by Tom Shepherd
“Does that include the women?” Tyler said.
“Oh, yes, sir. A.E.A. characters are programmed with the qualities of flesh-and-blood beings. And their abilities can be selected from a lengthy menu. Everything from technical skills to, well, you know. Older professions.”
“Oh, shit— this is too good to be true.” Like a kid in a candy store, Tyler moseyed down the block, ogling the residents. Mostly humans—Asians and Africans and Europeans, with a good sampling of mixed racial browns and tans. Here and there he noticed a blue or mauve face, and at least one leaf-green Kolovite with dark blue hair. J.B. strolled along beside him, and Tyler knew his brother well enough to recognize the confusion on his face.
A curvaceous black woman in a full-length, cotton and silk kente dashiki—orange, green and black, with matching cap—leaned from an open bay window and called to J.B. “Hey, white sugar, I’m Zalika. Want to go for a ride?”
Another equally endowed woman moved beside her in the big window. The newcomer was blonde with the classic long face of Scandinavian ancestry. “I am Ulrika,” she purred. “Maybe you like a ride with two, yes?”
“I don’t see any horses.” J.B. looked both ways down the tree-lined cobblestones.
Zalika and Ulrika laughed, not unkindly.
Tyler shook his head. “Please tell me you’re not that oblivious.”
“Where are the horses?” J.B. scanned the brick sidewalks and places where alleys spilled into the street.
“That ain’t the kind of ride they’re offering.”
“You aren’t serious!”
“Holographic whorehouse.” Tyler grinned. “Blessed be the cyber-gods!”
J.B. scowled at Paco. “We need a fast ship to the Rim, not a quickie with Miss Vickie.”
“Sir, she’s a very fast ship. The previous owner had to outrun the authorities in a lot of systems.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” J.B. snorted.
Tyler halted at the stoop of a brownstone apartment building where another open window displayed a tiny Asian woman in classic Korean chima skirt and jeogori jacket.
She smiled at him. “My name Myong Li.”
Tyler turned to Paco. “How fast is she?”
“Very adjustable,” Myong Li said. “How fast you want me?”
J.B. groaned. “Tyler—”
Tyler politely waved her off. “Sorry, China doll, I meant the ship.”
“I am Korean,” she bristled.
Tyler laughed. “Ship’s best speed, Chief?”
“Took the PH on a test run while waiting for you,” Paco said. “At sublight, very few vessels will catch her. And when she goes FTL, it’s goodbye and goodnight.”
“I thought she was a smuggling vessel,” J.B. said.
“Not primarily, although the projection chambers could hold cargo. I’m thinking she was mostly a gambling and self-indulgence cruise vessel for wealthy people willing to pay for a little upscale diversion.”
“I’m sorry, Paco. This ship will not do,” J.B. said.
“Let’s consider a minute,” Tyler said.
“Are you crazy? What happens when Mother hears we took Rosalie to Suryadivan Prime in a flying cathouse?”
“Wait a second, Bro. Think about what we’ve got here,” Tyler said. “Chief, how many holo-chambers does the PH offer?”
“Eight decks outfitted with projectors, and each deck can be partitioned into ten sub-sections. Oh, and here’s a nice feature—small projectors interspersed throughout the vessel, so the holo-characters can follow you anywhere on the ship.”
“Including Lieutenant Arabella?” Tyler said.
Paco nodded. “She’s an A.I. hologram.”
Tyler rubbed his palms together. “Hot dawg—room service!”
“Ty, get a grip,” J.B. said. “We don’t need an erotic amusement park. We need transportation to Suryadivan Prime.”
Paco waved a hand. “Actually, sir, only a fraction of the holo-programs are sexual in nature. I discovered files for whitewater rafting, snow skiing, and wind surfing on several planets. Historical reenactments and a huge assortment of role play games. Players can participate in thousands of holographic novels and all the movies in the Terran database. We even got collections from other cultures, too.”
“Must require a huge MLC and hardware capacity,” Tyler said.”
Paco nodded. “Largest, fastest computer I ever seen. Probably twenty times more memory and a hundred times quicker than cutting edge systems in your new, fast-pursuit battlecruisers. No idea where the previous owner got the monster. It bears no markings of any civilization in the Terran database.”
“A ship this size needs a crew,” J.B. said.
“Lieutenant Mahboob,” Tyler said. “Are there others?”
“Yes, sir. As soon as we need them, onboard software converts holographic characters to engineers, navigators, helmsmen, maintenance staff—a whole ship’s company. That’s why I told you she practically flies herself.”
“See!” Tyler said. “We’ll free these poor, captive creatures from a life of sin and put them to productive work in service of M-double-I.”
J.B. sighed. “Tyler, when it comes to a life of sin, I’m not always sure which side you’re on.”
Tyler grinned. “The angels. Always the angels.”
“I’ll compromise. Use whatever holo-personnel you need to get us to our destination fast,” J.B. said. “The rest of this equipment stays under lock-down.”
Tyler threw up his hands. “Aw, Jeez—you do remember Dad put me in charge, right?”
“Then you’d better start acting like a senior partner. And a grownup.”
“All right. As senior partner, may I remind you a law firm needs office space?”
“We’ll rent as needed.”
“Everywhere we go? Here’s a better idea,” Tyler said. “Chief, can the holo-projectors create a suite of offices?”
“Sure!” Paco entered a few keyboard strokes and voice commands.
“We need real offices,” J.B. protested. “Old-fashioned brick and mortar, with clerical staff and research facilities.”
“Wait and sec,” Tyler said. “Humor me.”
The street of wood buildings with beckoning women became a lobby with white furniture. Zalika, the shapely African woman— now clad in a pale lavender, pinstriped business suit—blew a kiss to J.B. from the reception desk. He turned crimson.
Tyler pointed to her station, where new clients would first encounter the law firm. “Paco, hang a nice, big corporate sign on an etched, frosted glass wall behind the receptionist. Matthews & Matthews, Star Lawyers.”
Chief León entered the modification and signage appeared.
“Well, Bro?” Tyler said.
“This has potential,” J.B. admitted. He. wandered through the lobby, touching chairs and gently stroking the smooth white reception counter. “Traveling law firm with first-class meeting facilities and research capabilities…I can work with this.”
Tyler followed him. “Next, offices for—what the hell, think big—sixteen attorneys and a dozen investigators?” Tyler said. “And two large conference rooms, plus half a dozen smaller meeting spaces.”
“How about a mock court to practice opening and closing arguments?” J.B. suggested eagerly. “And a good forensics lab?”
Paco checked his datacom. “All available.”
“We’ll need an admin staff,” J.B. said. “Can your people-maker convert cocottes into clerks and legal assistants?”
“Yes, sir. I have an augmented database with education and skills for multiple professions, plus research materials. We can download our A.I. holograms with anything available at a Terran University, trade school—your name it.”
All right. Select our staff from the ship’s A.I. menu,” J.B. said. “Multi-cultural workforce, please. Include some humanoid aliens if available.”
“Most sentient holograms are Terran, but we got a few non-humans available.”
“Don’t
forget,” Tyler said, “beauty attracts business.”
“Males and females, Chief,” J.B. said. “Maybe that will keep certain personnel on task.”
Paco shook his head. “I’d like to oblige, sir, but the data banks got no male options.”
“How’s that possible?”
Tyler raised his index finger, teacher-like. “Think about the main function of this complex before we came along.”
J.B. nodded. “Yeah, I guess that explains it.”
Tyler smirked. “Chief, how do you know so much about this ship?”
Paco studied his datacom. “Oh, I’m a real quick learner.”
“According to Lovey Frost,” Tyler said, “you attacked and killed the previous owner of this vessel for ‘abusing women’.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What women?” Tyler already knew the answer.
“Uh…that’s complicated,” Paco said sheepishly.
“Chief, we’re your lawyers,” Tyler reminded him. “Anything you say is attorney-client privilege.”
Paco sighed deeply. “I had a thing for one of the holo-ladies. It was recreational only, but Dorla doesn’t need to know about her.”
Tyler nodded. “Some things don’t explain well.”
“So, you killed the smuggler for abusing her hologram?” J.B. said.
“He threatened to delete their programs if they didn’t see more hobbyists during each cruise.”
“Hobbyists?” J.B. said.
“Uh…gentlemen clients. You know.” Paco made a fist and twisted it. “That Kazloŭ asshole who owned the boat got violent after losing money on a party cruise. He deleted five programs and forced the other women to watch. The lost ladies included somebody who was special to me.”
“And you confronted him at the casino,” Tyler said. “To kill him.”
“No, sir. To tell him to stop terrorizing sentient holograms. He said he was going to delete five more that night, because I offended his honor. I called him a very ugly name. His knife came out, we fought—you know the rest.”
Tyler patted his shoulder. “You did the right thing. Hell, I would have shot the bastard. At least you negotiated. Sorry about your lost programs.”
Paco brightened. “Oh, that’s why I was happy to get back to the PH. Before we lifted off, I had time to break into the system and undo his deletions. Lieutenant Arabella was one of them. All fully restored.”
Tyler smiled. “Was she your secret honey?”
“No, that was—”
“Enough cross-examination,” J.B. interrupted. “Paco, show us the conference room.”
They crossed the lobby to a wide, white oval corridor with glass-front offices until they arrived at a good-sized room, door slightly ajar. Tyler peeked inside. It had an oblong conference table with eight smoke-gray chairs—three on each side, two at opposite ends. A blonde secretary stood at the head of the table. He recognized her instantly.
“Hello,” Tyler called. “Ulrika, right?”
“Please come, Mr. Matthews. Will you need coffee?”
“No, thanks.” Tyler stood aside as Paco and his brother J.B. entered the spacious conference room. “What do you think?”
“Our executive staff could meet here.” J.B. walked around the table.
Paco raised a hand. “How about Dorla for office manager?”
J.B. eyed Tyler, who was ogling the lovely Ulrika. “Good idea. She’ll keep things on task.”
“So, you’re on board?” Tyler sat in a chair and swiveled playfully.
“It has potential,” J.B. sat beside his brother. “I’m willing to give it a shot.”
“Outstanding!” Tyler rubbed his hands together. “Chief, where’s Lieutenant Arabella?”
J.B. dismissed Ulrika and waited until she left the room before continuing. “Curb your libido,” he said. “As a partner in this law firm, my final condition is no hanky-panky. Absolutely no intimate interaction with the holographic crew.”
Tyler frowned. “You are a galaxy-class party killer.”
“It’s non-negotiable, Tyler.”
“All right. But I’m adding a condition,” Tyler said, “and this is non-negotiable, too.”
J.B. crossed his arms. “Let’s hear it.”
“I want an engraved brass plate by the conference room door that reads, ‘Give me liberty, or give me death.’ Is that satisfactory to my big brother, moral guide, and junior partner?”
“I like it,” J.B. said. “In fact, I think you’ve re-named the ship, and we don’t need to paint over the PH tail letters.”
“Of course!” Tyler stood and offered J.B. his hand. “Welcome aboard the corporate HQ of Star Lawyers, the good ship Patrick Henry.”
The Matthews brothers shook on it, and a smiling Paco León laid his hand on top of their grip. Tyler decided future historians would declare this handshake the moment the first Star Lawyers franchise was born.
If they survived their maiden voyage.
Sixteen
While J.B. rummaged the holographic libraries to find other resources, Chief León took Tyler up to the bridge of the renamed pleasure vessel. Tyler stepped out of the lift and gawked. Lovely women operated all stations of the command section.
Lieutenant Arabella Mahboob made first eye contact with him. “Captain on the bridge!”
Every crew member froze at her station and stared at Tyler.
“Where?” He spun around.
Paco whispered, “That’s you, Boss.”
Tyler wanted to jump back into the lift. He had no idea what to do next. “Oh, right.”
“They’re waiting.”
Tyler lowered his voice. “What do I say—As you were?”
Paco nodded.
“As you were!” He felt like a complete idiot, but his holographic crew went back to work. Tyler relaxed a little when he caught a few cuties sneaking glances his way. Well, hey. I am worth looking at. He smiled. “Show me the digs, Chief.”
The bridge of the Patrick Henry sat in a teardrop protrusion atop the starship, two-thirds of the way forward, like a surface vessel’s wheelhouse. Its tapered configuration resembled a super-sized fighter cockpit, and the bridge offered excellent visual features, including port and starboard wrap-around viewscreens, overhead skylight, and three nose segments with more visual panels.
“All screens can display optical, tactical, and scanner imagery,” Chief León said. “The flight deck seats five crew members. Captain, XO, with helm and navigation in front of them. The forward nose section, currently occupied by Lieutenant Arabella, is an auxiliary pilot’s station. From there a single duty officer can navigate and fly the ship unassisted during long voyages.”
“What’s up there?” Tyler pointed to the open half-deck, aft of the command section, where more beautiful women of mixed ethnicities operated consoles.
“Duty stations operated by reprogrammed ladies from the MLC. Life support, engineering, communications, and security. There’s a vacant post for your cultural and linguistics officer, too.”
“Rosalie will be thrilled.” Tyler went forward to the nose section, leaned over Lieutenant Arabella’s shoulder, and checked out her equipment. She bent to the control panel, as though engaged in some crucial task. The abrupt change of posture brought her breasts within centimeters of Tyler’s arm, which he’d positioned on the edge of the console for balance.
“Impressive.” Tempted but not yielding, he withdrew his wrist from the danger zone and returned to Chief León who waited beside the command chair. Since the newly designated Patrick Henry held position, the navigation and helm posts were vacant for the moment.
“Take the captain’s post, sir,” León suggested.
A honey-skinned Asian ensign with classic Korean features—flat face with high, square cheek bones and small eyes—vacated the command chair, where she had been monitoring instruments as a back-up to Arabella in the nose pilot seat. Passing Tyler, the diminutive Asian beauty smiled slightly.
Of course. Tropic
al Amsterdam. “Thank you, Ensign Myong Li.”
“My pleasure, Mr. Tyler.” She hurried up three steps to a sensor panel on the raised tier aft of the command section.
Tyler slipped into in the command chair for the first time, and Paco rested momentarily in the vacant executive officer’s post beside him. In an emergency, all three stations—CO, XO, and Auxiliary Pilot—had the capacity to fly the starship solo, provided the main computer network was up and running.
“Weaponry?” Tyler checked the assorted screens and readouts.
“Not even a slingshot. Good shields and evasive maneuvers. But your best defense is speed. Pure, beautiful speed. Blinding fast in sub-light, and when you go to FTL, the Patrick Henry will outrun anything the bad guys send after her.”
Tyler smiled. Same defense as my Native American ancestors who discovered their first buffalo stampede—run for your life.
“Got another surprise for you,” the Chief said. “If you don’t like what I’ve done, send her back.”
“Her who?”
“Sorry, ladies.” Paco tapped a few commands on the A.I. interface panel. Myong Li, Arabella, and all the others disappeared.
“Why did that happen?”
“Temporarily sent them back to Memory,” Paco said. “Okay, Boss. Activate the captain’s console and ask your Main Library Computer for information. Any question will do.”
Tyler opened the voice function. “MLC, how far is Suryadivan Prime?”
“Too bloody far to walk.”
“Suzie!” Tyler slapped at Chief León, playfully. “What did you offer Paco to import your malfunctioning subroutines aboard my new ship?”
“Your new ship? What, you’ve seized the company from Daddy?”
The Chief laughed. “Sir, I can let you two annoy each other in privacy, if you’d like.”
“I may delete her. Does the Sioux City have a backup MLC?”
“Oh, yes, sir. Class B, still very efficient.”
“Not as efficient as me,” Suzie said.
“Such modesty.” Tyler smirked. “How’d you upload her into the Patrick Henry so quickly?”