Read Online Xenotech Queen's Gambit: A Novel of the Galactic Free Trade Association (Xenotech Support Book 2) by Dave Schroeder - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Dave Schroeder
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like a baby. Then the tendrils wound around me and gave me a very tight, enthusiastic hug, enough for all the air to be forced out of my lungs.
“Jack! Jack Jack Jack Jack JACK!”
The voice was low, but had a youthful cadence. I tried to summon my breath, then my dignity, but I couldn’t manage it. I inhaled deeply, then laughed.
“You can put me down now, Dree,” I said between chuckles. “I’m glad to see you, too. And watch the ribs!”
“Sorry, Jack! Sometimes I don’t know my own strength.”
“Don’t worry about it. Just put me down. Feet first, please.”
“Of course, of course,” said Dree, the corners of her primary feeding pod turning up. “But I’ve missed you.”
Dree was a giant carnivorous plant from a planet Nicósn explorers were rumored to have discovered, then promptly “lost.” At least it’s not listed on any contemporary star charts. Dree’s pot took up half of the floor in the executive level’s elevator lobby and her tendrils, leaves and pod mouths made her a one-plant jungle.
For a carnivore, Dree has a sweet disposition, but she’s a hugger. She’s also an effective adjunct to MF&P’s building security, but that’s another story. I’d heard that a plant from Dree’s world had somehow visited Earth before First Contact and there’d been problems with trace element levels affecting its metabolism, but Dree seemed fine. She got a side of beef twice a week and that kept her quite happy. Still, rumors of her thirst for human blood continue to circulate and enhance her undeserved mean, green reputation.
“I’ve missed you, too,” I said, rubbing my sore torso with my palms.
“She’s waiting for you,” said the plant. “She’s needs your help with a mystery.”
“I love a good mystery,” I said. “Sherlock is my middle name.”
“Really?”
“No, but it sounds good, doesn’t it?”
“You’re funny , Jack. You’d better go in. She’s eager to see you,” said Dree.
“I will,” I said, smiling. “ Her hugs aren’t so enthusiastic.”
“I said I was sorry.”
I didn’t know plants could pout.
“Just kidding.”
I found two of her beach balls in a corner and tossed them Dree’s way as I headed toward Mistress Marigold’s office. A pair of Dree’s small, cloned feeding pods, growing from her largest roots, caught them and bounced them up and over her giant central feeding pod like preteens playing volleyball. Several of the cloned pods looked almost ready to break off.
Mistress Marigold smiled when she met me at the door to her office. She’s an older Nic ó sn and six inches shorter than my six foot two. She doesn’t look like Mrs. Santa Claus anymore, like she did in the photos I’ve seen from her youth. Her short beard tentacles have started to go gray and even black to mark her maturity. If it worked that way in humans, there’d be a major market for dyes to turn hair white.
Mistress Marigold’s smile was warm. She gave off grandmother vibes, even though her official bio didn’t mention anything about offspring. Her forehead wrinkles looked like well-tended furrows where wisdom would spring forth like Athena from the brow of Zeus.
“Thank you for seeing me, Jack,” said Mistress Marigold, shaking my hand. Her palm was warm. “When I heard you’d be here today to do routine maintenance, I asked our front desk to have you stop here first.”
“It’s always a pleasure to see you,” I said.
“And you’ve always been a charmer,” she said. “I hope you’re feeling better?”
“Much better, thanks,” I said, “though Dree’s greeting was a bit too enthusiastic for this stage in my recovery.”
“Dree’s enthusiasm is one of her virtues,” she said. “But I do apologize. Please come in and have a seat. I need your help with something.”
“I’m glad to do whatever I can,” I said, taking a seat in a comfortable overstuffed chair near several others arranged in a circle in a corner of Mistress Marigold’s
“Jack! Jack Jack Jack Jack JACK!”
The voice was low, but had a youthful cadence. I tried to summon my breath, then my dignity, but I couldn’t manage it. I inhaled deeply, then laughed.
“You can put me down now, Dree,” I said between chuckles. “I’m glad to see you, too. And watch the ribs!”
“Sorry, Jack! Sometimes I don’t know my own strength.”
“Don’t worry about it. Just put me down. Feet first, please.”
“Of course, of course,” said Dree, the corners of her primary feeding pod turning up. “But I’ve missed you.”
Dree was a giant carnivorous plant from a planet Nicósn explorers were rumored to have discovered, then promptly “lost.” At least it’s not listed on any contemporary star charts. Dree’s pot took up half of the floor in the executive level’s elevator lobby and her tendrils, leaves and pod mouths made her a one-plant jungle.
For a carnivore, Dree has a sweet disposition, but she’s a hugger. She’s also an effective adjunct to MF&P’s building security, but that’s another story. I’d heard that a plant from Dree’s world had somehow visited Earth before First Contact and there’d been problems with trace element levels affecting its metabolism, but Dree seemed fine. She got a side of beef twice a week and that kept her quite happy. Still, rumors of her thirst for human blood continue to circulate and enhance her undeserved mean, green reputation.
“I’ve missed you, too,” I said, rubbing my sore torso with my palms.
“She’s waiting for you,” said the plant. “She’s needs your help with a mystery.”
“I love a good mystery,” I said. “Sherlock is my middle name.”
“Really?”
“No, but it sounds good, doesn’t it?”
“You’re funny , Jack. You’d better go in. She’s eager to see you,” said Dree.
“I will,” I said, smiling. “ Her hugs aren’t so enthusiastic.”
“I said I was sorry.”
I didn’t know plants could pout.
“Just kidding.”
I found two of her beach balls in a corner and tossed them Dree’s way as I headed toward Mistress Marigold’s office. A pair of Dree’s small, cloned feeding pods, growing from her largest roots, caught them and bounced them up and over her giant central feeding pod like preteens playing volleyball. Several of the cloned pods looked almost ready to break off.
Mistress Marigold smiled when she met me at the door to her office. She’s an older Nic ó sn and six inches shorter than my six foot two. She doesn’t look like Mrs. Santa Claus anymore, like she did in the photos I’ve seen from her youth. Her short beard tentacles have started to go gray and even black to mark her maturity. If it worked that way in humans, there’d be a major market for dyes to turn hair white.
Mistress Marigold’s smile was warm. She gave off grandmother vibes, even though her official bio didn’t mention anything about offspring. Her forehead wrinkles looked like well-tended furrows where wisdom would spring forth like Athena from the brow of Zeus.
“Thank you for seeing me, Jack,” said Mistress Marigold, shaking my hand. Her palm was warm. “When I heard you’d be here today to do routine maintenance, I asked our front desk to have you stop here first.”
“It’s always a pleasure to see you,” I said.
“And you’ve always been a charmer,” she said. “I hope you’re feeling better?”
“Much better, thanks,” I said, “though Dree’s greeting was a bit too enthusiastic for this stage in my recovery.”
“Dree’s enthusiasm is one of her virtues,” she said. “But I do apologize. Please come in and have a seat. I need your help with something.”
“I’m glad to do whatever I can,” I said, taking a seat in a comfortable overstuffed chair near several others arranged in a circle in a corner of Mistress Marigold’s
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