Let's Make a Deal (Bob and Nikki Book 11)
hands?”He looked at me, grinning. “We would have to have all new molds. The tooling for that kind of ceramic isn’t cheap. We would have to have a lot of walnuts, before we could afford to do that.”
“Sounds like something I need to leave for Dee and Beatriz, then.” His face fell. “You don’t play fair, Commodore.”
“Did you expect me to?”
“Not at all.”
“Enough blather. Are we going to do this, or not?” I stepped onto the mat and said, “Whenever you feel lucky.” I didn’t want to do much in the way of damage, so I decided to throw them, rather than striking. After they made their first mad rush, and failed, Ambassador Dressi said, “Now you’re just showing off, Commodore.” I turned and looked at what he was talking about. My opponents were stacked, two one way, and two the other, like cribbing. I said, “I wish I could say I did that on purpose.” Nikki shouted, “Bob, lookout!” I let my legs fold, while I was trying to figure out where the threat was. One of those Squirrel throwing knives nicked my ear, on the way down. Two of the Marines grabbed the offender. I said, “Sergeant, front and center!” Once he had arrived, I said, “I thought you searched these idiots?”
“He had it hidden in his cheek, Boss. It won’t happen again.”
Dixie came through the door, and made a beeline for me. She handed me a vial, and said, “Drink it all, Boss. Right now.” I took the top off, and knocked it back. I said, “It has a nice kick, but it’ll never be popular with that taste.”
“Was anyone else exposed?”
“Check the fellow the Marines are holding. He drew from his cheek, he may have cut himself in the process.” She went over to where the Marines were holding him. “Open his mouth, boys. I need to have a look.” They pulled his jaws apart, and Dixie said, “Sure enough, Boss. Hold his nose, fellas.” She made him drink a vial of her antidote. She turned back to me and said, “That should keep him from dying before you can get a story out of him.”
I asked, “How did you know?”
She replied, “Mr. Branham never informed you he had given you an implant? That’s strange.”
“What kind of implant?”
“It sends out a distress beacon if it detects serious injury, or a poison in your system. It also has a locator beacon, if we were unable to find you for some reason.”
“Oh boy! I’m chipped like a stray dog, and nobody bothered to tell me.”
“Look on the bright side, Boss. If I hadn’t started this way until Gene told me you were in trouble. You would have been in the autodoc a couple of days.”
“That is nice. Thanks for the prompt service.” I turned to the Ambassador. “We have a problem. Your man committed a crime on my ship. You are here on a diplomatic mission, so technically, he has immunity. I would very much like to question him, and find out just who he works for.”
“Luckily, Commodore, I have a solution. As head of mission, I have the authority to revoke the immunity of any of my personnel at any time. I do so revoke him, at this time.”
The mouthy one started in. “You can’t just revoke him, because your friend asked you to, traitor.”
I said, “Pardon me, but is your hearing faulty? The Ambassador just said he has the authority to do exactly that, for any reason, or no reason at all. I don’t know the Ambassador all that well, but I doubt he would lie about something so easily checked.” He just fumed. I turned to Ambassador Dressi. “Who did you annoy to get saddled with such helpful staff?”
“The rebels have had to make concessions to the old guard to stay in power. This was the only way they would let this peace mission go forward. I told them they had no idea who they were up against, but they wouldn’t believe me.”
“One question. How heavily is your crew sprinkled with these fine specimens?”
“Roughly half, I’d say. What do you have in mind, Commodore?”
“Do you think a demonstration would adjust their thinking?”
“I shudder to think what you might have in mind, Commodore, but that might be just the thing.”
I said, “Gene, get me Topper, please.”
“On it, Boss.” Topper’s voice came out of the speakers. “Yes, Boss?”
“Our guests have proven less congenial than I had hoped. Is it too late to change that beacon message?”
“Not quite. We are expecting them soon, however.”
“Provide our guests with a show, if you would. Points for precision flying.”
“Understood, Boss.” I turned to Natti. “Mr. Ambassador, if that doesn’t get their attention, nothing will. You might want to get a grip on something. Topper and Ruth won’t want to be left out.” Topper wasn’t kidding when he said it was nearly too late to change the message. It was only a couple of seconds before I felt the ship begin to maneuver. Gene was thoughtful enough to give us a view of the action, on one of the walls. Someone had figured out a way to bounce a message off the beacon, and back into FTL, because the entire fleet emerged together, something that the old-time Navy thought to be impossible. The carriers cycled through, each looking straight at the front of the Squirrel ship, with fully charged mains. We rotated through last, of course, since we had to charge our mains. When the front view of their ship came up on the screen, one of the fellows who had been giving me trouble fainted dead away. Another one decided it was an opportune time to have another look at his lunch. The Ambassador said, “I dread going back to my ship, now. The odor of urine and feces will be