by Eric Flint
"Who are you calling a bumbling idiot, ma'am?" demanded the bumbling idiot, drawing himself up.
Her eyes narrowed. "I'll leave you to think about that one. It might take you a week or two. In the meanwhile I am taking my boy home. You have no reason to keep him here. I gather that there was somebody else in the truck, and that they have been taken to the hospital. Why don't you go and check on their ID? They can probably tell you what happened."
"Uh… As to that, the patient seems to have absconded," admitted the desk sergeant.
"Oh. And I suppose that was somehow caused by my son, although you had him here."
"Well, there is also the matter of the starter-bar from the patrol vehicle."
She raised her eyebrows. "And just what is Pausert supposed to have done with that? From what you told me on the telephone you found him at the scene of the accident. I presume that the patrol vehicle managed to arrive after that. Or did it cause the accident?"
"Of course the vehicle arrived after the accident, ma'am. But we believe he managed to make the starter-bar go missing."
"But how did he do that? Turn himself invisible and walk around the vehicle and snatch it out? Put it in his pocket? Toss it down a drain?" she said sarcastically. "This is all about my uncle isn't it? Well, Pausert isn't Threbus. He's just a very ordinary little boy. I wish you would leave him alone. Now. He's coming home with me."
And, a few minutes later, after a little bit more verbal bludgeoning, Pausert's mother proved correct. Goth was very relieved, and decided to use their bathroom before following her. It was a little childish to express her relief by blocking the basins in the officers bathroom, and removing the washer that to allow the faucet to seal. She left quietly in no-shape.
There was a startled exclamation, and Goth looked back to see an officer staring at the row of wet footprints that she was leaving behind her. Sometimes behaving like the Leewit just wasn't worth it.
Goth ran for it. Fortunately, the officer seemed more stunned than quick on the uptake, and she was out of the door before he had time to do more than make incoherent noises and point.
Outside she ran to a nearby piece of public parkland. The grass didn't show wet footprints, and in no-shape she was happy enough to ignore the sign that said that she should keep off it. Two of Nikkeldepain's constabulary did follow the rapidly drying footprints.
"Must have taken their shoes off, whoever it was," said one, scratching his head, looking at the sign and then peering at the pavement. It appeared that if one lived on Nikkeldepain, one took rules very seriously.
"Wonder where the water came from?" said the other.
Goth discovered the second problem with behaving like the Leewit. She had to stuff her own sleeve in her mouth to stop from betraying herself. After a few moments, the answer plainly dawned on the two and they turned to run back to the station. It was then that she realized the third problem. She had lost sight of young Pausert and his mother. She was in a strange city, on a strange world with absolutely no idea how to even start looking for him. She'd have to find him before those others got to him. And then she'd have to deal with them.
Right now, however, wet feet or not, she desperately needed to eat and rest. But could she afford to do either or rather immediately try and find Pausert?
She decided, after a few moments consideration, that while he was in the custody of his mother, he was probably reasonably safe. Whoever was trying to kidnap him without witnesses would probably not risk it while his mother was with him. Goth slipped behind in a public restroom and undid the no-shape. That at least saved her some energy. She went off in search of food and ideas of where she could find Pausert.
She got help with both from the sausage seller. "Aren't you the kid," he said, in friendly tone, "who was here with the boy from the botanical place? The Threbus Institute?"
He seemed no more than idly curious. "Yes," admitted Goth, "but he's gone home now."
"I used to have a stand near there. Saw the kid most days back then. Nice polite boy, not like some of the rich riff-raff at the academy. I hadn't seen him for a while."
"Oh," said Goth artlessly. "And where did your stand used to be?"
"Pilking Street. Over toward the old power station."
Goth set out, amed with a street name, a direction, and the energy from digesting some greasy sausage. The lights were coming on across Nikkeldepain City. It was a rather flat and uninspiring place. In the distance beyond her destination she could see the trails of multicolored fairy lights flickering seductively from the lattice ship. That called to her, but her duty now was to find and protect Pausert.
So she studiously avoided thinking about the lattice ship, about the journey they'd had across the Empire with the Petey B. It was like not thinking of pink fanderbags.
She was so busy not thinking about it that she nearly walked into the woman whom she'd last seen wearing a cone shaped blonde wig. She had curly auburn hair now, but it was the same woman. She also plainly recognized Goth.
"Hello little girl," she said, clutching Goth's arm. "You look thirsty. Can I get you something to drink?"
Goth shook the hand off. She hated being called little girl at the best of times. Her look made the woman start back. "No," she said coldly.
And then it occurred to her that she might be able to extract some information from her. Best to play it cautiously, for now. "I am not thirsty. Thank you."
"It's very late for you to be out. It's not really safe for a young girl to be out the street after dark."
Huh. Not with you around, thought Goth. But, in general, she thought Nikkeldepain was probably one of the safest worlds she'd ever been on. It was the kind of place where even the thought of crime was just too complicated.
"I'm fine. I live near here," she said crossly. "And they're expecting me. Goodbye." She walked off, around the corner, and then used light shift to make herself look like an elderly man she'd seen earlier.
A few seconds later the woman appeared, talking into her wrist communicator. She looked up when she saw the lightshifted Goth. "Hello gramps," she said curtly. "Have you seen a young girl come this way. Brown eyes. Sharpish chin?"
Goth didn't want to try imitating an old man's voice as well as his appearance. The more klatha powers of imitation you used, the harder it was to do each of them properly-and the energy requirement was exponential, not simply additive. So she just pointed toward a side street and continued shuffling on her way.
The woman did a rapid U-turn and was back around the corner in a few seconds. Goth followed in no-shape. Now, maybe, she could get close enough to listen in on the women's communicator conversation.
"-snooping around here," said the woman. Goth listened but could not hear the reply. "The reason you can't find her on the police records system could just be that she's working with them, Mirko."
Her informant replied.
"That leaves the lattice ship," said the woman, "although why the circus people would have an interest in the target is beyond me. I admit it's good cover, though. Look, I think tonight is off. There's only one window and unless you've got the Rubilon three to dope them-"
Mirkon plainly interrupted. "Don't make your problems mine!" said the woman crossly, getting into a parked aircar.
Goth waited for her to drive off, but the woman stayed there, continuing her conversation. Only now Goth could hear neither side of it. Goth pondered her next step. It would be fairly easy to deal with this woman. But that was just the surface of the plot. It seemed that they planned no further action that evening, and she couldn't follow Pausert everywhere in no-shape forever. She was already pushing her energy reserves too far.
In fact, Goth found herself nearly swaying with exhaustion. Traveling back here by the Egger route, not to mention everything else she'd done since arriving on Nikkeldepain, sure took it out of you. She needed a safe place to lie up for the night. In the morning, she'd find out just why they were after the captain, and just who they were. She had a feel
ing that could be vital information. But now, she had to rest. And burgling Pausert's home seemed just too hard.
The Petey B was close enough. She knew where to find a quiet spot in the props store for a bit of sleep, and there were always cushions and some fabric for a bed there. The "props" had been a veritable treasure house as well as the perfect hideout for her and the Leewit, when they'd traveled with the lattice-ship circus. So she walked towards its lights, trying not to think just about how tired her feet were.
The ship was secured and guarded, of course. The Petey B did not want stowaways or petty thieves. Well… it would take stowaways, sometimes. But Himbo Petey was a man with a conscience and Goth didn't plan to test it. She knew how the security system worked, and she still had enough energy left to use no-shape in a pinch.
As it turned out, she made it to the old hulk that was the second props store with no problems or incidents. Despite the fact that she was a decade and a few years early, the setting was so familiar, so comforting, that she might have indulged in a happy snuffle or so when she reached its sanctuary.
It was dark and warm and comfortable in the bed she'd made for herself. It easy to sleep here.
Too easy.
When she awoke it wasn't dark any more. And the crimson-faced man staring down at her was not pleased to see her.
"Manicholo!"
The thermosensitive crystals tattooed into the man's dermis shifted color slightly, in a wave of cooler purple across the red visage. The reaching hand stopped. "What did you call me?"
Goth, still only half awake, struggled for an answer. "Uh. Manicholo. Isn't that your name?"
The plump sideshow entertainer scratched his head. "Weird," he said. "I've been considering it but I'll swear I haven't told a soul, yet. Look, kid. I'll have to see you off the premises. The local authorities would love something to bust us for, and although I understand your wanting to get off this dump, I don't want Himbo ornamenting their jail for juvie kidnap. This isn't the Empire and they have laws about kids here. Personally, I'd like to get off Nikkeldepain altogether, but the marks are still cranking through the turnstiles."
Goth nodded. "It's okay. I understand. I'm not from here, but I met the local flatfeet yesterday. They aren't the sharpest scribers in the box. I just needed a place to sleep, that's all. Don't worry, I'll go quietly."
Manicholo-to-be looked at her thoughtfully. "How did you find the store? How did you get in?"
You showed it to me somewhere in the future. I should have guessed it was a favorite spot of yours. But that was not an answer that she could give. "Luck, I suppose."
"Exceptional luck," said the chameleon-man dryly.
"Um. I've been on a lattice ship before," admitted Goth. "So I knew what it was that I was looking for, and how to sneak in. Promise I will go now and not bring back any trouble for Himbo Petey. He's a decent old dope."
Manicholo had a disconcerting habit of noticing just what you didn't want him to. "He's not that old. And just how did you get past the perimeter?"
Himbo wouldn't be that old yet. Goth found herself very curious. How big was his moustache? And… "Is dame Ethy with the Show?"
Her captor shook his head. "That does it. You're coming with me to talk to Himbo Petey, young lady."
Goth ported a glass lamp-stand five feet above a display of Medoirian armor and let it fall. Then, slipped away into no-shape as Manicholo turned to see what had happened.
"Wha… where…?" Manicholo wasted precious seconds looking for her instead of closing the outer lock to the hulk that served as the second props store. By then Goth was outside. It was already quite bright out. The Greatest Show in the Galaxy was busy with its familiar morning chores, mucking out, cleaning up, preparing for the return of the crowds.
Pausert was probably already at school. She hadn't meant to sleep that long. Klatha. It took it out of you! She needed breakfast and to get back to her task-and not necessarily in that order either.
But on a whim, she followed Manicholo as he hurried along to the main part of the lattice, where the circus offices were. It wouldn't take her much out of her way-well, not more than it took to skirt the fanderbags' tail ends carefully. No-shape bent light around her, not more solid things. Sure enough, Manicholo had stopped by to see a younger Himbo Petey. He was working on the mustachios, but he had a few years to go. They looked faintly ridiculous on his younger face, and Goth had to stifle a giggle.
"-intruder of some sort. A young girl. She seemed to know a great deal about the circus."
Himbo twirled his mustachios. "They do, you know. They find out as much as they can. So where did you find her, and how did she get away? We've got to be careful here, Fenn. The local authorities are ready to jump on us for anything."
Manicholo nodded. "I know. She was in the Props store. No. 2. Distracted me and ran, I think. Means she's probably hiding out somewhere."
Himbo sighed irritably. "We'll do a search. And contact that local councilor fellow, Onswud, and ask if they have any missing persons. Give me a description so that we can say we saw her. That way if it goes pear-shaped, we're on record as having tried and having reported the incident to them. I'll have a word with security. And you'd better make sure that she's not still in that rat-warren of a store, and see that it is locked."
Goth slipped off before he did all of that. She was right in her earlier judgment-Nikkeldepain City was already at work. She could just hope that young Pausert was safely in his school as she made her way along the street to his home.
"Why aren't you in class?" asked a sharp-eyed fellow in gray coveralls. He radiated self-important minor government official without having to say so.
"Great Patham! Look at that!" said Goth, pointing. He looked and she did a subtle light-shift on herself, making herself look a little more like her mother.
"What?" The minor official turned back. "What are you pointing at?"
"You should have looked faster," said Goth shifting her voice too. "It's gone now. Some kind of animal."
The official peered again. "What color? I'm here to catch strays," he said proudly. "Sorry, I thought you were a lot younger."
He went on his way, followed by hard thoughts from Goth. The man's petty officiousness had required her to use a fair amount of her klatha energy for no good reason. The last night's sleep had restored some of that energy, true, and a good meal would restore still more. Still, she'd have to be careful.
Goth noticed that a vehicle sitting in the leafy street close to Pausert's home had an occupant, who was staring at her. She could only hope that they hadn't seen the subtle shift in age. She recognized the fellow as the man from the back of the airtruck yesterday.
***
Pausert had been rather disappointed when Vala had had to go. She'd been, well, quite unlike any other girl he'd ever met. The affair with the airtruck and police were just the way things happened in his life. But Vala wasn't. He indulged in a little daydreaming about her.
His mother sighed and tugged his ear. "I suppose that was a no."
"Huh? What, sorry… I… ah, was just thinking about something."
"Never mind. It's been quite a day," she said tiredly. "We had an incident at the Institute today. That horrible Rapport boy and some of his friends broke in and were vandalizing the gardens. You should have seen the mess that they got themselves into. I'm glad you have better taste in friends."
Pausert wanted to say he just didn't have any friends, but that would have upset her, so he held his tongue and thought about Vala and the fight. And the sausages. He seemed to be hungry all of the time at the moment. It wasn't easy, growing up and being saddled with Great Uncle Threbus's debts. It didn't seem fair.
"So how was school?"
That was not a question Pausert really wanted to answer. So he tried a well known diversion tactic. "The lawyers haven't got back to you yet about Great Uncle's will?"
She rubbed her eyes. "No. I'll have to go in and see them again tomorrow."She'd been trying, de
terminedly, for the last three years. She was nothing if not stubborn, his mother. But lawyers were a money pit. "So what happened about Rapport and his gang?" Pausert asked.
"Oh, security were all for throwing the book at them. But he howled for his daddy and eventually they were let off with a caution and a very large bill for damages."
Pausert took a deep breath. That wouldn't make life easy. But then, life wasn't easy. The sheer joy of seeing his enemy splattered in Tyrian fruit juice was worth it. And although his mother had seen the tear and the black eye, apparently she'd decided not to say anything. Maybe she thought the police had done it. How could he tell her the truth, without giving away Vala's part in all of this? Anyway, there was no harm done, was there?
The next day when he saw Rapport and a few of his little friends he realized that it wasn't that simple. The Tyrian fruit dye didn't come off easily. It didn't even scrub off that easily, judging from the red, raw skin. And it was apparent that the experience had some of the boys looking for new company-probably warned off by their parents-but the three who were the core of Rapport's crew were hoping for a rematch. He'd take on any one of them. He'd take any two of them. But four…
They let him know that they'd be waiting, after school. And this time he wasn't going to get away.
***
He couldn't walk any slower. And he couldn't find any more reason to delay. He took a deep breath and walked out through the gates of the Nikkeldepain Academy for the Sons and Daughters of Gentlemen and Officers. That was why they always had had it in for him. Because he really didn't belong here. He was a Scholarship boy. And worse than that, they said that he hadn't got the scholarship fairly. That it had just been given to him because his Great Uncle had endowed the school with it. They could hardly have given it to someone who really deserved it, when Pausert had applied, could they? Huh. He'd won it fair and square. But it wasn't something that he could tell people that had already made up their minds.
