3rd World Products, Book 17 (32 page)

When she reached me, I said, “We can schmooze later. I’ll take him over to the flitter while you grab your stuff. Be the first one back aboard with the catbox, okay?”

She nodded. With a last hug and a pat, she gave me Bernard. I took him to the flitter, where I sat holding him while I used an ‘everything’s all right’ voice to tell him he and his mommy were going on a trip, then I pinged Angie.

There was a considerable pause before Angie answered without a screen and, “Make it quick, Ed. I’m getting ready to go out.”

Hm. Some tightness, there. Must be in a hurry.

“Well, you know me, ma’am. Inconsiderate as hell, always calling just to hear your melodious voice when you bitch about me calling you all the time.”

She snorted a laugh and, “Right. What’s up?”

“I thought you might wanna hear about an Earthie who invented a field device, freaked some people out, and now has the NIA hot on her trail. She’s packing for a trip as we speak. If you don’t take us in, we’ll have to camp out in the desert or something.”

“Uh, huh. She actually invented a field device? That works?”

“Yup. Well, Athena says it’ll work, and she’d prob’ly know.”

Angie chuckled, “Yes, she would. What about Marie?”

“She’s coming with us. Has to be there tomorrow anyway.”

“Okay. How many people altogether?”

“Three.”

“I’ll call Guest Quarters for you. Now let me go so I won’t be late. You can fill me in tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am, Col. Angie. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Bye, Ed.”

She dropped the link and I focused my attention on Bernard for a time before Marie came aboard with a cat carrier in one hand and two plastic grocery bags in the other. In the bags were a couple of bottles of water, two dishes, a small bag of cat food, and a small bag of litter.

As she set stuff down and sat down, I asked, “Litter scoop?”

“It’s in the litter bag. How’s little Mr. B taking all this?”

“Pretty well so far. I called Angie. She’s getting us three rooms at the Guest Quarters. She’s also getting ready to go out, so we prob’ly won’t see her until tomorrow.”

Bernard wanted to go investigate the stuff Marie had brought. I asked Galatea to keep him aboard and let him hop down. He nosed around the stuff — especially the food bag — and then sat down on top of his carrier.

Looking at the apartment, he said, “Yahhh.”

I said, “She’ll be here in a minute, Bernie.”

He looked at me and said, “Yahhh,” again.

Getting up, I walked over and petted him as I said, “Just have a little patience.”

Opening the food bag, I took a few bits of kibble out and put them in front of him. He sniffed them, then ignored them and continued looking at the apartment. I put the kibble back in the bag and petted him again as I said, “Just hold your little horses, kid.”

As I said that, Tanya and Toni came across the ramp, each carrying a suitcase. A few steps behind them came Susan, a backpack slung on her left shoulder and carrying a plastic litterbox. She hesitated at the ramp, then hurried across it as before. When she set the box down, I saw the litter looked fresh.

Susan looked fresh, too. She’d changed into a knee-length denim skirt and a light blue blouse and tied her hair back in a pony tail. I noticed it was wet. A quick shower? She wore sneakers, but there were a pair of low-heeled pumps in the pockets of her backpack.

Looking at the two suitcases and the backpack, I asked, “You couldn’t think of anything else to bring? Maybe the good china and some pots and pans? Yer gonna be gone a
whole week
, y’know.”

Susan gave me an unenthusiastic, “Ha, ha,” and said, “I think this
might
be enough,” then picked up Bernard and took a seat near the console.

I chuckled, “Well, okay, ma’am. If you’re absolutely sure,” then let the ramp vanish and re-enabled the apartment’s surveillance gear.

As we lifted away from the complex Marie seemed thoughtful and eyed Susan’s luggage. After a happy farewell at Toni’s, we lifted toward Tanya’s place.

Instead of dropping Tanya off, we wound up going in with her. Marie opined that she probably ought to take a few more things in case something came up that casual clothes couldn’t handle.

We left Bernard aboard Galatea and headed inside. While Tanya made us a round of drinks, I linked to Tea to ask her to see if she could establish some level of communication with Bernard. Once we all had drinks, Tanya proposed a toast to Susan’s future. Marie then went to pack and the rest of us sat around the kitchen table.

Marie’s packing only took about ten minutes. We finished our drinks, made goodbyes with Tanya, and stepped back aboard Tea for the trip to Carrington. As we boarded, Tea said something in cat and Bernard responded. Tea said something else and Bernard replied.

Susan listened to the exchange for a few moments, then asked me what Tea was doing. I told her about PFM collars and talking cats. She stared at me, then at Bernard, and then again at me before she blurted, “Are you
kidding
me?!”

“Not even a little.” I showed her a video of Tiger telling me about the little alligator he’d found at the pond and showing me his collection of odd items.

Susan seemed altogether dumbfounded that such a thing was possible. Bernard hopped into her lap, but continued to reply to Tea. After about ten minutes, Bernard began to ignore Tea’s cat sounds, instead snuggling into a compact blob of fur on Susan’s lap.

“Well,” she said, “I guess he’s had enough for now.”

“Seems so. Tea, did you make much progress with Bernard?”

“Yes, Ed. I’ve detected thirty-one distinctly separate sounds for various people and things.”

“Kewl. Good work, ma’am. Please make him a PFM collar. All it needs are commo and protective capabilities for now. You can work with him when he’s up for it.”

“Yes, Ed.”

“Thanks, Tea.”

Susan quickly said, “Yes, thank you, Galatea.”

Tea said, “You’re welcome,” and nothing more.

Turning to me, Susan said, “I’d never have thought it possible.”

“Not the first time I’ve heard that. To save some time, I’ll have Tea teach him Tiger’s sounds and English equivalents. Gotta warn you, though, cats haven’t seemed to be great conversationalists. They tend to say what’s on their little furry minds, then clam up.”

“All cats? Or was that just your impression with Tiger?”

With a shrug, I said, “It’s been my impression with three cats so far. I think it’s because they have sense enough to spend more time listening than talking. Think about it; if you were designed and inclined to be exceptionally aware of every little thing in your environment, how much unnecessary noise would you make?”

She grinned and echoed, “Designed and inclined.” With a chuckle, she said, “I like that.”

“Then you may use it freely, milady.”

Equally graciously, she replied, “Thank you, kind sir,” then asked, “What should I expect at Carrington? Tomorrow, in particular?”

“You’ll meet Angie and some other people, be asked a lot of questions, prob’ly do some show ‘n tell, and like that. Someone might make a simulation of your gadget, but I think they’d get enough from your math to figure potentials. From there, I don’t know. You’ll prob’ly be offered a spot of some sort with 3rd World or the station.”

“They aren’t the same?”

“Nope. Well, yes and no, I guess. More like each is dependent on the other to some degree. I know they have separate payrolls.”

Reaching to touch her damp ponytail, I said, “You’d prob’ly like that dry before we land. Tea, give us the bathroom, please.”

Susan’s luggage moved sideways and the bathroom field appeared, but she was facing the wrong way. I pointed past her and she startled when she saw the gray field column.

“Go check it out,” I said, “When you’re by the sink, ask Tea for a hair dryer.”

With a quick fisheye at me, Susan got up and went to look inside the field column. A few moments later she shrieked softly and giggled.

I looked at Marie and said, “It’s either the dryer or the bidet.”

She laughed, cupped a hand to an ear, and pretended to listen hard. “No splashing. Must be the dryer.”

Looking around, she located her coffee mug by her seat and made a sour face when she tasted the contents. Leaning a bit, she slung the contents over the side and watched it flash away with a ‘whump’ and a hissing sound as if she’d tossed it in a campfire.

“Toni’s right,” said Marie, “That is kind of neat.”

“Yup. Want some more coffee?”

“I’ll wait, I think.” Glancing at the bathroom, she asked, “Are you sure this is the best thing for her?”

“It’s the only thing. She’d get there sooner or later anyway if the government caught her, but she’d end up dead if some of the people involved in the oil industries found her first.”

With a little moue, Marie agreed, “Yeah, she would. No doubt about that at all.”

Galatea let me know Bernard’s PFM collar was ready. I had her put it on him so she could at least partly explain its purpose to him. He seemed to accept it well enough, though no cat likes having anything attached to it.

Bernard hopped down from the cat carrier and sauntered to the bathroom column, where he sat sniffing at it and peering inside the entrance. He looked at me and said, “Yahh.”

Nodding, I said, “It’s okay, Bernie. Go on in.”

He glanced at Marie, then stood up and entered. As Susan welcomed him to ‘help’ her dry her hair, I corrected her with, “Don’t try to put him to work, ma’am. He’s only there to supervise.”

She laughed and agreed. I told her to take note of his new collar and say nice things about it.

Marie canted her head and studied me for a moment, then said, “A man who understands cats. Aren’t most men dog people?”

“Seems so, but I’ve never cared enough to take a poll.”

“Is that a hint of some sort?”

“Nope. It’s a fact of some sort. I honestly don’t give a rat’s ass. I prefer cats. They’re clean and mostly quiet.”

My implant pinged with Wallace’s chime. I sent back an ‘I have company’ double-ping. He pinged again, so I put up a screen.

He appeared in civilian clothes and said, “Hi, Ed. Angie said you were on the way. How close are you to St. Louis?”

“Rear Admiral Wallace, sir, I could prob’ly spit hard and hit some part of it from up here. You want me to give it a shot?”

“Maybe next trip. There’s a fuel barge headed for the Jefferson Barracks Bridge. That’s I-255 south of town. It lost power and barely cleared the I-70 bridge and they can’t get tugs to it in time. The St. Louis flit is already there and Memphis and Carrington have three flits en route. I’m sending you data.”

Linking to Galatea, I said, “I’m on it,” put her into a wingover, and nosed us straight down. Marie gripped her seat and shrieked softly. From the bathroom came a much louder shriek and, “
What the hell are you doing?!
”

Ignoring her, I asked, “Anything else?”

“Yeah,” Wallace said in a rather dire tone, “It’s carrying a million and a half gallons of diesel, Ed.”

“Well, you did mention it’s a fuel barge. Later, Cap. I’ll keep you posted.”

He dropped the link and I sent probes ahead to recon the situation. The barge was easy enough to spot; it was almost sidewise in the river. As we dropped down beside the ninety-foot barge, I realized two flitters weren’t going to accomplish much by pushing, but I had Tea join the St. Louis flitter in trying to turn the barge.

She replied that their efforts “could not succeed in the limited time before impact,” but obligingly put her nose against the wall of steel and began pushing. The Memphis flitter arrived and joined us.

Calling up my board, I soared above the barge and eyeballed the distance to the bridge. Two miles or less. Wind speed was about fifteen miles an hour toward the east. Could something like a drogue chute pull hard enough to straighten and guide the barge in time?

I linked to my orbital core and it formed three huge gray parasails attached to the barge’s stern. The sails expanded a bit, expanded some more a few moments later, and my core said it had reached the limits of the barge’s structural capabilities.

Everything was happening in super-slow motion. I could tell the barge was turning, but I couldn’t judge whether it would turn enough to miss bridge supports. My core said it wouldn’t. I asked if it had any better ideas.

“Yes, Ed,” it said, “Galatea could attempt to repair the vessel’s engines. They would assist far more than her current efforts.”

Replying, “Will do,” I had Tea get to work on that as I mentally smacked my forehead. Big duh. Should have thought of that myself. And I should have consulted my core sooner, of course.

I’d asked if it had suggestions. I hadn’t asked it to implement them. Why not? My core had therefore only stated the best path of action, as requested. It had been up to me to direct the activity and time had been lost in the process.

I said, “In the future, when you have a better idea for solving an emergency, please don’t wait to be asked.”

Less than a minute later, the barge’s engines fired up. Galatea returned to pushing and the stern began swinging around somewhat faster. My core adjusted its sail anchor points toward the middle of the barge. When I again asked about our odds for success, my core said the barge would definitely miss the bridge supports.

“Excellent,” I said, “Good work.”

Chapter Twenty-three

I zipped back aboard Galatea. Susan had joined Marie in the seats by the console. Both gave me big-eyed stares as I took a seat and said, “Now we wait.”

As I reached to pet Bernard in Susan’s lap, Susan asked, “Wait? For what?”

“To make sure nothing goes wrong.”

The barge was still straightening as it neared the bridge’s wide main opening. Its bow entered the gap with lots of room, but its stern had only about fifty feet of clearance to starboard. That gap widened and each of my core’s huge parasails vanished when they touched the bridge’s overhead span. Once the barge cleared the south side of the bridge, I sent a copy of our activities to Carrington.