3rd World Products, Inc., Book 2 Page 21

  I shook my head. "Nope. Finding new ones, maybe. Not losing any."

  As usual, a kid became a problem. I was fielding some apples around in the bin when what appeared to be a seven-year-old walked up to me and asked me to hand him one that he pointed to in the back row. When I reached for it, he objected.

  "No. Not like that. The other way. Don't use your hands."

  Options: Pretend ignorance, insist on reaching for the apple by hand and maybe make the kid to get cranky? Cooperate and swear the kid to secrecy? Get the apple down by field and let the kid try to tell his mama that some man could haul apples around without touching them? Ignore the kid altogether and walk away?

  I kept the apple close to the others as I fielded it down the front of the display, then pretended that one of the ladies had called me and quickly excused myself.

  Damned kids. Try to get one's attention to mow the lawn or take the garbage out or do homework. Hoo-hah. Fat chance. Do something when you'd prefer not to draw attention and they're right there at your elbow.

  The kid followed us for a while, then he spotted something on the second shelf from the top not far in front of us and ran ahead of our carts. He stood there, pointing up at a box of cinnamon crackers.

  "Mister, can I have that? Like the apple?"

  Leslie and Ellen looked at me. I shrugged and moved to step around them. While I was behind them, I caught the kid's eye and put a finger to my lips, shook my head, and pointed at them. The kid understood instantly.

  As I handed the box down to him I whispered, "They don't know I can do that. See the red haired woman? She thinks she's my mom or something. She gets all upset if I talk to strangers, too, and you're a stranger."

  With a grave nod, the kid whispered back, "Yeah. Okay. Thanks, mister."

  As he dashed away with the box, Ellen just stared at me. Leslie stared too, but she had something to say about it.

  "I thought you hated children, Ed."

  "I don't like having them around, but that's no reason to be mean to them, is it? The kid only wanted that box of crackers and couldn't reach it."

  "What was all the whispering about?"

  "I told him that you thought you were my mom and that I didn't want you to get upset with me because I wasn't supposed to talk to strangers."

  After some giggles morphed into quiet laughter that they had trouble containing, the ladies resumed shopping.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  They had checkout registers, just like any other store, but the registers had no cash drawers. Instead, everything was paid for using a debit/credit account. All we had to do was state our names or account numbers for our individual purchases.

  Ellen stated her account number and the computer responded, "Verified."

  I said, "Howdershelt," and the computer responded, "Verified."

  Leslie's name required clarification.

  "Pratt," she said, and the computer asked, "First name or account number?"

  "Leslie," she said. The computer said, "Verified."

  "There must be more than one Pratt aboard," said Leslie. "I wonder if we're related?"

  Ellen checked her pad and said, "Her name is Victoria and she's from Denver."

  Leslie shook her head. "No, I don't know her, but she may be a cousin of some sort. Maybe I'll call her later and see if we know any of the same relatives."

  Shopping had managed to kill almost three hours. As we walked back to our apartments, Leslie looked in my basket as if noticing the contents for the first time.

  "Ed, there isn't anything in your basket that requires real cooking, is there?"

  I proudly said, "That's right. Not a damned thing. Canned or frozen, all I have to do is open it and zap it in the microwave."

  Ellen said, "That's if he takes it out of the can at all, Leslie. I don't know how well you know him, but I've seen him open a can of green beans and take it outside with him to work on his car. Or into his computer room. His can opener might wear out someday, but his microwave won't."

  "Less work for some lucky lady," I said. "No cooking required. More time for the important stuff, like working on her instead of my car."

  Ellen gave me a wry look and Leslie giggled. Ellen's gaze rested on Leslie for a moment, then returned to me. When her eyebrows went up, I gave her a slight nod.

  A sound like a distant gong resonated through the walls and floor. Moments later Ellen's pad sounded in a rather strident chiming. She raised it to look at it and froze for a moment.

  "Level two," she said. "There's been a blowout at one of the farms."

  I asked, "Do you need to leave us, Ellen? We can stash your stuff until you can get back here."

  "No. There's nothing anyone can do until the hole is fixed and the bodies are retrieved from underneath the shell. This makes six dead, and we still don't know why these things are happening or who causes them."

  She looked at me and said, "Is this why you're really here, Ed? Are you here to see if you can find some answers?"

  I met her gaze. "I wish I could say that's the case, Ellen. I'm here because 3rd World hired me. They don't want me talking about my job; they just want it done."

  My answer didn't satisfy her. She excused herself, promising to be available later, and left us, pushing her cart ahead of her to one of the elevators.

  Leslie said, "How risky would it have been to tell her, Ed?"

  "Not risky at all, but don't say anything else out here. Put your stuff away, then come to my room. We need to talk, Leslie."

  It was the first time that I'd actually ordered her to do anything without discussion, and her mouth fell open in surprise at my tone. I pushed my cart to my door and tapped my code, then pulled the cart in and let the door close.

  After I took a leak and put the frozen stuff away, I said, "Watson."

  "Yes, Ed."

  "What caused the explosion on level two?"

  "Residue indicates a high-grade plastic explosive, apparently of Czech manufacture."

  "You mean like the stuff the Commies used to use?"

  "Yes, Ed."

  "Aren't about half of those used-to-be Commies still anti-factory?"

  "Four such countries still cling to Communist doctrines, Ed. Any of them would have access to such materials, as well as many of the resistance groups."

  The door chime sounded. I went to open the door for Leslie and put a finger to my lips. Whatever she'd been about to say was stilled.

  "You gotta hear this, Leslie. Watson, tell me again what caused the explosion."

  "Residue indicates a high-grade plastic explosive, apparently of Czech manufacture."

  "Uh, huh. Do you understand the term 'bullshit', Watson?"

  "Yes, Ed. It is used to indicate great skepticism or lack of belief."

  "You got it. And you're full of it. Nobody got any goddamned plastic explosives in here past you unless you've got a screw loose, Watson. You can't find an error in your programming, and now you're telling me that a fat wad of Czech-made plastique just blew a hole in your hull. Think about it."

  "I did not say that it was brought aboard, Ed. I only said the explosive used appeared to be of a formula that would indicate Czech manufacture. It could have been made here according to that formula."

  Leslie was giving me a seriously quizzical look.

  I began putting my other groceries away as I said, "Tell me, Watson. If I had any of that plastique in my bags, would you know it?"

  "Yes, Ed."

  "If I had the materials necessary to manufacture it, would you know it?"

  "Yes, Ed."

  "Is there anyone on this station who could - without being detected - have either the explosive or the stuff to make it?"

  "No, Ed."

  "Watson, have you spotted the error in your logic yet?"

  "No, Ed."

  "Keep looking, Watson. Try to remember not to monitor either Leslie Pratt or me unless we're in public, too. That's all for now."

  "Yes, Ed."

  I turned t
o Leslie and asked, "Well? Impressions?"

  "I think we'd better assume that we're being monitored, anyway. By a sick computer, no less. Where the hell did you come up with the name 'Watson', Ed?"

  "I didn't. Someone else did. Want a coffee?"

  "No, thanks. Tea, if you have it. Nothing if you don't. Who named him?"

  "No tea. Sorry. Someone who reads Sherlock Holmes gave him the name, which doesn't necessarily mean that we're onto anything. I just told him to give me the name that pops up most often in usage among the people who've given him names. Could be some kid is pretending to be Sherlock and is using the computer as Watson."

  "They've found two more bodies, Ed. I heard someone talking about it outside. When the automatic doors shut on level two, they were caught and crushed."

  "Damn. Just a minute."

  I used my watch to call Ellen.

  "Ed here. Where would I find the personal flitter I was told would be waiting for me?"

  Ellen answered the call instead of letting the pad take a message. "It would be inside the shell area, Ed. I can call it into a bay for you and take you there if you can wait a few minutes."

  "Waiting now, ma'am. I'd like to visit my flitter as soon as possible, please."

  She agreed and rang off. Leslie started to ask me something, but I stopped her.

  "No questions about flitters, right? No questions at all?"

  She nodded and said nothing, but she looked rather tense. I pulled my briefcase down, reassembled my pad, and tapped the new icon that Elkor had added to my screen.

  "Elkor, I need to know if the big item I asked for is already installed. A yes or no is all I need. Nothing else, please."

  Having said that, I tapped the 'send' icon and said, "Now we wait."

  Less than ten seconds later, the message icon flashed. I tapped it.

  From the speaker on my pad, Elkor's voice said, "Yes."

  Watson said, "An unauthorized off-station transmission was made from your room, Ed. Please put your pad down and step away from it."

  "Well, damn," I said, stripping the battery out of my pad. "You caught me, Watson. Now what?"

  "I have placed a containment field at your door, Ed. You must remain in your room until someone in authority arrives."

  I pulled my briefcase down and tossed the pad and battery into it, then let it go.

  "Okay. Would Ellen be such an authority? Could she arrest me, or whatever?"

  "Yes, Ed."

  "Good. She'll be here in a few minutes, Watson. Is that acceptable?"

  "Yes, Ed."

  "Leslie didn't make the call, Watson. I did. May Leslie leave my room?"

  "Leslie is a witness, Ed. She may not leave your room."

  "She needs her asthma medicine. It's in her room."

  "Then Leslie may go to her room, but she must remain there, Ed."

  "Thank you, Watson. I may not see her again for a while, so I'm going to kiss her goodbye, okay?"

  "That is permissible."

  I pulled Leslie to me and kissed her, then pulled back slightly and mouthed the words, 'Get out of here. Not your room. Wait outside for Ellen.'

  "But..."

  Again I didn't speak aloud. 'Something's very wrong. Go. Now.'

  I guided her to the door. When I pressed the panel, it opened, much to my surprise. I couldn't even push my hand through the doorway, but Leslie was able to walk out into the corridor. She looked back and I waved at her to get the hell away.

  When the door closed behind her, Watson said, "Ed, you tried to penetrate the field at your door. I'm afraid I must make sure that you do not attempt to leave your room. Please lie down in a comfortable position for your own safety. I will release a sedative into your room in ten seconds."

  Oh, fuck.

  "Option five on," I whispered, even though I had no real doubt that the computer could hear any sound made in the room.

  I felt the suit-field engulf me as I walked to the door. The ten seconds passed, but I saw and heard nothing that would indicate that anything had happened in the room. I remained in my field and waited by the door.

  The door panel chimed. I was glad I'd thought to set an automatic lock.

  "Whoever is outside, do not open the door. The computer says it released some kind of sedative into my room. Do not open the door."

  Ellen said, "If you're sedated, how are you talking to me?"

  "Just trust me on this, damn it. Don't open that door."

  "Okay, okay. Sit tight. Help is on the way. What's going on in there, Ed?"

  "I don't want to talk about it right now. Where's Leslie?"

  "She's right here, Ed. We're just outside your door."

  "Get the hell away. Completely away. Far away."

  "Would you please tell me what the hell is going on, Ed?"

  "No. Not until we're somewhere that your damned computer can't hear us."

  "There's no such place on this station, Ed."

  "Then forget about it for now, but get away."

  "Yeah. You said that already. Okay, we're at the end of the corridor. The rescue people just got off the elevator, Ed. We'll have you out of there in a... What..?"

  "What's going on, Ellen?"

  "The corridor decompression door just closed, Ed! The rescue team is on the other side of it! What the hell do we do now?"

  That's when the room blew up. I was standing next to the door, so I went with it when it flew across the hall and caromed off the opposite wall. A vast, roaring fireball expanded to fill the corridor, then dwindled to nothingness in about a second.

  A few people standing more than fifty feet from my doorway were knocked flat by the concussion and gasping for breath. Ellen and Leslie were nowhere in sight.

  I'd hit the corridor wall so hard I could barely think and couldn't breathe at all. My field suit seemed intact, but it would seemed that way, anyway, since even if it had been blown off me, it would have reformed itself as quickly as possible.

  I rolled to lie on my stomach and tried to draw enough air into my lungs to get rid of the darkness at the edges of my vision. All I got for that effort was a lot of pain in my lower chest and shooting stars, as well as a bit of pain in my hip when I rolled onto my pens. I had to take quick, shallow breaths until my world cleared a bit, and it seemed likely that some of my ribs were broken.

  Arms and fingers worked. Legs worked. Back hurt like hell, but I could feel everything else, so it probably wasn't broken. I brought my arm up so I could call Ellen and Leslie, but my watch wasn't there. As I tried to sit up, I realized that one of my boots was missing, too. When I looked toward my room, I saw the boot lying in the doorway.

  I saw Ellen rising to her feet at the end of the corridor. I tried my comm implant.

  "Ellen? Leslie?"

  Ellen raised her watch to answer. "Here," she said. "How badly are you hurt?"

  "Hurt? Oh, I hurt, all right, but I don't think I'm too damaged. Some cracked or broken ribs, maybe, but otherwise I think I'm fine. How are you and Leslie?"

  "We were knocked down, that's all. What happened?"

  I crawled across the corridor, keeping low in case there were other surprises in my room. When I reached the wall by my door, I snatched my boot out of the doorway and leaned away fast. Nothing happened. After a moment, I put my boot on.

  "Later, Ellen. I need to get to my flitter."

  "The flitter can wait, Ed. We need to get you to a doctor."

  I managed to get to my feet and start toward them. When I'd said I was fine, I'd been wrong, of course. My knees and elbows were killing me and my back felt worse than my joints.

  "Ellen. Just shut up and do what I tell you. Please. Now. I want my flitter."

  As I approached them, Leslie looked shocked. I stopped and looked at myself. My shirt and pants were singed and blackened and there was blood from somewhere on my shirtfront. I realized that I couldn't hear a thing they were saying.

  "Use your watches," I said. "I can't hear you."

  Ellen stop
ped talking. She looked at my watchless arm and stared at me in puzzlement, but she raised her watch arm to talk to me.

  "Can you hear me now, Ed?"

  "Yes. Take me to my flitter."

  Leslie asked, "How can you hear a watch? You need to see a doctor, Ed."

  I laughed. "Who? Station Doctor Watson? Ellen. Listen. I need to visit my flitter and I need you to get me to it or get it here. Now. I'd rather not force you, but I will."

  The fact was that I seriously doubted that I could force Ellen to do anything in my present condition, but I was willing to try if it meant getting to my flitter.

  Ellen looked at me for a moment, then at Leslie. Leslie simply stared back at her as she came over to try to help me. It startled her to discover that she couldn't put her hands on me. The suit field kept everything about an inch away from me.

  Ellen continued to stare at me for a moment, then said, "All right. Let's go."

  She led the way to an elevator, but I refused to get in.

  "No way. The computer can trap us between floors. We need another way."

  "There isn't any other way that I know of."

  "There has to be a loading dock for each of these decks. Bring the flitter down here for us."

  "Just how am I going to bring a flitter down here, Ed?"

  "Figure it out, but do it fast. We aren't going to be safe until we're on that flitter, Ellen."

  "How would it be safer, Ed? The computer can take control of a flitter."

  "God damn, I'm getting tired of this. Not once I'm aboard it, it can't."

  I mouthed the words, 'I have a core'. It took her a moment to catch the last word.

  She thought about it for a moment, then used her pad. When she looked up, she pointed at the wall at the end of the corridor. Along the base of it were dining alcoves for patrons of the nearby restaurants. I led the way to one of the alcoves.

  "How's progress with the flitter, Ellen?"

  "The best I can do is park it outside the receiving dock, just on the other side of that wall, Ed. I can't make the big doors open with my pad."

  There seemed to be a lot of heat in my lower chest, but I couldn't tell if it was from the broken ribs and other damage or the microbots working overtime to fix things.

  "How thick is the wall between us and the flitter?"