“Where is Jessie?” said Chisolm. He paced back and forth in front of his desk. All he wanted out of life was his little black market operation, a few fringe benefits, a loyal crew, and his retirement fund. It might even be nice to fall in love someday.
What he had was a crate full of assault rifles, no idea what to do with it, and an entire brigade threatening to invade his city. Everyone in the world that he trusted now sat in his office, watching him pace. Everyone except Jessie.
Bikram and Voronoi stared at him over glasses of gin. There was no new news. The council hadn't issued more than the most cursory statements, and no one except Jessie had any sufficiently useful connections in the council offices.
Chisolm said, “What was it your professor friend said, Bikram?”
“He said it wasn't his department, but that there was a whole lot of buzz around the College of Natural Science. Everyone associated with the CNS has been cloistering themselves in their offices. They're not telling anyone anything. Loads of classes have been cancelled. Rumors are flying. Something big is happening, and I bet it's all connected. Even grad students have been shut out of the network.”
Chisolm frowned. “Those pompous eggheads are up to something. I tell you what I'm going to do if I run into one of those crackpot brain jockeys--”
Just then, the door slammed open and a familiar intake of breath swept around the room as Jessie Niven stomped into the room, five and a half feet of legs and curves wrapped in a grease-stained jumpsuit. She was hell on two legs and every man wanted her for extracurricular activities. Her sharp, brown eyes calculated every detail of the room in seconds. “Hell of a day,” she said.
Chisolm was the only one immune to her obvious charms. “Talk to me, woman,” he said.
“The council is giving them everything they want. They're not even lifting a finger to stop it. They're calling off the riot cops and they're totally toeing the line for these assholes.”“They have no right to be here...” said Chisolm. “But I suppose that's the smart move on their part. Hell, maybe I'd even do the same thing. Fortunately for us, we're in a position to remain clandestine. What do these jacked up space monkeys want, anyway?”
“Nothing.”
Chisolm put a hand to his forehead and began pacing. Everyone was silent. “Okay, they haven't asked for anything yet. They're letting us wait. Sweat it out. Whoever their commander is knows what he's doing.”
The silence continued. “Maybe,” Bikram ventured, “they actually have a good reason.”
Paper coffee cups and pencils were all hurled at Bikram in unison along with words of protest.
But Chisolm had gone to another place. “Did you find anything out about Agathadaemon, Jesse?”
“Well, there wasn't much. Agathadaemon is a minor Greek god. He was a god of good fortune and he was a snake. Apparently, they thought snakes were, like, reincarnations of ancestors and were good luck. That's about all I could find.”
Chisolm took a deep breath, pursed his lips, and then exhaled, making a “Puh...” sound. “Square one.”
Friday, May 9, 2008
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