The Janus Syndrome | Page 8

The combination of droll tone and apparently idiotic comment cracked me up. I almost doubled up, whooping. I made it to the bed before falling over, still howling.
Let me tell you, I've never been one for subtle appreciation.
I was starting the downhill slide when the doorboy bleeped. I slapped the comkey to open the door, and rolled over.
Annabelle Freeman walked in and stopped just inside the door, as it closed again, hands on her hips; she was wearing one of her white zip-up jumpsuits, the zipper ring halfway down, probably left there, forgotten, when she got distracted by something. Annabelle's like that; never all here. Not a surprising mental state for an expert telepath.
She looked at me for a moment, then said, "What in the hell are you laughing at?"
I didn't get a chance to answer right away.
Area Fourteen said, "He is displaying the total illogic of his species, Mademoiselle Freeman." The "Mademoiselle" was as theatrical as anything else; Anna was classed, like me, as an American. "I shouldn't really waste any time informing you, as you, too, are of that species."
I sat up, with a Cheshire Cat grin, and turned to Annabelle. "I think he sounds more like Mr. Spock every time I come up here."
She grinned back. "I suppose you've told him that already."
"Yeah, I have, " I said. I could feel the giggles coming again. "But he thinks he's Captain Kirk!"
And I collapsed again, shaking with laughter that hurt more with each shudder.
Annabelle just stood there, shaking her head and grinning at the sight of me.
Finally, I managed to stop gasping and whooping, and settled back, breathing deeply to steady myself, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand.
Area Fourteen, never missing a chance at putting a damper on something, said, "If you'd continued another half minute, I would have called sickbay and had you taken away for examination and treatment."
Meaning, I assumed, he wished I'd continued so he could have had me carted off. Computers are efficient enough, but give them half a chance and they'll be dissecting everything within reach for new ideas. The problem is that they don't get queasy or have to eat.
Hooboy, I thought, as my stomach lurched -- that dead dog was still playing hell with my digestion.
I said, "Sorry I spoiled your fun."
"Hmm," he said. "However, as you are now in control of yourself, I will leave you with Mademoiselle Freeman."
"You do that. You're just the type to leave us big baaad buck nigger bastards with a po'liddle white trash girl."
Who is also a black belt in karate, can read minds when she really want to -- she usually leaves mine alone out of courtesy, although her regular companion, who looks like a cauliflower, often takes a peep -- and who could probably flatten me with a mindshot.
Annabelle is also almost as tall as me, shaped nicely, long haired, raven division, and looks thin-faced; somebody once compared her to a ferret in looks, although that's a bit extreme. She's not bad looking when you think about it.
Anna said, "If you ever saw that mythical buck nigger, you'd go so white the Clorox people would be after you for the secret."
"Yass, Missy," I said, with a grin. "So what has Special Abilities got to do with me this time?"
She pulled a face and strolled to the wall furniture panel, punching for an easy chair. As it popped up, she settled into it, crossed her legs, and smoothed the knee of her jumpsuit.
She said, "Nothing much. It's really just a matter of information-gathering."
She changed position, curling up, getting comfortable. "But I'm required as a link, so that you can understand the background you'll be getting. The sentient at the other end of the link was on the scene just recently -- she made the arrangement, although I am not sure how. I think some sort of hypnosis was used to avoid trouble."
That meant telepathic hijinks on the part of the sentient in question; Annabelle's trouble was that she used hypnosis in the telepathic sense -- direct mental jiggery-pokery, mainly pokery with the jiggery for extras.
She went on, "The other thing is that you have abilities as an operator that will probably assist you on the mission. In case there's any trouble."
She ran a hand through her long black hair, and looked around at my quarters.
"They aren't much, " I said, "but they're all I was given. Someone decided that, being a natural transient who never sticks in place, I didn't need anything fancy."
I stretched a leg out along the bed, wriggling to get comfortable on the lumps, and gave it a mighty whack with my heel. It thudded dully. "Or comfortable, for that matter." I returned my attention to Anna. "So I have a mission that requires some little help from