Jake & Chearice: Lightspeed

By John W Partington

A new threat envelopes the omni-verse as Jake and Chearice tackle: enemies, first contact, and engagement. With difficulties between corbellian traditions and pay problems, a new evil is slowly spreading through the Department of Inter-Dimensional Affairs. This evil has a personal vendetta against Jake, and will stop at nothing until Jake Sloan is dead.

• Language: English
• Publisher: John W Partington
• Release date: Jun 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781777237585

John W Partington

I have been writing for most of my life: as a child, as a soldier, and now as an independent author. My favourite colour is purple. I have two cats, who choose to annoy me most when I am trying to write. I'm a middle aged white dude suffering from psychosis, but with medication am perfectly stable (except for singing to my cats).

Book preview

Jake & Chearice: Lightspeed

John W Partington

Published by John W Partington at Smashwords

Copyright © 2019 John W Partington

Copyright © 2020 John W Partington 2nd editon

ISBN: 978-1-7772375-8-5

Cover art © https://www.123rf.com/profile_antishock'>antishock / 123RF Stock Photo

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Acknowledgements: I would like to thank my beta reader, Cynthia Massimiliano who pointed out some plot difficulties. I would also like to thank my editors, Sylvia Melba McGee (author of 4/3 A Baby Boomer Memoir), and Gerry Kroll. Both fulfilled my needs and expectations beyond my hopes and dreams. That means they did a great job.

Note from the Author: I’m not a science guy. The protagonist is not a science guy. Neither of us really knows why the universe works the way it does, but we’re comfortable with that. If you find flaws in the science (and you will) of the story, by all means share. It’s the only way I’ll learn and improve.

Contents:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Character Short 1

Character Short 2

Character Short 3

More about John W Partington

Chapter 1 - Vacation

Jake, I’ve got a problem I need you to solve, Tyson said as he stood at the entrance to Jake’s cubicle. Jake looked at the sasquatch, and for the briefest of moments considered uttering a profanity.

It’s Monday morning; can’t it wait until after I get back from vacation? Jake asked instead. I’m only here to put on my out of office notification and get you to sign my leave pass. Whatever problem there is can wait two and a half weeks.

No it can’t, Tyson corrected, All that overtime you put in on Operation Quarantine has resulted in an overpayment to your account. By department regulation I can’t issue any leave until the situation is resolved.

From Operation Quagmire? Jake clarified.

Technically it was a raid, and I don’t think we ever really named it, Tyson agreed, But yes. The pay system gave you too much money and now they want it back, and I can’t let you go anywhere until the situation is resolved.

What’s resolved? Chearice asked as she came up to the cubicle. Jake’s heart skipped a beat. Chearice was immaculately dressed in a business jacket with a pencil skirt, the first outfit she had worn when Jake met her three weeks earlier.

My pay is screwed up, Jake answered, and now the man isn’t letting me go on vacation until it’s fixed.

So fix it, Chearice said, and be quick about it. Our flight leaves in five hours. I still have to go back to my place and pack. Tyson, she turned to the sasquatch, Is my pay okay?

As far as I know, Tyson admitted.

Can you sign my leave pass? Chearice held out a piece of paper and a pen. Tyson took both in his large paws and scrawled his name across the appropriate signature block.

Thank you, Chearice smiled, her fangs glistening.

A pleasure, Tyson beamed back. Jake. Pay. Get on it, and God go with you. The sasquatch left; Chearice glided into Jake’s visitor chair, and sat there grinning.

I’ve got a surprise for you, she finally announced.

I really don’t think I can deal with any more surprises, Jake admitted.

I upgraded our room to an ocean view with a balcony, and we get a free bottle of champagne as we’re newlyweds.

We’re not married.

They don’t need to know that, Chearice replied. How long is your pay problem going to take to fix?

I have no idea, Jake admitted. With the new pay system everything is becoming fubar.

Well you better get over to Finance and Administration Branch and get it sorted out. You’ve got four hours and fifty minutes until the jet takes off. If you’re not on it, well, my vacation won’t be as much fun without you. Jake admitted defeat and got out of his chair.

Want to come with me? Jake asked.

No, Chearice replied a little too quickly. My pay is fine.

Then why are you afraid to come with me?

I want my pay to stay fine, Chearice admitted, I don’t see any reason to send them digging.

You could be there for moral support, Jake suggested.

I could also wedge splinters under my fingernails, which would be almost as much fun, she kissed him on the cheek. Now go solve your pay problem so we can go on our romantic vacation. I’ll make it worth your while.

I love you, Jake enounced each word separately, but I get the feeling that the pay issue is just the start of my problems.

Go, Chearice swatted him playfully. I’ll take care of your desk work until you get back.

The Department of Inter-Dimensional Affairs was the biggest government department ever devised. It occupied a complex of five towers, collectively referred to as the Didagon. Each tower was the size of the Pentagon on Delta-Four’s Earth, but twenty-two floors in height and also having a number of basements and sub-basements. Nobody was actually sure how big the complex really was, and there were rumours that the engineer who designed it went mad by the time the blueprints were complete.

The Department, called DIDA in slang, consisted of thirteen branches, each with a separate mandate. Finance and Administration Branch, where Jake was headed, was responsible for the overseeing of all paperwork which kept the department running. That included pay. It took Jake twenty minutes to find the pay advisor responsible for his account, and when Jake got to that person’s desk he found a tent card on the desk indicating the person was on vacation.

Perfect, Jake muttered as he looked for any indication of whom he should talk to as an alternate.

What’s perfect? asked a huge spider with blonde hair on her scalp as she came out of a neighboring cubicle.

I’m having pay issues, Jake answered.

And you want to have pay issues? the spider asked.

No. I want them resolved.

Then you’ve come to the right place, the spider smiled, sending venom streaming down her fangs. My name is Charlotte. I’m the team lead for this group. How can I help?

I don’t know, Jake admitted, My team lead told me I was overpaid, and before he could sign off on my vacation I had to get it sorted out. I assume there’s a process.

You shouldn’t assume, Charlotte replied. It makes an ass out of you and me.

But? Jake ventured.

There’s a process, Charlotte admitted. Come into my parlor, said the spider to the guy. Jake rolled his eyes as he took the visitor chair in Charlotte’s cubicle. The walls were plastered with sports posters, predominantly basketball, and one athlete in particular.

That’s Onaceaous Cray, Charlotte saw Jake looking at the posters, best spider to ever handle a brick.

I play squash, Jake said. It’s less of a team sport and more of trying to do your best.

Just let me start up Firebird, Charlotte started to type commands into her computer.

What is that anyway? Jake asked.

Firebird is the new pay system we launched at the beginning of fiscal a couple of weeks ago, Charlotte answered. Theoretically it consolidates all pay under one budget so that resources can be managed out of a central authority.

Resources, Jake laughed.

Resources are people, assets are furniture, Charlotte smiled, a truly frightening sight. Can I have your full name, birthdate, department ID, home address, mother’s maiden name, shoe size, and skull circumference, please?

Really? Jake asked.

Security. Here, she handed over a pad of paper, write it down; it’ll be easier. Jake took a few minutes to write down the requested information and then handed it over. Charlotte started to type as only a person with four extra arms can. There was the clack of keys and a flurry of bushy arms.

Alright Jake, according to Firebird, you worked six and a half hours of overtime on Tuesday without authorization. That’s over the unauthorized overtime threshold by thirty minutes. The system paid you anyway, but miscalculated the penalties for unauthorized employment.

It was authorized, Jake complained.

By whom? Not by Tyson Stomphard, Charlotte looked at the screen.

By Voss the Boss, Jake answered.

By the Acting Deputy Director? That’s impressive, but he didn’t have it coded properly. You owe us money.

How much money? Jake asked.

Penalties, infringements, subsidies, Charlotte muttered as she scrolled down the screen, less blah, blah, blah. It comes out to two cents.

I owe you two cents? Jake stammered.

Yup, Charlotte answered with a completely straight face.

My vacation is being held up over two cents?

That seems to be the case.

Well, I think I have a couple of pennies, Jake started to fish in his pockets.

Oh sorry, Charlotte waved her pincers, for anything over ten dollars we’ll take it off your next pay. For amounts under ten dollars we require a certified cheque. We’re not allowed to take cash.

You want me to go to the bank, and pay twelve dollars to get a bank draft for two cents?

That seems to be the solution, Charlotte answered.

That’s asinine!

But it’s the policy, Charlotte agreed. It discourages unauthorized overtime. You could also go see Voss and get him to code it properly. That would also solve everything. There’s no argument with Firebird. It’s a fairly black and white system.

Does it work? Jake asked.

It’s a black and white system, Charlotte repeated.

So it doesn’t work.

It works as well as expected, Charlotte said while shaking her head no.

Right, I’ll go see Voss. That seems to be the easier solution.

Twenty minutes later, after a three mile jog across towers, floors, and around security areas, Jake arrived on the twenty-first floor of C tower. The outer workplaces of the Deputy Director’s office were covered in drop cloths, tools, splatters of paint, and hard-hat workers who were making a lot of noise but didn’t seem to be doing much else. In one corner, like an oasis of calm, a blue-skinned woman sat at a small desk pushed against the wall.

How’s tricks, Trixx? Jake asked the blue-skinned woman.

This place is insane right now Jake, Trixx answered. What can I do for you?

I need to see Voss, Jake started.

Impossible. Trixx interrupted, He’s meeting with the Director right now and then is booked back to back all day. You know, I thought the raise and promotion were going to be worth it, but this is a lot more work than it’s worth.

I’m sure it will be better once the renovations are over, Jake consoled. I’ve got a pay problem that only Voss can solve. He coded my overtime, Jake lowered his voice conspiratorially, on the last mission, wrongly.

I still don’t see how we’re involved, Trixx admitted.

I need Voss to code it right or I can’t go on vacation. Firebird won’t let me.

Ugh, Trixx sighed. Do you know how many complaints I get about Firebird in a day? Apparently they rushed the system under orders from high levels of command, but nobody can find the e-mail to prove it. They all agree they saw it, but can’t remember who sent it or retained a copy.

It’s a ghost, Jake agreed, but if Voss doesn’t sign off on the overpayment I miss out on a two week adults only cruise with my girlfriend.

Adults only? Behave.

That’s not the point of an adults only cruise, Jake suggested.

I can sign off on the overpayment. Trixx said, How much was it?

Two cents, Jake answered.

You’re rattling my cage over two cents?

It’s my vacation at stake. In a little over four hours I’m supposed to be sipping chilled wine while jetting down to the tropics. Please, pretty please with whatever it is you put on top of ice-cream, fix the problem.

That’s break! the foreman of the renovation team shouted as he took off his hard hat.

No! Trixx jumped from her seat, No, no, no, no! You said this would be done today. There are no breaks until I get my office back!

Begging your pardon Miss Trixx, the foreman answered, he looked to be some sort of giant bipedal weasel, but the union says we’re on break right now, for an hour. You don’t want to upset the union do you?

I guess not, Trixx settled back into her chair as the workmen started to shuffle out of the office. Stupid union, she muttered under her breath.

About that overpayment, Jake started to say.

I’ve got something you want, Trixx interrupted while reaching out to caress Jake’s bicep, and you’ve got something I want.

Which would be what? Jake asked suspiciously.

Well, with your big strong arms, Trixx batted her eyelashes, You could pick up that paint brush and put on a coat of paint in the time it takes the workers to get back. Chop chop.

You want me to paint your office? Jake questioned.

Yeah, Trixx answered.

You do realize I saved your life and the existence of every being in the known omni-verse?

That was so two days ago, Trixx barked. What have you done for me lately? Get the brush; get the paint while I work on your Firebird problem.

This is blackmail, Jake complained, as he picked up a roller brush.

It’s negotiation, Trixx corrected.

It’s still duress.

I’m sure Chearice would find somebody nice on the boat to hang out with. I’m not sure, but she wouldn’t be alone for long.

Fine Jake sighed as he rolled the brush in a tray of paint.

You have to cut the corners first, Trixx advised.

Luckily the reception area was fairly small. Ninety minutes later Jake put the roller brush into an empty tray. The walls were covered in two coats of semi-gloss beige, as were parts of the floor, furniture, and Jake. Trixx was at her desk filing her nails with an emery board.

Did you fix my pay problem? Jake asked.

Almost, she answered, Are you done painting?

Yes. Trixx looked up from her nails and surveyed the job.

Okay, she said and pressed the enter key. There was a small beep, and then a message flashed on the screen for a fraction of a second. You’re good, she announced.

That’s it? Jake asked.

What did you expect?

What in the name of Moses’ hairy nut happened here! the foreman of the work crew shouted as he came into the office, surrounded by his cohort of construction workers.

He painted, Trixx pointed a finger at Jake. The weasel sidled up to Jake, coming level with Jake’s chest but still managing to bear down on the human.

Did you paint this office? the foreman demanded.

Yes, Jake answered, but under duress.

Duress?

Yes.

The nymph was holding a gun to your head and said ‘paint the office or I pull the trigger’?

She was working on a Firebird pay problem for me, Jake glanced over to see Trixx wincing, and it seemed like a good way to repay the favour. Jake backed off throwing Trixx under the bus, I didn’t think you would mind.

How did you do it? the weasel asked.

Well, Jake paused to recollect, First I cut all the corners with a four inch brush, and then I rolled on the paint with a roller following a W pattern to get an even coat. It took forty minutes, I did it twice.

You did a good job, the foreman appraised. A little messy, but we’re laying laminate on the ground so it doesn’t matter. Now here’s the important question. Are you a member of the labour union?

I’m a member of a union, Jake answered.

Is it the labour union?

It’s the International Government Operators Platform and Employee Exchange.

You’re a member of I GO PEE?

Yes, Jake admitted.

Then why the fuck in the name of my succulent scrotum are you doing our job! the weasel shouted. This is an outrage! This is blatant scab work. This is…

We’ll code it to your cost centre, Jake interrupted.

Oh, we’re good then, the foreman calmed down. He handed Jake a business card, You do good, though unauthorized work. If you ever leave your job and want to slum in the trenches give me a call. Alright boys, the foreman handed Jake a card as he addressed his crew. That’s break!

But you just got back! Trixx exclaimed.

We got back to paint, the weasel looked around. Painting’s done. When we get back to lay the floor it better not already be done. The crew shuffled out of the office.

Trixx, can you code to their cost centre? Jake waved his hand at the departing workers.

Yeah, Trixx grumbled. Enjoy your vacation.

I’ve got fifty minutes to make it to the airport. Thanks Trixx. Jake pulled out his cell phone and punched in a familiar number. Crate, Jake spoke into the receiver, I need a ride in twenty minutes.

Jake skidded to a halt on the carpet in front of Tyson’s cube, clutching a piece of paper in his hand. Tyson was talking with Xixs about the encroachment of Eta-Eight cockroaches into neighboring dimensions.

It’s not like it’s our fault, Xixs complained. We’ve just as much right to expand as anything warm blooded and furry.

Not all mammals are furry, Tyson commented.

Name one that isn’t, Xixs challenged.

Naked mole rats. Even their name implies no fur.

Well most aren’t as furry as you, I’ll admit, but Jake and Chearice both have sparse fur on them.

That’s hair not fur, Tyson corrected.

What’s the difference? Xixs asked.

It’s the texture and density and purpose. Fur is thick to keep us warm. Hair is used to attract a mate.

Are you two done jerking my chain? Jake blurted out loud enough to be heard over the cube farm.

Almost, Tyson admitted as he winked at Xixs.

Do cats have pubic hair? Xixs changed the topic. I mean they’re covered in fur, but do they get extra bushy during adolescence?

I’ll ask Mouse, Jake answered as he shoved the paper at Tyson. Sign it! Tyson raised an eyebrow. Please, Jake added. My ride is here in six minutes, I have to get home, pack, let Mouse know I won’t be around for a month, and then get to the airport.

A month? Tyson stammered.

What are you going to do for a month? Xixs asked.

We’re going antiquing, Jake answered.

Really? Xixs asked as Tyson started to sign the page.

No. We’re going to drink and fuck, not necessarily in that order. Less talking more signing.

I’m not the one who has been talking, Tyson finished a long, loopy signature, and then handed the sheet over. Enjoy yourself, Tyson continued, because it looks like you’ve burnt all your accumulated vacation.

Worth it! Jake started to beat feet toward the exit.

Hey Jake, Martin stood up from his cube holding a phone receiver dripping in slug slime. Somebody named Charlotte is trying to get a hold of you. She says there’s a pay problem.

Not my problem, Jake shouted as he held the leave pass above his head like a flag.

Stop that mammal! Tyson shouted as he ran after Jake. Jake picked up speed as he ran around Dora the Safety Warden, followed by Tyson and Xixs, and Martin slowly oozing up the rear.

None of you better be carrying scissors! Dora shouted as the parade went past her. Jake skittered around a corner into the stair well, to slide down the stairwell banister as Tyson huffed down the stairs.

Jake be reasonable! Tyson shouted as Jake bolted out the grav-pad to where Crate’s cab was parked.

Crate! Start the car! Jake shouted as he leapt into the air, and dove through the open rear window.

Jake! the large lizard started, that’s new upholstery!

Go, go, go! Jake shouted as he prowled around the passenger side of the vehicle slamming the door locks closed. Tyson came up to the side of the grav-car, tried the door handle without any enthusiasm, and then smiled.

God go with you, Tyson stepped back as the car lifted off.

Home? Crate asked.

Yes. You’re waiting to take me to the airport while I pack. I’ve got about half an hour to get everything done.

I can get you home in seven minutes, and it takes twenty minutes to get to the airport from your place. You’ve got three minutes to pack my friend. Grab a tooth brush and clean underwear, declare victory and get back to the grav-pad.

After six and a half minutes Jake was riding the elevator from the roof of his apartment building to his floor. He jingled the keys on the way into the apartment, only to find Mouse rushing about the kitchen throwing things at a duffle bag.

Jake, Mouse started.

No time, Jake shouted as he went to the bathroom to grab his toothbrush.

No, I don’t have time, Mouse corrected as he heaved the gunny sack full of kitchen implements. I have to get to the airport.

That’s right, Jake replied as he headed into his room, I have to get to the airport.

No, Mouse sighed, I have to get to the airport.

Why do you have to get to the airport? Jake paused as he was stuffing clean clothing into a backpack.

Chez Meeger is closing for a month during renovations, Mouse answered. But I still have to make rent so got a job as the executive chef on a cruise ship. If I don’t get to the airport soon I’ll miss my flight to the boat. People are counting on me.

People are counting on you? Jake scoffed.

Hungry people are still people, Mouse suggested. Why are you going to the airport?

Ten day cruise with Chearice, Jake admitted, I’ve got a cab waiting. Take this, he thrush the knapsack into Mouse’s paws as he picked up the heavy duffle bag. Let’s go! The two raced to the elevator, where they found a giant cockroach wearing a frock bathrobe and shower cap, with a scrub brush in the crook of one of her four arms.

Hello Jake, hello Mouse, the cockroach smiled at them.

Hi Mrs. Ackler, Jake answered.

I’ve got to go up to my friend Mildred’s to take a shower, Mrs. Ackler explained. My plumbing is out. It’s so hard to get good help from the mammals in this building.

Yes Mrs. Ackler, Jake and Mouse moaned at the same time. The elevator door binged open and the three of them got in. Jake punched the button for the roof grav-pad.

What floor? Jake asked Mrs. Ackler.

Eight, she replied. Jake pressed the number eight and the doors slid shut. They opened two floors later.

No wait, Mrs. Ackler paused. Ten. I think Mildred lives on ten. Jake sighed, slammed the door close button and pressed ten. Two floors later the doors opened up.

Come to think of it, the cockroach paused again, I thing she lives on twelve. I’ll recognize it when I see it. I know it’s an even numbered floor. We’ll just have to try them all. But such was not to happen. Mouse hip checked the elderly woman out the door, and sent her sprawling onto the hall carpet.

Take a bath! Mouse shouted as he slammed the close button and held it.

Mouse! Jake gaped at the cat.

There’s twenty floors in this building, Mouse explained as he licked a paw, and then brushed it against his whiskers. It’s not like I shoved her down a flight of stairs.

Yeah, I suppose, Jake acquiesced as the elevator opened onto the roof.

Gentlemen Crate smiled with a jaw full of fangs. The lizard put their bags into the trunk and then slid into the driver’s seat. We’ll really have to motor. You’re late, and I wasn’t expecting Mouse to join us. Not that it matters. How’re you doing Mouse?

I just body checked an old woman to get here, Mouse answered. So don’t spare the horses, or unicorns, or mammoths, or whatever you have under the hood. Get us to the airport in fifteen minutes and Jake will triple your tip.

Yes Sir, Crate lifted off. Fourteen minutes later the pair tumbled out of the cab at the airport. Jake thumbed a hefty tip into the pay box, and then the two ran for their gates. They nearly collided in a heap as they tried to get through the same turnstile.

This is my gate! Jake complained as he attempted to dislodge himself from the cat.

No it’s my gate, Mouse swatted at Jake’s hands with his paws.

Wait, Jake paused, what ship are you the chef for?

Temptress of the Seas, Mouse answered, and his eyes narrowed. What boat are you vacationing on?

Temptress of the Seas, Jake growled. Did you plan this?

Jake, Mouse did his best to look consoling, you’re my friend, but only my friend. I’m not going to go with you on an adults only cruise, no matter how cute you are. I swing a lot of ways, but not that way. Besides.

Mouse! a lanky black cat came trooping toward him.

Sasha is my date, Mouse finished. Walking beside Sasha was Chearice, dragging two travel sized roller suitcases.

You two look like you ran a marathon, Chearice smiled at Jake. Why the rush? Didn’t you get my text? Jake pulled out his cell phone and read the short message.

Flight is delayed two hours, Jake showed Mouse the screen.

Crap, Mouse pouted.

They’re holding the ship, Chearice advised. "A