13-04-2019, 04:14 PM
"My! God! Sue... -Bones!" I replied. "You're...absolutely right." I stood up and looked at her. "Ok, it's out of my system now. And while we're getting things out of the way, I've always wanted to see this." I walked over to Spock's viewer and looked inside. Yep. Vulcan porn, just like I thought. I returned to my chair.
"Ok, Mr. Suzy-Ho-Lu. Sorry, I'm gonna stick to everyone's usual names. I'm already torn over whether Suzy-Q should be Spocky-Q or Suzyock-Q, and that's too much to deal with now. Anyway, let's go visit your home, ladies. Plot a course for my Subconscious."
"How do I do that, Captain?" Suzy-Ho asked. I had to think for a moment. We needed the answer soon, but yay, Star Trek Fantasy!
Just hit some buttons that feel Sulu-y to you." She nodded and started pressing random buttons.
"This better not be like the first movie." Sue grumbled. "Where we spend forty-seven minutes looking at special-effects before anything happens."
I heard the music that let me know we were on our way.
* * *
Contessa Helena de San Finzione tossed another cigarette out of the Mustang's passenger-side window after it crossed the intersection of 85th street and Aurora. A few blocks later, the street turned from residential to commercial property, and at the next intersection was the warehouse where they were to meet the Elders' representative. Beyond it, the street changed from houses and apartments to banks and shops for several miles before becoming a residential street again.
"Slightly more public than I'd expect." Mander said. "Right on the corner."
They pulled into the parking lot, Helen casually noting and pointing out the cameras and the men who couldn't be seen from the street, patrolling the rooftop with AK-47s. Mander doing the same for the ones he spotted.
Helen lit another cigarette and took a long drag.
"Parking lot and street in two directions. Open space; fewer approaches for any Ultimados we might've brought along if we hadn't been told not to."
"Woulda been nice, though." Mander replied, turning off the vehicle. After Helena didn't respond, he asked, "You all right?"
"Sorry, just thinking about how all this began in a warehouse full of Triad goons. It would have, yes. But the Triads are jumpy, and we have to show that we're no threat. Well, we're a threat, but not a big one. Not one they have to worry about unless they piss us off, anyway."
"So, why'm I here, then?"
"We're not a big threat." Helen replied, getting out of the car. "We're also not a stupid one."
"Least one of us ain't." Mander replied, getting out and walking behind her.
Helen approached the side door, dropped her cigarette, and knocked. A Chinese man in a black suit and tie opened the door and looked at them. He nodded and let them in. They walked inside, where three more with assault rifles watched them, fingers resting on trigger-guards. When the man who'd opened the door reached for Helen's Prada Arcade bag, she pulled it away.
"My big, scary Englishman and I are both carrying pistols." Helen told the man in Guangzhou Cantonese. "His is holstered, and mine is in my purse. You have AK-47s, unshouldered, which I would appreciate you not pointing at us. If you can't begrudge us a little paranoia, too, we can turn right around." She looked him in the eyes. "Because none of you will shoot, and you'll get to explain to The Elders why I left."
The men pointed their rifles away from them.
"This way." The man replied in the same language and dialect, as he led them through pallets of stacked crates and shelves, toward the center of the warehouse. Unlike the last Triad warehouse that Helen had been in, this one was used for moving something other than captive women. Counterfeit electronics, Helen reasoned; from the information she read off the crates they passed.
The small hedge maze of crates led to an open area in the center, containing a folding card table with three chairs around it. The one who'd done the little talking any of them had thus far motioned to a chair. Mander walked forward, looked it over, and held it out for Helena. She took her seat.
"Seems very cordial, Your Countessness." Mander whispered to her. "If not for the major 'set-up' vibe."
"Not even a pat down for a wire, or insisting on taking our phones." She whispered back. "See if you've got a signal."
"He doesn't, Contessa." Said a now familiar voice from a speaker in the darkness. "You're right. They're not worried about recording devices or signals, because I'm taking care of those."
"Ok, Mr. Suzy-Ho-Lu. Sorry, I'm gonna stick to everyone's usual names. I'm already torn over whether Suzy-Q should be Spocky-Q or Suzyock-Q, and that's too much to deal with now. Anyway, let's go visit your home, ladies. Plot a course for my Subconscious."
"How do I do that, Captain?" Suzy-Ho asked. I had to think for a moment. We needed the answer soon, but yay, Star Trek Fantasy!
Just hit some buttons that feel Sulu-y to you." She nodded and started pressing random buttons.
"This better not be like the first movie." Sue grumbled. "Where we spend forty-seven minutes looking at special-effects before anything happens."
I heard the music that let me know we were on our way.
* * *
Contessa Helena de San Finzione tossed another cigarette out of the Mustang's passenger-side window after it crossed the intersection of 85th street and Aurora. A few blocks later, the street turned from residential to commercial property, and at the next intersection was the warehouse where they were to meet the Elders' representative. Beyond it, the street changed from houses and apartments to banks and shops for several miles before becoming a residential street again.
"Slightly more public than I'd expect." Mander said. "Right on the corner."
They pulled into the parking lot, Helen casually noting and pointing out the cameras and the men who couldn't be seen from the street, patrolling the rooftop with AK-47s. Mander doing the same for the ones he spotted.
Helen lit another cigarette and took a long drag.
"Parking lot and street in two directions. Open space; fewer approaches for any Ultimados we might've brought along if we hadn't been told not to."
"Woulda been nice, though." Mander replied, turning off the vehicle. After Helena didn't respond, he asked, "You all right?"
"Sorry, just thinking about how all this began in a warehouse full of Triad goons. It would have, yes. But the Triads are jumpy, and we have to show that we're no threat. Well, we're a threat, but not a big one. Not one they have to worry about unless they piss us off, anyway."
"So, why'm I here, then?"
"We're not a big threat." Helen replied, getting out of the car. "We're also not a stupid one."
"Least one of us ain't." Mander replied, getting out and walking behind her.
Helen approached the side door, dropped her cigarette, and knocked. A Chinese man in a black suit and tie opened the door and looked at them. He nodded and let them in. They walked inside, where three more with assault rifles watched them, fingers resting on trigger-guards. When the man who'd opened the door reached for Helen's Prada Arcade bag, she pulled it away.
"My big, scary Englishman and I are both carrying pistols." Helen told the man in Guangzhou Cantonese. "His is holstered, and mine is in my purse. You have AK-47s, unshouldered, which I would appreciate you not pointing at us. If you can't begrudge us a little paranoia, too, we can turn right around." She looked him in the eyes. "Because none of you will shoot, and you'll get to explain to The Elders why I left."
The men pointed their rifles away from them.
"This way." The man replied in the same language and dialect, as he led them through pallets of stacked crates and shelves, toward the center of the warehouse. Unlike the last Triad warehouse that Helen had been in, this one was used for moving something other than captive women. Counterfeit electronics, Helen reasoned; from the information she read off the crates they passed.
The small hedge maze of crates led to an open area in the center, containing a folding card table with three chairs around it. The one who'd done the little talking any of them had thus far motioned to a chair. Mander walked forward, looked it over, and held it out for Helena. She took her seat.
"Seems very cordial, Your Countessness." Mander whispered to her. "If not for the major 'set-up' vibe."
"Not even a pat down for a wire, or insisting on taking our phones." She whispered back. "See if you've got a signal."
"He doesn't, Contessa." Said a now familiar voice from a speaker in the darkness. "You're right. They're not worried about recording devices or signals, because I'm taking care of those."
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