Secret Cargo by Christian Charles

Author:Christian, Charles [Christian, Charles]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: UrbanFantasist.com
Published: 2013-10-23T04:00:00+00:00

6. Single Malt Whisky and Venison Pies

The contents of the container live up to Meredith’s promise that Fortnumandmason is an über purveyor of luxury goods. There are packages of foodstuffs I never knew existed before. Mock-turtle soup in self-heat cans. Stilton cheeses in ceramic pots. Pastry-covered pheasant, rabbit and venison game pies. Bars of Lindt chilli-flavoured dark chocolate. Meredith assures me they are all both very expensive and highly nutritious. And there is alcohol to drink. Crates and crates of vintage Sandeman tawny port and Macallan single malt scotch whisky.

“Oh Blessed Gaia,” says Meredith, “are we going to have a party! And a bonfire, these staves are real wood.” We both turn towards each other and there is an awkward moment when we both almost hug each other but then shy away.

“I’ve been thinking,” Meredith adds, “we ought to unload all the cargo now.”

“Why, you little slave-driver?” I ask. Not only are there a lot of crates and boxes to shift but the container space they are already stacked in seems to be a perfectly safe place to leave them.

“Just in case the semi-autonomous AI gets it into its mind to fly off somewhere else. We don’t want to wake up one morning and find this bird has flown!”

Reluctantly I nod my head. I don’t want to move all these crates but I also don’t want to risk losing this cargo. It could be the difference between life and death. There’s also a shadow of a doubt at the back of my mind about the AI. Tradition holds that while going through final programming, the engineers run a personality test and then name the AI after a historical character, real or fictional, with whom the AI most closely shares the same psychological traits. So why is this AI named after a nineteenth century French author often described as the father of science fiction?

I’m resigned to moving all the cargo myself, as I’m the man about this house, but Meredith volunteers to help me and seems to find it easier to haul the boxes around than I do. Fifteen minutes into our parcel moving double act, I accidentally drop one of the boxes. It is one of the crates of chocolate bars so nothing delicate or too breakable is at stake but as it falls from my arms, it bounces across the floor of the container and hits the far wall of the unit with a firm but hollow sounding thump.

Immediately this happens, a warning announcement blares into life:

WARNING - WARNING: ITEMS IN SECOND UNIT NOT FOR GENERAL UTILITY

As one, we stop and stare at each other. “What second unit?” asks Meredith. “I thought the far wall the box rolled into marked the full extent of this container.”

“There must be another compartment concealed in that end wall.” I reply. “I wonder what’s hidden in there?”

“Something very valuable I’m guessing, like maybe jewellery? I was starting to wonder if there was something else going on. I mean although this food and drink

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