Crossover Earth '98
Rate of Exchange
By Lise Mendel
The red headed woman was curled in her high-tech chair like a chick in an egg. She was wearing a gray body suit, with a complex head set and visor. She was surrounded by a mass of wires and conduits, and faced a console covered with switches, meters, and screens. Some were covered with rapidly scrolling text, others showed video feedback, both pure and computer enhanced. About a third were blank.
On the monitor directly before her a large, deadly looking robot advanced menacingly towards the camera. Several other screens showed the same automaton from slightly lower or higher, to the left or the right, some "missed" it altogether, showing an empty room. Several of the readouts blinked, warningly. Over her ear-phones, a slightly blurred voice called out "I have you now, Arachne!"
At the same time, the woman in the chair drawled, calmly, "Go left."
The images whirled to the right, some of them showing the robot extruding an evil looking device, others flooding with light. "Not this time, Ein!" a woman's voice sounded in her ear. "I've got you!"
A digital counter blipped down from 88 to 85, while, on the screens, the robot rocked back as if from a blow. It righted itself and continued it's relentless advance, as indicated on the gyrating video and the various displays. "Glancing blow, no real damage," she stated calmly, her fingers dancing nimbly over several switches, while her eyes flicked over the display screens.
"Watch low, also 6:00", she instructed as movement registered on several more screens. A foot flashed out from the "camera" position and smashed across an extruding blade, bending it out of alignment. The counter ticked down again, to 82, as the movement resolved itself into a smaller robot of the same model as the first. The smaller robot shattered into pieces.
The large robot wheeled, uncertainly. Then another counter rolled down from 00 to 88, and it began to vibrate in place. "It's all over, sugar," the woman's voice sang angelically. "Want to call it off?"
"Agreed," the man's voice called, and the robot went limp.
"Good session, Jeff," the woman's voice called.
"Don't relax, yet," the woman in the chair commanded. "It's not over until I say it is."
A door opened into the room, and a blond man poked his head in. "I'm willing to call it quits," he said, cheerfully.
She sighs. "You get off easy this time, Arachne," she answered. "Next time, I'll run the drones."
The screens indicated that Arachne was leaving the training room. "That won't be a fair test, 'Bel," she said. "I can't fight at my best with anyone but you on the 'Web'".
"Then we'll have to run them against the boys."
"You haven't had any more practice with the drones than I have," the man objected. "What makes you think you can handle them any better?"
'Bel glanced at him contemptuously from out of the corner of her eyes, but first spoke to the mike. "You have a call waiting from one of the Gamma levels," she said. "Call your pager pick up line."
"We'll have a post-mortem in the drawin' room," she told Jeff as she finished giving her instruction. "Change first, then meet me upstairs." With no more nicities, she left.
Half an hour later, 'Bel and Jeff esconsed in the Sunshine House's homey drawing room. 'Bel was sitting in a high backed wicker chair, with a clipboard in hand. Jeff was planted on the overstuffed love seat, leaning over the coffee table and staring over his copy of the printouts, a mug of something steaming was set on . The third person in the room, a small, white haired woman, sat in a recliner and knitted, seeming oblivious to the conversation.
"What it all comes down to," 'Bel was explaining, quietly, "is that the drones are an orphan project, and they're a drain on our resources. The buzzbots are already commercial, but we don't have a call for them at the moment."
"So you had Jeff pound on me for the fun of it? How charmin'," a honey covered voice drawled from the doorway. Like 'Bel, the newcomer had red hair, but her figure and features were fuller and her movements more fluid. She entered the room with the assurance that all eyes, and all attention, would be instantly drawn to her.
'Bel didn't look up from her clip pad. "I needed some final numbers to close out the file, Charlotte," she explained. "I still want to shake it down against multiple opponents before the project will go on hold. I'm not terminating it completely."
"If you're shuttin' it down, then shut it down. There's no reason to risk injurin' the Boys just to get a few more numbers. There's no point in it, " she entered the room and approached the woman in the chair, "is there, Mamma?"
The little old woman glanced between the two women. "If we don't have a direction to take the drones in," she said, "we should mothball them now. We'll continue testing when we have a buyer."
Jeff stood up in evident disgust. "In that case, I should be going," he shot out harshly. He scooped up his coffee cup and the papers, and stormed out of the door.
Charlotte watched him go. "He's goin' to give you trouble one of these days, 'Bel," she observed, as she sat in the spot he had left. "You'd better watch him."
"I know."
Angela, the white haired woman Charlotte had addressed as 'mamma', smiled. "He keeps you on your toes, 'Bel. It's good for you," she said.
'Bel snorted, but looked up from her clipboard for the first time since she'd entered the room. "I'm worried about cashflow," she announced. "The job queue is almost empty."
"But we've just got a big chunk o'change!" Charlotte objected. "Vidislov paid very nicely for the work in Tajikstan, and we've got a strong connection there now."
'Bel nodded. "That's just the problem," she said. "Vidislov is now in power there, and he's happy with it. He's not likely to need us again until he gears up for expansion, and even then he's likely to go with conventional sources and materials. We might get an occasional job with him, but nothin' regular."
"Exactly," Angela nodded in agreement, "and, at the moment, we don't have a large lineup of domestic clients. Right now we've got a lot of lawyers on contingency, but our other services are underutilized. Beguile's put everything but her legal aid on hold. Crystal Melody's death means the drones aren't really needed any more, The Grey Veil is in retirement, and nothing short of Armature coming back to earth will get her interested in the business again. There's a whole list. Just as important, most of our regular contractors are out of the country or otherwise busy. We just haven't been building up domestic business."
"How about Dr. Cronos?" asked Charlotte. "He's going to have to rebuild his laboratory, isn't he?"
"He'd be a plum contract," 'Bel agreed, "but our psych profile on him says that he needs to be the one to initiate contact."
"True, but getting materials we think he will eventually need might be a good plan," Angela suggested. "It might attract his attention, and it would certainly be nice to have likely stock on hand."
"Aw, mamma," Charlotte sighed, "can't we sit back and enjoy the rest? Ah'm sure we'll be swimmin' in business soon enough. Benny's got me an interview, and you know that always sparks interest."
"Really? Who with?"
"Paul Stark," Charlotte said. "I've asked Tiffany to schedule it for Tuesday or Wednesday, in New York."
Mehitabel picked up her clipboard and flipped to a blank page. "That gives us plenty of time for a background check on Stark," she nodded at her mother as she said that, but didn't wait for the answering nod. "we'll send Ko, Premiere and Able as backup."
Angela nodded. "Good. We'll schedule enough time for Robin to drop by some dojos and touch base with his contacts. We don't have a call for agents right now, but it would be nice to have some available if they're needed."
"And Ah can drop by and see Mark while we're there, too," Charlotte suggested. "Maybe he'll decide to run for president after all..."
"Which is why droppin' by might not be a good idea," 'Bel said dissapprovingly. "He doesn't need to be tied to you in the eyes of the media."
Charlotte pursed her lips, and protested, "Ah'll be discreet. Ah always am."
"We'll have Mike drop by," Angela declared. "he's lower profile."
"That would work," Charlotte agreed. "and the publicity from the interview will help."
'Bel shook her head. "I'm not sure about that. You're doing a good job of convincing the populace that you're a nice girl who's made a few mistakes. That's nice for keepin' you out of jail, but not much for attractin' clients."
"You know I'm willin' to do hands on work, reputation or no, Sis." Arachne objected, "it's just not necessary right now."
"If it would help to get a client? I think we should find a scientific warehouse and stock up."
Angela shook her head. "Let's try and see what we can stockpile through legal channels, first," she suggested. "Don't try for a heist during the interview trip, it might antagonize the reporter. We don't want to do that," she looked at 'Bel significantly, "unless we're makin' a profit on it."
"Don't worry, honey," Charlotte assured her sister. "Ah'll drum up some business before our nest egg starts to run down. Ah always do."
"If that's supposed to make me feel better..." 'Bel began, but was cut off by Angela."
"Oh, my goodness. Look at the time! Charlotte, you'd better go pick up the kids from school. I'll see what I can dig up on Stark. 'Bel, dear, why don't you make a list of things Dr. Cronos will be likely to need to rebuild his lab, consult the Marx's. One way or another, we'll be up to speed in no time "
Charlotte rose gracefully to her feet. "Oh, mamma, it's goin' to feel good to be back in business..." she said as she left.