by Chris Bunch
There were screams, shouts, and men and women ran downstairs into the street.
“SSW, clear to fire.”
Perhaps politics on Delta was a young man’s occupation, but Garvin doubted it. He’d given orders for the SSW teams to pick out anyone middle-aged, anyone who looked expensive, and especially anyone who looked like a Constitutionalist goon.
A police lifter rounded a corner, and a gunner put a burst into its engine. It bounced off a parked lifter, crashed. The cops piled out and, no fools against auto-blasters, ran like hell.
Dill’s voice came into one of Garvin’s earpieces.
“Boss. Time to scoot. I’ve got some things that look like fire engines and maybe some military lifters in the air headed yours.”
Garvin thumbed to the aksai channel.
“We’re pulling out. Stay in the air until we’re gone, then go on home.” Then, without waiting for acknowledgment, he went to the grunt channel.
“ ‘Kay, troops. We’re gone.”
The women and men cascaded back up the stairs to the roof, piled in the lifter as Njangu took it up a few centimeters, dancing against the rooftop, then at full power down an avenue, below the roofs, and away.
In minutes, they were back at the field and Big Bertha.
“Any idea on casualties?” Montagna asked, a bit angry for not having been chosen, as they landed.
“Not nearly enough, whatever it was,” Lir said harshly.
• • •
Garvin swallowed half a liter of sport drink.
“All right, friends,” he told Liskeard, Lir, and Yoshitaro. “That’s evened things up a little. Now, recall anybody that’s in the city back home, get the troops to start packing and the midway struck aboard. We’ll be gone by midnight, and Tiborg Alpha Delta can find its own path to hell.”
“Hang on a second, boss,” Njangu said. “Could you maybe gimme a moment of solitude?”
Garvin hesitated, then nodded. The others filed out.
“We just got a spanner up our asses, I think, as far as beating feet,” Njangu said. “Erik just wandered back, a little buzzed, with something interesting.”
Yoshitaro told him about Penwyth’s evening with Freron, the retired staff officer. Garvin started to open another sport drink, curled his nose.
“This calls for alcohol.”
“ ‘Deed it do,” Njangu agreed, found two beers in Garvin’s cooler, and opened them.
Garvin drank mightily.
“Why do I ever consider putting anything healthy inside me,” he wondered, “when the evil stuff tastes so much better? ‘Kay. So we’ve got somebody with … maybe … some good intel, high-level or fairly high anyway, on the Confederation. Ten years old, though.”
“Older than ours, but surely at a higher level than anything the Force has, isn’t it?” Njangu said.
Garvin nodded.
“But that’ll also mean we’ll still be targets for those assholes,” he said.
“Which set?”
“Does it matter?” Garvin said. “A Constitutionalist bolt’ll do you just as dead as one from … what’s our boy’s party … the Social Democrats, right?”
The com buzzed, and Njangu fielded it, listened, hung up.
“Speaking of which,” he said, “we’ve got our pet candidate, ol’ Dorn the Mouth and his aide pounding on the gangway. Shall we let ‘em in?”
“Why not?” Garvin said, draining the beer and tossing it into the cycler. “I don’t guess we can just up our hooks and scamper, now can we?”
“Not until we find out if this guy we’re suborning is honest and subornable, or some kind of goddamned counteragent,” Njangu said. “Though I’m not much more fond of the idea of hanging around than you are.”
There was a knock at the door, Garvin touched the sensor, and a wide-eyed Dorn Fili, flanked by Brek, hurried in.
“Great gods,” Fili said. “You people are dangerous!”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Dangerous and careful,” Brek said. “I suppose you haven’t heard about somebody blowing up a Constitutionalist headquarters an hour or so ago.”
“ ‘Fraid not,” Garvin said. “We’ve been concentrating on our own right now, and getting ready for poor Chapu’s funeral.”
“They’re saying over a hundred and twenty-five Constitutionalist workers were killed, and the attackers used rockets and fully automatic blasters, like the army has,” Fili said. “I’ve heard of ten for one … but …” He let his voice trail off.
“Sounds like,” Njangu said to Garvin, “there must’ve been some kind of industrial explosion, hmm?”
“Is that it?” Garvin asked innocently.
“This evening we were discussing whether or not we’d lose you,” Brek said, “which we could easily understand, and were wondering if we could convince you to stay if we provided some of the security elements of our party.”
“Your circus has added a new note to the campaign,” Fili said. “Adding holo bits of your various benefits has raised viewership on what otherwise might be considered nothing but political natterings, and we’d hate to have you leave before the victory celebration.”
“We’re not leaving yet,” Garvin said. “We made a deal, and we’ll hold to it.”
“Good, good,” Fili said heartily. “Especially the final rally for our party workers. That’ll give them a huge morale boost for the last week of the campaign.”
“And, as I’ve said,” Brek added, “you’ll have full security cooperation from us.”
“We’ll use you,” Njangu said. “Outside the ship. No outsider with guns inside. Period.”
“You’re certainly confident enough about being able to defend yourselves … and my workers …” Fili said doubtfully.
“We are,” Njangu said. “Especially since if everyone’s thinking that unfortunate accident had anything to do with us, that should calm the waters.”
“Don’t be too sure,” Brek said. “The Constitutionalists have been in office for a while, and they’ll take some convincing to change their ways.”
Garvin remembered what Director Berti had said about their having lost a sense of proportion … and then about the possible trail, so far the best they’d come across, toward Cumbre.
“No,” he said again. “We’re staying. Although there’ll have to be a discussion about our fees.”
• • •
“Migods,” Darod Montagna said weakly, “you certainly get passionate after action.”
She unwound her legs from Garvin’s thighs, and he rolled on his side.
“Do I?” he said, running a thumbnail down her breasts and across her stomach.
She drew in her breath sharply.
“Can I say something? And then I’ve got a question.”
“Talk.”
“I won’t be able to unless you stop kissing my nipples,” she said. “First, is something I want you to know, that I’m not going to think that what we’re doing has anything to do with anything other than what we’re dong, ‘kay?”
“Odin’s birdhouse, but I’m glad you went and joined the army, so you could learn to express yourself clearly,” Garvin said.
“You know what I mean,” Darod said. “Now, let me change the subject before you turn on the lights and see that I can blush better’n you.
“What’re we going to do about these idiots here?”
“Nothing,” Garvin said. “Finish our contract and go on our way.”
“I don’t know what you and Njangu have got running … it’s none of my business. But I think it blows giptels for the people of Delta to have nothing better than these two parties, who seem to pass the looting back and forth.”
“I figure it’s pretty much the people’s business to change things when they want,” Garvin said. “Soldiers trying to play God end up getting themselves all screwed up.”
“Even if, say, Lir and I just happened to build this thingie that just happens to go bang? And we just happen to plant it in
the capital building for next inauguration, which is a known time and date, and it’s easy to set up a thingie with a long det fuse? And just when the old scum are giving things over to this Fili and his new scum, there’s a real loud bang? Wouldn’t that help?”
“You’re forgetting about the Directors, who seem to be the power behind the throne,” Garvin said. “And I really sound like I know squat from politics, don’t I?”
“We could figure something out and get them, too,” Montagna said stubbornly.
“First one bang, then another, then we’ll have to find a third bomb … like I said, here we’d go, playing holy redeemer,” Garvin said.
“Garvin, I’m trying to think, and while that feels good, especially there, I’ll …”
“You’ll what?” Garvin said muffledly.
“Try not to make as much noise coming this time,” Darod said, and moaned.
• • •
“We may have erred,” Director Berti told his aide. “All that little transmitter does is tell us about the ship’s location.
“I would like to have better data about people as … immediate … as these circus people. They seem much more than happy wanderers from a distant planet.”
“I wondered about that as well,” the aide said. “And have something … or, rather, someone, ready to go.”
“As usual, you anticipate my thinking,” Berti purred.
• • •
“Now, here’s the hot setup,” Njangu told the assembled women and men. “The Social Democrats, who we shouldn’t have gotten in bed with in the first place, but it’s too late to cry over spilt drugs, are giving us security out the gump stump.
“I’ve seen their assembled legions, and they’re about what you’d expect from a bunch of politicos — mostly big apes with glowers and hair growing out of their ears. If they’ve got any smooth suckers, they’re keeping them around the throne.
“But that’s fine with us,” he said, winking at Maev, in the front row. “Let them swirl about and attract any baddies’ attention.
“You pros, you shooters, are going to stay invisible.
“Until the shit comes down,” he said, his good humor vanishing. “Then we obliterate the bastards.”
• • •
“Here,” Garvin said, handing Njangu a tiny button.
“You shouldn’t have. What is it?”
“Something that’ll tell me of your every doing, your every nefarious move.”
“Mmmph.”
“Everybody who’s a shaker, aboard, including me, gets one.”
“You’re anticipating more trouble?”
“Maybe … or maybe I’m just trying to cover my ass in all directions,” Garvin said.
“But that’s my job.”
“That’s what cross-training is for.”
“I’m not sure I like anyone knowing where I am,” Njangu complained.
“Tough.”
“Where am I supposed to wear this?” Njangu inquired.
“In a pocket. Glued in your frigging navel. Up your ass for all I care.”
• • •
“These fiches here are very interesting,” Freron told Penwyth, standing in the middle of his apartment, which, if an ex-military sort hadn’t fussed about it every once in a while, would’ve been a motherless clutter. Instead, it was a well-categorized mess.
“Ah?”
“This was one of my pet projects. I was ordered to begin it when I attended that intelligence course, as I’ve told you, and after that I added to the file.
“It is, I think, absolutely current as of ten years ago.”
Penwyth waited.
“It is the listing, I think very close to complete, of all mechanical warning and security devices that the Confederation posted around Centrum, the three other habitable worlds in the Capella system, and all nav points approaching it.
“Also, there’s a listing of where the Confederation guard points were around Capella. I should think that would interest any historian.”
Penwyth noted Freron put ostentatious verbal quote marks around the word “historian.”
“A historian, no doubt, would be interested. What would you be asking for your material?”
“My asking … and selling price is one hundred and fifty thousand credits.”
Penwyth covered a minor choke.
“I think that’s reasonable,” Freron said, sounding a bit injured. “Not only for the historian, but conceivably for someone concerned about current affairs. All of these mechanical devices were built on a single world, and they were self-modifying.
“It should be simple for someone to visit that manufacturing world, perhaps institute a relationship with the builders of these devices, and be given the program for the auto-upgrades, wouldn’t it?”
Penwyth scratched his nose, had another snifter of the brandy he’d brought with him.
“You have an interesting mind, Kuprin. I’m amazed you didn’t reach a higher rank than Tousan.”
Freron smiled, a little bitterly.
“In those days, I was a bit more interested in gaming than was healthy. Star rank in Tiborg is given only to those who have no flaws. Visible ones, at any rate.
“Another thing a historian of the final days of the Confederation might value is this complete map of Centrum itself, focusing on the various military installations.
“That would be on the market for … oh, I don’t know. Another hundred thousand credits.
“Or, perhaps, if I encountered a well-to-do collector, I might release the map and the data on the security systems for two hundred thousand.
“As long as we’re thinking large,” he went on, “I’d be happy to donate my entire collection of material on the Confederation for, oh, half a million.”
• • •
“What does the son of a bitch think we are, kagillionaires?” Garvin complained.
“I don’t guess he knows about Jasith, now does he?” Njangu said.
“Sharrup,” Garvin said. “Erik, can we bargain?”
“Don’t think so, boss,” Erik said, enjoying Jaansma’s reaction. “He had a certain air of firmness to him. Oh yeh. He’s also a cagey bastard. The fiches he was waving about are only partial files. The rest is nice and secure in a deposit box in a largish bank, whose name he wouldn’t give out.”
“Why that duplicitous bastard!” Garvin snarled. “What does he think we are? Burglars?”
“Untrusting sort,” Njangu agreed. “And I was just about to ask Erik for the floor plan of his flat. Oh well.”
“At least,” Garvin said, “I had the sense to jack our price way up to Fili and company.”
He put his head in his hands.
“First we got a circus in the middle of politics, which my family would disown me for doing, then we’ve got an antiquated traitor with too high a price tag … nobody knows the troubles I’ve seen.”
“Cheer up,” Njangu said unsympathetically. “You know it’s bound to get worse.”
• • •
Kekri Katun didn’t have a voice so much as a purr, Garvin thought. She was also the loveliest creature he’d ever seen, from her platinum hair, which seemed natural, to her perfect face, smooth skin, generous bust, and waist that was improbably thin.
He wondered how many credits and plastic surgeons had been spent making her what she was.
“Oh yes,” she said. “I’ve been trained as a tumbler and acrobat for half my life … and I do believe in staying in shape.”
Without effort, she fell sideways, out of her chair, onto one arm, and hoisted herself up into a one-hand stand. Her light tan dress slid over her thighs, and Garvin thought, alarmed, that she might not be wearing anything under it.
“Now I could tell a funny story, recite a poem, sing a song from right here,” she said. “I know a lot of songs, for I was on the road with a small troupe for five years.”
Very slowly, she put another hand down, opened her legs into a Y, did a pushup, then sprang u
p, landing on her feet, not a hair out of place, not a breath louder than normal.
“I also, since I understand you people of the circus work at other things besides your main talents, am an excellent bookkeeper, office manager, and, if it’s needed, can do poses as well.”
“Poses?”
“That’s something the clubs of Delta like,” she explained. “Especially the older gentlemen, who won’t admit they’d like to see a woman just take off her clothes.”
She touched fasteners, and the dress fell away. She wasn’t wearing underclothes.
Garvin’s mouth was very dry.
Katun struck a pose.
“This is Director Randulf, one of our heroines, as she appeared on her wedding night.”
“Uh …”
“This is T’ousan Merrist, when she fled the rebels. I know several dozen more.”
“Uh … yes. Very interesting,” Garvin said. “You can put your clothes back on. We don’t do anything like that.”
“Oh. I thought, coming up past the attractions outside — ”
“That’s called the midway.”
“The midway, and I saw all those banners with ladies not wearing much of anything …”
“That’s Sopi Midt’s operation,” Garvin said. “He believes in going for the lowest common denominator, and, by the way, he isn’t ashamed to cheat a little. All of the girls in his shows never get down to their underwear.
“At least they better not, or I’ll slaughter him.”
“And what’s the matter with a little nudity? Especially among friends?” Katun said, sliding back into her dress, and half smiling at him, lips parted.
Garvin chose to change the subject.
“We’re hiring all the time,” he said. “Right now, we need a showgirl. And I’m sure the acrobats and the showgirls would be interested in your … talents.”
“I saw that murder on the holos. Poor girl.”
“But the problem is, we might not be coming back this way for a while.”
Katun shrugged.
“My father was a salesman with a big territory, and I really don’t remember my mother. I’m used to being on the road.” Again she smiled her sultry smile. “And I’ve never been offworld. Besides, for a girl like me, there’s always a way to get back home.
“Or I can find a new one.”
