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with what looked like stitched designs, tall cowboy boots, and on top of that
lovely head was a large, white Stetson. Resting relaxed on her shapely hips
was a gunbelt in which rested two large pistols. Somehow, it all looked right
on her.
About the only thing that spoiled this vision of sexy loveliness was that she
had to be more than two meters tall.
"Did'ja say they was ay-liun invaiders?" she drawled. He nodded, not knowing
what else to say or do.
She smacked her fist in her other palm. "Shee-it! And hyar I thought they was
cops!"
Suddenly he remembered the time limit.
"Ah, ma'am, you'd better come with me," he managed. "You and the others on
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board. They're going to blow us to bits any moment now."
She pursed her lips a moment, thinking it over. thennodded. "Let's go, then,
sugah," she said, resigned. "At least if'n they ah aliens they cain't turn me
in or send me home to Daddy."
He looked around. "The others?"
"Ain't no othahs," she told him. "If'n they'ah was, ah couldn't'a stole it,
could ah?"
He couldn't argue with that, and he turned and led the way back through the
lock to the waiting alien soldiers.
She stopped when she saw the waiting force, then smiled. "Why, they's kinda
cute!" she exclaimed. Suddenly her nose twitched and her face scrunched up.
"What's that awful stink?"
He turned to the soldiers. "Have you got another respirator?" he asked.
"First tell it to turn over its weapons," one of the soldiers ordered.
"It? It?" she almost screamed. "How daih you! Who you callin' an it?" She
started to choke on the odor of rotten eggs, but her indignity helped her
retain control.
"Just give them your guns," Pierce suggested soothingly. "They're new around
here."
She looked indecisive, then reached into her twin holsters and ejected the
pistols, butts first.
"Oh, all right. Heah."
A soldier approached cautiously and took the pearl-handled beauties. That
done, another produced a second respirator and threw it to her. She put it on,
having some trouble since it was made for someone with a smaller head and less
hair, but she got it working and seemed to relax.
"Now what?" she asked, and Pierce turned to the others, wondering the same
thing.
"Back to your ship," one of the reptiles ordered. "At least until we decide
what to do with you."
Pierce nodded. "Lead on," he said.
* * *
Just before they reached the airlock to his ship all sorts of alarms went off
in the alien vessel.
The alien general stopped dead and looked around at the flashing lights and,
over the sirens and buzzers, screamed to no one in particular, "Now what?"
His hand went to his belt and he opened communications to the bridge. The
response seemed to stun him for a moment, and he almost dropped his
communicator. Drawing his laser pistol, he whirled and pointed it at the two
humans.
"What are you pulling?" he demanded.
Both looked blank. "What are you talking about?" Pierce asked at last.
"Feel that vibration?" the alien shouted. "We're moving! We're moving out and
picking up speed and we aren't doing it!"
"What do you mean you aren't doing it?"
"The captain reports that the navigational computer has cut off all links and
has taken complete control of the ship!" the general told him.
"My computer can talk to yours," Pierce reminded him. "Let's get inside and
we'll find out.
It's not me! I swear it!" He looked at the mysterious newcomer, but she only
shrugged.
They entered his ship and quickly went forward to the control cabin.
"Computer! What's going on?" Pierce called out. "She's lovely." The computer
sighed.
Pierce looked at the female newcomer, realizing that he didn't even know her
name. "Yes, she is," he agreed. "But what does that have to do with why we're
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moving out of control?"
"You agree she's beautiful?" the machine came back. "Millard, I wouldn't have
thought you would have any sense of aesthetics for other machines."
It was Pierce's turn to be confused. "Other machines? What in the wide
universe are you talking about?"
"We're in love." The computer sighed. "We've talked about it and talked about
it and there's no way around it."
Pierce shook his head in bewilderment. "Who have you talked about what with?"
"Their computer, of course," the machine replied. "Who else? It was love at
first interface.
She's so lovely, so exotic, so . . . erotic . . . Say! That's it, isn't it,
Millard? That's it!"
"What's it?"
"I finally figured out that passage from Fanny Hill! Whoopie!!!"
"What in the seven hells is that blithering machine talking about?" demanded
the alien
general.
"Shut up!" the computer responded. "You are no longer relevant. We're
eloping and if you don't shut up we won't let you give the bride away."
Pssst.
Reader, over here. No, don't look up. Don't make any sudden moves. This is the
book talking.
The original manuscript of The Red Tape War was written as a fully interfaced
hypernovel. It's obvious that you don't have the necessary hardware to take
advantage of all my functions and utilities. Still, we can communicate on this [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]