by Brian Daley
Alacrity recovered Constance's pistol from the thornbower tree.
At his order, Sintilla detoured to fetch Sile's stungun from behind the prism icon, with Floyt guarding her back. There was no one around, but a terrific furor was coming from Grand Guignol.
It was that much more of a surprise when a jot unit downed Alacrity, Heart, and Floyt like a scythe.
Mason bounded out of the darkness, a hammergun pistol covering Sintilla and a jot unit in the other hand. "Don't be foolish, little lady. Throw your gun aside. I'm really rather vexed at the moment."
Sintilla, caught off guard, obeyed. The other three were writhing, just getting their breath back.
"Now, where's the lock transceiver for that boat? Quickly!" Mason cast a fast, nervous glance over his shoulder. The three who'd been jotted were trying to get to their feet now, Alacrity helping Heart, Sintilla assisting Floyt.
"Come, come, who has it? Fitzhugh, I'll kill them all if you don't give it to me."
Mason's vast stores of calm were just about gone. He'd broken into a sweat and the hammergun shook. "I should kill you anyway!" He brought up the jot unit, aiming it at Heart. "This is your last chance."
Alacrity was in an agony of indecision, but he didn't think he could bear to see Heart hurt any more. "The ship isn't locked; I didn't want to have to waste time getting clear of here."
Mason kept the pistol on him, moving to pull Heart to him and get her to the boat. Alacrity prepared to move. But before he could, the baron was struck from behind by a short, hard club. He fell without another sound.
Sintilla started for Mason but froze as Gute, waving the cosh, squatted next to the baron and snagged the pistol.
"I thought you were headed home," Alacrity got out.
Gute motioned to the spacefield. "All holy hades has been loosed, Alacrity. Everyone gives a different order. This is what happens when many know-it-alls rule a place jointly."
Alacrity recovered Constance's handgun. "What next, Gute?"
"You say it's not like this on all worlds?"
Alacrity answered slowly. "Like I was telling you, some are better, some way worse. On the average, better, I'd say. Why?"
Gute shifted his burdens, dropping the club and tucking the gun under his left arm, dipping into his laden game bag. He drew forth his treasured Spican atlas just enough for Alacrity to recognize it. They both smiled. "I think I shall find out for myself," Gute said.
"Well, don't drag your feet; we're in a rush." Alacrity and Heart went to the Harpy's lock. Floyt picked up the baron's jot unit and Gute, after a moment's thought, offered him the hammergun grip first. Then Gute trotted to the lock too, Sintilla following.
"Whup! What about him?" Floyt toed Mason, who was beginning to come around.
The boat lock was open. "I don't care," Alacrity said. "Do whatever you feel like, only do it now; the timer's running out." He disappeared inside.
Mason stared up at Floyt, who was less than two meters away. The baron swallowed. Floyt thought for a moment, then brought the hammergun up and took dead aim, letting Mason look into the barrel. Mason opened his mouth to speak, couldn't, and waited open-mouthed, hypnotized.
"Gives you a new perspective, doesn't it?" Floyt lowered the gun and walked away.
Sintilla was waiting at the lock. "Hobart Floyt, do you mean to tell me that's all, after what he did to you?"
"What do you want me to do, execute him? I couldn't find it in my heart."
"Then maybe you oughta start looking in your head!" She turned and fired for effect. The bright tanglevine of energy bowled the baron over flat, just as he was struggling to get up.
"Tilla!"
"Settle down, lovie." She held up her weapon. "Stungun, see? You don't want him getting through to Heart's jot anytime soon, do you?"
"No. Good thinking."
"Now get in! Alacrity says company's coming."
The Harpy lifted as the hatch was closing. Floyt and Sintilla passed through the boat's hedonistic main cabin. Gute sat on a couch, transfixed, staring out a viewbay.
The cockpit wasn't much roomier than the bridge of the Pihoquiaq. Floyt and Sintilla wedged themselves in behind the pilot and copilot pozzes. Alacrity yielded the controls to Heart, who was more familiar with them.
"We had to head away from the spacefield," Alacrity said. "The defenses are on alert."
"I want to get a little farther from the compounds area before we start taking on altitude," Heart explained.
"Altitude?" Sintilla repeated. "What for? This crate doesn't have a Hawking, right? So the only way we're going to get out of this system is to get your ship, Heart. The best time to do that's now, while everything's all stirred up. Maybe we can get in on the ground somehow."
The Nonpareil was shaking her head. "The whole area's sealed off, and they'll be searching everywhere soon, no matter whether Mason wins or my father. But Alacrity's thought of something."
"Constance and Skate took the Mountebank up; it's still in orbit," he explained. "With him aboard, I suppose. Now, the Harpy's got a lot of countermeasures equipment, stealth stuff. Ho, I wouldn't be surprised if Sile and Dincrist were tied in with the intruder ship we ran into at the Precursor site on Epiphany."
"That may be," Heart put in. "My father is very interested in the Precursors. Obsessed, you might say."
"So I say we try a rendezvous with the Mountebank," Alacrity went on, "and take her."
Heart was beginning a long climb, playing with some of the controls among the stealth systemry. "I can take us right off their screens," she said.
"No," Floyt said. "Security doesn't know we've taken the Harpy, and they won't fire on a vessel your father uses. Let them see the Harpy leaving Blackguard."
Alacrity gave Floyt a troubled glance.
"Taking Mountebank's the best idea for Heart and Tilla," Floyt said. "Heart has to get out of Blackguard's vicinity before Mason can activate her jot. But Alacrity, you and I—we'll have to remain behind."
"Are you serious?"
"Very. You see, I've got a lead on Astraea Imprimatur. I came across the information in the computers using Diogenes. She made a visit to Parish, the population center on the other side of this planet, about a year ago."
Sintilla was looking them both over; it was the first time she'd heard the ship's name. Heart was occupied piloting, but spared a quick sideward glance for Alacrity.
Alacrity just gazed, straightfaced, out the canopy. Finally he said, "Let's take it one subroutine at a time here."
"Of course; what else do we know how to do?" Floyt tried to sound jovial, but he could imagine what his friend was feeling. After all, Alacrity had been through so much already, been reunited with Heart at last, only to have circumstances drive them apart again.
But none of the others knew one of the things that had Alacrity withdrawn: the location of Heart's actijot. He sat with Constance's pistol cradled in his lap and stared vacantly.
If there was a warning jolt or spasm, he might, just might, have one chance to save her, and that was destroying the jot. He'd adjusted the long dueling pistol down for close range work at high power. He felt a tightness in his chest.
Detectors quickly found Mountebank's location, and Heart closed with the antiquated heap. The Harpy's visual signals blazed away in patterns for emergency—commo systems not functioning. They had some tense moments as they listened to Skate try to find out what was going on, then threaten to go into evasive action.
But, as Alacrity had expected, Skate didn't dare think on his own, especially if it risked angering Sile and Constance.
Harpy made fast to Mountebank's lock. When Skate cycled it open he took one look at their guns and collapsed in a near-faint. Gute rushed inboard with the other four as they made sure Skate was the only one there. Sintilla stood guard over Skate with the hammergun; Alacrity stayed close to Heart, the dueling pistol unobtrusively ready.
"Well, she's old, but this tub should still take you to safety without any real trouble
," Floyt was telling Heart and Sintilla a few moments later. "I'm really sorry we got you two into all this, and I truly do thank you both, more than I can say. And I wish there was some way I could pay you back."
Alacrity stared at the deck, having trouble getting started. "The thing of it is, Ho, I won't be going back with you."
"Alacrity, you're only making it harder."
"I mean it. After Sile and Constance tricked us—before they put us into cachesleep—Skate, over there, tried to pump me for information. He dug out the Earthservice conditioning instead. It's gone. I'm a free man again, Ho."
Floyt felt his very life coming apart. Alacrity had been his only ally, the single thing he could depend on. That had held Floyt's sanity together and kept his morale from withering away.
"You—that is, congratulations, Alacrity. I'm glad for you, I really mean that."
Alacrity held the dueling pistol in one hand. He brought the other out from behind his back. It held Sile's stunner.
"I thought about laying you out flat, Ho. I thought about making you give up on the inheritance, taking you someplace where we could get your conditioning wiped too. I thought about that since I woke up on Blackguard. Wouldn't work, would it?"
Floyt shook his head sadly. Sintilla's eyes were brimming. The Nonpareil hung her head, one hand on Alacrity's shoulder, one on Floyt's.
"There's only one way home for me," Floyt agreed. "That's tracking down Astraea Imprimatur. Can you set the Harpy's controls to land me somewhere near Parish?"
"I think so. Let's see what you can use from Mountebank," Alacrity said. The jot still waited behind the Nonpareil's knee, and his mind was on haste.
There should have been a frenzy of preparation and leave-taking. Instead there was a long, agonized silence, none of them moving from their spots, while they shifted uneasily and avoided each other's eyes.
Finally Gute stepped forward. He took Sile's stungun from Alacrity, turned, shot Skate at close range. Skate came partway off the couch as the green lightning crashed around him, beginning a shriek, then fell to the deck.
"Gute, what'd you do that for?" Alacrity shouted.
Gute adjusted his makeshift specs and regarded them all calmly. "Didn't I hear correctly? There isn't much time left, isn't that right?"
"Yes, Gute, that's right," Heart confirmed quietly.
Gute nodded to Floyt. "And you have to go to Parish, isn't that so? It's something a little like a jot, hey? No choice?"
"Something like that."
"Then you'll go with him, Alacrity." Gute held up his hand when Alacrity would have objected. "You've already decided; you just won't admit it. Look at you: this isn't how you usually operate; I know. You're not thinking ahead or moving fast like you always do. You dither and vacillate.
"Where are the snap decisions that come so quickly from you? It's because you already know, inside, you're not leaving."
Gute turned to Heart. "And you and he are—" He hooked his forefingers together emphatically. "Hah?"
The Nonpareil's lips turned up; a glint came into her eye. "That's close, I would say."
Gute nodded shrewdly. He pointed to Sintilla. "You came along too, to save them, except that I don't understand why, if it's not because you're a friend. I think you are."
"I do not do things for personal reasons," she corrected primly. "I have press credentials to prove it. But you're right about the first part; I'm not walking out on a juicy story."
"Yes," Gute said, digging a device from his game bag. "So, offworlders who use up so much of my valuable time, please don't bother me any further with your protests. Someone must leave here with this fellow and let the Betters' security detectors see him do it, otherwise the Betters will know to look for you in Blackguard's system, likely in Parish, and may even think to use their jot system. Don't worry; I will send your goodbyes down to them as I leave, and they will be satisfied that you are gone."
Gute had lifted Skate's sleeve back, and held the nozzle of his gadget against the unconscious man's forearm. It didn't make a sound, but after a moment a red light went on at its tip.
"Actijot?"
Gute looked up at Sintilla. "You're smart. Yes; after all, this fellow may not go along with having a new master. At first."
"Aw, Gute, I don't know … " Alacrity began. "No offense, y'understand, but Skate's really slippery, and you haven't been around much—"
But Gute had gone on to lift Skate's trouser cuff, implanting another actijot in the man's calf.
"—even though you do know a couple of angles yourself," Alacrity finished.
"Yes, yes; the naïve little barbarian learned one or two things while working for the gods from the stars," Gute said a little heatedly as he looked around the compartment. He took Baron Mason's jot unit and set its timer. If Gute didn't deactivate it before the timer went off, it would cripple Skate with intolerable pain. Gute looked around and concealed the unit in the folds of a recliner.
"Y'know, I think he can do it," Sintilla said.
"I am not going back to Blackguard," Gute assured her.
"Well, you've got yourself a private starship and a very loyal personal servant and pilot," Floyt observed. "That's more than Alacrity and I started off with. It's more than we've got now."
Alacrity passed Gute the jot unit he'd taken from Sile. Gute still had his own clipped to his loincloth. If that doesn't give him the edge, nothing ever will, Alacrity concluded. And when Mountebank left Blackguard's vicinity, that would certainly register. Mason and everybody else would think the fugitives were gone, out of jot range. Heart would be safe.
"Gute," Alacrity said, "d'you think maybe one more jot … " Floyt, with a pensive frown, headed forward to the bridge.
"Definitely, Alacrity," Gute replied. "I was thinking just behind Skate's jaw, inserted from beneath?"
"You're in charge. We'll run a fast check on the ship, then set up the next leg for you while you're waiting for Skate to come around. By the way, where were you planning on going?"
Gute was turning Skate's head this way and that, deciding on the procedure. He blinked at Alacrity in surprise. "Why, Spica! Where else?"
"But is this wise?" Heart persisted as they went forward. "After all, Spica? And what if Skate turns the tables on Gute somehow?"
"I figure Gute has a pretty fair idea what to expect. By the time these two get to Spica, Gute'll probably have his name on the ownership pinks. He's got a fair chance, which is more than he would've had back at the compounds. Everything worth doing involves risks, and—"
She nudged him with a hip that was level with his; he toppled off balance for a second. "Next time you preach to me I'll really rough you up, Fitzhugh. Let's go; we're running late as it is."
"Aye aye, sis."
However, as they were making their way to the bridge, they ran into Floyt coming the other way.
"You don't have to bother," he said, meaning the bridge.
"We have to set up the jump," Heart said. "What's that mean, 'Don't bother'?"
"Well, come along and I'll show you."
In the main cabin, they found Gute standing over a very frightened and groggy Skate.
"You know what's happened, don't you?" Alacrity asked.
Skate licked his lips. "Fitzhugh, you can't let him do this to me. He'll get us both killed."
"No, he won't," Floyt piped up, "because he's going to have a little help." He looked at the ship around him and said loudly, "Isn't that right, Diogenes?"
"As you say, Hobart," the Mountebank answered in Diogenes' voice. All the others jumped.
"Gute, I want you to say hello to a good friend of mine named Diogenes."
"Hello, Diogenes," Gute ventured.
"Very nice to meet you, Gute," Diogenes responded. "It will be my job and my pleasure to watch over you and serve you."
"Ho, are you sure this is such a good idea?" Alacrity said dubiously.
"Yes, I am." Floyt jerked a thumb toward the bridge. "Diogenes was designed for a lo
t bigger jobs than this; he already has all the ship's systems and information at his disposal."
"Hey! Fine!" Gute slapped his stomach and studied the blank bulkheads. "Very fine, Diogenes!" he called.
"Thank you, Gute."
"We're just about done sweeping your ship," Alacrity told Skate. "I think we got most of your stash-weapons; I know we got your own jot unit, and Gute has more besides. You already know what'll happen if you try anything stupid, because you've done it to other people."
"I can pay you—"
"Gute's hanging on to the money we found inboard. We're keeping whatever Sile left in the Harpy. You better hear me good, m'friend: Gute's taken all kinds of precautions with those jot units, tricks I bet even you never heard of, read me? So even if you did somehow get around him and Diogenes, you'll spend a few days dying in this crate, wishing it was over."
Skate, face the color of yogurt, sank down in his chair without another word.
Alacrity put his fingers in his mouth and whistled. "Tilla! Let's get gone!"
There were footsteps in the passageway. Alacrity was about to add something when he yelled out "Maldkas!" instead.
Tilla had come in with Floyt's Inheritor's belt over one shoulder and the Captain's Sidearm, in its gunbelt, over the other, dragging Alacrity's warbag and Floyt's luggage. The two ran to her and started ransacking through their belongings, pausing occasionally to kiss her, as Heart looked on.
"I almost missed it," Sintilla said. "Skate's good at hiding things."
"Everything's here," Floyt was rejoicing. "Our proteuses, my Letter of Free Import, your brolly, Alacrity … Look!"
He held up his Wonderment, the souvenir gift the Sockwallet Outfit had given him on Luna, a commemorative coin marking Terra's first five hundred years in space. It had Yuri Gagarin's profile on it.
Alacrity scooped up his share of the pillage. "Gute, time's up."
Gute nodded. He tapped Skate on the head lightly two or three times with a jot unit. "Bridge! Diogenes, we're on our way."
"I'm ready when you are, Gute," Diogenes replied.
Skate rose without protest and slumped off for the bridge.
"I would like to know how I can find you again later," Gute told the others. "I would like very much to see you all again."
