Read Online The Sheriff of Yrnameer by Michael Rubens - Free Book Online Page A

Philip.
    “Burrp
.”
    Cole sighed again. Why not? Because the calcs might be off, and he might end up twisted into some horrid, impossible configuration, his body pretzeled hideously through an unknown number of dimensions, that’s why not. Or he could find himself in an anomaly that would swallow him up, the Big Nothing closing in from all sides. On the other hand, stick around here long enough, and Kenneth would find him.
    He inserted the Zum Card into the appropriate slot.
    “As soon as the bendbox is charged up we’ll bend.”
    Nora smiled, softening just the itsy-bitsiest bit, and Cole felt the little jolt again.
    “Can we—
urrrp
—reconform now?” asked Philip.
    “You know, they have stuff for G sickness,” said Cole.
    “I’m allergic,” said Philip.
    “Even to NoHerl?”
    “Bad labor practices.”
    “Bad …?”
    “They don’t hire any Shung.”
    “Shung? The Shung go berserk around machinery. They’d smash everything.
No one
hires any Shung.”
    “Let’s just reconform!” said Philip.
    “No. We reconform, we have to slow down, and what we need to do is keep going fast to charge the box.”
    “We’re still in the fourth orbital layer,” said Philip. “We’re”—he paused to gulp—”speeding.”
    Cole looked at Nora. “Are you two, you know …?” He made a suggestive gesture. “Because you could do a lot better.”
    “Uh-huh. Like you, I suppose,” she said.
    “I wouldn’t go that far.”
    “I wouldn’t go that far if we were the last two people in existence.”
    “Slow us down,” said Philip.
    “We can’t slow down.”
    “You’re putting all of us—
erp
—at risk!” said Philip.
“Burp
!”
    “I know what I’m doing! Nothing’s going to happen!”
    Which is when the orbital patrolbot materialized outside the cockpit viewing window, a model similar to the one that had reduced Cole’s Peerson 28 to an easy-to-carry gray powder.
    “You were twelve pargins over the limit,” announced the patbot over their radio, as it attached itself to the window with an air-lock skirt.
    “You see? I told you,” said Philip.
    “Everyone just keep your mouths shut,” hissed Cole tensely. “One wrong word and this could take hours, and we don’t have hours.”
    The patbot was busily lasing a perfectly circular hole through the cockpit window.
    “This is ridiculous. Why do they have to do it this way?” whispered Nora.
    “The Payper lobby,” said Cole.
“Ssh
!”
    The patbot finished the hole. A mechanical arm extended into the cockpit through the gap and handed Cole a ticket.
    “Three New Dollars,” announced the ticket.
    “Thank you, officer,” said Cole.
    “You’re welcome!” said the patbot. “I’ll repair your window now.”
    The three exchanged surprised glances.
    “Is that it?” whispered Nora.
    “It can’t be,” said Cole.
    The patbot set about repairing the hole. “Sorry for the inconvenience, folks,” it said.
    “Not a problem, officer,” said Cole cautiously. He took a closer look at the patbot. It was somewhat pockmarked and battered, like it had had an encounter with a cloud of space debris. Cole turned to Nora and gave her a little thumbs-up.
    “I think it’s been damaged. Maybe it’s malfunctioning,” he said.
    She wasn’t looking at him. She was looking past his shoulder at the patbot.
    “I think you’re right,” she said.
    Cole turned back to the patbot. It was now preparing to patch the circular hole with a replacement plate.
    A square replacement plate.
    Cole once again experienced the turd-quicksand-poisonous-biting-things sensation, this time at a greatly amplified intensity.
    “Uh … officer?” said Cole, trying to sound calm. “That’s the wrong patch. It’s the wrong shape.”
    “Interfering with an officer of the law is a criminal offense,” the patbot informed him, and continued with its work.
    “But you’re using the wrong piece!” said Nora.
    “It doesn’t fit!” said Cole.
    “It’s wrong!” said