Chapter 4: Messages from the Ether or Ethanol Fumes

Hey Doc! Checking the sat-phone as we scheduled. How’s home out on the farm?” Olé greeted his friend over the satellite phone.

“Hey there yourself, Olé!” Doc was pleased to hear his voice. “We are just fine. Did you actually get your beer delivery in time?”

“Now that’s a story in it’s self, Doc!” Olé chuckled.

I’m listening.” Doc could hear muted background conversation. “Still listening. Who’s there with you? I saw most of the camp skedaddled even before I did, and I thought I was in a hurry!”

“Yeah! When the dust cloud dissipated, only you and I remained!” Olé laughed. “Just Bella and me here now, Doc.” Olé explained.

“Really, I’m surprised she stayed! I’m more surprised you let her!” Doc had a pretty good idea, how Olé could be convinced to permit Bella to remain hanging around. “Glad you don’t have to drink alone, Buddy. You should never drink alone, Olé! You get too maudlin and drink too much when you’re sad.”

“Well, I’m not alone now, Doc. Ain’t sad, neither. Don’t worry about me. Bella is good for me and plans to stay. You know I’m just a sucker for a lady in distress. That scumbag Warren Norman and his crew abandoned her. Seems out there camping in the box canyon, Ms. Bella Jugosa became the camp’s only source of entertainment. Even unwashed, she was still a star attraction out there. All of them were pretty ripe when they came to ask for their car again. Had to keep upwind of them. Bella’s celebrity status died, changed for the worse, after they got their wheels back. They spoke most unkindly to her and about her. Rejected her pleas to ride out with them. Never heard worse words said to any woman. The scum!”

“Did the Norman group call her that, use her name, Bella Jugosa?”

“Nah! Not even Bella, wouldn’t hardly say even her first name. Nasty things they said about her. More often, called her horrible things.” Olé sounded sad.

“So, she told you herself, her name is Bella Jugosa?” Doc suggested.

“Yeah. Told me she’s been married and divorced so many times, she can’t remember her maiden name. Tied the knot more times than I did. Always unraveled though, same as for me. Doesn’t want to use any of the ex’s names, so she picked Jugosa for herself. Said she like the sound of it. Inspired by watching Bela Lugosi in an old vampire film. Liked the sound of his name.” Olé explained.

“You don’t speak Spanish, do you Olé.” Statement, not a question.

“Good enough. “Otra cerveza frio, por favor! Donde es el sanitario? Puta madre! Pendejo! Cuanto? A couple more.” I know the most important survival words!”

“HmmmHmmm, sure you do!” Doc acknowledged. “And the two of you are getting along just swimmingly?”

“Oh, yeah! You know beer ALWAYS tastes better when someone else fetches it for you. (She’s a waitress, sabe?)” Doc imagined Olé cupping the mouth piece for this aside. “Anyway, we’re a great team. She sweeps up, wipes the place down and picks up after me, fetches my beers. She’s so easy to please. Doesn’t want anything other than me, she says. She is sweet and very talented! I swap out and service the generators, do the cooking and take the garbage to the dump. She won’t go near that place!”

“That’s nice, Olé. Nice for both of you. Very happy for you both. So, come on, out with it. What’s with the beer delivery story?”

“Oh, yeah! I almost forgot about it when we started talking about my Bella! Hard for me to not think about her!”

“Anyway, I called up the distributor, see? He already heard the Empress’ announcement. Hell, EVERYBODY did, I’m SURE! Didn’t they? And he knew for damn certain, money wasn’t worth squat, not anymore. He also knew, he was sooner or later, probably sooner, destined to be looted. He was in a tight spot! He had all this product but didn’t have any paying customers anymore. So, I brokered an arms deal. Got ten truck loads of brew delivered. Driven right into the magazine bunker, and I bolted the doors after they were inside! Also, he had this portable brewery kit, to test making new brews! I dickered for everything, the hops, the yeast, the complete microbrewery setup! Fantastic good luck, right? A fabulous deal!”

“Very astute of you, Olé. Congratulations. Hope you didn’t have to trade them nukes! You might want to consider using the bulldozer real soon! Bury that nuke magazine very very deep!”

“Never even considered it, Doc! I would NEVER give anybody our nukes!” Olé was shocked and insulted. “I traded Wally two armored vehicles, a caisson trailer, some ammo, and small arms, infantry gear, stuff like that. Thought afterwards, about putting up a sign out front. ‘Sarge’s Military Surplus,’ but, what would people use for money? I’ll wait till things calm down some more.”

“You gave them tanks?”

“Uh, You sound upset! Are you mad I gave them a tank? Only just the one! Just a 500 gallon fuel storage tank, we strapped onto the caisson, along with a reverse osmosis water filtration unit.” Olé assured her. “How is giving them the tank a bad idea?”

“What armored vehicles did you trade away, Olé?”

“An all wheel hybrid drive armored Scout-Command car and a six-by-six diesel armored transport. Wally, the distributor, wants to convert it into a RV. Where is he going to cruise without fuel?”

“Both the transport and scout have Ma Deuces mounted, so I gave them 2000 rounds of .50 cal. Also, some M60’s, M16’s, and a pile of ammo for those. And a dusty old case of use-by-but already expired M72s LAWs. Some Kevlar body armor, tents, jackets, blankets, and boots, GI clothing stuff. I let them pick over a loose pile, and take what they wanted. Good trade?” Anxious over Doc’s displeasure, Olé wanted reassurance and approval!

“Sounds to me like you gave them a million or more worth of military hardware, for ten lousy semi loads of beer.”

“A million? Not even close, Doc. Maybe that’s what it cost the Govt new, but the gov always paid ridiculous high prices. Besides it’s all used gear. Most of it. Don’t forget the micro brewery is real valuable and rare. Don’t just find those lying around! And I kept the ten trucks and trailers. Now those could be worth a million! If sometime highway shipping starts back up.”

“And another point in my favor, Doc! I didn’t have to offload the trucks. That alone, the time saved, was worth a lot! And again, I believe that micro brewery is going to be priceless! Before I’ve finished all the bottled beer, I’ll learn how to brew and bottle my own! Got a capper machine too!”

“Really? You ordered and got ten loads of long-neck bottled beer, Olé?”

“Of course! I plan way ahead, Doc. Can’t refill empty aluminum cans. Hahaha! Heehee!” Olé chortled, delighted with himself, he’d put one over on the distributor. Got the best of the deal!

“Well, it’s late and I have chores still to do before bed, so I’m going to let you go, Olé.” Doc saw Morgan listening. “Wait! Hang on a minute Olé! “I’m talking with Olé, dDid you want to say hi?”

“Hi Olé.”

“Hello Morgan, my lil’ Buddy! How’s it hanging Sport?”

“Good.”

“Did you like the present your m ... Doc made for you?” Olé stuttered past the slip-up.

“Yeah! It’s a really cool gun!” Morgan happily expressed.

“Suppose, I need to visit you and remind you again the difference between a rifle and your gun!” Olé snickered.

“No, I remember. Are you coming for a visit? That would be ever so cool!”

“Well, I wasn’t planning on it. Not right now. There’s no one else to mind the fort, so I can’t just up and leave, not just at this moment.” Olé was apologetic.

“Oh. It would be great to see you, but I understand.” Morgan sorrowed. “But if you did come, I’d let you shoot my new gun some. It’s not a rifle though. You might not like it because it’s not a rifle.”

“If it’s not a rifle, what is it?” asked Olé.

“Skeet says really is a gun! An over and under combo gun. An air-gun-shotgun combination. The shotgun is a pump action 20 gauge in a bull-pup stock, but with a .25 cal HPA barrel on top. It’s not rifled but has a hop-up gizmo at the muzzle that makes it fly farther. Gets lift from the Magnus effect. I don’t understand what that is yet, but I believe Skeet. She says it’s like reverse English on a cue ball. Never seen that either.” Morgan struggled to explain concepts outside his experience.

“Sounds like a pretty special BB-gun.” Olé agreed.

“It’s a .25 cal. Olé. Not the BB caliber, though it does cock, and load, and is a repeater just like a BB-gun. It does use some real BB-gun parts in it.” corrected Morgan. “You know what else is pretty cool? This is REALLY cool! Skeet and I made this air trap at the waterfall pool, out of cast cement over some old rusty hog wire fence we rolled around and bent into shape. We plastered it all over inside and out, with cement. Looks like a big rocket with legs. The bottom is wide open. We used the backhoe to carry it down to the waterfall and lowered it into the pool until it sits on the bottom. Only the very top point shows. That’s where we connected the airline pipe and a valve. Air bubbles in the water get trapped inside and builds up a lot of pressure. Skeet says the waterfall, even though it’s not very high, aerates the water. We collect this compressed air into a scuba tank. I use the scuba tank to charge my gun at home!”

“There’s a nitrogen gas piston ram gets pulled back when I cock my gun. Compresses the bottled air even more, just exactly the second when I shoot. Makes it shoot really fast! Cool huh?” Doc tapped her watch and gave him the cutoff sign. “ Gotta go now. Bye Olé!” and Morgan was gone.

You have a very special kid there, Doc! Smart as they come. Are you ever going to tell him, you’re really his mom?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to disrupt and upset his entire world. I would need to be convinced that is a good idea, and I can’t envision that ever happening.” Doc was firm, and seemed content with her decision. Or resigned to it, at least.

“Does he know who his dad is?”

“Shut up, Olé! Morgan’s parents are my parents, and that’s what he’s been told!. That’s what he knows and relies on. This subject is closed and not to be mentioned again! Do you hear me, Olé?” Doc was suddenly upset and very, very adamant!

“Yes, Doc! Never again! I’ve got your back. I hear you!” Olé was about to apologize for treading on sore toes, but shut-up.

“Talk to you next week, Doc. If the sat-phones die, I’ll call you on 2182 KHz.”

After a minute, Doc replied, “Okay, Olé. Be good! Enjoy your beers. Oh! If you have time, check out that hangar, will you?” and they both rang off. Doc tidied up and hit the rack.

Dan-no comes to Dinner

Olé and Bella were driving a winding route through the canyons, avoiding boulder strewn fields, and slowly picking their way towards the airfield. Doc asked they check it out. Thankfully the DGPS satellites still functioned. A trail of red dots was recorded on the GPS electronic chart, like leaving a trail of bread crumbs! They could follow the trail in reverse back to the Ranch. The red dot trail also recorded where they had retraced their steps after encountering impassable obstacles. The air was so hot and dry, that rubbing your nose could start a nose bleed. Sharp spiked dried mucous in your nasal passages can cut you. It was just like a drive in the park on a sunny afternoon. A pleasure if you were a masochist.

Eventually, they topped a low rise and could see the two hangars and an airstrip spread out on a plain below. The slope was rocky, and it was a torturous route to descend. Arriving at the second hangar, chosen because Olé decided to park beside the other, only other vehicle there. Must be the vehicle the Lieutenants drove out here. He checked it, the key was in the ignition. He twisted it to on. Tank was half full. He cranked the engine and it started, so he shut it down again. Nobody was stranded out here.

“Wait in the vehicle, Bella. I’ll probably only be a minute.” Olé walked to a standard entrance door and tried the knob. It turned and the door opened when he hauled on it. Olé crouched, weapon ready as the door swung open. Moving in, he swung his head left and right just inside the door. All clear. He cautiously proceeded inside.

“Hello, Olé.” Lt Cruz was standing in an elevator at the corner of the semi-circular dais. The lift door had slid open so silently, it had not caught Olé’s attention. “Aren’t you going to salute me?” Olé came to attention, presented arms, then returned to combat ready stance. All rapidly done.

“That is as close to removing my hands from my piece as I’m willing to do, ma’am.” Olé apologized.

“Can I offer you a cold beer?” Lt Cruz indicated the elevator and steps next to it, leading down. “There is a canteen below on the next level.”

From the top edge of the dais, Olé could see the vast extent of the level beneath. It was much larger than the perimeter of the floor-less hangar. Stout pillars at regular intervals supported the perimeter walls, and served as foundation for the above ground Hangar building. There was considerable activity amongst the squat machines and computer stations. Personnel reminded Olé of himself. Olé went down the steps, checking every inch of the way, for possible ambush. Lt Cruz descended in the lift. Glancing around the canteen when he stepped off the stairs, Olé was momentarily startled to see several Olés having lunch!

“Come, Olé. Let’s sit here.” Lt. Cruz stood behind an expressionless Olé clone sitting alone at a white circular pedestal table. Olé took a seat opposite his clone. Lt Cruz pressed her fingertips behind the clones ears and, bending low, whispered something to him. The clone’s face was suddenly animated.

He grinned at Olé. “Hi, Dad! It’s great to meet you!”

Bella walked up to their table wearing her waitress uniform and apron. “May I take your order?”

He was about to scold her for not waiting in the car, when he noticed a second Bella delivering beverages to a group of Olés at a different table.

“I don’t know if Bella and I should be flattered or not!” Olé was a bit petulant.

“Oh, flattered! Definitely flattered!” Lt Cruz assured him. “As stereotypes, you, Bella, and Doc are unique ideals! Perfect specimens of role models for the work force the Empress required. Since we already had your’s and Doc’s DNA, we easily acquired some from Bella, and made cyborg clones of the three of you. Generally, the human consciousness in the cyborgs, is enjoying orchestrated lovely fun holiday dreams. Until we need the fully awake cyborg. Programmed to function as automatons, their bodies are a free labor source. This one is awake, and you can interact with him.”

“Good to meet you too, er Son!” Olé croaked. “Er, Do you like your job?”

“It’s a living. The work is honorable, not difficult, and I’m good at it. And I’m important, useful to the Empress. She likes me.” The cloned Olé blushed. Had a thing for the Empress maybe.

“That’s good, son. I’m happy you’re happy.” Olé was anything but happy the Empress made slave clones of Bella and Doc and himself.

“Is the Empress here?” Olé asked.

Lt Cruz ordered “Sleep!” and the clone became expressionless again. She smiled at Olé and waited for him to object. Olé was a lot smarter than most people believed he was. He cultivated the crude country bumpkin myth. He knew Lt Cruz didn’t want the clone answering questions.

“A shot and a beer, sweet thing! Please!” He patted Bella’s bottom as she swayed away. She winked and gave him a flirtatious grin.

Lt. Cruz was not amused. “That constitutes sexual harassment. She could sue you!”

“Yeah, under former laws and government, she probably could. But those don’t exist now. Thanks to the Empress, I can pat and pinch bottoms all I want. I might even pinch yours! Better yet, I might even spank your bottom! You need a good spanking! Deserve one!” Olé leered at Lieutenant Cruz.

“I would have you brought up on charges. Immediately!” Lt Cruz threatened him, glaring.

“Yeah? In who’s army? I’m a civilian again and so are you! Empress disbanded the army, didn’t she?”

“So why did you give me a rifle salute?” Lt Cruz looked worried she might have misjudged Olé.

“To show you I could salute you and still keep my finger on the trigger! Showed you, I don’t fall for stupid simple tricks. You and Halke are damn smart! But I’m a little smart myself.” Olé smirked. “So, what do you call this place?”Olé asked before taking a big swig from his beer mug.

“The Palace!”

Olé dropped the full shot glass into the partially consumed beer and watched it foam up.

“Is that a boiler maker?” Lt Cruz asked. “I’ve never seen anybody drink one before.”

“You should try one. Wake up my son again and let HIM try one too!” Olé teased.

“Oh, Well! Why not! Must be quite a novelty for you. Caution, you know better than to ask sensitive questions about secure information, don’t you? Yes, you do!” Lt Cruz did the behind ear switches and whispered password again.

Olé junior grinned at Olé. “Hi, Dad! It’s great to meet you!”

Olé signaled Bella, pointed at his boiler maker, junior and himself, Cruz shook her head no. He held up two fingers in a vee for Bella. She nodded and brought shots and beers for both Olé s. I’m going to call you, Dan-no, Olé informed his clone, and you call me T’Olé. I ain’t your dad, son.”

“Why did you choose that name? Dan-no, Olé?” Lieutenant Cruz was curious.

“Well, if he was a girl, I could call her Denice. De-niece! De-nephew doesn’t work, so Dan-no is close to a male version of Denice.” Both Olés thought this was clever ... They clinked beer mugs.

After a couple rounds, Olé began feeling disoriented, as if he was in two places at the same time. Not drunk, just strange.

“I can feel your heart beating, Tio!” Olé heard inside his head.

“Can you hear my thoughts, Dan-no?” Olé mentally transmitted

“Sure can, Tio!” mentally heard.

“Alcohol affects the Right Amygdala, attenuating hostility recognition. Increasing activity during friendly relations. Making you uninhibited. That’s known. Right Amygdala is also where empathy happens. Lieutenant Halke said she wanted to discover how to enhance the clone-to-original emotional connection. I think we’ve solved it. Alcohol! But I don’t intend to tell HER!” Olé said mentally to himself and to Dan-no.

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