Book 4: 3rd World Products, Inc. Page 18

  Pulling my book-screen back in front of me, I said, “Good. Carry on, then."

  It really doesn't take long to get a feel for the manual control system, and during routine flight only voice commands are necessary, so Karen had gained a basic understanding of flitter-flying and I'd nearly finished my book before lunchtime.

  "It's noon,” said Karen, turning to look at me, “I'm taking us back to the base."

  Nodding, I said, “Eat light. You'll be doing some special flying this afternoon."

  "I told you; I don't get airsick."

  I said, “Gee, I hope you're right,” and turned the page. “Eat light, anyway."

  Mills faced front and headed us toward the base complex at maybe sixty miles per hour, then said, “You can drop the act, Ed."

  Without looking away from my book, I responded, “Act? Be specific, Karen."

  "The tough-guy act. The one you've been using since we met."

  "Ah.” I nodded again slightly. “That act. Stephie, have I been acting?"

  Steph's field image reversed itself to look at me and she said, “You have been somewhat more difficult than usual this morning."

  Mills snickered as I looked up at Steph in mock shock and hurt.

  "Hey, aren't you supposed to be on my side of anything and everything? Loyal to the end, and all that? My faithful computer goddess?"

  "You aren't in danger at the moment. You and Dr. Mills are having a personality clash, and I'd prefer to be left out of it."

  Mills snorted a brief laugh.

  I looked at Mills and said, “Tell me again how Steph is just a simple computer, then aim us at the mess hall, driver."

  About four minutes later we stopped outside the main doors of the complex. Tiger stood up and said something as Mills and I rose from our seats.

  Elkor's disembodied voice said, “Tiger would like to continue looking around the hangars, Ed.” Popping into existence, he stood next to Tiger.

  I nodded. “Thanks, Elkor. Have a good time, guys."

  As Elkor and Tiger headed away toward the hangars, Mills looked after them for a moment, then again slightly shook her head and irritatedly yanked open one of the doors. Steph glanced at me and I shrugged as I held the door for her.

  "She doesn't want to believe in talking cats, Steph. That, or she thinks we're playing some kind of joke on her. Don't worry about it."

  Karen had chosen and marked a dining hall table by placing her purse in front of one of the chairs. Steph seated herself across from the purse and watched Karen stride to the chow line, then she gave me a rather studious look.

  "Question?” I asked her.

  "Not at this time,” said Steph.

  Mills looked at me as I approached the line and asked, “Not what at this time?"

  "She didn't say,” I answered.

  Looking back at Steph briefly, Mills grabbed a tray and silverware.

  Keying my implant, I said, “Well, ma'am, when the time comes, let me know."

  With a slight nod, Steph had fixed her gaze on the wall ahead of her and seemed to enter a trance of sorts. I knew that not a breath would be taken nor a word would be spoken in that dining hall without her being aware of it, but she looked for all the world as if she'd completely zoned out.

  "The time for what?” asked Mills, turning to face me.

  I shook my head tersely and grabbed a tray.

  "Just talking to Steph again,” I said. “She's tense about something."

  "Computers can't get tense."

  "She can."

  Mills sighed, shook her head slightly, slid her tray in front of the first of the food selections, and said, “Then maybe you're what's making her tense."

  "I suppose that's possible."

  Some moments later we'd loaded our trays and I sat down across from Steph because Mills moved her purse and sat down beside her. Polarization already? Or simply a desire not to sit too close to me? Some of each?

  Some half a dozen bites into my hamburger-steak lunch, Mills stopped eating and gazed at me as if studying me.

  "What?” I asked.

  She peered thoughtfully at me for another moment before saying, “You haven't once asked me why this training is so important to me."

  I pretended to think about that for a moment, then said, “Yup. I think you're right. I don't remember asking even once."

  As I dug into my food without further comment, Karen sat a little straighter and continued to gaze at me.

  When I looked up, she made a show of taking a sip of her drink and then asked, “Don't you want to know?"

  Shrugging, I sipped my Dr Pepper and looked back at her. “It's enough that you know why you want trained, Karen. All I need to know is that Linda wants you trained."

  Her gaze narrowed. “This is keeping you from going home until Wednesday. I'd think that you'd want to know why."

  Shaking my head, I forked up some meat. Mills pushed her corn around for a moment, started to fork some up, then paused and began to open her mouth to say something.

  "But..."

  I interrupted her with, “Linda wants you trained—now—or your request would be in the 'someday, maybe' pile. That's enough for me, Karen. Fact is, we don't seem to get along very well, so I don't really need to know much about you."

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  We'd nearly finished eating when Mills asked, “You don't really work for 3rd World, do you? You actually work for Linda Baines."

  Wondering where she was going with it, I shrugged and said, “3rd World pays me."

  Karen sipped her drink, then said, “You know what I mean, Ed. You're rather familiar with each other and you call her 'Fearless Leader'."

  "Yeah, and that's our business, not yours."

  After a glance at Steph, Mills said, “I was just wondering how you came to own a flitter. Did Linda arrange it for you?"

  "No. I asked Elkor for a smaller version of a cargo flitter and he made me one back before they locked manufacturing up with contracts and political deals. It probably couldn't happen these days."

  Taking another sip, Karen asked, “You just asked it ... him ... for a flitter and he gave it to you? Nobody had to approve it?"

  I shrugged. “Damned if I know if anyone had to approve it. I got the flitter, so I'll be damned if I care, too. Why do you care?"

  Mills gathered her utensils and stood up with her tray, then said flatly, “I guess I just wondered if you were receiving some kind of favoritism."

  Matching her gaze, I said, “I've been given a lot of leeway at times, but for good reasons at those times. Don't worry, Mills. There's a leash and Linda would yank it in a flash if I really got out of line. Is that what you were trying to find out?"

  After a long moment, Karen said, “No, not precisely, but thanks, anyway."

  She then stood and took her tray to the bus-bins.

  Steph looked at me with a raised eyebrow. I returned her look with one much like it and a small shrug, then rose to take my own tray to the bins.

  "Ed,” said Steph through my implant, “There aren't many reasons for Dr. Mills to ask such questions."

  "No, Steph, there aren't. She may only be curious, but she may also be looking for a way to get the upper hand in something. I'd vote for the latter."

  "How might she make use of such information during or after her training with us?"

  "Possibly to try to pressure me into something. Or maybe Linda."

  "Such as?"

  "No idea. She's already got one of the best-paying jobs on base, and if she wanted a flitter, she could probably finagle her way near the head of the line. With the employee discount and her salary, she could have one in a few months."

  "Seventy-eight days,” said Steph. “That would seem to indicate other motivation."

  "Some people like to keep aces up their sleeves on general principles, for later use. She seems like that kind of person to me. Elkor."

  "Yes, Ed."

  "Be wary of Dr. Mills and her questions, please. I th
ink she may be up to something."

  "Stephanie has replayed your conversation for me, Ed. I agree."

  "Got any idea what's on her mind?"

  "No, but she does appear to be more than casually curious about you and Linda. I will be careful when communicating with her."

  "Thanks, Elkor."

  I went to dump my own tray, then we returned for Karen's purse and headed for the door. Steph vanished from the chair by the table and reappeared on my right as we headed back outside for more flitter flying.

  "Interesting,” said Mills.

  When neither Steph nor I asked what was interesting, Karen added, “It doesn't startle you at all when she just pops into being next to you, does it?"

  I asked, “Is that a rhetorical question, Karen?"

  "I guess it was. What's next on the agenda?"

  "Maneuvering at higher speeds. You've been driving the flitter like a car instead of flying it."

  Mills looked at me and said, “I've been afraid of crashing."

  "Forget that. Steph told you she doesn't allow crashes. Believe it."

  With a mildly sarcastic look, Mills said, “I'll try."

  When we reached the flitter, I extended a hand to Stephie as she stepped aboard.

  "Thank you, kind sir,” said Steph with a nod.

  "You're most welcome, miLady."

  Mills snickered and accepted the same assistance stepping up to the deck and asked, “Why didn't she just materialize herself aboard, Ed? She has before."

  "Why didn't you simply take the big step up, Karen? You have before."

  I pretended to see something interesting some distance from the flitter and walked over there to pick up and study a hardball-sized rock.

  "Steph, I'm going to do something dramatic. Five suit on."

  I pitched the rock as hard as I could straight at Mills.

  Karen shied to one side with a screech, but Steph simply stood with her hands behind her back. The rock converted to energy with the sound of a lightning strike and flashed brilliantly into a ball of superheated plasma that rose into the sky as it expanded, then darkened as it cooled and dissipated.

  Even though Steph directed most of the energy upward, a rush of hot wind washed over and past me. Steph smiled and gentler, cooler gusts of wind blew most of the dust off my personal field.

  "Thank you, ma'am,” I said, then, “Five suit off."

  Karen stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the cloud that dissipated above the flitter, then switched her angry gaze to me.

  "What the hell was that for?!” she screamed as I walked back to the flitter.

  "It was the difference between knowing something and believing it. You probably already knew that a non-commercial flitter's defensive fields are supposed to stop damned near anything, but now you've seen them work first hand."

  As I stepped aboard, I added, “That was just a hand-sized rock. You ought to see what happens when a tank fires a round at her."

  Mills stood glaring at me. As usual, it seemed to me. Oh, well.

  Rather shrilly, she said, “Oh, I see! You didn't think I believed what I read? Or did you think it would be funny to scare the hell out of me?"

  "Am I laughing? Doesn't matter to me what you've read, Mills. Now I know you'll have some real faith in what we tell you, and you'll need it before we're through out here. Sit down and get us moving. We're going to range six."

  After a moment, Karen took the pilot's seat and reached for the control egg.

  "Don't use the egg,” I said.

  Mills halted her reach and looked up. “What?"

  "Don't use the egg. Just tell Steph where we want to go."

  "She already knows where we want to go."

  "You're the trainee pilot, Mills. She's waiting to hear you say it, just as if I weren't here."

  With a sigh, Mills looked at Steph and said, “Computer, take us to range six."

  Unseen by Mills, I shook my head. We didn't move. Mills looked up at me.

  "Stephanie. Please,” I said with a grin.

  "What? Oh, hell.” She looked at Steph and said, “Stephanie, please take us to range six."

  The flitter lifted and headed for the range at a good six hundred miles an hour. Mills tensed and gripped her seat, then turned to me and said, “In an emergency, there's often little time for pleasantries."

  "In an emergency, you'll probably find that the emergency has been dealt with before you realized that it existed. That's what your next phase of training is about, Karen."

  When we reached the staging area for range six, I asked Steph to put up a large field screen with the range layout, then to draw a line tracing our course through it. The line passed between, over, under, and through various obstacles.

  "This is a ten-acre obstacle course, Karen,” I said. “We'll fly through it once at fifty so you can get a good look at it, then we'll come back here."

  "Then what?” she asked. “For that matter, why is there an obstacle course for flitters? Do they need to practice?"

  I shook my head. “No, they don't. But their pilots damned sure do."

  Grinning at Steph, I asked, “Steph, are you ready to do some scampering for Dr. Mills?"

  She grinned back at me and saluted.

  "Aye, Captain. Scamper mode engaged."

  "Barf bags ready?"

  "Barf bags ready."

  "Med team standing by?"

  "Roger that."

  "Excellent. All ahead grandmother speed, then."

  "Grandmother speed it is, Cap."

  Mills displayed some trepidation as we set forth toward a very narrow-seeming opening between range observation buildings. The space had a good six inches of clearance on both sides, but as we approached it at fifty, Karen's fingers clenched her seat rather tightly and her eyes seemed to get bigger.

  "Karen,” I said, “Range six was constructed based on mission probabilities. Scenario: we're to search as quickly as possible for a terrorist known to be in the area, following suggestions from the range computer as we go. We'll encounter obstacles such as trees, buildings, hills, rock formations, people on foot and in vehicles, and hostile fire. The object is to get through the course as quickly as possible while successfully nailing the terrorist."

  As the nose of the flitter neared the opening, Karen tensely asked, “Don't they already know how quickly a flitter can run this course?"

  "Yup. We already know the best times possible for all current course variations."

  Mills sucked a breath through clenched teeth as we flashed through the opening.

  "Ah ... Then ... What are we here to...” Her voice dropped almost to a whisper as she saw what lay ahead. “Oh, lord..."

  Just down the hill, the range layout that she'd seen on the screen became visible.

  "OhMyGod..!” she muttered softly.

  "Wanna think about it first?” I asked. “Take a minute up here and maybe talk yourself out of it?"

  Karen's angry eyes met mine as she hissed, “No!"

  Nodding, I asked, “Well, then, could I make a suggestion?"

  "What?” she snapped in the same hissing tone.

  "Don't panic unless I do.” I sat down beside her and put my feet up on the console. “It's a go, Steph. I just couldn't talk her out of it."

  "Aye, Captain. Would you like a multiple view screen?"

  "No, thanks, milady. This view's fine for now."

  An overhanging tree branch only looked as if it would take our heads off, then a boulder only looked as if it would make contact with our lower hull. In each case, Karen emitted a satisfying hiss or squeak.

  Next up was the image of a child chasing a dog that burst from behind a station wagon and dashed across our path. Steph jinked us up and over the kid and Karen screeched, then looked back to see nothing.

  "Huh,” I said, “Must have hit them after all. I'll have to run us through a carwash later."

  Karen's eyes narrowed on mine.

  "Unless they were holograms,” I amended.
r />   Someone appeared to throw a bottle at us as we rounded a curve. The person was a holograph; the bottle wasn't. It sailed right at the pilot's seat and flashed against our field as Karen cringed from the point of impact.

  "Remember the rock,” I said. “No sweat. Now for some fun stuff. This is supposed to be downtown Washington."

  We went over stuff and around things, zig-zagging up one six-story building's side to check offices for the range's terrorist character, then across the roof and down the other side of the building the same way.

  I think Karen stopped breathing until we nosed over the edge of the roof, then headed straight down. That's when she sucked in what seemed to be a vast amount of air and screamed until we'd crossed the street and ducked into a multi-level parking garage.

  A search of all the parking levels, hopping over cars and people, and then back down to the basement on the other side of the garage. Up the exit ramp into daylight again, barely above the roofs of traffic on the street.

  We whipped between trucks and buses for a stretch, then zipped through a city park, across a good-sized pond, and through mockups of the Lincoln and Jefferson memorials.

  Steph held our speed at a plodding fifty throughout the maze. Karen kept her deathgrip on her seat, as well as trying to see in all directions at once and flinching hard whenever something seemed close enough to scratch our paint.

  On the last uphill leg of the course, a man standing near a crowd of tourists pulled a light antitank weapon from the trunk of a car, quickly aimed it at us, and fired. Karen covered her face and screeched as the LAW round exploded against our forward field.

  As the man grabbed for something in his coat, Steph dropped a field-bubble around him. When he exploded, the blast and shrapnel reached no farther than a few feet. Steph dissolved the field bubble as we passed and a cloud of smoke rose from the spot.

  A faint, “Oh my God ... ” came from Karen, who turned to stare at the spot as we passed it and for some moments longer before she turned back around.

  She looked at me, then at Stephanie, then locked her eyes to the front. We stopped in the staging area and I pointed at the building on the left.

  "Restrooms and snacks are in that one,” I said. “The other building is where they keep the range props."