Authors: Mark G Brewer
It was clearly a hint and Regan didn't
hesitate. Still flushed and a little embarrassed, she did want to get out of
there, the experience still being fresh and vivid in her mind.
[No problem Ham, I'll be in my room. Call
me when you need me.] She made for the door.
[Do you really need that oil?]
Regan didn't pause to answer. She headed
for the shower.
Oh wow! Life is going to be very different around here now,
she
thought
, interesting.
As Regan departed she could see mechanical
arms were already reaching up from beneath Marin's gurney, stretching up from a
floor that had appeared seamless only seconds earlier. She didn't stop and the
doors closed behind her.
With Regan gone the robotic arms began
their work removing the stomach and nose tubes, a procedure which Marin bore
without complaint. No words were spoken for some time, and then he shook his
head angrily.
"This is a disaster . . . they will
never understand . . . how did your programming allow this to happen?"
"Oh please," Ham replied, "The
charade is over. The choice was simple, let you die or get help. She was close
and agreed to assist. You should be thankful that exposure of your dalliance
has been limited to this one human, and Marin, she is remarkable. You owe her a
great debt; hopefully you will do the right thing."
"And what is that?"
"She deserves to get home, you must
get her there."
Marin shook his head. "Let's face it;
this could be the end for me and the ship. My foolishness has exposed
everything, all the studies. It's possible they won't allow anyone there now
for millennia. I do not lack honorable intentions but we both know they will
never let her return."
The ministrations of the Medlab machines
continued while Marin raised and stretched his legs, twisting this way and that
while groaning at the stiffness of every joint. As soon as he was clear he
pushed himself up, swung his legs to the side and sat, contemplating the effort
of standing.
"Marin, there's something else . . .
your neural web, it appears to be damaged. Can you sub-vocalize?" Ham's
concern was obvious.
After a moment of silence Marin
acknowledged the problem. "Clearly you can't receive me?" He slumped
back on the bed. "You know what this means?"
"It's not certain Marin. It might be
something minor, something easily repaired."
"You know that's unlikely. This
confirms my fate. They will never let me have control of the ship without
command control. A disaster, this . . . is . . . a . . . disaster."
Marin lay for a minute deep in thought.
Then, not one to mope, he sat up, swung his legs around and gingerly tested his
weight on the floor. He pushed off with both hands . . . and collapsed beside
the gurney.
*
Regan lay naked on her bunk with beads of
perspiration on her forehead and her skin glistening. Legs splayed, one arm
stretched up under her head and the other resting lightly on her pubis which she
was gently stroking. She sighed contentedly.
It's been a while,
she
thought.
[Regan, I hope I'm not interrupting
anything important.] [Marin's fallen. He's OK however he could do with some
assistance to his room.]
Regan cupped herself with her hand and
squeezed, a delighted, satisfied shrug gripping her body.
[I'm ready Ham; I'll be down there soon.]
[He insists he's alright and would be better
off in his room, this from a male who can't hold up his own weight! If you could
bring a suit from his room too that would be helpful.]
[No problem, can't have him embarrassed can
we?]
[Modest isn't a word I would associate with
Marin, Regan, I was thinking of you.]
So . . . he's on the floor,
she thought
. . . no hurry then.
She moved into the bathroom and considered
her image in the mirror, a warm flush still visible on her face. Her hands
still silky with oil, she stroked them down from her breasts to her hips
regarding her now hairless body.
I like it
; she concluded and then quickly
dressed before heading for Marin's room and the Medlab.
*
The Lodge, Thomas Home, Fairfield, Connecticut
"How can this disaster have developed
so quickly?" Greg didn't wait for an answer as he moved to refill his
glass in Bill Thomas's study. The atmosphere in the large room felt more like a
wake than a business meeting. But then, perhaps that was exactly the right
description.
"I feel tainted, disloyal. I know this
comes with the territory but he's a good man, a great CEO. We should have stood
by him." As Joan Pritchard spoke, she looked close to tears, something no
one on the board had seen before. That Joan, a strong woman with a distinguished
military background, had been affected so profoundly affected said it all. They
were deeply shocked at the turn of events.
In the seven weeks since announcement of
the Arteis purchase it seemed the company and board had been under continual
assault. McCall's unrelenting attacks on his news show Business Focus revealed
a bitter man after blood. His job was being made that much easier by the
continual drip feeding of 'information' regarding cyber terrorism and links to
Arteis, all false reports of course, but rumor and innuendo were having their
effect on the markets. Now, combined with reports of problems with the latest
delivery of Starliner Passenger Jets to Air China, the USDynamics share price
had tanked. Market capitalization was down from sixty five billion US dollars
just one year ago to twenty three billion today. It hardly seemed possible.
Bill Thomas tried to settle the feelings in
the room. "We all know the board had to be seen to take action and we must
stand together on this. It can be a harsh game but it is one Hayden
understands. If our share price continues on that downward trend we're going to
be having serious problems with our financiers. Hell, they're already nervous.
We know things aren't as bad as they're being portrayed and we need to get that
message out there. We'll get through this. Hayden has been well looked after
and I can tell you we're on good terms. You're right Joan, he is a good man,
but unfortunately in the court of public opinion he's become a lame duck."
"I'd like to throttle that McCall."
Mary stood, interrupting Bill with venom, "What an absolute prick!"
Even Bill looked shocked. Mary wasn't one
to swear.
"Look," he added soothingly. "Hayden
is going to be snapped up. I have some friends who will jump at the chance to
get someone of his experience."
"With the greatest of respect Bill, I
don't think so," Greg, ever the pessimist chipped in. "Hayden is seen
as damaged goods and terrorism isn't a word anyone wants associated with a
resume, or their company."
"That's ridiculous Greg and you know
it," Joan countered.
"Perception is reality in the market
Joan." Greg replied. "Hayden Joyce is tainted by association with
STEIN. We need to make sure we aren't too."
"Do you mean you," Joan said with
a sneer, "or the company?"
"Both!" He didn't dodge it.
Greg looked over at Bill and gestured with
his fist. "Someone needs to take on McCall. You know he keeps calling for
an interview, Bill. He doesn't deserve it but we can't be seen to be hiding or
avoiding the issue."
"I intend to give him his interview
Greg, but not right now. Let's get some positive information on the China
Starliner situation first. I can't go in there looking blank about our newest
product."
"It could be two to three weeks before
we have our engineers' reports." said Joan.
"So be it," said Bill, "and
I can handle McCall, have no doubts about that."
*
Jackson Legal Office, Wellington New Zealand
". . . Come on, let me in on this
Marcus, you know something don't you."
The share broker had been pumping Marcus
for information ever since the first trade had delivered such spectacular
returns five weeks earlier.
"There's nothing to tell, Nathan,"
Marcus replied, "It was just lucky. There's no inside story here and I'm
only following the instructions of my client. True, they're a very astute
investor, but as to the workings of their mind I have no idea. We both know even
gamblers have good runs but it catches up eventually and this kind of risk is
way beyond me that's for sure." Marcus could be very convincing at the
best of times however in this case he really was in the dark, Regan having
outlined steps that were a mystery to him. One thing was clear; her war chest
of funds was steadily growing.
"OK, so you're not going to spill!
Well, it's a big company but two hundred million dollars is still going to be
noticed. You could drive the price up if you keep going."
"Just keep picking them up steadily
without making waves. No higher than my maximum."
"OK, your funeral then. Good talking
to you."
"You too Nathan, take care."
Marcus ended the call and walked through to
his reception. Only a small office with one associate, a legal secretary and
receptionist, Marcus's plans to grow had been overshadowed by the association
with STEIN. His major client took all of his time now and as a shareholder he
had an even greater interest. He had no regrets.
"Barbara," he spoke to the receptionist,
"could you do some hunting for me please? I need the number of a Hayden
Joyce. He's the former CEO of USDynamics in the States."
"You've met people there. Couldn't you
just ask them?"
"I'd rather do it this way for the
moment. See how you get on. It'll probably be his home number, San Francisco, I
think he said."
"I'm on to it!" Barbara was the
best, all action and efficiency, he left it with her.
Thirty five minutes later and Marcus was
looking at his watch.
Twelve twenty p.m. here, hmm, that's four twenty
there.
He started tapping out the number. . . . .
"Hello." It was a woman's voice.
"Hello there. Is that Mrs. Joyce?"
"Yes it is. Who am I speaking to?"
"My name is Marcus Jackson, Mrs.
Joyce. I work with Regan Stein and I'd like to talk briefly with your husband
if he's available."
"Of course, he's out back; I'll take
the phone to him. How is Regan?"
Marcus could hear Mrs. Joyce walking
through the apartment,
wooden floors?
"I haven't been in contact with her
for some time ma'am, she's on a long break and out of contact I understand."
"Oh well, give her my regards when you
do. I'll pass you to Hayden."
The phone sounded muffled for a moment and
then Hayden was on the line.
"Hello Marcus, it's been a while hasn't
it? What can I do for you; you know I'm no longer . . ."
"Yes I heard that Hayden, I was sorry
to hear it, but that partly led to my call. Sometimes one door shuts and
another opens. I'd like to talk to you about an opportunity. It could mean a
change in lifestyle. Have you got a moment?"
"I guess so. Tell me more . . ."
It was an hour before Marcus disconnected
and as quickly he was tapping again. He could hear the phone begin to ring.
"Kevin Stein . . ."
"Kev, its Marcus . . . he's on."
*
Seattle, Washington
"I thought I should contact you."
It was a man's voice.
"You know I don't want you calling
this number."
"I know, but I thought this was
important, you'd want to know and I don't have any other way."
"Well it's too late now, what is it - and
it had better be good."
"The IT guy, he's open to help but . .
. ."
"But what? Just get on with it."
"He wants money."
"How much?"
"Just like that . . . you haven't
offered me any money!" The voice sounded offended.
"So that's what this is all about, you
want money do you? What happened to your moral crusade against the military?"
"No, no, I just . . . well if he's
going to get something it's only fair."
"How much does he want?"
"One million . . ."
"He's dreaming. I don't like this. Is
this guy to be trusted?"
"Absolutely, look I'm sure I could get
him to do it for less, say five hundred thousand, it's a huge risk."
"I'll look into it . . ."
"Each!"
"You're starting to worry me boy, and
that's not a good thing. I'll see what I can do. Meantime hold off and lie low.
Things are going just fine at the moment. I may use this to deliver the coup de
grace. And don't use this number again!"