The Pet Plague Page 3

  Jamie's call to security turned up only the night watch. He initiated a tracer on Whitmire, hoping it would not be diverted into data storage for later retrieval, but suspected it would be, since he was not willing to disclose any of the current events to an underling. Then he suddenly remembered that he hadn't called his own office to report that he had gone home. A call there elicited only the robot caretaker; Cadena had finished listening to Alvarez's conversation and left as well.

  Frustrated on both counts, he called Jeannie to put off their meeting. All he got was a recording of her pretty face. Jeannie had just finished changing when the call came and declined to answer. She thought it better to just go on over to his apartment and surprise him. She knew he couldn't resist a back-rub, and what would inevitably follow. Even if she didn't have a genome to match his, she was confident that he would eventually succumb to her not inconsiderable charms. After all, he had dropped a good looking 1A genome type for her. And, she admitted to herself, she really did love him. Maybe tonight, after what she intended to do with him, he would make a commitment. She could hope, anyway. Jamie's pets liked her, and she knew that meant a lot to him. Eagerly, she boarded the outskirts sled and settled down into a happy fantasy while it carried her toward his apartment.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 4

  Jamie finished the last of his drink and began searching the cooler for something to eat. A hopeful woof from Woggly reminded him that it was time for the pets to eat as well. He pulled out dog food and cat food and set it in the warmer to cycle to Woggley's and Fuzzy Britches’ preferred temperature. He thoughtfully added an extra portion of dog food for his guest, then began fixing a meal for himself. Before his own food was ready, but while the animals were already gulping down the last of theirs, he was interrupted by the home computer chime, announcing someone at the door.

  “Show me,” he ordered.

  The ornate door became transparent, revealing a tall blond female, pleasantly pretty, with high cheekbones and a nicely curved figure. He liked her looks immediately, but was somewhat taken aback at her dress. She wore faded green coveralls and boots. A wide belt adorned with a heavy duty laser gun and a knife sufficient to carve roasts from a mammoth emphasized her slim waist. Her hand rested casually over the open holster of the laser gun, not threatening, but obviously ready for whatever might occur once she gained entrance. “A Ranger,” he muttered to himself. Damn, that was quick service.

  “Open,” he told the door. The woman stepped cautiously inside, her training showing. She scanned the room, noting that both of Jamie's pets wore the standard enclave collars; Conan had retreated back to the bed room at the sound of the chime. She relaxed the tiniest bit.

  “My name is Kristi Carson,” she said. “I am here on official business, concerning reports of a feral dog on the premises. Do you require an I.D.?"

  “No, of course not. I called you, remember? Or at least I left a tracer for Director Whitmire.” A frown crossed Jamie's brow. “Come to think of it, all I did do was leave a tracer. How did he know what I wanted?"

  Kristi in turn looked puzzled. “I was told to check out a report of a feral dog hiding out here. Isn't that what you called about?” She eyed Jamie suspiciously, then relaxed. His bewilderment was obviously sincere.

  “I did call about a feral dog,” Jamie began, “but—".

  The door chimed again. He ordered it to reveal the next visitor. The squat figure of Carlos Alvarez appeared, imaginary feathers drooping from his fat lips.

  “Open,” Jamie said reluctantly, wondering what had brought his boss to his home.

  He introduced him. “This is Mr. Alvarez, the Director of Genetic Engineering.” He offered nothing else, hoping that Alvarez had come on some innocuous errand, but suspecting that he, too, already knew of Conan's presence.

  Alvarez noted Kristi's attire with one glance and beamed with pleasure. “A ranger. Good. Now where's that dog you're hiding, Da Cruz. I know it's here."

  “Mr. Alvarez, I can handle this,” Kristi said, trying to take charge. She was interrupted by another door chime.

  “Oh, hell, ‘open',” Jamie said, not bothering to see who it was this time.

  Jeannie stepped inside, dressed provocatively in shorts and translucent blouse. “Why, Mr. Alvarez, what are you doing here?” she exclaimed, not looking at him but at the other woman in the room.

  “I'm here on business,” Alvarez said brusquely. “Are you involved in this?” He stared through the translucent blouse. “No, I can see you're not. Maybe you had better leave."

  “Let her stay,” Kristi said. “This is getting interesting."

  “Who are you?” Jeannie asked, staring daggers at the other woman. She wasn't overly familiar with rangers and didn't recognize her as an official, though Kristi's weapons and dress should have told her that much. She was simply irritated that her plans for Jamie were being interrupted.

  “I'm Kristi Carson, Security. Are you involved with the fugitive?” Kristi had caught the withering stare from the other woman. She was amused, and just a bit titillated by it.

  “Fugitive? Jamie, are you in trouble. Is this woman after you?” She asked the question as if she thought Kristi might be intending to take Jamie off and rape him somewhere.

  “He damn sure is in trouble if we find a feral dog here,” Alvarez interjected.

  “Mr. Alvarez, what is your position in this matter?” Kristi asked.

  “I'm the person who reported the fugitive,” Alvarez said importantly.

  “You reported what fugitive?” Jamie broke in. “I'm the one who reported it!” The whole situation was getting ridiculous.

  “You reported yourself? Oh, Jamie, what have you done?” Jeannie threw herself into his arms, fearing the worst. Jamie a fugitive?

  Jamie disentangled himself, conscious of Kristi's amused expression. “I haven't done anything,” he said. “In fact, I can explain—"

  The door chimed again.

  “Meow,” Fuzzy Britches said, using his own code to open the door. He loved confusion, so long as he wasn't the object of it, and this was getting good.

  John Whitmire took one step inside and stopped, taken aback by the confounded expressions on the other four faces. He tried not to let it show, though. He was considerably older than anyone else in the room other than Alvarez, and his dress was unimposing. Only the security badge pinned to the chest of his coveralls denoted his status and his craggy, lined face could have been taken for any Enclave citizen who had never benefited from long life selection. His elderly appearance was a help at times, though. It helped to conceal his thoughts.

  “Mr. Whitmire, what are you doing here?” Kristi asked, plainly vexed. Only the presence of strangers induced her to use the honorific and his last name. “Didn't you think I could handle a simple feral dog?"

  “I had an urgent tracer put on me from Mr. Da Cruz,” Whitmire explained. “I thought I had better come by and see what was happening."

  “What is happening? Jeannie asked belligerently. She appeared almost ready to fight. Her nipples were erect, limned against the thin film of her blouse. Kristi noted them and felt a quickening of her pulse.

  “Woof!” Woggly barked, deciding that it was time to add his voice to the melee'.

  “I can explain,” Jamie said again. For a change, there was no door chime to interrupt him.

  “Perhaps you should, Mr. Da Cruz,” Whitmire said. He had trouble concealing a grin. Regardless of the seriousness of the situation, this was the most fun the old man had had in a long while.

  “It better be good, Da Cruz,” Alvarez warned.

  “Perhaps we should all sit down while we sort things out,” Kristi suggested.

  “Good idea,” Jamie said, plopping sown on the large lounger. Kristi promptly seated herself beside him, drawing more daggers from Jeannie. Kristi ignored them. She was having fun, too.

  Jeannie placed herself on the other side of Jamie before anyone else had time to move. Woggly lay down by Jamie'
s feet, looking alert. Fuzzy Britches jumped up onto a corner table. He was greatly interested in the events, but wanted a safe haven should a fray occur.

  Whitmire took the small lounger, the dominant position in the room, leaving Alvarez to fit his bulk into an uncomfortably cushioned chair off to one side.

  “Now, then,” Whitmire said, leaning back and clasping his hands together over his belly. “Mr. Da Cruz, since you appear to be the focus of all this confusion, suppose you lead off. Mr. Alvarez seems to think that you are harboring a feral dog in your home. Is that a correct assumption?"

  “Yes, it is, but it's not just any feral dog—"

  “So, you admit it!” Alvarez interrupted, showing immense satisfaction. “Let me tell you—"

  “Please, Mr. Alvarez, let him continue,” Whitmire said.

  “Jamie, you couldn't—", Jeannie began.

  “You, too, Miss...?"

  “Bostick. Jeannie Bostick. And I know Jamie wouldn't—"

  “Please Miss Bostick, let him continue. Or is it Mrs. Bostick?” Whitmire was aware that the terms Miss and Mrs. meant little any more, but he was old fashioned. Besides, he wanted to get her relationship with Jamie Da Cruz categorized without being too obvious about it.

  “It's, uh, Miss, but—"

  “Continue, Mr. Da Cruz.” Subconsciously, Whitmire discarded Jeannie from any important influence on Jamie's status, something he would later regret.

  Jamie hesitated as he took in the expectant faces, then did his best. “There is a feral dog here,” he admitted. “His name is Conan. I don't think he is fully enhanced, but he can talk, after a fashion. He is the same dog who broke through the barrier last night, but it was just chance that he came to my doorstep. My dog—” he nodded toward Woggly. “And cat—” he indicated the alert Fuzzy Britches, who was alternating his attention between Jeannie and Kristi. He sensed something, but wasn't sure what, yet.

  “—talked with the dog and decided that I should speak with him also. I did, and what he told me, or showed me, I should say, is unbelievable."

  “It better not be,” Alvarez said.

  “I believe him,” Jeannie said protectively.

  Kristi winked at Jeannie, causing her to let flies in her mouth had any been present, then turned to Jamie. “Where is this dog? Is he still here?"

  “Go get him, Wog,” Jamie said, knowing how much Woggly liked to bark the door open. Fuzzy Britches, on the other hand, preferred to have doors opened for him, a not unusual inclination in cats, enhanced or not.

  Woggly woofed at the door and scampered inside when it opened. Conan followed him cautiously back into the room, tail low, ears alert.

  “Not much of a dog,” Kristi commented when she saw him. Most rangers used enhanced German shepherds as their companions. She loosened the top of her coveralls, exposing the top of her breasts. “It's hot in here,” she added.

  “Yes, isn't it,” Jeannie agreed, crossing her legs to display them more advantageously.

  “Conan, show this man that disk you're wearing,” Jamie said, completely missing the display of feminine enticement going on around him.

  Conan whined at Woggly, who interpreted for him. “Neck thing,” he said.

  Conan trotted over to Whitmire and lifted his head to display the disk. Whitmire reached out a hand to take it, then jerked it away almost immediately, as if he had been shocked. “Goddamn!” He exclaimed loudly.

  “It won't hurt you,” Jamie assured him. “Try it again."

  Whitmire did so. His blocky face flickered in consternation. “That's the damndest thing I have ever experienced,” he said.

  “Cartoons,” Fuzzy Britches said.

  “Funny pictures,” Woggly agreed.

  “What is it?” Jeannie asked.

  “Let me see,” Kristi demanded, getting up and kneeling down by Conan. Jeannie immediately scrunched Jamie over to the edge of the lounger so that no one else could sit by him.

  “All of you try it,” Whitmire suggested.

  Kristi took hold of the disk. To her credit, she held it through several cycles before giving up her turn. Jeannie got up and tried it. Kristi sat back down by Jamie.

  Jeannie got off another volley of daggers, then sat down next to her imagined rival. Alvarez tried it. While he was occupied, Fuzzy Britches saw an opportunity and jumped from the table to Alvarez's seat, leaving him standing. He knew Jamie would make him move, but couldn't resist the opportunity to prick Alvarez's balloon of self importance.

  It took several throat clearings by Alvarez to get Jamie's attention. “Be nice, Fuzz. This is important.” Fuzzy Britches stretched and yawned, making a production out of moving. He padded over to the large lounger and meowed up at Kristi. She patted a well formed thigh. Fuzzy Britches jumped into her lap and began to purr. Jamie gave him a hard look. That was exactly how his romance with Jeannie had begun.

  Whitmire had waited quietly until everyone was settled again, then turned to Jamie. “Mr. Da Cruz, the instrument your dog has here is quite astounding. I don't understand exactly what it means, but we must get it in the hands of some competent scientists for study. Also, you mentioned a message?"

  “That is the message, or at least I think so. Conan says he received the disk from a ‘great being', and that some humans sent him here with it."

  “What Enclave are the humans from? And why send it by a dog?"

  “Feral humans sent it, not from any Enclave. Apparently, they want to talk to someone from an Enclave, though. Conan thinks the message is even more urgent than the disk indicates."

  Whitmire frowned. “I'm having trouble understanding who this message is really from. You mentioned a ‘great being’ that Conan got the disk from. Who, or what might that be? Surely not from that apparition I sensed from the disk just then?"

  Jamie shrugged. “Maybe it is from one of those six legged creatures in the disk, whatever they are. Maybe from one of the feral humans. Hell, maybe even an altered human."

  There was a collective intake of breaths. While selecting genes and chromosomes for prospective offspring had become almost a universal practice, the insertion of animal genes into human embryos was a different matter entirely. It was strictly banned by every still functioning government on earth.

  Jamie's pets, on the other hand, saw nothing upsetting in the idea—they thought many humans would probably be improved by a few judicious additions from the rest of the animal kingdom. Jamie had cautioned them not to talk about it in public, though. That one time with Alvarez had caused him enough trouble. At the mention of altered humans, Fuzzy Britches jumped down from Kristi's lap and led Conan and Woggly into a corner where they began a low conversation.

  Whitmire shifted his eyes only long enough to be sure Conan was not attempting to leave, then began questioning Jamie again. “Where does this dog—"

  “His name is Conan,” Jamie said, somewhat shortly.

  “Sorry. Where did Conan come from. What part of the country?"

  “He hasn't said. Why don't you ask him?"

  “I will. Conan!"

  The feral dog looked up from where he had one ear cocked toward Woggly while Fuzzy Britches whispered in the other.

  “Where do you come from. Where is your home?"

  “Man-cave. Good home."

  “No, no. I mean where is it located. How far from here?"

  Conan turned to Woggly. The two dogs spoke back and forth in dog language, then Woggly answered. “'Ten day journey’ he says. He wants to leave now. Take Jamie back to see great being before it dies."

  “Take me back?” Jamie exclaimed, thunderstruck.

  “Take Jamie back?” Jeannie cried, unbelieving.

  “Hmm,” Kristi said, eyeing Jamie speculatively.

  “I can't spare him,” Alvarez answered pompously, forgetting his earlier attempt to undermine him.

  “Go soon,” Conan insisted.

  Whitmire rubbed his chin, thinking. His appearance denied to the suggestible his considerable intelligence, eve
n though he was too old to have benefited much from gene selection for that trait. “This would mean sending out a ranger expedition, at the very least. Plus scientists, I suppose."

  “Not me,” Jamie said. “If I go anywhere, which I'm not planning on, it will be by air."

  “Perhaps your presence won't be necessary,” Whitmire said, already thinking to himself that it probably would be. He knew animals, and had already caught the drift of Conan's intentions, not to mention Jamie's own pets.

  “Conan says you will go,” Woggly affirmed.

  “But why? He doesn't need me!"

  “He likes you,” Fuzzy Britches said. “Good vibes."

  * * *

  CHAPTER 5

  Jamie scrutinized Conan. “Just what I need. Another pet."

  “Two more,” Fuzzy Britches said. “Extra dog, must have extra cat. I know a nice little Persian female."

  “You know a lot of females, judging by the hours you keep,” Jamie said.

  “You should talk,” Jeannie told him. “Where were you last night when I called?"

  “Let's get back to the subject,” Whitmire said. “Mr. Da Cruz, it appears Conan is going to insist on your presence should we attempt an expedition to the source of his remarkable device."

  “I said it once, I'll say it again. Anytime I go outside this enclave, I want to fly—not that I want to go anywhere. What would Woggly and Fuzzy Britches do without me?"

  “We're going, too,” Fuzzy Britches said.

  Flies could have found room in Jamie's mouth this time. He would never have thought that either pet would seriously consider leaving the easy life of the enclave for a trek in the wilderness. What had Conan been telling them?

  Whitmire didn't comment on the remark; he had already anticipated it. He knew that the rangers’ pets, especially their dogs, liked nothing better than to get outside and saw no reason why Jamie's animals wouldn't either. There was still an atavistic streak in even the most intelligent enhanced animals. There was another factor that Jamie hadn't thought of, either.