“Revolting madam, you had roaches in your kitchen since the day it was first constructed. I assume they fell from your skirt into their new home, where they have been fruitful and multiplied. Your roaches have nothing to do with me. I want to have zero to do with either you or your superiors, the roaches. Scram!”
He shoved her backward and grabbed the door to close it. Mrs. Wong was not ever to be denied. She pushed him backward. “No, you bring roaches, now city inspector want to shut kitchen down.” She kicked him soundly on the shin. “I need spend money to have ’sterminator come and kill your roaches!” She rose to her tiptoes and tried to poke him nose to nose. She came up quite short. “This come out your rent,” she howled. “You need pay to kill your roaches!”
“Look, bitch, if it’ll get you out the door, I’ll buy you an exterminator. Just get out!” He angled her toward the door with his chest.
With the skills of a bullfighter, she parried his advance and spun to stand in the center of his small space. “Lucky you, I bring my nephew with me to do job. No need let your bugs lay so many egg no spray kill them.” She swept her arms over her head like a helicopter.
Stuart looked to the door to find a hunched man standing there with a canister and a spray applicator. His face was completely obscured by an antiquated double-cartridge gas mask. The man bowed deeply and mumbled something even Stuart's keen hearing could not make out.
Mrs. Wong slapped Stuart on the shoulder. “My nephew, Kwai, say if you human you must leave. He say only android can survive his spray. Stupid person who stay will die. You choose, but please be quick. I pay Kwai by hour. Decide chop-chop!” She slapped one palm with the inner edge of the other hand, simulating a knife chopping.
“What,” said Stuart incredulously, “you think I'm going to leave Ming the Merciless here in my place alone so he can rob me blind? Tell him to do what he has to. I'm staying.”
The shrouded figure made sounds that might have been words, though Stuart, again, couldn’t tell. Mrs. Wong translated. “He say if you drop dead, he charge me to carry you body to the trash. I no foolish. I go. Come back tomorrow. See how many your roaches and maybe you dead.” She addressed Kwai in Cantonese. “Come to my office when you’re done. I have some noodle for you to take to my sister.”
Kwai bowed to her and made unintelligible verbal declarations. As soon as she’d closed the door behind herself, Kwai began to mightily pump up his canister. He seemed to be singing a song, possibly in some Chinese dialect, but again, Stuart could not catch the meaning.
Kwai began spraying whatever toxic concoction he'd prepared liberally around the room, paying no particular attention to one area over another. In fact, he squirted as much into the air as into corners and behind furniture.
“You're going to kill someone,” shouted Stuart, “spraying that crap around willy-nilly like that.”
Kwai bowed rapidly and shouted back. He turned the applicator directly at Stuart and let loose a jet. When the water—for it was water Heath was spraying—struck Stuart, he exploded in rage. “You stupid slant-eyed moron, look what you've done!” Stuart pointed to his dripping face.
Heath rushed to Stuart, pretending to aid Stuart's efforts to cleaning himself. When Heath was almost within reach of him, Stuart tasted the fluid that dripped into his mouth and discovered it was pure tap water. “Why you…”
Those were the last words to come from Stuart’s mouth. In one fluid motion, Heath placed one hand over Stuart’s left hand, so the dead man’s switch could not be released. With his free hand, Heath thumbed a small box he’d pulled from his pocket. Instantly, Stuart collapsed to the floor. All the while, Heath crushed the trigger tightly into Stuart’s palm. Quickly, they were both on the ground, though only one was conscious. Heath called out loudly, “He’s down. I need help, now!”
A couple armed men crashed through the door and dropped to their knees as their weapons swept the room. A technician rushed past them and placed his hands over Heath’s. “Very slowly,” the technician panted, “you hand the trigger over to me.”
Heath gingerly released half the trigger, waited until the technician held it securely, then released the other half. Once the technician held the switch exclusively, Heath rolled onto his back and ripped off the gas mask.
“That was,” Heath yelled to no one in particular, “fucking intense!”
An officer hurried to Heath and handed him a com-link. “Anything,” Heath asked, “go boom in the night?”
“No,” replied Amanda, “thank God, no. You okay?”
“No,” said Heath, “but I probably will be soon enough.”
“You need me to send down a clean set of underwear or something?”
“That would be nice. How ’bout you bring them personally?”
“Nah, I'll pass,” she said. “I have a pretty weak stomach.”
“No use in a crisis, says I.”
As Heath still lay on his back breathing heavily, several technicians began to carry away the android that had housed Stuart Marshall. Heath handed them the kill switch and dropped his head to the floor again.
FIFTEEN
Yibitriander sat behind a simple table as Kymee entered silently. Without being asked, Kymee sat down beside him. “So, what have you learned?” asked Yibitriander.
“It's largely what we suspected. Wrath contacted the relay station to update us on his activity. He made it seem like routine procedure, though we all know no such protocol exists.”
“He was boasting! Rubbing our eyes in the mud. He wants us to know he lives in spite of our best efforts.”
“In spite of your best efforts, my friend.”
Yibitriander didn't hear that last part. He was lost in thought.
“So are you to pout for all eternity, or do you wish to hear Wrath's report?”
“Hmm?” he muttered. “Oh, yes. What's going on out there?”
“Wrath reports that he was unearthed by the human android. It is his opinion he was discovered by accident. Shortly before activating Wrath, the humans were confronted by and killed an Uhoor named Plo.”
“Don't recall that one,” observed Yibitriander.
“No, I believe he's too young, or, rather, was. By the time Tho and the remainder of her pod arrived, Wrath was operational, and the Uhoor backed down. Your android friend remanded them to the farthest part of this galaxy, under the threat of genocide.”
“My but Ryan's a fast learner. And Tho! The old sow is still fluttering about.”
“It would appear so on both counts.” Kymee eyed his companion questioningly. “You and she disliked each other in a special way, as I recall.”
“Just say it. We hated one another past emotion and reason.”
“Since that time, Ryan has used Wrath to settle some domestic squabble amongst his people and as transport for Kaljax refugees fleeing to Hodor, the planet where you ditched Wrath.”
Irritated, Yibitriander snapped, “I know Hodor. I didn't ditch or scuttle Wrath there. I attempted to hide him for all eternity.”
Kymee smiled at his friend's manifestation of temper. “Be that as it may.”
Yibitriander chuckled softly.
“What?” asked Kymee.
“The thought of it! Wrath, the most powerful weapon ever devised, used to shuttle Kaljaxians!” He laughed heartily. “I imagine his mood was none too pleasant.”
“He always was vocal about his perceived importance, wasn't he?”
“Is that all?” asked Yibitriander.
“Yes. Recently, Ryan has not used Wrath for any purpose.”
Yibitriander thought quietly for a moment. “I wonder why? What's the old saying? I would have thought he'd be as busy as a groom on his wedding night. Wrath is nothing if not an outstanding toy with which to play.”
“I pray he never learns you called him a toy.” Kymee could not suppress a giggle. “What are your thoughts?”
“For now? For the present, I shall do nothing. If, and only if, it becomes imperative, I’
ll act, I'll alert you well in advance.”
“Fine. I'll let you know if Wrath sends along any more updates.”
“Yes. Now, I must be alone to think. I have yet to comprehend the utility of nothingness.”
“Still stuck on that one? My, I'd have imagined you'd be past that and were on to why the cusp of understanding is always incomplete. You do have much to accomplish!”
“And you, old man, should go ponder why you should still be so judgmental. It's unbecoming.”
“Why? That, my son, is so very obvious. I am because it is fun. Even the great and mighty Deavoriath need a little fun, now and again.”
“I think, instead, I shall seek out Mother and tell her of your folly. It'll serve you justice.”
“You would sic her on me, after all these years? How cruel my own flesh and blood has turned out to be!”
SIXTEEN
“I say ship him back to Kaljax. I'm not busy for the next ten minutes. Let me drop him somewhere, possibly at sea.” I was upset. Not that it was rare for me to be angry, or at least blustery. But the cause of my angst was as unanticipated as it was novel.
“Pocrante is a good man,” replied Sapale with a stomp of her foot. “Why is it you constantly bicker with him?”
“He thinks he is so smart.” I flapped my arms in the air and did a silly dance.
“He is the man who led the most prestigious science academy on the planet. We’re beyond lucky to have him with us,” she said placing a hand on her hip.
“I don't feel as lucky as others might.” I turned to JJ. “Do I look lucky to you?”
JJ knew better that to step into the middle of that spat. “What does lucky look like? When I know, I'll offer my opinion.”
“Coward,” I said to my son. “Look, I just don’t like the guy. If I can’t return him to Kaljax for a full and complete refund, how ’bout we put him in charge of the colony over on Gramdor.”
“We don't have a colony,” Sapale said dryly, “on that desert continent. I'll wager in ten thousand years, there'll be no colony there.”
“He can start one, and in ten thousand years, normal people can join him.” I was pleased with my comeback.
“Name one thing wrong with him,” Sapale said.
“He…no, you'll just get mad, and I'll storm out with a bad taste in my mouth and…”
“What? Jon, we've been brood-mates for years. Say the words. I promise I will not get angry.” She smiled sweetly and blinked her four eyes.
“Fine!” I all but shouted. “I don't like the way he looks at you.”
She pointed to her central chest. “At me?”
“No, JJ. Of course I mean you.”
“How does he look at Mom?” JJ asked unhelpfully.
“Yes. Is he sucking me into his head with his eyes?”
“Yeah! That's exactly my point. I'm glad you see it too. You can be the one to tell him he's got sixty seconds to pack.”
“Have you been drinking the engine coolant again? I did not agree with you. I do not agree with you. Pocrante looks at me the same way he looks at you.” Sapale pointed up at Jon's nose.
“Great!” I responded, “now I feel a whole lot better. The guy hits from both sides of the plate, so I guess I'm supposed to feel honored?” I turned a shoulder to her. “I want to go on record as not flattered.”
“Oooh!” she bristled. “You're getting more impossible with each passing year.”
“Mom,” said JJ, “I think that's unfair.”
“Did I request your input?” replied Sapale with a quiet growl.
“Thanks, son of mine,” I said.
“No,” added JJ, “he's just as impossible as he's always been.”
“Unthanks,” I said to JJ, and I stuck out my tongue at him.
“Pocrante regards me as an equal,” she said in a paced cadence, “and treats me with proper respect. I think his brood's-mate would notice if he was flirting long before one as dull to such nuances would. That’s you, my dear.”
“Was I just complimented or insulted?” I asked JJ.
“Wow,” he said suddenly, “would you look at the time! I told Toño I'd help him rebuild an engine this afternoon.”
“It's nine in the morning,” I responded.
“Yeah, but I hate being late.” With that, JJ was history. Smart young man.
“I know you're teasing, but please stop complaining about Pocrante. If he should learn of it, there'd be trouble.”
“Trouble?” I said, patting my chest. “Trouble for moi? I doubt that's a valid concept in this context.”
Sapale altered the pitch of her growl. It was more threatening. “I don’t mean he’ll beat you up and take your dessert. There are matters of honor a man of Kaljax is bound to follow. Remember the crazy, violent society I wished not to re-create? If you piss him off sufficiently, he might have to leave. On Kaljax, he’d challenge you to a duel, but out of respect for my allowing him to immigrate, I doubt he’d do that here.” She growled again. “So, knock it off.” Then she tiptoed up and kissed me. “You’re as stuck with me for life as I am with you. Get used to it.”
“Speaking of getting stuck, you want to…you know, I'm just asking…”
“Go find something to do that does not require my being there. I actually have a nation to build and don't have your luxury of infinite time.” She wagged her finger at me, indicating I should bend down. We kissed again, and then she turned and walked away.
“I hope I'm not interrupting anything,” said Toño as he sidled up.
“No. Never. Sapale has something to do that doesn't involve me.”
“I meant, knowing how you two bicker all the time, I was hoping she wasn't staging an exit only to return and lay into you again.”
“I'm stunned.” I rested a hand on my chest. “You think I bicker frequently with my brood's-mate?”
“It's the running joke of the entire colony.”
“Ouch!”
“Anyway, do you have a moment?”
“It would appear I have many open slots on my dance card.”
“Why is it,” he observed, “you can never simply answer 'yes'?”
“Bor-ing!”
“If you think so. Come with me. I need to show you some data.”
“Okay. Can't, you know, you just zap it into my head?”
“Are your feet malfunctioning? Perhaps your motivator program is corrupted?”
“I think not.”
“Jon, I like to think of myself as human. Like you, I was forced to become an android to serve a greater need. But I rather preferred being the simple soul I was. With that in mind, might we walk to the lab and look at the data, like normal humans?”
“You're a lot more sensitive than I realized. Hey, maybe on the way, we can spit and then stop and take a leak. Would that make your existence more palatable?”
True to form, Toño dismissed my snark and had turned mid-remark to head back to the lab. He sure knew how to deflate me. Almost as well as Sapale. Good thing I had my personal cheerleader, JJ, around.
When I arrived to his lab—it was really a big shop with tools, not the chemistry lab of high school—Toño was standing at a work station fiddling with something. “What's that?” I asked.
“Oh this?” He held up a metal tube with some dials at one end. “It's a transponder.” He seemed to say it like that meant something, in and of itself.
“And, might I add, it's sure a nice-looking one. In fact, if I ever need a handheld transponder, I know the kind I'd want.”
Toño gently shut his eyes and shook his head slowly.
“What?” I asked.
“One morning you'll wake up to find I've deleted your dubious sense of humor. It drives everyone batty, but it seems to affect me more than most.”
“So, Doc, what's that transponder telling you that you wanted to share with your mission commander?”
His blank expression suggested, but did not prove, that he was annoyed with me. “It's picking up signals I can't
explain.”
Hmm. That made no sense. A transponder was basically a radio signal relay. It received one signal and automatically broadcasted its own signal. It was the radio equivalent of a fireman's bucket brigade. Doc had set up a series of such devices around the globe. We had satellites in orbit for long-range communication, but the transponders served as a backup system. In practice, they only handled whatever signals Toño sent them, since ninety-nine point nine percent of the time, no one was far enough away to need a boost.
“I don't get it. You manage all the throughput. How can there be signals you can't explain? Unless there's a Boy Scout on the other side of Azsuram with a walkie-talkie, how can that happen?”
“This is true. But some radio frequency signal is, nonetheless, being detected and relayed by our network.”
“A message from the worldships? No,” I corrected myself immediately, “they're still too far away.” I scratched my head. “Solar flares?”
“A possibility, but I'd expect those to be of longer duration.”
“Okay, what do you think they are?”
“No idea.”
“I'm not going to write your opinion in stone, Doc, but you must have at least some wild guess.”
He shook his head. “Not really.”
“Let me ask it this way. How many signals are there? One?”
“Actually, it's hard to say.”
“You're not inspiring deep confidence in your mission commander.”
“Sorry, boss, I just can't say.” He reflected for a second. “I pick up one faint signal in the hundreds-of-Hertz range. That's well below any band used for what we'd use for message transmission. There may be a second, still weaker signal, in the same range. They're both too faint to amplify much without the noise degrading the signal to gibberish.”
“How long are they?”
“Oh, several seconds long and up to a minute.”
The Forever Fight: The Forever Series Book 3 Page 9