Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Star Traveler Update - MT2424

“But it’s adorable,” Cassie said.

“Adorable is not what I wear.” I countered. “I wear sophisticated, sexy, elegant – maybe an occasional trendy, but never ‘adorable’.” What glitch in Cassie’s program made her think I liked ruffles? I was staring at the most hideous dress I have ever seen on the NET. I will definitely have to make an appointment with Daniel after this run. It would be just like him to write some sub-program for the fun of it. I think he gets bored doing the normal routine programming. He was probably playing, the rotten little puke. There was nothing in my personal information that even vaguely alluded to ruffles.

“We are being hailed by MT2424,” Ma-rye-a said over the com. “They are requesting permission to board.”

“Acknowledge the request and grant permission,” I told Ma-rye-a.

“I am decreasing speed to allow for boarding,” she said.

“I’ll meet them in the pod bay.” I confirmed with Ma-rye-a. “Put that away,” I told Cassie. “Find something without ruffles - in red – low neck, please.”

“Will do,” Cassie chirped in her most pleasant voice. “But, I do think it would look nice on you.”

“Not in this millennium sweetheart.”

I headed for the bay. An MT unit is a mobile tactical unit of the Galactic Forces. They were set up as the Galactic Forces added more and more territory. As indicated by their name, they are a mobile force with only their ship as base. There are numerous teams out here in the Verse. They uphold the law and are pretty much free to follow their cases wherever they take them. The teams usually consist of three members, a Captain, a computer specialist, and a medical/forensic officer.

I came around the corner into the bay and was confronted by a huge Walhmite Captain and his human Medical Officer. I could tell this from the insignias on their sleeves. The Walhmite was over seven and a half feet tall. I know cause I measured him against the bay door height into the ship as I lead them to the galley. He had the typical upturned nose of this race and though they are large and not to be trifled with, they are usually a very thoughtful race. Therefore, they make excellent officers. There is a height requirement for all Galactic Forces of at least six foot, four inches. If you have to enforce the law you may as well have the biggest, baddist guys do it. The captain's medical officer was tiny compared to him – maybe six-six or six-seven. 

It is a good idea to treat these officers like very special company. I had Moby make up a fresh pot of pitch and some sandwiches. As they didn’t seem in any hurry, I asked them to sit and we settled into the comfort chairs in the vid room. I watched as one of the chairs conformed to the huge Walhmite Captain, Targus. It was so compressed that I doubted the chair would spring back once he left.

“What can I do for you, officers?” I asked.

“We’re investigating a ZAT smuggling ring,” Captain Targus reported. “We would like permission to inspect your load.” He didn’t have to ask. He knew he had the right to look at anything he wanted to and if he didn’t he could get his computer officer to get the documentation from the Intergalactic Network Computer or I.N.C. faster than I could pour him a second cup of pitch..

“Of course,” I said. I handed him my manifest which I had picked up on the way down to the pod bay. “I have a load for Rigil Four. It came from the dispatcher on Refitting Station Terrell. I would think it would be reliable.”

Captain Targus flipped through the manifest.

 “We have found that the transporters in some cases legitimately do not know they are carrying the drug,” the medical officer explained. He had introduced himself as Damion – first or last name, I had no idea. “They picked up their load thinking it was one thing, when it was another.”

“Refreshments are ready. Should I serve them in here?” Moby asked.

“That would be fine, Moby.” I went to the prep unit and removed the sandwiches. They were replaced with the mugs of pitch. “Do either of you take a sweetener?” I asked the officers.

“Please,” Damion answered. He was not only handsome, but polite. If I had met the medical officer under other conditions, I would have been trying to think of a way to maneuver him into asking me out for dinner or a drink. I can’t resist a man in uniform and he was a hunk. Dark hair and dark eyes – eyes you could melt into. I brought him a sweetener straw and placed the sandwiches in front of us on the table.

Damion picked up one and took a bite. “Is that dill I taste in the egg salad?”

“Yes. Moby is programmed with a French flare. I know it is old fashioned, but I like the simplicity of the old world fare,” I explained.

“My mother used to put dill in her egg salad.”

“Really?” One point for my side. “I bet you would love Moby’s croissants. They are so light and flaky.”

“Sounds heavenly.” Score two for my side.

Captain Targus put down his unfinished sandwich. I guess egg was not a Walhmite favorite. “Perhaps Moby could prepare something else for you, Captain. I don’t have any traditional fare for you, but I could have him whip up some malfit meat pies,” I offered.

“No thank you.” The Captain took a big swig of his pitch. “We should probably get down to business.”

I led them to the cargo bay and gave Sam instruction to cooperate with the officers completely. They searched. They found nothing – as I predicted. Right before Damion climbed into their pod I handed him a plate of Moby’s egg salad sandwiches. “Thank you, 3su,” he said as he shook my hand. (Score three for my side.)

When I got back up on the bridge I had Ma-rye-a run MT2424 through her search program. Their regular beat was in the Rigil System. A clever person could devise an opportunity to meet up with them again.   

No comments:

Post a Comment

If you'd like to get a heads-up on my latest book releases, sales, and freebies, make sure to sign up for my newsletter! And you don't have to worry about getting a bunch of junk - I only send it out when I really have something you might want to hear about.

* indicates required