Read Online Xenotech Queen's Gambit: A Novel of the Galactic Free Trade Association (Xenotech Support Book 2) by Dave Schroeder - Free Book Online
Authors: Dave Schroeder
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injuries putting me behind schedule, and I didn’t want to tempt Murphy any more than I had already. A major glitch on my watch would hurt her business and wouldn’t be very good for Xenotech Support Corporation’s rep, either.
I phoned my van as I walked.
“Meet me at the Peachtree Street gate.”
“As you wish.”
I really needed to talk to my phone about letting my van watch The Princess Bride.
Chapter 7
“Don’t feed the plants . ” — from Little Shop of Horrors, lyrics by Howard Ashman
Mistress Marigold is a florist. Her retail stores are called Little Shop of Flowers and there are two in the Ad Astra complex, plus nine more at other five star hotels around Atlanta’s upscale Buckhead neighborhood. She specializes in exotic off-planet plants and blossoms, like the Orishen orchids Terrhi had found for me to give to Poly on our first date. The orchids are sensitive to their wearers’ moods and clothing and change color to reflect one and complement the other.
It would have been a short walk across the courtyard to get to the closest Ad Astra flower shop, but getting to Mistress Marigold’s greenhouses required a vehicle. After First Contact, the city of Atlanta had bent over backwards to attract Mistress Marigold here instead of San Diego. It wasn’t because they needed more flower shops—Mistress Marigold was also a renowned xenobotanist and the CEO of a sexy new bio-pharmaceutical company, Marigold Flowers & Pharmaceuticals. Selling flowers was just a synergistic sideline.
The largest part of her enterprise developed an array of plant-based medicines that were as useful against galactic diseases as quinine was against malaria. Their top seller, Lethe, was a fast-acting over-the-counter euphoric and soporific used to treat post-traumatic stress disorders and sleep abnormalities.
The CDC had helped tip the balance thanks to a generous grant to MF&P from the Yu-Obi-Crispos Foundation. CDC researchers wanted to be close to Mistress Marigold so they could work with her on applications for public health. Emory University awarded her a named chair in their botany department. But what really sealed the deal for Mistress Marigold selecting my adopted home city had been proximity to the Atlanta Botanical Gardens. Mistress Marigold loved Terran flowers and wanted to be near the exhibits and professional staff at the Gardens. That’s why the city gave her a sweetheart deal on some prime real estate.
As part of a package that included loan guarantees and tax abatements, Atlanta relocated half a dozen tennis courts to another part of Piedmont Park and granted Marigold Flowers & Pharmaceuticals a ninety-nine year lease on the land. MF&P built twenty-five thousand square feet of offices, labs and greenhouses adjacent to the Gardens’ Fuqua Orchid Center.
Mistress Marigold generously shared her expertise and resources to support the Gardens. Her displays of Nicósn paratu lips, flowers that instinctively sang in twelve-part harmony, had been a major draw and a substantial moneymaker for the Gardens last year. I’d been to the show and it was spectacular—the paratulips’ blossoms and voices were both lovely. I looked forward to visiting again with Poly once she had free time. Beautiful things are even more beautiful when they’re shared with someone you love.
Focus, Jack. You’re getting sappy.
I’d been referred to Mistress Marigold by the Gardens’ Executive Director. He had hired me to set up security systems with enough sophistication to prevent thieves from breaking in to steal valuable flora and enough initiative to intercept wandering toddlers before they could get themselves into too much trouble.
MF&P had similar challenges, without the peripatetic preschoolers. Some of their rare plants were worth hundreds of thousands of galcreds, after all. They also needed to monitor and adjust the complex microenvironments required by individual specimens.
The systems I’d installed for MF&P were
I phoned my van as I walked.
“Meet me at the Peachtree Street gate.”
“As you wish.”
I really needed to talk to my phone about letting my van watch The Princess Bride.
Chapter 7
“Don’t feed the plants . ” — from Little Shop of Horrors, lyrics by Howard Ashman
Mistress Marigold is a florist. Her retail stores are called Little Shop of Flowers and there are two in the Ad Astra complex, plus nine more at other five star hotels around Atlanta’s upscale Buckhead neighborhood. She specializes in exotic off-planet plants and blossoms, like the Orishen orchids Terrhi had found for me to give to Poly on our first date. The orchids are sensitive to their wearers’ moods and clothing and change color to reflect one and complement the other.
It would have been a short walk across the courtyard to get to the closest Ad Astra flower shop, but getting to Mistress Marigold’s greenhouses required a vehicle. After First Contact, the city of Atlanta had bent over backwards to attract Mistress Marigold here instead of San Diego. It wasn’t because they needed more flower shops—Mistress Marigold was also a renowned xenobotanist and the CEO of a sexy new bio-pharmaceutical company, Marigold Flowers & Pharmaceuticals. Selling flowers was just a synergistic sideline.
The largest part of her enterprise developed an array of plant-based medicines that were as useful against galactic diseases as quinine was against malaria. Their top seller, Lethe, was a fast-acting over-the-counter euphoric and soporific used to treat post-traumatic stress disorders and sleep abnormalities.
The CDC had helped tip the balance thanks to a generous grant to MF&P from the Yu-Obi-Crispos Foundation. CDC researchers wanted to be close to Mistress Marigold so they could work with her on applications for public health. Emory University awarded her a named chair in their botany department. But what really sealed the deal for Mistress Marigold selecting my adopted home city had been proximity to the Atlanta Botanical Gardens. Mistress Marigold loved Terran flowers and wanted to be near the exhibits and professional staff at the Gardens. That’s why the city gave her a sweetheart deal on some prime real estate.
As part of a package that included loan guarantees and tax abatements, Atlanta relocated half a dozen tennis courts to another part of Piedmont Park and granted Marigold Flowers & Pharmaceuticals a ninety-nine year lease on the land. MF&P built twenty-five thousand square feet of offices, labs and greenhouses adjacent to the Gardens’ Fuqua Orchid Center.
Mistress Marigold generously shared her expertise and resources to support the Gardens. Her displays of Nicósn paratu lips, flowers that instinctively sang in twelve-part harmony, had been a major draw and a substantial moneymaker for the Gardens last year. I’d been to the show and it was spectacular—the paratulips’ blossoms and voices were both lovely. I looked forward to visiting again with Poly once she had free time. Beautiful things are even more beautiful when they’re shared with someone you love.
Focus, Jack. You’re getting sappy.
I’d been referred to Mistress Marigold by the Gardens’ Executive Director. He had hired me to set up security systems with enough sophistication to prevent thieves from breaking in to steal valuable flora and enough initiative to intercept wandering toddlers before they could get themselves into too much trouble.
MF&P had similar challenges, without the peripatetic preschoolers. Some of their rare plants were worth hundreds of thousands of galcreds, after all. They also needed to monitor and adjust the complex microenvironments required by individual specimens.
The systems I’d installed for MF&P were
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