Book 3: 3rd World Products, Inc (42 page)

"Will do. Anything else?"

"Well, how about ‘goodnight'?"

"Good enough. Goodnight, Ed."

I watched her pick up her datapad and nod slightly as she read, then put it down. She gave me a little wave and got into her bunk just as the lights were turned off and the hangar was illuminated only by the subdued lights in the corners and overhead.

One man sat reading a book at the desk in the hangar's office. In the Army, we'd called him the CQ, or charge of quarters. During the night, others would be wakened every four hours for their shifts on CQ duty. Every half hour or so, the CQ would take a stroll around the hangar with a flashlight.

I wondered why anyone had CQ duty. It was already after three in the morning, nobody in the hangar was a trainee, and with three flitters in the hangar and half a dozen cameras watching us there was no chance of fire. They'd detect a fire instantly and simply smother it with fields.

Whatever. I hopped off the flitter to head for the showers and then hopped back up to get my coffee mug so I could rinse it. My thermos was still half full, but by morning the coffee it held would be pretty terrible, so I took the thermos, too.

Grabbing a towel and one of the little bars of soap at the tables, I headed into the shower room. Wallace had showered and dressed and was shaving at one of the four sinks as I entered. He gave me a glancing glare, then turned his attention back to his own face as I set my towel on the counter.

"No razor?” he asked, looking at his watch. “It's damned near time to get up, anyway. Why make another trip?"

"I won't. I brought my own stuff,” I said, reaching over my head for my briefcase.

When my hand found the case's handle it became visible. Wallace's eyes bugged out a bit. I pulled the case down, opened it, and took out my razor, toothbrush, and a few other items, then closed the case and simply let go of it. It instantly disappeared and rose to its usual place just above my head.

Wallace's expression hadn't changed by the time I'd rinsed my toothbrush and loaded it with paste. He rather belatedly noticed that muck from his razor was dribbling down his arm and turned to rinse it off, then he went back to shaving.

"Well, Ed, it looks as if there's just no damned end to your surprises, doesn't it? First I find out that Linda has this old boyfriend and she wants to send him into that warehouse alone. Then she says you own a flitter. The first personal flit ever made, in fact. Then she all but let you take over the mission and you up and disappeared before you went into that warehouse. Next thing I know, you're talking to us, but I know damned well that you didn't sign out a comm unit. Then you do field tricks and burn a hole in a coin."

I spat out toothpaste, rinsed, and said, “Good. You were paying attention, after all. What's your point, Wallace?"

He rinsed his razor, then seemed to realize it was a disposable and disgustedly tossed it in the trash as he reached for his towel.

"My point?” he asked. “Oh, I don't know. Maybe I don't have one. Or maybe I think that you're just too goddamned strange to trust."

I prepped my face for shaving and said, “Wallace, I could tell you to fuck off, but that would be impolite.” I turned to look at him and added, “If my record and things you've seen with your own eyes don't mean anything to you, you don't qualify to pass judgment on me. Or maybe it's that all those things
do
mean something to you. Maybe you see me as competition
beyond
Linda? Job competition of some sort?"

"Crap,” he said. “Nobody's got anything to worry about on that score. You like things as they are and you aren't leadership material by anyone's standards."

"That's right,” I said. “I've never wanted that role. When it fell on me, I got things done and got clear of the heavy robes of office as quickly as possible. I like being
on tap
, Wallace. I like Linda's odd jobs and the paid off-time between them. Being semi-retired suits me just fine. Can you somehow understand that?"

He grinned nastily at me.

"Sure. I've seen your type way too often during my career. You lean real hard on a specialty or two and slack off at every opportunity. Everybody else does the scut work and you show up long enough to make a touchdown once in a while."

It occurred to me that he wasn't altogether wrong about that, but I couldn't really see a problem with that setup.

"Whatever,” I said. “We aren't going to get along, so why don't we just keep away from each other until one of us dies or transfers or something?"

Wallace grabbed his shirt off the wall hook by the mirror and said, “That'll be you, Ed. Believe it. Prepare for it.” He turned and headed for the door.

I grinned as I said, “No sweat, Wallace."

He gave me a last glaring look as he left the room.

Keying my implant, I asked, “Steph, you heard that?"

"Yes, Ed."

"How would you feel about monitoring all of his communications for a while?"

"Very uncomfortable, Ed. That's illegal."

"Okay, then, how would you feel if he weaseled up some way to create a lot of trouble for us that had us justifying our every word and move? I expect him to do his best to be rid of us, Steph."

"I concur that he seemed to be inferring that he might make such an effort, but I'd hesitate to use illegal methods to counter..."

"I wouldn't, Steph. Nobody gets to be a Navy Captain without knowing how to sling mud and cover his ass. He probably wouldn't lie outright, but he'd know how to
infer
like a son of a bitch, and he's too well-connected in the brass circles. I want to know if he says anything to anyone about either of us. I want to know what he said and who heard him say it. Can you arrange that?"

"As I said, Ed, that sort of surveillance is illegal, so I am unable to comply, but the knowledge of how to arrange such surveillances through a datapad is not illegal. Had I any suspicions that you might use your pad in that way, I would have to refuse to assist you, which would leave you dependent on the rather extensive help files that came with your datapad, particularly those concerning the establishment of monitoring networks such as are used by security systems."

In other words, she'd politely told me to ‘Read The Fucking Manual', just as I'd told so many others concerning computers and software.

"Uh, huh. Well, gee, Steph, I think I should learn as much as possible about the various uses for my datapad, don't you? Do you suppose you could find the time to walk me through setting up a few practice networks?"

"Yes. I think I can find time to assist you, Ed. Once you've mastered networking, it might be wise to specifically instruct Elkor and me not to monitor your pad activities."

"Um. Yes, it might. Good thinking, miLady, and thank you."

"You're welcome."

I finished shaving and showered, then pulled the briefcase down again to get my clean pants and shirt. One of the other team people entered the room as I was changing clothes.

I kept a hand on my briefcase as I walked out of the shower stall to find Angela Horn leaning over a sink. She rinsed her face and dried with the towel that Wallace had left by the sink, then swept her shoulder-length auburn hair back from her face and stood straight. She noticed me when I set my old clothes on a sink and looked at me in one of the mirrors.

"Hi,” she said. “Um ... Why were you in the shower stall with your clothes on?"

"Hi, back at you,” I said. “They weren't on me when I showered. I had a change of clothes in my briefcase."

She nodded, then turned to head for a toilet stall. I gathered my razor and toothbrush and put them in my briefcase, then transferred the pocket stuff from my other clothes. Once I'd put the other clothes in the case and let the case go, I headed for the door. As I turned at the doorway, I saw Angela looking at me with a puzzled expression. Had she seen my briefcase disappear?

"Don't forget your briefcase,” she said.

"I haven't,” I said.

Her puzzlement deepened and became tinged with concern.

"Then where is it?” she asked. “Are you sure you're all right? We all went through a lot this evening..."

I reached up and grabbed the case without pulling it down. Her eyes followed my hand upward, then became rather wide as the case manifested itself.

"I'm fine, Angela,” I said. “And I really
do
have my case. Thanks, anyway."

She was still staring as I left the bathroom. It occurred to me that the team people probably didn't know much about me, since we'd never worked together before the warehouse incident. Maybe it would be a good idea to familiarize one of them a little with Steph and me. I waited by the tables, munching on some of the salad goodies.

When she came out of the bathroom, she spotted me by the tables and turned slightly to approach me. I fielded a bag of potato chips into the air between us.

"Care for a snack, Angela?"

She stared at the bag for a moment, then edged her way around it and came to stand a couple of feet from me, gazing hard at me. Six feet tall. Mid-twenties. Brown eyes. Slender, but to be on a mission team, she had to be solid as a rock.

"How do you know my name?” she asked.

"It was on the team roster. There were two women other than Linda, and I've seen Margot before. My name's Ed, in case you don't already know that."

I guided the chips back to the table and picked out some carrot sticks to nibble on. Angela didn't speak right away, and when she did, it was with a tone of unconcealed suspicion.

"Yeah, I knew your name. How did you have access to the team list? You weren't assigned to a team and you weren't on our command rosters."

"Ask your CO,” I said. “Sorry to have bothered you, lady. Goodnight."

As I turned to walk away, she said, “Wait."

When I turned back to face her, she said, “I didn't mean to sound like a bitch. It just bugs me when someone I don't know knows me."

I nodded. “Yeah. I know that feeling. Sorry if I put you off just now. Do you want to start over or just go straight to bed?"

Oops. Yeah, I heard it as soon I said it, and so did she.

Angela's eyes widened slightly and she grinned as she asked, “It's a little soon to be asking me to go to bed, isn't it?"

Would both feet fit at once? What the hell, let's find out...

"Well, if you're not willing, of course it's too soon,” I said. “Or, you could acknowledge that I didn't mean that the way it sounded. I'd settle for that."

She laughed softly and nodded. “Okay. Not to going to bed. The other part."

"Just pretend you don't notice my disappointment. It's real, by the way. Take it as a clumsy compliment."

Angela's expression seemed to snap shut even as her smile remained and I wondered if I'd met another lesbian. If so, too bad. I hoped that I hadn't offended her, but she looked damned good and I don't believe that it's harmful to compliment women, especially when they've made themselves considerably more than just pretty faces.

I gestured at the buffet tables and asked, “Hungry? There's lots of this rabbit food."

She put together a salad plate and slathered it with vinegar and oil dressing, then found a fork. I assembled a similar plate and we found a couple of cans of lemon tea in the nearby cooler, then we headed to my flitter to avoid waking anyone.

When we arrived at the flitter, I held out a hand to assist her in stepping up to the deck. Angela looked questioningly at the apparently solid hull and then at me.

I put my hand into the canopy field to show her that it wasn't solid, after all. She handed me her can of tea, then put her own hand through the field. Without a word, she then took her tea back and stepped up and through the canopy field.

I watched her uniform pants tighten around her legs and butt as she stepped up and belatedly realized that she could be watching me watch her. Again; oh, well. If I was caught, I was caught. I followed her into the field and onto Steph's deck.

"...Stephanie,” I heard Steph saying as I entered the field. “It's nice to meet you, Angela. Ed, you didn't tell her that she'd meet someone aboard the flitter."

Angela looked at me as I finished stepping aboard.

"Apologies,” I said. “Angela, this is Stephanie. Steph, Angela."

"Nice to meet you,” said Angela. “Since Ed didn't bring you a plate, would you like my salad? I can get another one."

Steph smiled and said, “No, thank you, Angela. Please have a seat and enjoy your meal."

Angela seemed somewhat discomfited to meet Stephanie.

"Maybe I should just go,” she said. “I..."

Steph raised a hand in gentle protest as she shook her head and said, “No, Angela. Ed and I are just friends. Really."

With an air of caution nonetheless, Angela seated herself near the console and gave me a ‘you should have told me’ look. I waited until we'd both put some salad away before speaking.

"What do you know about me, Angela?"

She shrugged and said, “Not much. Your name, and that you're Linda's point man."

I hadn't heard it said like that before. I grinned and asked, “
Point man?
"

"Yeah. You're the troubleshooter she calls when she doesn't want to use us. You're a field specialist of some kind."

"Uh, huh. Well, that's one way of looking at it, I guess. What do you think I do?"

Her expression was one of skepticism. “Why are you asking me these questions?"

"To see what the answers will be. Why else?” I shrugged and said, “I'm just curious about how everybody else sees me."

"Why?"

"Because it suddenly occurred to me that the only person on tonight's mission who knew why I was there was Linda, Angela. She was the only one, wasn't she?"

Angela stopped eating and looked at me for a moment, then said, “Maybe you should be talking to her about this, sir."

I nodded. “Plan to,” I said. “Don't get nervous. I'm just looking for ways to make things run smoother, and you can't do that if you don't know the people you work with, can you? I knew the names of only five of the people on the flitters tonight, Angela. How many of them knew
my
name, or knew anything at all about me?"