Mag Force - Hung Out Part 2

He made no comment on the beach house, which didn't really interest him, but focused on Xris, who did.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine, Doc. No complaints."

Quong grunted and frowned, clearly not believing his patient's diagnosis. "We will see. You look flushed."

"I've been out in the suna""

Quong ignored him. "My guess is that your thyroid levels are off. I will need to take a blood sample. Where may I set up my equipment?"

"Doc, I don'ta""

"In the kitchen? The table is small, but I suppose that will have to do. Where is your disinfectant? And don't tell me that you don't have any."

"Fine, Doc, I won't tell you," Xris muttered, and left Quong opening and shutting cabinets and poking around beneath the sink, all the time making comments about proper hygiene and the strong likelihood that they were all going to come down with salmonella poisoning.

Quong's personality was irritating, his bedside manner a bit too abrupt and calculating for most of his patients to tolerate. He was easily and often offended. But he had kept Xris alive and well and firing on all cylinders for a number of years now. For all his irascibility, Quong was an excellent medical doctor. He was also a genius with mechanics, mainly because he preferred machines to people. A fanatic about diet and exercise, he was also deeply and occasionally annoyingly religiousa"and he was a d.a.m.n good shot with a beam rifle.

Xris went to answer the doorbell, which was ringing again. He noted, in pa.s.sing, that Darlene was hunched over her computer, a familiar, intense, interested expression on her facea"an expression rarely seen except when she was working. She had forgotten about taking the shower.

Xris opened the door to find Jamil and a delivery mana" a delivery man that second glance revealed to be Harry.

"What the h.e.l.l?" Xris stared.

"Harry's been thinking again," Jamil said in grim tones.

"Harry." Xris was disappointed. "I thought you knew better."

"The guards at the gatehouse wouldn't let him in," Jamil continued. "He'd been standing there arguing with them for fifteen minutes."

"I thought I should come in disguise," Harry mumbled.

Xris shook his head. "I gave the guards your name and description, Harry. Well, what I thought was your description. All you had to do was present your pa.s.sport. I didn't realize you'd found a new line of work."

Harry looked sullen and aggrieved. He was the team member who'd been with Xris the longest. One of the best pilots in the galaxy, the moment Harry Luck set foot inside a s.p.a.ceplane, he became a different person. In essence, he became a s.p.a.ceplane himself. But on land, as Xris was wont to say, he'd been hit in the head with a stun gun once too many times.

The delivery man's uniform was a size too small. He'd already burst a b.u.t.ton on his broad chest and a seam was splitting out on his thick thigh. He had actually put enough thought into his disguise to bring along a beaten-up-looking package, which was tucked under one arm. Unfortunately, the FASTER-THAN-LIGHT INTERPLANETARY DELIVERY SERVICE label on the package didn't match the GALAXY AT YOUR DOOR insignia on his uniform.

"You gave them my real name?" Harry asked accusingly.

"Well, yes. What name was I supposed to give them?"

"An alias! Suppose someone's after us?"

"No one's after us, Harry. We're clean for a change. Well, most of us are. Darlene still has to take a shower."

He paused, then added, "That's a joke."

Harry wasn't laughing.

"Come inside," Xris said. "I let it be known among the neighbors that I was having a barbecue for some old friends."

"Maybe they'll think Harry's with the caterer," Jamil said, and entered the house. He glanced around appreciatively. "Nice. Very nice. Mind if I give myself a tour?"

"What about Darlene?" Harry continued stubbornly, as Jamil walked out the back door to view the deck. "Is she okay?"

"She's here," Xris said, gesturing into the bedroom. "Safe and sound. See for yourself."

"You didn't give them her real name?" Harry asked anxiously.

"No, of course, not, Harry! For G.o.d's sakea""

Xris pulled out his golden cigarette casea"a gift from His Majesty the Kinga"and removed a particularly strong and obnoxious form of tobacco known as a twist. Putting the twist into his mouth, he bit off the end, also biting off the words that would have hurt Harry and done little good anyway.

"Look, Harry, for the tenth time, if the job requires you to put on a disguise, I'll let you know! And I'll supply the disguise. What's in the package?"

Harry handed it over. "Cookies. My mom sent them. Did you check for bugs?" He peered worriedly up at the light fixture.

Xris opened his mouth, shut it again, clamped his teeth down hard on the twist. "No, Harry. I didn't think of it. Go ahead and take a look. Doc's got the equipment."

Harry brightened. "Sure thing. I'll get right on it." He wandered into the kitchen, bent down on his haunches to converse with Quong, who was still searching for disinfectant.

"Is Xris okay?" Xris heard Harry ask in what he probably considered to be an undertone.

"His thyroid levels are off. I am certain of it," Quong replied.

"Oh, gee." Harry cast Xris a glance of alarmed concern before he began wandering around the house with a frequency a.n.a.lyzer looking for any sort of miniature transmitter.

"Charming," said Jamil, coming back from the bedrooms. "I'm thinking of building one of these vacation houses myself. Larger, of course, and not so close to the water, with a better view, a bigger garage, and located in a more upscale neighborhood. But other than that, this is very close to what I was considering."

"Glad you like it," Xris said, chewing on the twist.

A former officer in the Army, Jamil had been relegated to the job of teaching recruits how to prepare for zero-G combat. Xris had spotted Jamil's true talents and had suggested early retirement from the military, a suggestion Jamil was glad to take. Handsome, charming, with ebony black skin and melting brown eyes, he was now second-in-command on the Mag Force 7 team. He was attractive to women and extremely good with explosives.

Darlene emerged from the bedroom. "What the h.e.l.l's Harry doing?" she demanded. "He told me I had to shut down!"

"He's checking for bugs," Xris said dryly.

"But didn't youa""

"Sure I did. But it keeps him occupied. Unless, of course, you have any packages that need to be delivered."

"I'm going to take a shower," Darlene muttered. Retreating to her room, she grabbed her robe and marched down the hallway. The next moment they heard her say firmly, "I don't care if there are bugs in the bathroom, Harry! They can wait until I've had my shower!"

"Gee, Darlene's in a bad mood," Harry commented on his return. "I didn't find any bugs in the house, Xris. But then I haven't checked the bathroom yet. You want me to look in the garage?"

"Sure, Harry. Jamil, Ia" Ouch! What the devil?"

"Blood sample," said Quong, walking off with an extractor and a tube filled with Xris's blood.

Xris swore softly, rubbed his arm.

The doorbell rang. And rang. And rang.

A vision in a purple vest, a frilly blouse, and purple satin pants slit up the sides to reveal his shapely legs, Raoul stood on the porch, his finger pressing the bell, an expression of ecstasy on his face. His eyes, beneath purple eye shadow, were dreamy and unfocused. A strong smell of citrus and rose wafted from the Adonian; his was a race noted for their beauty, their love of pleasure, and their lack of morals.

Standing beside Raoul, a drab planet to Raoul's gorgeous sun, was his partner, known only as the Little One. A large fedora covered the Little One's head, the brim shading his face. He wore a long raincoat that dragged the ground, and he kept the coat collar turned up. All that could be seen of the diminutive figure were two bright eyes.

The Little One never spoke. An empath and a telepath, the Little One was Raoul's friend and constant companion. The two made a good team. The Little One sheltered beneath the umbrella of Raoul's habitual, drug-induced euphoria, while the Little One's intelligence gave direction to Raoul's b.u.t.terfly mind.

The Little One offered his hand to Xris, who shook it gravely, and then entered the house. Raoul remained on the porch, enjoying the synthesized music of the doorbell.

"Raoul," Xris said loudly between rings, and at last the name penetrated.

"Xris Cyborg!" Raoul cried, recognizing him with surprise and delight. "Whatever are you doing here?"

"I live here," Xris said patiently. "I was the one who invited you here. Remember?"

"No, but then why should I?" Raoul asked lightly. "Don't kiss me. You'll smudge my makeup."

"I wasn't going toa"" Xris began, but gave up. Raoul had wafted past him into the hallway.

"Greetings, all! Jamil. I love your suit. Sardoni, isn't it? You can always tell. William Quong. I hope and trust that you are not conducting your ghastly experiments on the kitchen table.

"Darlene, my dear." Raoul kissed the air near her chin. "Don't ever wear that style bathrobe. It makes you look pudgy. Or maybe it's those chocolate clairs you've been having for breakfast. Sorry, I'd love to stop and chat, but I really must visit the little boy's room. Where is it? Down the hall?" He headed that direction, paused a moment to gaze with horror at one of the paintings on the wall, shook his heada"gently, so as not to disturb his long black haira" shuddered, and disappeared into the bathroom.

Quong emerged from the kitchen. "Your thyroid levels are fine, Xris. The white blood cell count is slightly elevated, however. I'd like to take anothera""

"Xris," Harry shouted from the back door. "Is there any way to get under the house?"

"I am not pudgy!" Darlene stated indignantly. She looked at herself worriedly in the hall mirror. "Am I?"

"The patio's all wrong," Jamil was saying, "and the kitchen's much too small. I'd add a second storya""

A shriek came from the bathroom. "There's a hair in the sink! You people are barbarians!"

Xris grinned. It was great to have the family back together again.

They watched the sun melt into pink and gold and slide into the ocean. Couples walked along the beach, picking up sh.e.l.ls. Children poured salt on a jellyfish. Xris's seagull returned, was introduced to the group, and accepted potato chips from Darlene's hand.

Raoul emerged from the bathroom, still upset over the state of the sink, but determined to bear his hards.h.i.+ps bravely. He had changed his clothesa"purple satin not being considered appropriate for barbecuesa"and his new outfit had done a great deal to console him.

Dr. Quong did eventually discover some sort of chemical imbalancea"not with Xris, but with Harry. Quong held forth about half an hour on the value of proper nutrition, bombarding Harry with a barrage of references to folic acid, antioxidants, glycomates, zinc, and beta-carotene.

Harry sat listening dumbly, looking sh.e.l.l-shocked, and only said, at the end of the lecture, "Thanks, Doc. But I like french fries!"

Xris fired up the barbecue. Jamil brought out a platter of steaks.

"I told the doc they were a soy product," he said.

"Did he buy it?"

"Hard to tell. He's still furious over the french fries." Jamil was silent a moment, fidgeting, his hands in his pants pocket. "Look, Xris, maybe I'm getting as paranoid as Harry, but you see those two men walking along the beach?"

Xris glanced out. "Yeah. What about them?"

"Have you ever seen them around here before?"

"No, but then I haven't really been looking. Why?"

"Because they've pa.s.sed this house four times now."

"Probably just out walking off dinner," Xris said. "But just in case, ask Darlene to stay indoors, will you? Don't let on why. Say the mosquitoes are bad. She hates mosquitoes. I'll keep an eye on those men."

The afterglow filled the sky, but shadows were gathering on the beach and it was difficult to see. Adjusting his cybernetic eye for night vision, Xris studied the two men. They were dressed in sweatpants and sneakers, wearing sweats.h.i.+rts, big and bulky. They were in their late thirties, maybe, and engaged in conversation. One bent down, picked up a sh.e.l.l, and chucked it into the sea. Both paused to look with interest at the shriveled-up jellyfish. One patted a child on the head. They continued on down the beach. Xris couldn't say positively that they weren't Hung a.s.sa.s.sins; those oversized sweats.h.i.+rts could have concealed anything from a beam rifle to a small missile launcher. But he put the odds against it, at about seven to one. Hung a.s.sa.s.sins didn't stroll about in the open before making a hit. And why would they wait to attack when Darlene was surrounded by friends, instead of catching her alone, as she had been on the way from the s.p.a.ceport?

"Ten to one against," he said to himself, and stuck a fork in the steaks.

CHAPTER 4.

Fear and Hope area"Vision.

William Blake, "The Gates of Paradise"

Harry Luck didn't like it. Not one d.a.m.n bit. He squirmed in his chair on the deck, looked over his shoulder, peered back into the house. Standing up, he tried to see over the pink-flowered hedge that circled the house on three sides, but he couldn't manage it. Imagining a.s.sa.s.sins lining the block, laser weapons taking aim, he slumped back down disconsolately in the chair, only to start up again when a bell dinged.

"Egg rolls are done," said Jamil, giving Harry a soothing pat on the shoulder as he walked past him into the kitchen.

"Drink this," Raoul said, skimming by in a flutter of pink silk. He handed Harry a drink the same color, with cl.u.s.ters of frosted grapes. "It will settle your nerves."

Harry took hold of the gla.s.s automatically, but he didn't drink it. He made it a practice never to eat or drink anything the Loti handed to him if he could help it. Not that Raoul would poison him deliberately, but there was always the possibility that something lethal could have slipped in by accident. Raoul was always fully stocked wherever he went. He had lipstick that could kill a full-grown man in under three minutes, while the contents of his pillbox could have served to instruct a graduate-level cla.s.s on toxicology, and there was no telling what was hidden underneath his long, fas.h.i.+onably painted fingernails.

Harry didn't know what to do with the drink. He didn't dare pour it out; Raoul was frightfully sensitive. Harry sat with the icy, fruity drink freezing his hand until the Little One shuffled up and switched the pink drink with the grapes for a cold beer.

Harry was grateful for the beer, but he still didn't like the situation and he didn't know what to do about it. He wandered into the kitchen, where Darlene sat, avoiding the mosquitoes, a pink fruity drink in her hand, a drink she was obviously enjoying.

Harry, with a nervous glance at the pink concoction, offered to bring her a beer.

"Thank you, Harry," Darlene answered with a smile, "but I've never tasted a pink flamingo before. It's really good. Would you like a sip?"

Harry shook his head. He spent a few anxious moments expecting to see Darlene double over, clutching her throat, her last words, "There's something wrong with this drink!" Instead, she sucked on an ice cube.