything that might explain the situation. The results of the few spells he had cast, explaining that they were just to determine if anything was wrong, had led to more questions than answers.
Michelle and Allison had talked about MDST, the company she owned with Allison’s husband, and her concerns about where the company would go from here. Michelle thought it was becoming more and more evident that she would not be returning to her previous leadership role as CEO, given how different she looked. Allison was not as sure. Most people exhibited more mental flexibility than Michelle was prepared to accept, but that was probably because Michelle herself was the subject to which they would have to adapt their thinking. Allison had no real helpful ideas on how Michelle could encourage that flexibility into her subordinates, however.
The weekly visits from Dave and Giltreas, or Gil Owens, as he wanted to be called for the duration of his time helping Dave pursue Michelle’s attackers, had kept them up to date in the search for Michelle’s enemy, and had also brought whatever was needed by the women in their unwanted vacation. The dogs had adjusted well, with kennels set up in the women’s quarters, their regular food and water bowls, and all the food, treats, and other supplies the three canines would need.
Sadie’s “voice” had not gone away, something that had both shocked and amused Yintarin to no end. In studying what had happened to the happy, friendly dog, he had discovered something else about Sadie’s new-found voice; the listener heard her speak in their native language, and when they spoke to Sadie in that same language, she understood them as easily as if they had been speaking in English, the only language the big reddish-golden dog had ever been exposed to. Like everything that had happened to Michelle, he had no explanation for what had happened to Michelle’s canine companion.
Yintarin had approached Giltreas on one of the frequent trips to Delara’s home, and had asked politely if the dwarf could help discover why the magic spells Giltreas had cast on Michelle and Sadie had such inexplicable results, but the son of the queen had not been interested. Yintarin had bowed respectfully, and stated the offer would still be there should Giltreas change his decision.
Later, Yintarin and Allison had spoken briefly about what was different about the effects the spells Giltreas had cast on Michelle. Allie had nodded her understanding that things were different than what the mage had expected, both in the changes that had been done to Michelle’s appearance, and the fact that the Animal Speak spell cast on Sadie should have faded away a long time ago.
Yintarin was quite adamant that the Animal Speak spell never lasted more than several minutes, and had even demonstrated the spell, and its duration, on a horse in the paddock next to the Suburban. The demonstration also highlighted another difference in the two spells: Sadie was much more eloquent than the horse had been. Where the horse had spoken in an almost childish speech pattern, using simple words and short sentences and phrases, Sadie’s statements were much more like what one would expect of an adult, with more fully formed sentences. Sometimes Sadie fell back on more broken diction, but that seemed to be more of when she didn’t want to make the effort, than any lack of ability.
As time went on, and the spell gave no indication that it would end any time soon, Sadie’s ability to speak grew, along with her vocabulary. Which wasn’t always a good thing. Allison’s time in the Marines had added a lot of salt and spice to her own vocabulary when she was less than thrilled, and she found herself having to censor what came out of her mouth constantly, especially after the first time Sadie dropped the crude expletive for defecation along with an f-bomb in casual conversation.
Sadie fell into the role of interpreter, of a sort, between the women and the other two dogs. It was surprisingly effective to tell Sadie to make Max stop barking all the time, or to tell Abby to stop licking anything, everything, and everybody she came in contact with. And Sadie was not shy about telling Michelle and Allison when any of the three needed to go outside to relieve themselves. Which brought up another “teachable moment,” as Allison explained that “Abby needs to go take a shit” was not really an appropriate way of expressing that particular biological function. Of course, the statement lost a lot of its edge because Michelle was trying really hard, and failing miserably, not to laugh uproariously at what her bigger, older dog had said.
The response from Sadie brought Michelle over to explain that “Go fuck yourself,” no matter how cheerfully offered, was really not polite, either, and while it was a useful statement, it needed to be reserved for moments that really deserved the very aggressive sentiment. Sadie’s pithy statement brought Allison to tears trying not to laugh. The usage was right, but Michelle had been at a loss to have to explain what the word meant to the listening Delara; apparently the Elven language did not have an equivalent, all-purpose word that could be used in so many different ways. The young queen just laughed when the intended meaning behind the offensive word was conveyed, saying that there were worse things in the world than a cursing dog.
Allison stopped walking, and started to fall into some Tai Chi exercises, walking the guards through the forms as she herself used them to stretch and cool down after the run. She was impressed with the elven guards that had dedicated themselves to physical betterment at her hand, and while she tried to resist the urge to fall into Marine drill instructor mode, she enjoyed the challenge of seeing how far the elves could be pushed.
It was probably a result of the racial differences between humans and elves, along with the fact that the youngest of the elven guards was past to seventy years (full turnings of the season, as they referred to it) old that gave her charges more psychological grace and balance than humans of a similar point in their development.
Elves lived extraordinarily long lives, by anyone’s standards. Karonashkk had explained that Minotaurs lived about twelve to thirteen hundred years, dwarves lived to somewhere around seven hundred, halflings lived about three hundred, and humans of this place lived somewhere around two hundred years old. Which brought up the question of how long was a year, or a full season’s turning.
Allison was mildly interested to hear the explanation: a full turning was 365 days, with every fourth turning having one extra day. The discovery that an additional day was required came from a female dwarf mage named Domilla some few millennia ago who had studied the sun, the moon, and the stars. Domilla had invented the math necessary to calculate the length of the year. There was a calendar of sorts in use, but it had almost no correlation to the Julian calendar in use on Allison’s home plane.
There were twelve months in the calendar, but that was where the similarities ended. A month was made up of six weeks, and each week was five days long. Each day was referred to simply as first-day, second-day, and so on. Weeks and months were also referred to by their numeric position in the calendar as well. Years were counted up from the beginning of the calendar. It was year 2563 in that calendar. At the end of the year, there was a week that was not part of any month. It oc
curred at the spring equinox every year, to celebrate the end of winter. The extra day every fourth year was added to those five days of celebration and general relaxation with family and friends.
The Tai Chi took nearly a half hour, and at the end of that time, the sweating and tired guards of the city bid their new trainer a good day, and wandered off to freshen up. Allison headed back to the quarters she shared with Michelle, two little dogs, and one obnoxious, nearly-hyperactive, attention-challenged, much-loved, foul-mouthed red-gold dog.
Chapter 26
Steven Williams walked into David’s office with the slight smile he presented to the world that he always assumed people thought was pleasant. He pulled the door shut behind him to begin the meeting he had called, and walked forward to the huge desk set in the corner between the floor-to-ceiling windows that made up two walls of the corner office. The large, well-appointed room was on the third floor of the data center building, with an expansive view of other downtown buildings and a parking ramp. Not for the first time, Steven looked around the room, noting the memorabilia from David’s military career, and the items that depicted his hobbies and interests.
A veritable shrine to the Minnesota Vikings dominated one corner, with a signed game-worn Kevin Williams jersey in a glass showcase hanging on the wall. Another section of the wall showed pictures of David in Marine combat fatigues with a group of men and women in front of a huge vehicle, with rifles slung casually across in front of their body armor, with their helmets and sun glasses in place to block out the mid-day sun.
Steven’s reverie was interrupted by a strange tingling sensation, and the sense that someone was behind him. He turned reflexively, but there was no one there, and he suppressed an internal shiver that seemed to come from out of nowhere. When he turned back to David, he thought he saw a strange look on the other man’s face for a moment, but it was gone so quickly that he wasn’t sure what he saw, or even if it was his imagination playing tricks on him. The memory of the strange sensation seemed to twinge at that moment for some reason, but he put it behind him as he walked up and placed his portfolio on the near edge of the desk, selected a chair, and sat down.