It had been one of the longest trips of her life, followed by one of the roughest shuttle rides, and now one of the worst smelling elevators in the World of Progress. They had been shipped out all this way to take care of a minor problem that would probably fix itself sooner or later and she didn't see the point. At times like this, the job really sucked.
"No plans for the holidays?" the voice said behind her. She winced and tried to ignore it but silence only encouraged him. He was certainly a persistent piece of crap.
"No."
"Why not? Don't you have family to spend it with? A dog even?"
He was certainly intent upon pushing it, but then their kind wasn't smart enough to realize the difference between rude and intrusive. Her family life was none of his damn business and that was probably what kept him so interested. If the trip so far had been any indication, she'd have to hear another million variations of the same question before this was done. Gritting her teeth, she thought about how much she'd love to get her hands on the genius that had paired her with a 711. The fact that she hadn't spoken with the jerk for the past year was probably the only reason she wasn 't up on charges herself.
"Don't you?" the Xeno asked again, smiling broadly and turning his head like a snake to look at her with multiple eyes.
"Yes jackass, I have a family and I have a dog," she snapped. It had to be a conscious decision to have them focus- no, "fixate" was a better word - on the whole family/friend thing but it was just damned annoying to someone who didn't like to talk about personal affairs. She kept hoping that every Xeno wasn't unbalanced, but so far every one that she had known had some sort of issue. And her shrink thought that she was screwed up.
"Then why don't you spend time with them?" he asked, sounding deceptively like a child. Considering he was both a Kick Murder specialist with forty confirmed kills and a Stormer designed for close combat, the term child-like didn't have any place.
"I've got better things to do," she answered. "Like this damn job."
"You know Megan, your Father is a really great man. You shouldn't-"
"Look, you don't actually know him and if you really knew me you wouldn't be pushing this," she cut in, turning around and forcing him back. "So just keep your damn pre-programmed Karma bullsh*t opinions to yourself, okay?"
As she turned back, she heard the Xeno shrug and figured he was grinning again. It was impossible to rile him or hurt his feelings regardless of how hard she had tried. That was another frustrating thing about vat-grown operatives -their feelings are just window dressing and the creatures were nearly impossible to offend unless they're programmed to have hair triggers. Meg remembered a Chagrin that she had been forced to work with and shuddered mentally. That creature just couldn't take constructive criticism and had no sense of humor.
"Why in hell did I have to end up with one of these?" she thought silently to herself. It was an easy question to answer and one that she didn't like to address. Even with the career path she had taken, her Father's influence and connections still managed to keep up and meddle. Ignoring the man behind the curtain was far easier if you didn't know he was there.
The elevator came to a stop with a jerk and a bounce, then the door slid upward with a hydraulic whine. Bright light filled the elevator and a cold breeze waffled past as she stepped into the hall. It looked exactly like any other corporate prefab she'd ever seen, complete with overactive air conditioning and cheap slat walls. It seemed ironic that it wasn't any more solid, especially considering that they were only about four hundred feet above a semi-dormant volcano. With a casual wipe, she smoothed her hair back and started walking. The Xeno was immediately at her side, regarding everything around them within its 270-degree arc.
"What do we do fir-" he started, but his short human partner cut in.
"We find someone who isn't drunk of his or her ass and get directions."
"Ought to be easy to find someone friendly around here. Think they've got a welcome center?"
"You know, just because they named you Jester doesn't mean you're funny," she mumbled, but he picked it up and commented like he always did.
"Then what does it mean?"
"It means that you're just one step up from a mime," Meg answered, giving him a hard look. "That mean's I'll pistol whip you to death instead of shooting you if you don't shut the frick up."
The corridor and the sets of small offices were decorated with tiny sculptures, trees, and tinsel and she grimaced, hating the season and all of its trappings. It seemed abnormal that the staff celebrated it all the way out here in the middle of nowhere. Since they rotated out once a year, she imagined that they drones probably celebrated the damn season both here and at their homes back on Mort. Her expression must have changed because the Xeno drew in a breath and starting chattering again. The vat-trash must have memorized her body language because it because always commented when she became irritated.
"You aren't much of a SLA-mas person then?" Jester asked.
Meg looked up at him and shook her head, mildly surprised that he wasn't familiar with her record. The 711 seemed to know about nearly everything else (taste in clothes, favorite restaurant, likes/dislikes on men) and it was good to know that some things were still unknown quantities. Hopefully the records of those pre-Operative years would never be reopened.
"No. You?" she asked, giving in to the vain hope that he'd let it drop. Immediately, she kicked herself because she should have known better.
"Not really," he said as he made a show of turning his head to watch a group of departing employees bearing gifts and wearing Santa Claws hats file past. "But it seems like it would be a lot of fun. If had a family, that is."
"You really don't have any fricking clue what the season is about, do you Jester?" she snapped and he shook his head ruefully.
"Well, I know that it's a time for people to spend time with their loved ones and buy a specified amount of company sanctioned decorations and gifts," he said quietly. "Isn't that what it's all about?"
Instead of answering, she concentrated on checking cubicles for sober employees but found that all were pretty much empty. On the third one, her heart skipped a beat as a grinning elf face leered up at her. When it didn't move, Meg let out her breath - it was only one of those stupid plastic decorations. Casually bumping it off its perch and into the floor, she ground its head into the carpet and continued to the next cubicle.
Grinning broadly, the Xeno knew enough to stay out of the way and just watched.
"Someone isn't exactly feeling the SLA-mas spirit, is she?" he said to himself. "Well, we'll just have to fix that."
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