Xenotech Queen's Gambit: A Novel of the Galactic Free Trade Association (Xenotech Support Book 2) (14 page)

“I kept expecting to hear from
someone,
a fellow faculty member if not a student, claiming responsibility, but never heard another word.”

She laughed.

“I was expecting
some
sort of reply, based on what I’d done in my translation.”

“What you’d done?” I said.

“Let’s just say I’ve been known to play practical jokes myself.”

My cheeks turned red. Her eyes danced in response to my reaction.

She chuckled as if remembering a private joke, then reached for a second slice of turkey, only to pull her hand back.

“I’ll spoil my appetite at this rate. I guess the joke’s on me.”

Niaowla looked to her left and noticed I was staring at her.

“Is something wrong, Jack?”

“Do you still have the email?” I asked.

“I’m sure it’s still on the server somewhere,” she said.

“Could you forward it to me? It’s very important.”

“Certainly,” she said, seeing my concern.

“Could you check now?”

“If you’d like.”

Now Poly and Bart were both staring at me
.
Poly knew me well enough to wait for an explanation. Bart just looked puzzled and a bit protective of his mate.

“Here it is,” she said, tapping the extra-hard glass surface of her phone with a foreclaw.

“[email protected],” I said.

“On its way.”

As soon as the message arrived I sent it along to Tom
á
so and Shepherd and Martin and Chit with a brief explanation about where it had come from. While I was typing, of course, our meals arrived. I waved a hand to encourage the others at the table to start eating and pushed SEND a minute later. My salmon smelled good. So did the barbecued ribs and Poly’s tuna.

“Can you tell us what all that was about?” asked Bart.

“Unfortunately, no,” I said, “but it may be a very important clue to a mystery of galactic proportions.”

“Speaking of galactic proportions,” said Bart, always the one to smooth over awkward moments. “Look at the size of these ribs.”

Chapter 15

“When she’s cuddled close, I feel there’s nothing I can’t do…”
— Jarod Kintz

My reaction to Niaowla’s Old High Nic
ó
sn translation story guaranteed that Poly would come home with me instead of going back to her place or straight to the lab with Professor Urrrson. On the drive to my apartment, I filled her in on my earlier capture and near-arrest, as well as the revelations from Tom
á
so and Shepherd. I could see her brain was spinning as she processed all the new information.

While she asked me more questions I brewed a pot of decaf hibiscus passion tea and poured the hot, aromatic, deep purple liquid into our favorite mugs. After a few sips she relaxed and finally noticed something new in my apartment.

“The flowers are lovely,” said Poly, looking at the vase on the dining room table. “Where did they come from?”

“Is it so hard for you to believe that I bought them because I thought you’d enjoy having them in the apartment?”

“Yes.”

She knew me too well. Her response was curt but her voice was merry and teasing.

“Beautiful flowers for a beautiful lady?”

Poly knew I was playing a role for comedic effect: the lovesick swain. I know, I know. Typecasting.

“Give.”

I knew when to surrender.

“They’re from Mistress Marigold.”

“And therein hangs a tale?”

“A long, and rather funny one involving hamburger, sleeping pills and self-mobile plants.”

Poly laughed.

“I’d love to hear it—in a few days—
after
I’ve finished my paper and collected a couple of sheepskins.”

“I think they’re using acid-free paper for diplomas these days,” I said, “not sheepskin parchment.”

“I’ve been deceived,” said Poly.

Then her tone of voiced changed.

“And speaking of deception…”

“Time to get serious?” I said.

“Yes,” she said. “If O’Sullivan Fabrication was just misdirection, why is Ray Ray Dunwoody worried about what’s going on there?”

Poly took my free hand and guided us to the couch in my living room.

“I have no idea,” I said, putting my mug down on the end table to my right. Poly held on to her mug and inhaled the steam from her tea.

“But you’ll talk to him?”

“If R. C. says it’s okay,” I said. “I don’t want to break my word.”

“You’re a good man, Jack Buckston.”

“Aw, shucks, ma’am.”

I said the phrase with the obligatory western drawl. Poly put her mug down on the coffee table in front of her and leaned on my shoulder. I put my arm around her and helped her fit more tightly against me.

“Do you think the robots and bio-weapons and Pyr prisoners are real, or is Columbia Brown or Agnes Spelman or whatever her name is just messing with our heads?”

“They’re real, all right” said my phone. The now fully mobile device had hopped off my belt and climbed across my lap to stand with one foot on my leg and one on Poly’s. It was waving its extruded arms indignantly. I was beginning to regret buying the mutacase.

“How do you know?” said Poly. “Couldn’t they be a highly sophisticated simulation?”

I was impressed that she didn’t react to my phone’s new functionality.

“A simulation might be able to fool an organic person, but not a cybernetic intelligence,” it said.

“Yeah, right,” I said.

My phone knew me well enough to detect my sarcasm. Before it could snark back, Poly asked it a question.

“Are there any other large buildings in metro-Atlanta owned by O’Sullivan Fabrication?”

“Or Factor-E-Flor or the James K. Polk Group,” I said.

“Or the EUA Corporation,” added Poly.

I thought for a second. Were we missing any? An LED turned on in my head.

“Or Wallace Engineering.”

“Searching,” said my phone. It hopped off our legs and sat in a contemplative pose on the coffee table.

“Do you think EUA is behind all this?” said Poly.

“Maybe,” I said, “but we don’t know much about them.”

“Sounds like a research project.”

“In all my copious spare time,” I said.

My phone stood up and shook its extruded head.

“I can’t find any other facilities run by the companies you’ve specified,” it said. “I’m searching for properties that may be owned by other organizations that have done a better job of covering their tracks.”

“Try looking for any other complex that’s approximately the same size and shape as the O’Sullivan footprint,” said Poly. “Use your recordings of the warehouse and other parts of the complex to figure out the dimensions and find matches.”

“An excellent recommendation,” said my phone, returning to its thinking posture.

“Could we talk privately for a minute, Jack?” said Poly.

“Microphone off for 300 seconds,” I told my phone.

It made an acknowledging beep and continued its research.

“How long has your phone had arms and legs?” said Poly.

“It just talked me into getting it a mutacase a few hours ago,” I said. “It’s still getting used to it, and so am I.”

“I think it’s going to take me a while,” said Poly. “It’s a little like living with a precocious child and I’m nowhere near ready for that.”

“Sorry,” I said. “It saved my life yesterday, or was it the day before yesterday?”

Poly checked her tiny phone after pulling it from a front pocket of her jeans.

“It’s twelve thirty,” she said, “so it was two days back.”

“I couldn’t say no,” I said, “and my phone saved the day again tonight.”

“I guess I can live with it,” said Poly. “There are times when I’m glad I can’t afford a phone that’s state of the art.”

“You can get whatever you want,” I said. “You’re a partner and can get a company phone.”

“I can, can’t I?” she said, tilting her head up and kissing my neck. “I’ve been so focused on grad school I haven’t considered the implications of my new status.”

My toes had curled when she’d kissed me, so I had to control my autonomic reactions to find my own focus.

“Speaking of your new status as a partner and someone about to receive two prestigious graduate degrees…”

I got another kiss on the neck.

“Umm… Where was I? Uh… graduate degrees, I’d like to talk about next steps.”

“Next steps for Xenotech Support?”

“Next steps for us.”

“Oh,” said Poly, suddenly sitting up and turning to face me. She held my hands.

“You know I really like spending time with you.”

She squeezed my hands.

“Back at you,” said Poly.

“And what with your academic schedule and my work and recuperation, we haven’t had a lot of time together…”

Poly looked at me with a broad smile on her face, patiently waiting for me to get the words out.

“True,” said her lips. Her eyes said, “Please go on.”

“I was thinking we could go on a week’s vacation together after you graduate. We could go somewhere warm.”

“Atlanta in May is warm,” Poly said, teasing.

“And romantic,” I said.

“I’d like that,” she said.

I knew what her answer would be, but it was still nice to hear it.

“Separate rooms?” said Poly.

“If that’s what you want.”

“Hell, no.”

She leaned in and kissed me on the lips. It was
very
nice and lasted for a long time. Then we were interrupted.

“Still researching,” said my phone.

“Microphone off for 3,600 seconds,” I said.

“Beep,” said my phone, then went quiet.

“Where do you want to go?” said Poly.

“Wherever you want to go. Maui, maybe, or one of the Pyr pleasure planets.”

I didn’t tell her I already had half a dozen brochures.

“We could even get a suite at a nice resort,” I added.

“Why don’t we both make lists of our top ten romantic vacation spots?” said Poly, “Then compare them.”

“Great idea.” I started to get up to find a couple of pencils and some paper.

“You’re not going anywhere,” said Poly, pulling me back down and giving me another thorough kiss that was
not
interrupted.

After more than 300 and less than 3,600 seconds, Poly broke our clinch and smoothed down her t-shirt.

“I’d love to stay, Lover Boy, but can’t. I promised Professor Urrrson I’d build the tables for our paper tonight.”

“It’s one thirty in the morning. You’re becoming nocturnal.”

“It the only way I’m going to get the paper finished before Georgia Tech’s graduation on Friday.”

She was up and out my front door before I remembered.

“Watch out for my
what?”

Chapter 16

“Housework is something you do that
nobody notices until you don’t do it.”
— Author Unknown

I had the presence of mind to pick up my phone and tap its screen to get its attention.

“Send the van to Peachtree Street to take Poly to her lab,” I said, “and text her phone so she doesn’t get an autocab.”

“Glad to,” said my phone. “Should I keep my microphone off?”

“No, you’re fine,” I said. “Leave it on.”

“Thanks,” said my phone. “Still researching, by the way.”

I nodded acknowledgment and my phone resumed its thinking pose, this time extruding a rock to sit on so it better resembled Rodin’s famous sculpture. I laughed, but only on the inside. My phone had its dignity.

I was pleased I didn’t have anything on my calendar today until I had to leave for the airport. That meant I could sleep late and take my time getting my apartment in shape to potentially have company, just in case. When your partner’s family is in town it pays to be prepared.

Of course, there was also the small matter of a royal invitation to dine with the Queen Matriarch of Dauush at the Teleport Inn at eight. I’d have to check my best suit when I got up to make sure there weren’t any stains on it. Maybe I’d pick up a new shirt and tie for the occasion at one of the expensive shops in the retail part of the complex. It was nearly two in the morning and I’d be a zombie all day if I didn’t get some rest.

If I’d been conscious when it happened I’d have known that I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

* * * * *

I woke up suddenly when something jumped on my bladder.

“But I don’t
have
a cat,” said a semi-conscious part of my brain.

“Jack,” said my phone, the something that had been doing the bladder jumping, “Terrhi’s at the front door and if you don’t answer it soon she’s going to knock on it loud enough to annoy the neighbors.”

“What time is it?” I said, rotating my body and putting my feet on the floor.

“Seven-thirty.”

I grunted a combined acknowledgment and protest and shuffled out to the front door in my bare feet. On the way, I tried to wake myself up and put at least a simulation of cordiality on my face. Terrhi didn’t need to see me at my morning worst—it might scar her for life.

I opened the door.

“Hi, Uncle Jack!”

“Hi Terrhi,” I said, with a tenth of her child’s enthusiasm. “To what do I owe the honor of your unexpected presence at this hour?”

“You’re funny, Uncle Jack.”

“Not intentionally.”

“Daddy said I should check with you before I went to school.”

I made a mental note to play some sort of practical joke on Tom
á
so in the near future.

“Check with me about what?”

“About whether you and Poly and her family are coming to my mom’s dinner tonight. At the Teleport Inn.”

Skip the practical joke. I deserved this.

“I’m
so
sorry,” I said. “So much happened yesterday that I forgot to RSVP.”

“That’s okay. You must get a
lot
of dinner invitations from Queen Matriarchs,” teased Terrhi.

“First one this week,” I said.

“And?” said Terrhi.

“And, what?”

“And are you and Poly coming?”

“Of course. We’re honored to attend and are really looking forward to meeting your mother.”

“Mom’s cool. You’ll like her.”

“I’m sure we will.”

“What about Poly’s family? Are they coming, too?”

“Yes,” I said. “Poly left me a note to say they’d love to come, but I forgot to get back to you. It’s all my fault.”

“That’s okay, Uncle Jack.” Terrhi’s nine sub-trunks bounced in excitement. “We thought that’s what happened.”

“Sorry.”

“You do tend to get distracted, Uncle Jack.”

“You have no idea…” I said, my voice trailing off as my brain started riffing over everything that had happened yesterday.

Something ran between my legs, bumping my right ankle in the process. It was my phone, in its “let’s pretend I’m a tiny human” mode.

“My apologies, Princess,” said my phone, bowing as best it could with a rigid, rectangular middle. “I should have reminded him, but I was focused on learning how to use my new case.”

Terrhi giggled. I love the sound of little girl giggles in the morning.

“It looks good on you,” she said. “Now you can help Spike chase squirrels.”

“Speaking of Spike,” I said, “where’s my favorite tri-sabertooth?”

“He’s down that way, sniffing the bushes.” Terrhi gestured to her right with three sub-trunks. “I think he’s tracking something.”

“More squirrels?” I said. “Or perhaps a chipmunk?”

“Something else, I think,” said Terrhi. “But I don’t know what. I haven’t seen him behave this way before.”

“I hope he doesn’t frighten some poor woodland creature half to death.”

“He won’t,” said the girl. “He’s a big sweetie.”

She turned her head to the side and shouted.

“Spike! SPIKE!”

So much for not annoying the neighbors at this hour. The big cat came bounding up the courtyard, made a ninety degree turn, and slid past Terrhi to head-butt me, knocking my phone into a comical somersault in the process. I’d braced myself—this wasn’t the first time Spike had given me an enthusiastic greeting—so I didn’t land on my posterior. I did have fun watching the video of my phone’s back flip when I checked my front door security camera later, though. Now I just gave Spike the scritches he was expecting.

“Hi Spike,” I said. “Did you spot something unusual?”

Spike stepped back to stand by Terrhi—he was as much royal bodyguard as pet, I considered—and shook his head slowly from side to side. He hadn’t been able to figure it out, whatever it was. I felt something grab on to my t-shirt and realized that my phone had climbed up my back to ride on my shoulder. That was a much better place to be than ground level when Spike was in the vicinity.

“It’s been great to talk with you, Uncle Jack,” said Terrhi, “but school starts at eight-thirty and I don’t want to be late.”

“Isn’t your school in the complex?” I asked. There were several schools for the children of Galactics in Ad Astra.

“Yes, but Daddy only lets me walk to school by myself if I remember to be on time.”

Given all the temptations on the way for a young Dauushan and her pet, I can understand why Tom
á
so imposed that restriction on his daughter. Then Spike’s ears popped up. We heard a high-pitched whine.

“Incoming!” said my phone, a bit too loud and right in my ear.

Five drones had arrived at my front door, where they hovered above Terrhi and Spike.

“Delivery for Jack Buckston,” each drone said in turn, dropping off five different-sized packages after I acknowledged receipt.

“Oh, I’m glad they came before I had to leave,” said Terrhi.

“You’re behind this?” I said, gesturing to the packages.

“Just this one,” she said, pointing to a tall square box the size of a very large bottle of liquor. “Open them, open them.”

I was curious, so I started with a rectangular box as long as my arm and about four inches thick. When I opened it, I found a top of the line black tuxedo jacket and matching pants. The other boxes held shoes, shirts, vests, two cummerbunds, bow ties, cuff links, shirt studs, socks and all the other trimming that go with a tuxedo.

“Am I to assume that your mother’s dinner tonight isn’t a typical informal Dauushan get-together?”

“Uh huh,” said Terrhi, “Mom’s in full Queen Matriarch mode. It’s formal, and Daddy and I wanted to make sure you look sharp.”

“Thank you,” I said. I’d always wanted to own a spiffy tux but never had anywhere to wear one.

“Open
my
package,” said Terrhi.

I’d moved the tux and accessories inside and put them on my coffee table so they’d be safe from Spike’s curious investigations.

“Okay,” I said, opening the box and finding an elegant silk top hat. I tried it on.

Terrhi giggled, then covered her mouth with three trunks.

“Sorry, Uncle Jack,” she said. “I
do
like how it looks on you.”

“But maybe with the tux instead of a t-shirt and sweatpants?”

“Maybe,” said Terrhi, still suppressing giggles.

I tipped my hat at her, did a brief two-step and hummed a bit of
“Puttin’ on the Ritz.”
I made myself a mental note—I’d have to get a cane.

Terrhi gave up on suppressing anything. She just laughed.

“Time for school,” she said, skipping off down the courtyard with Spike as only young hexapods can.

I waved to my departing friends and was about to close my front door when another delivery drone arrived carrying a box the same size and shape as my tuxedo’s container. This time, I recognized the logo on the side of the package. It was from Morphicouture, the high fashion house that was also one of my clients. I’d helped them find some missing fabric six weeks ago, and Mademoiselle Ellie, their CEO, had promised me something special as a way of saying thank you.

Inside the box was a gorgeous Orishen morphic silk dress, custom made to Poly’s measurements. Another, much smaller box, rested at the bottom of the larger one. I opened it and saw that it held a matching pair of morphic shoes. Ellie and her team had outdone themselves.

Now I didn’t have to worry about how I looked in my tux—with Poly by my side, nobody would be paying any attention to me.

* * * * *

I carried all my new finery into my bedroom, carefully hung what belonged on hangers in my walk-in closet, and arranged my suspenders, bow tie, cuff links, studs and socks on top of my dresser so they would be at hand when it was time to get ready tonight. I lined the shiny patent leather shoes up neatly on the floor in my closet. Somehow, they made all my other shoes feel drab by comparison. I left Poly’s dress in its box, nestled in tissue paper, on the coffee table in my living room, but had my phone take a picture and text it to Poly with a note.

“A beautiful dress for an even more beautiful woman to wear for dinner with a Queen,” it said. “Where do you want me to send it?”

Poly’s reply came back quickly.

“Wow! You’re amazing! Thank you! XOXO. Keep it at your place.”

“Great!” I texted back.

I hadn’t known where Poly’s family was staying. I’d assumed it would be one of the hotels in downtown Atlanta or maybe the Ritz Carleton in Buckhead, but it would make logistics a lot easier if they were in a hotel here in the complex.

“How’s it going?” I wrote.

“Good,” responded Poly. “Gotta run. Bye.”

I guess she was really pushing to get her paper finished. I hoped she’d had enough rest to be coherent for dinner tonight, then kicked myself for not asking for details about her warning earlier. Now I hoped that
I
would have enough rest to be coherent for dinner tonight. I looked at my bed longingly, but realized that I had a lot to do before I left for the airport and had better get started doing it.

I had my phone instruct my whirrbot and dust drones to get busy vacuuming and dusting, then lifted the lid on my toilet to ensure that my Too-D’Loo ’bot was continuing to polish the porcelain. I picked things up around the place, fighting the good fight against entropy, and put our tea mugs from last night in the dishwasher. That reminded me to eat. I had a light breakfast, just a cup of tea and a toasted Nic
ó
sn tortilla fish, since I planned to have an early lunch at the airport. Then I put my cup and plate in the dishwasher and set it to run in a few hours when I’d be out.

Finished in the kitchen, I walked to my living room where I programmed my wall screen. I configured it to show a rotating collection of scenes from the galaxy’s top one hundred destinations according to the Keen’s Guides, for Poly’s mother, and photos of famous structures from the ancient world, like the Colosseum, the Parthenon, and the Great Pyramid of Giza for her father. I didn’t know what scenes would appeal to Poly’s sister.

Then I moved to my bedroom, and laughed. The poster-sized electronic picture frame to the left of my bedroom door had abruptly switched from a highbrow Impressionist painting, Edgar Degas’
Ballerina in a Red Dress
to a tacky painting from the
Dogs Playing Poker
series. That image slowly dissolved into an even more tacky velvet Elvis painting of the King in a white, rhinestone-encrusted jumpsuit. The transition made me laugh again. The electronic picture frame had been a convalescence gift from one of my friends or clients. When more than one person was in my room, it stayed classy, showing well-known paintings from Earth’s top art museums. But when I was alone, it switched to kitsch. Along with the dogs and velvet Elvis, the frame had entertained me with Miss Piggy as Mona Lisa, a paint-by-numbers version of Michael Jackson’s glove, a cat wearing an Elizabethan ruff, pink flamingos wearing top hats, and several of Margaret Keane’s big-eyed children.

I didn’t know who had given it to me. The card on the drone delivery just said “Get Well Soon,” and wasn’t signed, but I had my suspicions. Ellie Schwartzfield, the CEO of Morphicouture, was a candidate. She was a patron of the arts and had a wicked sense of humor. Ram Patel, the head of the North American Caribbean Cricket League, was another, but I thought his taste in tacky pictures would include bejeweled depictions of the Goddess Kali, and so far none had appeared. Droopy, Ram’s formerly depressed ecommerce server, might have done it, but the disembodied brain would be more likely to send me something music-related. Martin had given me a law enforcement edition of
The Manual of Physical Security.
He’d said it was to help me sleep, but I enjoyed it. And Mike had brought me a treasure: actual ink-on-paper comic books—thank you Mike. After their thoughtfulness, I didn’t think either Mike or Martin would spend over three hundred galcreds on an electronic frame. Terrhi’s gift of a top hat this morning, along with the hat-wearing flamingos’ pink color, made me believe I might finally know the identity of the frame’s sender. It had to be Tom
á
so. He had a low sense of humor. It certainly wasn’t Shepherd—he didn’t do tacky.

It didn’t really matter who had sent the frame. It had done its job and lightened my mood while I was stuck in bed. Speaking of beds, I remade mine with clean sheets, picked up odds and ends, and looked carefully to confirm that there were no signs of Poly spending time in my apartment visible to a casual inspection. She had a drawer filled with her stuff—t-shirts, underwear, jeans and such—in my tall bureau, but you’d have to be really nosy to find it. Once my bedroom passed inspection, it was time for a shave and a shower.

I spread depilating foam on my face, avoiding my mustache, and triggered it with a few seconds of UV light so the nanites suspended in the bubbles would give me a close shave. Then I got in the shower. I stayed with my standard Earl Grey program, since I wasn’t feeling like I needed to be pummeled by Chinese Gunpowder. Despite only getting five hours of sleep, I was feeling pretty good. Maybe I’d head out early and check on my robot while I was close to Hartsfield. I grabbed my backpack tool bag and left my apartment.