Spaceways - Corundums Woman Part 16

The new thought hit him. In this case there'was probably a tap on the account. An alarm had probably gone off somewhere the moment he had used his Haddad card to access the account at Velyndabank. An 201.

agent or agents were probably already scrambling to converge on this public comm booth.

Jonuta left it.

Jonuta was ruined on Franji. He was n.o.body and nothing on Franji. Haj Seablood had nothing. Luggage in a hotel, and a few members.h.i.+ps. A few stell notes for use as tips. That was the extent of Haj Seablood on Franji. Eri Haddad had never existed and still did not-and now he had nothing. Kislar Jonuta had a s.h.i.+p and crew docked above-and he hadn't even the stells to pay the hotel or the fare up to Franjistation.

He had been tracked and found and hit expertly, hit hard. Now he fled, hunted and fearful. And trying to think.

Resourceful Captain Cautious was an outlaw. An outlaw could not protest, inst.i.tute legal action, make pleas as others could. He must take, and take, and depend on himself, and find ways to escape and to abide and survive. And, perhaps, to fight back.

Captain Cautious had not been cautious enough. Now he could not even be cool. Panic sought to seize him and he tried to elude it, to fight it off-while fleeing almost in panic. Fleeing that comm booth in a city where he was next to penniless, he tried to think.

By the time he reached the Royal Franjis he had regained enough control to think with something approaching rationality. He had not been caught or, to his knowledge, spotted and followed. He was ruined- and yet new confidence surged, for he had realized that he was still not without resources, on Franji.

Less than a year ago he had set up a just-in-case here, for Kenowa.

"Some people just can't seem to like me," he had told her, with a very small smile. "If one of them succeeds in taking me out, I want you retired more than comfortably. It's my pride, of course," he had added, as if embarra.s.sed by her glistening eyes and grat.i.tude. He had set it all up while feeling guilty about bis 202.

foolishness, the liaison with Countess Reesapantarii. "Countess Squeezer" and Haj had met at a party and spent the next several days-Franji-and nights, oh yes the nights-together. Arid, of course, the time had come when he took leave of her and returned to Kenowa . . . after setting her up with a false-I.D. retirement, here on Franji. Just in case. Under that other name, Kenowa had a nice piece of an apt-complex here, and an interest-bearing credaccount. Her Franjese I.D. card was stashed. Both he and she knew where. All she had to do was use the card. She could decide for herself whether to continue to use that I.D., to become that person-if ever necessity arose.

Necessity had arisen, but not because Captain Jon-uta had been taken out. Someone was after him in another way, and had done a superb job of it. However . . .

. He was nervous entering the hotel, and worked not to show it. Nothing happened. He and Kenowa did not check out. The need to move was too great to give her time to weep for him, for them, even with all he told her. They left the Royal Franjis together and went together to take possession of that card, and a bit of its cred. The card was in a permabox, permanently paid for, in the depository in the Citizens' Bureau. That's what the Franjese government called it, anyhow. Jon-uta liked the idea of letting the government watch over Kenowa's property for him. No one could open this drawer-safely-but Kenowa, or Jonuta. In the public hall that was always brightly lit with alarms and guards at the doors, he watched her open the permabox. It was empty.

15.

Remember, things always look darkest just before they go totally black.

Roger Dennis Coronet rode the s.p.a.ceways.

Bleak was "close" to Franji, and so was Front. But on each of those planets Jonuta had only enough cred to enable him to visit without cash or trade goods. The SIPAc.u.m computer he called First Mate, along with his own course guidance ca.s.sette, were directing Coronet to Jasbir.

Jasbir, where slavery was entirely legal. Where Badakeacorp could not keep up with demand for its interactive calculators. Jasbir, source of the mini-holo-projectors used so imaginatively by Captain Jonuta. Where the slaver Jonuta was welcome and TGO was not. Jasbir, where the slaver Jonuta had investments sufficient to finance four months' princely living.

On Jasbir he was owed various favors-on-call, too, by no less than three individuals.

Coronet rode the s.p.a.ceways, on course for Jasbir.

Jonuta had not bothered trying to collect on the 203 204.

favors owed him by the Franjese. He did not want to hear their replies-or chance violent ones. The seeming sorcerous instrument of his ruination seemed to know everything, to have thought of everything. To be capable of accomplis.h.i.+ng anything and everything. In that case he had no friends left on Franji, and no favors owing. None that would be admitted or paid, anyhow.

He was forced to write off Franji, where he had been someone, his Haj Seablood persona unpenetrated; and where he had enough wealth to buy another s.h.i.+p and outfit it as expensively as Coronet. And where an act of love had set Kenowa up for life, just in case.

Gone. Gone.

Why? That is, it was not that the slaver Jonuta had not merited interference and worse. The point was, a.s.sume that it was TGO. And the question followed naturally: Why now?

Why not last year, or last month, or two or five or eleven years-standard ago? Why not next year or two or six years-standard hence? That was it, aside from the anguish of his ma.s.sive loss. Why . . . now?

It was not a question of what had he done. It was a question of what had he done recently, that was so ghastly? What had triggered this expert and horribly effective attack? An attack that was all the more crus.h.i.+ng because it was Indirect, multiple, and thorough.

(When he and Kenowa discovered that the perma-box had been-impossibly-entered and robbed, that she had no I.D. on Franji, that all he had set up for her was gone, too . . . then he had had the horrible thought. Coronet! Suppose-O Booda no, no, not the s.h.i.+p, not beloved Coronet, the perfect s.h.i.+p! Not that too. Not after all these years of laboriously and hyper-expensively outfitting and equipping it. Not Coronet! Not until later did he consider the awful prospect of being stranded on Franji, without funds, cred, or friends. Naked! His first thoughts were all of the s.h.i.+p itself. Its loss would be unsupportable. He had to find 205.

out or try to prevent any pirating of it, and he had to do it then. Never mind the bill at the Royal Franjis. Never mind their possessions there. They hadn't the means of settling the charge for the Sultana Suite anyhow. He had rushed to the Franjistation terminal. There he deliberately used the Haj Seablood card- knowing it would be respected, and that the charge would never be settled-and got them ferried up to the station. Coronet was there. Coronet, Sakyo, s.h.i.+g, Sweetface, that d.a.m.ned Tweedle-dee; all were fine. They had no notion of the disaster that had befallen their captain and perhaps themselves. Ready to defend if necessary, he had settled the bill for Coronet's thorough checking, using a bit of cargo he preferred not to part with. That was necessary to gain clearance to depart, which he requested immediately. His skin p.r.i.c.kled . . . and he had been cleared at once. All precautions were unnecessary. Coronet whipped away from Franjistation, and into deep s.p.a.ce. Then, out amid the star-spattered indigo, Jonuta's adrenaline high evaporated and he began sagging into . . . what he had become.) Why now?

Jonuta agonized over that. He brooded while Coronet plunged toward Jasbir. In less than a day-standard he somehow took on an underfed appearance. He looked unrested, older, even smaller. He worked with his Mate constantly. Inputting SIPAc.u.m with recent acts and possibilities, gaining computer estimates of possible consequences and probabilities. He hovered over the con, over SIPAc.u.m, and he kept at it like a man possessed by some demonic force. Anguish festered in him. Anger boiled in him, exuded from him, exploded from him. He was no fit company for anyone. He was not Jonuta, not the Jonuta anyone knew. The others of Coronet tried to understand, to make allowances. They tried.

Already there had been trouble on Coronet; tension, before the visit to Franji. Now it was worse.

206 JOHN CLEVB.

The captain had no sympathy for his long-time crew-member and companion from Jarpi. The captain was short with Sakyo and Kenowa and s.h.i.+g, but he was worse than short with Sweetface. Always it was because of the Jarp's half-wit companion.

When this ever-distracted new Jonuta wanted something, he wanted it five minutes ago, no matter who was on duty or off and no matter what activity he interrupted. When he was preoccupied with his constant postulating of why, he was more than distracted. Nothing was important enough to merit interrupting his thoughts, his endless brooding and working or "working" with SIPAc.u.m. Let the interrupter beware!

That was not Jonuta. Worse, it was not Captain Cautious. Kenowa feared the consequences of a possible in-s.p.a.ce confrontation by another s.h.i.+p. The most competent eluder and trickster along the s.p.a.ceways was gone, to be replaced by this new person wearing Jonuta's body with the new dark rings under the eyes. The gaunt, staring eyes.

He chewed them all, and Sweetface received the brunt.

Sweetface was railed at, accused, cursed, blamed (because of Tweedle-dee) for everything from "tardiness to the con-cabin" to "inattention to the con" to the glitch in the waste recycler to a stray comet that must have been on a million year-standard cycle. And Coronet rushed on toward Jasbir, a, s.h.i.+p about as happy as H.M.S. Bounty.

Then Jonuta went too far, naturally.

Sweetface could understand or try to, could make allowances and take more than it should or thought possible. But then Jonuta came upon Tweedle-dee when he was rus.h.i.+ng along the s.h.i.+p's tunnel. He yelled Ms order for "her" to get out of his way. The confused Jarp froze. Jonuta shoved it, banging it into the bulkhead, and stormed on his way. And he had gone too far.

207.

Sweetface was a humanized Jarp. The residents of Jarpi were all territorial and interprotective to begin with. Those who had long interacted with humans were doubly so. In love or long infatuation, territoriality and protectiveness were magnified unto exaggeration. Sweetface had become exaggeratedly, ridiculously protective. It resembled the daughter or son willing to insult and break with the parent because of slight to the offspring's intended. Whether attributed to biology or psychology, it was a strong force. Sweetface went seeking his captain.

"Well?" the glowering travesty of Jonuta snarled. "Do it!"

"Tle'e-wheefl p'l-"

"And turn on your d.a.m.ned f.u.c.kin' translator, you ignorant f.u.c.kin' Jarp!"

Sweetface did. It spoke formally. "I am no more ignorant than I ever was, Captain. You are distracted and don't realize it. I do not understand your urging me to 'do it,' Captain."

"You came at me looking all mean and protective to-what? To hit me? Bang me around a little or a lot? Use your stopper on me?"

Sweetface stared from enormous black eyes set in a strangely sweet, elfin-chinned face. "I cannot imagine either of us striking the other, Captain."

Neither could Jonuta, but he was committed, and he managed not to show any remorse.

"That is not why I came here-angry, true. Angry with justification, Captain. This is no happy s.h.i.+p and I am no happy Jarp. Now Tweedle-dee is as miserable as-you, Captain. Tweedle-dee has tried. I have tried. I feel great empathy-and sympathy-for you, and wish I could help you. My great hope is that all is well for my captain and old friend on Jasbir and Panish and on Qalara."

"Well then? I don't want your d.a.m.ned effing sympathy and I don't need to be told that Tweedle-dumb 208.

is a miserable creature, a miserable excuse! You're blinded by infatu-"

Jonuta stopped. He had not lost all control. Jonuta, Captain Cautious, still existed in him. He heard himself, and he curbed himself. He saw the Jarp's reaction.

Sweetface stood stiff as rigor mortis, but its eyes were far from moribund. They were full of fire. The scarlet hair and bright orange skin suddenly reminded Jonuta of a volcano. He rediscovered his own sense and broke off, but he did not apologize. He never knew whether it might have changed anything, had he apologized and tried to start this conversation anew.

"I will not know about Panish and Qalara, Captain. Please compute our settlement. I leave Coronet on Jasbir, and I leave you."

"Leave-me?!"

"Yes, Captain."

"For-for that-for Tweedle-dee?"

"Has Captain Jonuta really never been in love?"

Jonuta stared at the Jarp, feeling that question as he'd have felt a blood-drawing pinch. "You . . . really ..."

Sweetface nodded. "What I have said is truth and final, by the p.e.n.i.s of my mother and the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of my father. My chosen companion-:of Jarpi-and I will take no more from you, human. We part, Captain Jonuta, and I wish you nothing but well."

"You-you-" (Sweetface stared, for it had never seen Jonuta come even close to sputtering, before now) "-you expect a recommendation from me after this?"

"No, Captain Jonuta. I expect settlement and a printout of my record and competence, my rating. I do not expect to tell anyone what s.h.i.+p I have served on, if I can avoid it."

Jonuta's mental state led him to misinterpret, and to interrupt. "Shame, Sweetface?" he asked, lifting the corner of his lip.

"Never, Captain Jonuta! I don't wish to be ques- 209.

tioned, or suspected, or used in some way against you. I wish to be no source of possible betrayal to you. You thought of that long ago, when you logged me as second mate on s.p.a.cer Skylark, and registered that s.h.i.+p."

"It exists only as a computer memory!"

"Yes. It should not be hard for me. I don't expect to be recognized, after all. All us Jarps look alike to you humans, don't we?"

And Sweetface saluted, most formally, and left its captain's presence.

Jonuta did nothing about it. He could have done, perhaps successfully. He did not. Instead he plunged deeper into anguish, understandable self-pity, and the not understandable blaming of others. He began to move in a dangerous and ugly direction: from having made the s.h.i.+p's computer his best friend to making it his only friend.

Kenowa anguished with him and for him, but not in his company. He was almost the old Jonuta with her, in private. Almost. The difference reminded her of what had been. Next would come his "Don't look at me that way!" and that would be that for the two of them, again. And like as not he would head for his true friend and confidant. First mate, Coronet: SIPA-c.u.m. Together, they resumed seeking the answer to the question of Why Now.

Coronet fled past the eternal beacons of suns toward the one its guidance ca.s.sette singled out as destination. Huygens, around which turned Jasbir, like a b.u.mblebee on a string. And within Coronet was no happy person. One of them grimly accessed the record of his Jarp crewmember, and with his nonhuman s.h.i.+p's mate he arrived at what Sweetface was owed.

The amount was impressive.

It was hideously so, to a man who had just lost a fortune.

Then they swept in past Huygens and within its sys- 210.

tern, and slowed to a crawl. Now they were within easy communication range.

When the message came that he was not welcome on Jasbir, or even at Jasbirstation, Jonuta went into something approaching shock.

"Panish," Kenowa later suggested. Carefully, diffidently. Jonuta was hardly Jonuta anymore. Anything might offend or anger him or worse.

"No," he snarled. "They'll have got to me there, too! No! Set course for Front! I haven't relaxed in the good old Black Hole Bar for years!"

Because Front was a nothing planet with ankle-high development, Kenowa thought. But she found the ca.s.sette and, checking it twice because her eyes were misting, inslotted it. Coronet revectored and rushed toward the planet named Front.

16.

Detached reflection cannot be demanded in the presence of an upraised knife.

Oliver Wendell Holmes The morning after that s.e.x-filled night on Thebanis, Janja went up to Thebanistation to bid farewell to h.e.l.lfire. And Raunchy, who had just joined the crew of h.e.l.lfire's s.h.i.+p, Satana.

"You might's well do the same, Janjy," h.e.l.lfire said, but Janja only smiled.

Maybe it was a wistful smile. Maybe she wanted to go along with the golden-ocher woman with the bra.s.s-hued hair--and with Raunchy. And maybe even more than that she wanted to part with Corundum. It was just that she lacked either the guts or the cruelty to abandon him without a word.

They had done no real talking, Janja and h.e.l.lfire of Lanatia. h.e.l.lfire knew now that her words were just words, that Janja was not lesbian and would not be leaving the eminent not to mention wealthy Captain Corundum. She had little hint of the problem that had 211.

212.

widened from a crack between Corundum and Janja to a creva.s.se, and no idea of Janja's disillusionment.

Yet as they whirred off Thebanis, seasoned s.p.a.ce-farers bemoaning the pits of their stomachs as the shuttle rushed them straight up, Janja was wis.h.i.+ng that she could merely walk aboard Satana and bid Thebanis and Corundum good-bye-long distance.

"Raunchy," h.e.l.lfire said thoughtfully.

"Um?"

"On Satana you call me 'Captain,' Raunchy."

"Didn't need to tell me that, Captain."

h.e.l.lfire nodded. She didn't say she was sorry. Janja knew two slavers now, and three pirates. All were independent and proud unto arrogance. Yet Corundum, she thought, was more a gentleman than Jonuta or Vettering or h.e.l.lfire or s.h.i.+eda.

So what makes me so stupid that I want to get away from him?