Disclaimer: all characters, dialogues and events belong to Roger Zelazny.
Author's Note: My second story. This time, it's Luke's POV during episode in Santa Fe. I'll break this one in two chapters.
So much for being obvious.
Merle was sitting next to me, enjoying the ride, completely clueless about how much he had complicated my life by just appearing here. Meeting him in the hotel had been quite a shock for me. I had just returned from training and noticed him in the lounge. The complication was mainly about explaining the fatigues I was in. He hadn't seen me yet, so one other option included hasty retreat. I could get caught, though, and explaining my attemp at escape would have been much more difficult. Merle could be naive sometimes, but never stupid. So I decided to play it safe and quickly made up a story about hiking in Pecos. He bought it, but I got that uneasy feeling about things to come. One of those little events that prove you can't predict everything.
Standing in the shower, I was contemplating my course of actions. Merle hadn't given me any hint about the purpose of his visit, and I was sure there was some reason for it - but I had some questions of my own as well. I decided to go for the latter, stick to the plan. But when I got to the bar, my intuition had once again told me that my plans are about to get screwed. Because Merle was rushing towards the exit, looking rather agitated. I don't think he was actually running to john like he told me, unless he had really poor bladder control. I decided to play paranoid and talked Merle into this ride.
So here I was, driving into the night and thinking about our similarities, the main reason why I had excluded him from my "to-kill" list. I tried to hate him, but it's like hating your mirror image - it is only angry because you are. I felt Merle's gaze and tried to look relaxed. I was supposed to be having fun after all. Once again, I asked myself whose business was more important - his or mine. Maybe he can tell me.
"Who goes first?"
"Go ahead."
"Okay". Okay. Time for one-man theater.
"When we were talking the other morning about your leaving Grand D, you said you weren't going to work anywhere else and you weren't planning on teaching."
"That's right."
"You said you were just going to travel around."
"Yep."
"Something else did suggest itself to me a little later on. I was wondering whether you might not be shopping around - either for backing in getting your own company going, or for a buyer for something you have to sell. You know what I mean?"
"You think I came up with something innovative and didn't want Grand Design to have it."
I slapped my seat to hide my concern. What if I "guessed" right? If Merle's just planning to go on with his career? And if he let's me in, what will I say? Oh, great, we're gonna make a great team, and by the way, I have already trained some security guards for our future office!
"Always knew you were no fool," I said. "So you're screwing around now, to allow decent time for its development. Then you hunt up the buyer with the most bread."
"Makes sense - if that were the case. But it isn't."
"It's okay," I kept prying. "Just because I work for Grand D doesn't make metheir fink. You ought to know that."
"I do know it."
"And I wasn't asking just to pry. In fact, I had other intentions completely. I'd like to see you make out with it, make out big."
"Thanks."
I went on with my performance a little more. Not even to make sure - just to stay in-character. For a moment, I regretted that we weren't the ones we pretented to be, just two buddies starting a perspective business. I threw that thought away and went for the final shot.
"What is Ghostwheel?"
"What?"
"Top secret, hush-hush, Merle Corey project. Ghostwheel. Computer design incorporating shit nobody's ever seen before. Liquid semiconductors, cryogenic tanks, plasma-"
I knew he would laugh here, and he did. Then he told me about it - he was so honest I felt guilty. I quickly suppressed that feeling, though, and pretended deeply disappointed.
"...What difference does it make, anyhow? I've got no product, we've got no company. Sorry. Tell Martinez and associates it was a blind alley."
I had no idea what he was talking about, but I just KNEW things were about to go downhill.
Author's Note: My second story. This time, it's Luke's POV during episode in Santa Fe. I'll break this one in two chapters.
So much for being obvious.
Merle was sitting next to me, enjoying the ride, completely clueless about how much he had complicated my life by just appearing here. Meeting him in the hotel had been quite a shock for me. I had just returned from training and noticed him in the lounge. The complication was mainly about explaining the fatigues I was in. He hadn't seen me yet, so one other option included hasty retreat. I could get caught, though, and explaining my attemp at escape would have been much more difficult. Merle could be naive sometimes, but never stupid. So I decided to play it safe and quickly made up a story about hiking in Pecos. He bought it, but I got that uneasy feeling about things to come. One of those little events that prove you can't predict everything.
Standing in the shower, I was contemplating my course of actions. Merle hadn't given me any hint about the purpose of his visit, and I was sure there was some reason for it - but I had some questions of my own as well. I decided to go for the latter, stick to the plan. But when I got to the bar, my intuition had once again told me that my plans are about to get screwed. Because Merle was rushing towards the exit, looking rather agitated. I don't think he was actually running to john like he told me, unless he had really poor bladder control. I decided to play paranoid and talked Merle into this ride.
So here I was, driving into the night and thinking about our similarities, the main reason why I had excluded him from my "to-kill" list. I tried to hate him, but it's like hating your mirror image - it is only angry because you are. I felt Merle's gaze and tried to look relaxed. I was supposed to be having fun after all. Once again, I asked myself whose business was more important - his or mine. Maybe he can tell me.
"Who goes first?"
"Go ahead."
"Okay". Okay. Time for one-man theater.
"When we were talking the other morning about your leaving Grand D, you said you weren't going to work anywhere else and you weren't planning on teaching."
"That's right."
"You said you were just going to travel around."
"Yep."
"Something else did suggest itself to me a little later on. I was wondering whether you might not be shopping around - either for backing in getting your own company going, or for a buyer for something you have to sell. You know what I mean?"
"You think I came up with something innovative and didn't want Grand Design to have it."
I slapped my seat to hide my concern. What if I "guessed" right? If Merle's just planning to go on with his career? And if he let's me in, what will I say? Oh, great, we're gonna make a great team, and by the way, I have already trained some security guards for our future office!
"Always knew you were no fool," I said. "So you're screwing around now, to allow decent time for its development. Then you hunt up the buyer with the most bread."
"Makes sense - if that were the case. But it isn't."
"It's okay," I kept prying. "Just because I work for Grand D doesn't make metheir fink. You ought to know that."
"I do know it."
"And I wasn't asking just to pry. In fact, I had other intentions completely. I'd like to see you make out with it, make out big."
"Thanks."
I went on with my performance a little more. Not even to make sure - just to stay in-character. For a moment, I regretted that we weren't the ones we pretented to be, just two buddies starting a perspective business. I threw that thought away and went for the final shot.
"What is Ghostwheel?"
"What?"
"Top secret, hush-hush, Merle Corey project. Ghostwheel. Computer design incorporating shit nobody's ever seen before. Liquid semiconductors, cryogenic tanks, plasma-"
I knew he would laugh here, and he did. Then he told me about it - he was so honest I felt guilty. I quickly suppressed that feeling, though, and pretended deeply disappointed.
"...What difference does it make, anyhow? I've got no product, we've got no company. Sorry. Tell Martinez and associates it was a blind alley."
I had no idea what he was talking about, but I just KNEW things were about to go downhill.