West Pacific Supers: Rising Tide (41 page)

The curator look
puzzled. “Well, you’re dealing with
gymnotiformes
then, but they’re pretty much all freshwater tropical fish, and not anywhere as
big as what you’re describing. I mean, you’ve got your various
knifefishes
, popular in the aquarium trade, but they rarely
get bigger than a meter and have very weak electric discharges - usually not
more than a couple millivolts, which isn’t even enough to stun other fish. They
use it more for navigational and communication purposes.”

Seawolf frowned. “So
let us say that I wished to purchase an electric eel or a moray eel, or
possibly both. Where would I get one?”

“Oh, there’s various
dealers,” the curator said. “Most of them nowadays you just find online and
they’ll arrange shipment to your location. As for tracking though, if that’s
what you’re after, you’re in luck. They got a bill passed in the State assembly
a couple sessions ago to require all nonnative species introduced into
California to be chipped, so in case they get released or go missing they can
be traced back to the owner who didn’t take care of them. I testified in favor
of the program,” he said proudly. “There were those who said it was too
expensive or an invasion of privacy, but as I told them, the last thing we need
is a Burmese python situation up here. Just look what happened to the
Everglades,” he added darkly.

Seawolf nodded
though she had no idea what he was talking about. “So who puts the chips in?”
she asked.

“Most vets can do
it,” he said. “The chips are registered with the State invasive and foreign
species office. That way, if someone decides that it’s just too much work to
feed their giant snake and lets it go on a golf course fairway, when wildlife
officers catch it, they can figure out who let it loose in the first place. The
office keeps all the records; I imagine if you’re doing an official
investigation, they’ll help you out. Of course, only legitimate dealers and
collectors get chips put in.”

Seawolf nodded and
thanked him. She doubted that she was dealing with a legitimate dealer or
collector, but it was better to be thorough upfront.

The
earnest young woman who was the California Office of Invasive and Foreign
Wildlife seemed excited to assist an actual superhero investigation. “Most
people don’t understand the devastating impact on the ecosystem when nonnative
species are released into the wild,” she explained, pushing her glasses up.
“Unfortunately, it just doesn’t get a lot of attention unless something happens
that affects humans, like when that northern snakehead walked across someone’s
backyard last year. The phone rang off the hook for days!”

It was important to
keep her in a helpful mood. Seawolf attempted a friendly smile, careful not to
show too many teeth. “You do important work here,” she said, wincing at how
forced the compliment sounded. Surprisingly the young woman didn’t seem to
notice.

“Thank you! I can’t
say how much that means to me. My dad was really skeptical about me taking this
job and it can be kind of tedious a lot of time, but it’s critical that someone
does it who takes it seriously. Like I tell him,
microchipping
is our first line of defense against the true alien invaders of our time.”

“Right,” said
Seawolf, feeling uncomfortable with this personal revelation. “Anyway, I’m
looking for someone who has gotten a lot of electric eels over the last couple
of years.”

“Okay,” the young
woman said, turning serious as she started typing on her computer. “First we
have to check the list of wildlife of concern to see if we microchip the
species. Yep, here are electric eels, so you’re in luck. Let’s do a search
parameter of three years then, species: electric eel, organized by registered
owner.” She pressed ‘enter’ and looked up as the computer processed the
request. “Of course, I should warn you: people are supposed to notify us when
the registered owner of a chipped animal changes, but that doesn’t always
happen.”

“So if I buy an
electric eel and get it chipped and then sell it to you, you’re supposed to
notify the office of the change?” Seawolf asked.

“Exactly.
Unfortunately, people aren’t always so good about doing that.” The young woman
frowned. “There’s an annual license fee, see? So some unscrupulous dealers have
set up middle men to get around it. Enforcement is one of our biggest
problems.”

“What sort of
enforcement mechanisms do you have?”

The young woman
shrugged apologetically. “Basically, we don’t have any. The original idea was
that each microchip would have a unique radio frequency so that we could track
every single chipped creature, but that was just too expensive. So the chips
just identify the registered owners. We used to have investigators to do
enforcement, but then our budget got cut and now it’s just me. Maybe you could
put in a good word for us! Okay, here’s the list!” She cheerfully printed off
two pages of single-spaced type that showed every electric eel
microchipped
in the northern half of the State over the
past three years.

Seawolf studied the
list for a few moments. Each electric eel was listed with the name and license
number of the dealer that had sold it, the name and address of the registered
owner, and the microchip serial number. “This will be very helpful, thank you,”
she said absentmindedly.

“Not at all!” said
the young woman. “Ah, before you go… ?”

Seawolf looked up;
the young woman was giving her a strange look. Had she forgotten something?
“What?”

“I was just
wondering - I mean… would you sign this for me?” She held out a piece of paper.

“Release form?”
asked Seawolf, reaching for a pen.

The young woman
blushed. “No, autograph.”

Seawolf laughed
gruffly as she signed the paper. Perhaps she had a fan base after all - among
underappreciated, overworked government scientists. She was still chuckling to
herself as she took her list and headed back to her office.

10:39 p.m., Thursday, July 25, 2013

Paragon Tower Marriott

New York City, NY

“Here’s
to video games,” said Blue Star, holding up his beer bottle towards Gabrielle
and Stacey Noble at their booth in the hotel bar. It was their third day in New
York City and they had met with so many potential and current sponsors he had
lost count.

“Here’s to West
Pacific Supers - the best team in the nation and now back to #6 in the West
Coast Conference!” said Stacey, giddily raising her glass and taking another
drink. Blue Star hadn’t been paying attention to what Stacey was drinking but
he was pretty sure she was only on her second drink and was already beyond tipsy.

“It’s not a done
deal yet,” said Gabrielle who was typing away on her HoloBerry. “Until they
sign on the dotted line and we have our licensing agreement all we have is a
lot of empty promises and wishful thinking.”

“Is she always like
this?” Blue Star asked Stacey though he knew the answer. He had been watching
Gabrielle all day; she wasn’t a workaholic, she was a force of nature.

“Our department
motto is that we will never rest until the contract is signed, the story
retracted, or the good news promulgated,” said Stacey.

“You’re like the PR
Mounties,” laughed Blue Star. “You always get your spin.”

“That’s the plan,”
said Stacey. “We also don’t use the word ‘spin’; we prefer ‘enhanced truth’.”

“Legal has approved
the contract modifications,” said Gabrielle with a slight smile. “Which means
tomorrow morning they sign and we have a new, and very lucrative, revenue
stream.”

“Damn straight,”
said Stacey. “Listen to me Blue Star, you supers do cool stuff, but PR is the…
best department in West Pacific Supers! In fact, we’re the super in supers!”

“Stacey, you’re
babbling,” said Gabrielle crossly.

“Relax, Gabrielle,
she’s celebrating - that’s not a sin.” Blue Star couldn’t help thinking that Gabrielle
was a lot like Linda had been back on the Paragons - attractive, smart, and
with a wicked sense of humor, but wound up far too tight.

“No, Ms. Fox is
right,” said Stacey. “I’m babbling, the first rule of public relations is…
actually, I don’t remember, but I think rule four or five is no babbling.”

“Stacey, we have
more meetings tomorrow so you need to go to bed now to avoid a hangover,” said
Gabrielle, turning back to her HoloBerry.

“Of course, Ms. Fox,
I’ll head up to my room,” said Stacey standing and nearly falling.

“Why don’t I escort
you to your room?” asked Blue Star getting up and catching Stacey by the arm.

“How very…
chiva
…
chivol
…chivalrous,” said
Stacey.

“Blue Star, don’t
take advantage of my drunk deputy,” said Gabrielle.

“Don’t worry, she’s
not the member of the super PR team I’m after tonight,” said Blue Star who
spoke before he thought.

Gabrielle looked up.
“So you’re after Carl, are you? Well, have at it. He’s not engaged like
Stacey.”

Blue Star laughed.
“At least Carl isn’t
cybernetically
fused to his
HoloBerry.”

“Carl is an ass,”
said Stacey. “He’s probably overdosing on something up in his room.”

“So that’s what
‘enhanced truth’ sounds like,” said Blue Star.

“Stacey, be quiet
and go to bed,” said Gabrielle shaking her head. Stacey nodded gravely and
started unsteadily moving towards the exit.

“I’ll escort Ms.
Noble up to her room and then I’m coming back so don’t leave,” said Blue Star
as he grabbed ahold of Stacey’s arm.

“I’ll be right
here,” said Gabrielle. He doubted she would be, but that might give him an
opening.

Twenty
minutes later, Blue Star returned to the bar and found that Gabrielle had
already left. He sat at the bar, ordered a drink, and pulled out his HoloBerry.
As team leader, he could access the exact locations of the members of West
Pacific Supers, or more accurately the exact locations of their
HoloBerrys
. In the case of Gabrielle it was the same thing.
She was in her hotel suite. He ordered a bottle of champagne and two glasses
and then headed for her suite. Soon he was outside her door and knocked.

Gabrielle opened the
door. She had taken off her jacket and shook her head incredulously.
“Seriously, Blue Star, it’s late and we do have more meetings tomorrow.”

“Call me Jacob, and
our earliest meeting is 10:30,” said Blue Star walking into the room.

“I actually didn’t
invite you into my room,” said Gabrielle with annoyance.

“You would have
eventually so I decided to save us both some time.” Blue Star headed to the
couch with the champagne bottle and glasses. “You know, I think your suite has
a better view than mine.”

“Blue Star, out of
my room.”

“You lied,” said
Blue Star changing the topic.

“About what?”

“You said you’d be
waiting down in the bar for me, but I went down there and found that you had
stood me up. I think you owe me an apology.”

“I didn’t know it
was a date,” said Gabrielle dryly.

“Let’s see, I asked
you to have drinks with me, we drank, we talked, and I paid the bill - that
sounds like a date to me,” said Blue Star, opening the champagne bottle with a
pop.

“You invited all of
us from PR to have drinks with you,” said Gabrielle.

“I wasn’t sure if I
was going to get lucky with either you or Carl.”

Gabrielle laughed.
“What makes you think you’re going to get lucky with me?”

“You did let me into
your room,” said Blue Star as he poured the champagne.

“Are you insane? We
can’t do anything, it would be unprofessional,” said Gabrielle incredulously.

“I can work with
that,” said Blue Star.

“Work with what?”

“Your biggest issue
with us having sex tonight is that it would be unprofessional, but let’s be
honest,” said Blue Star, standing up and taking a glass to Gabrielle. “No
matter how good the sex is tonight, you’re not going to cut back on my PR
obligations and I’m certainly not going to cut back your workload as White
Knight.”

“You’re very
presumptuous,” said Gabrielle, not taking the glass he was holding out to her.

“You told me this
morning that if you want something you should act like you already have it,”
said Blue Star putting down the glass.

“That’s for
sponsors, not girlfriends,” retorted Gabrielle.

“So you want to be
my girlfriend?” asked Blue Star as he grabbed Gabrielle by the arm and pulled
her close to him.

“No, this isn’t
professional,” whispered Gabrielle as Blue Star kissed her. After the kiss she
muttered, “I’m sort of dating someone.”

“‘Sort of dating’ -
is that like ‘enhanced truth’?” asked Blue Star who reached behind Gabrielle to
unzip her dress.

“Fine, we’ll do it
your way,” said Gabrielle who began to unbutton his shirt.

“Smart girl,” said
Blue Star kissing her again.