Authors: Mark G Brewer
When she saw them reflected in the mirror Leah broke into a smile and bounded over to them. The small group followed her run from behind and then reluctantly began dispersing; no one wanted to mess with 'the big guy'. Regan smiled, Leah seemed blissfully unaware, as if she hadn't even noticed their presence;
probably hadn't,
she thought, and laughed happily.
A quick warm up and they were into it; one hour in the gym and a lap of the pipe . . . easy.
* * *
Meanwhile Aaron Stiles worked out on the STEIN using his brain, not his brawn, constantly thinking, calculating, and learning. A whippet of a man, he hadn't seen the inside of a gym in years yet somehow seemed all muscle and sinew regardless.
Ham, patience personified when it suited him, continued his attempts to break through.
"Aaron . . . I'm going to make it my ambition to get you out of that shell. You only talk to me and
-
well, I'm concerned people are starting to think
I'm
a bit strange for talking back to you." His attempt at friendly humor appeared to fall on deaf ears.
"Ham, you know I'm not a talker, at least I don't think so, I'm a thinker and a doer, and that's doer, not dour." He waited . . . and waited.
". . . You didn't laugh" Aaron finally said, disappointed.
"Was I supposed to?"
"You see Ham," he looked exasperated, "this is exactly why I don't talk much, I make a mildly funny comment and it doesn't even get a polite ha-ha."
"Aaron, Aaron, Aaron . . . a joke has to be funny and pitched to the audience, you need to think a little more about it."
"In what way? I think I'm funny."
Ham coughed then continued. "Well, for example, you're an extremely practical theoretical physicist so I'll pitch a joke to you; see what you think of it." He gave another throat clearing cough for introduction.
"A gambler wanted to be able to predict the outcome of an important horse race so he hired a biologist, a statistician, and a theoretical physicist. He gave each one a year to research the issue and after one year, they all duly reported back.
The biologist said that he could genetically engineer an unbeatable racehorse, but it would take 200 years and ten billion dollars.
The statistician reported next. He said he could predict the outcome of any race, with one hundred percent confidence that he would be right ten percent of the time.
Finally, the physicist reported that he could also predict the outcome of any race, and that the process would be cheap and simple to understand. The gambler listened eagerly for the proposal. The physicist reported, "I've made several simplifying assumptions: first, let each horse be a perfect rolling sphere… "
Ham waited, and then Aaron began to laugh.
"Oh that's very funny, ha-ha . . . very good Ham, I've got to tell my professor that one, as if it would be useful to get it right only ten percent of the time." He laughed again, "Typical statistician!" and he shook his head at the ridiculousness of the idea.
There was silence for a moment, broken only by Aaron's occasional chuckle.
"Yes . . . well," Ham cleared his circuits again, "perhaps we'd better get back to work."
* * *
As usual the walk back down the pipe from the gym was charged with sexual tension. Tiring as the workouts were, anticipation for the after match party always proved a great motivator. It was becoming a pleasurable routine.
Showering held its obvious attractions of course, none of which were enough to satisfy Marin. Regan, unusually nervous, had worked and run them to exhaustion. Now showering and tired she enjoyed both giving and receiving the attentions of grateful partners as they massaged away the aches in the warmth. While Marin was clearly ready for the next course she shut off his eagerness with a subbed command [Later!]
Even Leah was surprised when he slipped from the room. She shrugged and joined Regan on the bunk, "Is something up babe?" She stretched out beside her, curling one leg suggestively over her friend.
Looking slightly pensive Regan pushed herself up on one elbow, an obvious indication she wanted to talk, so Leah relaxed back looking up and waiting. With her free hand Regan gently stroked the fringe up and off Leah's face, considering what she would say.
"I want to suggest something to you. You don't have to do it, but I think you'd like it." She trailed one finger down to the ear holding Leah's earpiece and sensuously stroked the earlobe.
Leah could tell this was more than a casual conversation; she stayed calm and held Regan's eyes. "Talk to me," and she paused, taking on a definite questioning frown, "what's on your mind?"
"You know Ham and I can communicate without speaking?"
"Yes, of course, and you can communicate with me anytime."
"Yes," Regan considered this, framing a suitable response, "But when I do that, you hear my voice through the ear piece don't you?"
"Sure, you know that, what are you trying to say?" Leah was intrigued now.
"Well, normally, when I talk to you like that, from a distance, I don't actually say anything, I just think it and the system converts it to speech which you hear."
"Uh-huh . . ."
"Marin and I communicate the same way all the time, just by thinking."
Now Leah pushed herself up, "Has he got a computer in there too, I just assumed he had a better ear piece?"
Regan sat back against the wall and crossed her legs. Leah did the same; both women alert now, engaged in the subject.
"Marin has something they call a neural web," Regan explained. "All the adults from his system have them, including the Corans. The neural web engages with the brain, using soft tissue strands that allow wireless connection with the ship or the Orbital AIs. It's also what enables them to speak our languages. That ability comes from the central computer system, a bit like a Google translate only thousands of times faster. The system also controls how and who the crew can communicate with but in our case we keep pretty much an open channel. I can still communicate with Marin or Ham privately if I choose to and vice versa, it works great and we don't need to speak out loud."
"But Jared has an earpiece doesn't he?"
"Yes, he does. But when he's old enough, probably about thirteen or fourteen, he'll get the web too, it's a fantastic advantage." Regan waited, letting the thoughts hang for a moment.
Leah just looked at her. "And . . ."
"And, I'd like to offer you the chance to have one too. That's what it is, an offer, we're a close team. It's not essential but it's helpful."
"Does Kevin have one?"
"No."
"Mary, Hayden, Jean, Kutch . . ?"
"No . . . only Marin . . . and you, if you want one."
"What about you?"
"Really, you need to ask that?" She smiled to put Leah at ease. "Only you and Marin know what's in here babe," She tapped the left side of her head, "and it's a whole rabbit hutch, not just a web in the corner." She took Leah's hands. "Look, I did have a web but that bullet took half of it away, its redundant now. As you know, I now work somewhat . . . differently."
Leah looked away, considering how to respond.
"Do you want me to have one?" She asked.
Is she a moth to the flame?
Regan hesitated, knowing that whatever she said would have far more influence than she was comfortable with. Then a look of calm certainty came over her and she pushed herself up close to embrace her friend.
"Leah, I'm not going to pussy foot around here. It's fantastic, it's a gift, it truly is, and I wouldn't just offer it to anyone. In fact I don't even want people to know we have it. If you go ahead you need to know there are people who would probably kill just to tear us apart and find out how this works. Listen, this is like a proposal from our team, you're in it anyway but this truly opens up the possibilities and I would love you to share in it. It helps that I have complete confidence in Ham to do the operation right."
"It will bring us closer won't it?" It was more a statement than a question.
"Scary close . . . but it's wonderful to have support that intimate and close, and I'm sure our relationship will be the stronger for it, that's if you’re sure you are here for the long term?" She raised her eyebrows, questioning.
Leah smiled, "I've always wanted to speak Italian; it's such a sexy language." She wagged her eyebrows at Regan suggestively.
"I take it that's a yes."
"I'd love it . . . who wouldn't, and thank you." Leah smiled and stretched sensuously back. "Now . . . how about using that web thing, where's Marin?"
Regan smiled without comment. Instead she slid off the bed and onto her knees, pulling Leah down on her back, one leg draped over the edge. Then she leant forward trailing her tongue down her belly edging lower. Leah reached down to guide Regan into position. "I won't have to lose my hair will I?"
Regan paused in her ministrations. "Babe, you get to keep that beautiful hair, don't worry."
Leah sighed in relief and gently pressed Regan back down, stroking her hair.
[Marin . . . You can come back in now.] Regan subbed him.
In only a minute she heard the door swish open behind her, and pointedly arched her back, she knew he wouldn't be able to resist.
* * *
Sometimes the CEO hat weighed heavy on Kevin Stein and this was just such a moment. He felt sick to the stomach as he reviewed the proposal on his desk.
Mary, having passed him the offer, now sat opposite, legs curled up under her. She nervously twisted a rubber strand of Jared's slingshot around one finger, winding it tight enough to cut off the blood flow and then releasing it, over and over as Kevin continued to read.
He finally looked up. "Did he say anything to you when you were last down there?" As he spoke a desperate sadness radiated from his expression.
"No, he didn't say anything at all and I think that's part of the problem. Kev, I haven't been down there in months, none of us has. As soon as those documents arrived I called him and I could tell he was expecting me
-
he sounded cool
-
distant
-
the spark was gone. I thought about it a lot afterwards, and even had Hilary play the call back for me, I just couldn't believe it. Kev, he sounded resentful, deeply resentful, not the Mitch we know."
"The Mitch we knew . . ." he corrected and then rested his head in his hands. "Shit Mary, I can't believe this, it's the end of the old team. Steph's already gone . . . and now Mitch. What if Regan doesn't agree with all this?"
"Kev, it's the relationship with Mitch we need to try and salvage. Business wise this doesn't hurt us, you could say it even makes sense. EZAS isn't exactly a good fit with our business anymore; we're in aerospace and defense. Accounts software is profitable but it's a mile away from what we focus on now. I guess Mitch feels out on a limb and he wants to go his own way with the business now, perhaps that's understandable. We're feeling it because it's like a brother leaving the family home," she shifted to engage him. "Kev, somehow we've got to try and make sure we don't completely lose the brother."
Kevin stretched back and groaned, trying to work out the tension. "It's telling Regan that I'm not looking forward to. I agree that business wise it does make sense, for us anyway. EZAS doesn't fit anymore, hasn't for a long time if we're honest," he looked back down at the figures, "and it's a good price." He shook his head, still disbelieving. "You know I'm going to have to summarize things for her; most of this is just cold legalese, come on, give me one of your brilliant breakdowns."
She smiled and held out her hand to tick off the fingers.
"He wants to buy out our remaining share of EZAS, the whole sixty percent. He's offering a premium of twenty percent on market price acknowledging the significance of what we're giving up, that's twelve billion US dollars. He'll surrender his one percent share of STEIN for three billion. So basically he's raising nine billion from somewhere to finance this. He is rich, a billionaire himself, but that's still a lot of money."
"Is EZAS worth it?" Kevin sounded doubtful.
"Absolutely, it's still growing. Sure he's pushed the price a little ahead of current value but I'd project if things continue the way they are he'll make good money, however . . ." and she trailed off looking concerned.
"However what . . . what are you thinking?"
"Kev, I said
if
things continue the way they are
-
and that's a big if. I'm not sure on his own Mitch has the creative spark to keep ahead of the pack, that's all. But look, he is a genius and he wants the chance to build his own team. He's still young and now's the time to do it I guess." Kevin could tell she was already resigned to the inevitable.
"Ok, let's talk to Regan together, I can help keep her down, you explain the financials and we'll both pick up the pieces afterwards." He smiled; they made a good team and he knew it.
She brightened with the decision now made and he knew what she would be thinking.
Nine billion dollars!
He came around the desk and rolled carefully onto her lap drawing a squeal and a snap of the slingshot.
"Where are the kids?" He asked lifting his eyebrows.
"Way, way, way up the pipe with Jared," She wriggled under him suggestively . . . "We have time."
* * *
Jared led his young cousins up toward the moonward end. He was tiring of the flinger business, it was too much like work, and what would a five year old do with fourteen hundred and thirty seven dollars anyway? His interest had been waning for some time
-
and then Ham told him about dwarf tossing . . .
He guided the happy twins to the gym and directed them toward the antigrav chamber. It was time for product testing.
* * *
After a difficult night with troubled dreams Regan lay on her back contemplating the ceiling.