INFINITY HOLD3

by Longyear, Barry B.

  Nance stuck her face in mine and said, "You're too important to die full of crap." She reached down, picked up my left arm, twisted and bent it around behind my back until I thought a cutter'd been stuck in my shoulder socket. That sat me forward, then both of them lifted me up and dropped me on the pan.

  I called them lots of names and threatened them with any number of hideous experiences, opening myself up for all kinds of unpleasantness under Rule 13. That was no big deal considering what they were doing to the Freedom Rule. I was entitled under the Law to go wherever I wanted to go, and right then I did not want to go in bed.

  The pain in my gut was crippling, but I was damned if I was going to go until Nance said, "I bet if we started squeezing old shy bottom from the neck down like a big tube of toothpaste—"

  Then I let go. It smelled like springtime on the back of a manure spreader. I wasn't even strong enough to use the rag to wipe myself, and Nance took care of that. I just wanted to die. Before they left the sled Nance said to me, "Thank you for your cooperation."

  I did start feeling better a few hours after the Great Turd Robbery. However, I concentrated on strength and recovery, and before I had to go again two days later, I was in the dunes shitting on the grit by myself.

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  Back In the Cops

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  It took several more days and by the thirty fifth day I was again on the back of a critter. Indimi's new strike force was out in the field thinning Kegel's column and collecting weapons, Sarah's bunch'd rested up and was out again, and the water and rations were very short. Paxati and the we-don't-want-to-fight-nobody movement was gathering steam.

  The only reason our ticket had any rides at all left on it was because Rhome Nazzar and a special mounted unit had done a streak for the Big Grass with the water sleds. Cap was bossing the Razai alone because Nance was again back in her bed. The word appeared in The Taps shortly after Mercy Jane told me. Nance was going to need another operation. Again we left her sled behind with supplies and an armed guard of fifty. I hated to leave Alna there, but nursing's where you find it. We knew how to find each other when we needed to touch.

  I didn't worry about any of it. My worry was the law. We had around one RC for every two thousand sharks, which meant we had over fifty cops. There were any number of problems with that. One of them was not being certain that the chup who had plugged my melon wasn't one of the RCs.

  I had a constant headache. Mercy Jane was willing to drop a few diamonds on me for the pain, but I figured I already had all the problems I could handle. One thing I didn't need was a dragon on my back demanding more and more thumpers. Of course I might have been one of the lucky ones who didn't get addicted, and it was just as possible that Tartaros was only a bad dream and that I was the queen of the crowbar fairies. I stayed away from the drops.

  My face was something from the sleaze street vids. It never had been pretty, but as I examined it in the polished surface of the homemade heliograph reflector, I gave up my hopes of trekking the tubes as a prime time heart throb. From the front the slug had struck the bone on the right side of my right eyeball. From there it had plowed and splintered its way back almost to my ear before it went outside the bone and through my ear. It was hard to believe that I still had the use of my right eye.

  The Wolf must have plucked out a couple hundred bone fragments, and considering everything, he had done a pretty neat job, even down to the stitching. I did look like I ought to be ringing bells for Notre Dame, but the Wolf said the swelling would go down.

  Cap Brady was the new number two, and all I wanted to do was sling my piece, get back on my critter, and administer the law. My rifle was in the ordinance shack being converted by the trolls. I was back chiefing the cops and that was where I figured I belonged. Belonging was an elusive thing, though. Getting shot, edging death, and walking around with the shooter still unknown and out there set me apart. I couldn't look at anyone for any length of time without wondering. To work on anything else required all of my concentration, so I concentrated. Nance's shooter was still out there, too.

  To me the investigation into Nance's shooting was going nowhere. Marantha reported that Jordie Woltz and Ow Dao had been alibied by dozens of Dao's men, a few of whom Marantha trusted, which meant she believed them. Dol Corlis, Nance's ex-lover, looked pretty good as a suspect, since she hated Nance's guts, had nothing for an alibi, and had a history as a shooter. However, she wasn't one of the ones who had been given a rifle the times they were passed out, and no one would admit to loaning her one.

  Since we hadn't allowed any of the ex-Kegels or ex-Hands to carry pieces either, it narrowed the suspects down to the few hundreds who carried weapons. Except there was a problem with that. What if someone who didn't carry a piece had simply borrowed and returned a weapon? Maybe the owner didn't know, or maybe the owner was keeping quiet? It was too much stuff for an impatient man to chew. Remembering my out-of-body wanderings, I went with a hunch.

  Just after I recovered enough to get out of bed and stay out, I tracked down Jak Edge. The memory was very fresh. I could close my eyes, float above the desert, and see Jak pull out a pistol that wasn't even supposed to exist on Tartaros, much less in the hands of one of Kegel's ex-patrol bosses.

  It was early in the morning and Jak was setting up his sheet in the shade of a dune. I was sitting on my critter, my head shaded by the umbrella Alna made for me. Jak noticed me and asked, "Something you wanted?"

  I nodded, suddenly feeling very embarrassed. If I was right, and he had been the shooter, I was taking a big risk seeing him by myself. It would've been an easy thing for him to kill me and take off. But I wanted to talk about some weird things, and didn't want any witnesses if I turned out to be packed to the rafters.

  I climbed down from my critter and sat down on the sand facing him. I rested my elbows on my knees as I looked up at him. "Jak, do you carry a piece?"

  "No. I don't. None of the Razai from Kegel's gang do. You don't let the ex-Hand Razai carry weapons either."

  "Does that piss you off?"

  "Piss me?" He grinned and shook his head. "Hell, no. Nothin' else'd make any sense. I never expected you to arm your enemies."

  "Former enemies."

  "Suit yourself."

  He went back to setting up his sun shield. I dragged the tip of my tongue over my dry lips. "Jak, I think I saw you with a piece."

  He shrugged and held out his hands. "It wasn't me."

  I rubbed my eyes, cursed my headache, and remembered as I spoke. "I was shot, I was down, and I was out. But when I was dying and the Wolf was sticking an ice pick into my brain, I saw a lot of strange things. I saw things I didn't expect."

  "Such as?"

  "I saw you watching this sled."

  His eyebrows went up. "I was watchin' it. So was the whole camp." His bearded face smiled. "We all cared what happened."

  I brushed away the bullshit. "What about the piece I saw you stick under your sheet?"

  His eyebrows went up. "Oh. You mean this?"

  He reached beneath his quilted jacket and pulled out the gleaming silver pistol I'd seen when I was dying. As I looked at it I knew I was maggot chow. I knew I was going to die. As has happened before, however, I was wrong. He turned the pistol around, held it by the barrel, and handed it to me.

  "It's my son's. It's a toy."

  I took it and turned the thing over in my hands. It certainly looked like a real Old West revolver. The face of the hammer, however, was flat, and the barrel had a screw right through the middle of it to hold the two halves of the gun together. I frowned at Jak. "A toy?"

  "An antique cap pistol. The spring in the hammer was busted and my boy gave it to me to fix. I had it with me on patrol."

  I worked the trigger and the gun clicked. The barrel rotated, the hammer lifted, but it didn't fall. I handed the toy back to Jak. "Sorry. I had to check it out, though." I felt
like it was time for Nance and Mercy Jane to kick the shit out of me again. A real butt-brain.

  He took it and looked at it as he said, "While I was waitin' to find out about your operation, I did pull this out. I was thinkin' about my son, missin' him. Holdin' this and lookin' at it seemed to bring me closer to him." He tucked it back beneath his jacket. "And you saw that?"

  "Yeah." I leaned back, rested my elbows in the sand, and nodded. I felt very foolish. "I saw all that."

  "I never believed in things like that. Out of body experiences, telepathy, spooks."

  "Me neither." I pushed myself to my feet, got on my critter, and got the hell out of there. I didn't know what I was good for, but I decided to leave the detecting to Marantha Silver. Maybe all I was good for was some kind of fuzzy blue yard guru. Doing cops right then didn't seem to fit my lock.

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  Makhumbi v. Jackson et Dodd v. Makhumbi

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  By sunset I was on my critter ambling through the ranks of the main walking column as they bundled up for the night's march. Since the Wolf had my ice pick and the Trolls had my piece in for conversion to semi-auto, my only weapon was the umbrella Alna had made to keep the sun off me. It was a four-sided pyramid of white cloth propped open with greensticks, with another greenstick for a handle. It kept me in the shade.

  The headache never did leave me and the only non-chemical relief I could get was to concentrate on something else. There was more than a scatter on our platter, so topics weren't a problem. The problem was which thing to pick first. Paxati and the straightmeats, for example, were dragging their feet about taking on the Hand. Their plan was to kiss and make up with Boss Kegel, turn south, and set up a we-just-love-everybody utopia.

  What about the fourth law? What about the requirement not to just stand by when a crime is being committed?

  That's simple. The law was made; it can be unmade.

  What about the slaves being held by the Hand?

  What about them? They're not Razai, are they? They're all white, aren't they? To hell with them. We have to look out for Number One.

  I'd find myself looking down my nose at them. They just hadn't polished those crowbars. They wouldn't recognize stripes on a tiger. They didn't have it. They weren't good enough.

  Bando Nicos was a snob. I wrestled that one down and ordered it into my personal black hole. It doesn't matter how obvious a truth was to me, I had to learn mine the hard way. As they say in CSA, everybody is where they're supposed to be: he and thee, even me. Everybody has to do his own research. I didn't object to that. I just didn't want the Razai to have to pay for the experiment.

  We'd been getting in some new recruits from Kegel's column. After they'd been wiped, they were given the options: join the Razai, hit the dunes after pledging never to take up arms against the Razai again, or die. From them the RCs were collecting up and passing along to headquarters reports of strange doings in Kegel's gang. One of his scavenger leaders, a woman named Anna Tane, seemed to have a spell on Kegel. It was making him do strange and cruel things. Just as a for instance was a punishment called gut stringing. It was a very slow, very painful, very humiliating way to die. They blamed Anna Tane for the crazy way Deke Kegel was conducting the campaign. The woman was supposed to be as beautiful as Kegel was ugly.

  As I moved through the column of sharks, my wig smoking with issues, I saw a jam up ahead. As I came nearer I saw about two thousand sharks covering the facing sides of four dunes, which could mean only one thing: a trial. I pulled up once I could see who was on the guns.

  The Magic Mountain, Marietta Jackson, was the RC investigator, and she was backed up by Deadeye Jay. There was a full sack of provisions at Marietta's feet. It was the kind the folks from Earth get issued on the way out the hatch.

  Jason Pendril, the cockroach who had been involved in a couple of my cases, looked to be representing a huge yard monster named Itui Makhumbi. As I listened I pieced together that Makhumbi was suspected of thinning a fellow named Harry Dodd over an old crowbar beef. There were plenty of witnesses to the institutional agony back on Earth, but the only evidence linking Makhumbi to the killing on Tartaros was an extra sack of rations which also contained the belongings of Harry Dodd, including an old-fashioned windup wristwatch inscribed on its back with, "To Harry from Belle." Why anyone would steal a watch geared to Earth time on a planet with twenty-seven hour-long days might make you wonder, but as a former thief myself I know there are times when fingers have minds of their own.

  Pendril spoke for Itui Makhumbi, and he refused either to enter a plea or explain how the articles had come into the defendant's possession. Instead, Pendril's amazing defense was a relic from the juicer.

  "You have no case—nothing—against Itui Makhumbi. No witnesses to the knifing, in fact no one who has seen them together since the landing."

  "What about the stuff he had?" Marietta demanded as she pointed a finger at the sack of provisions. "What about the double rations, the watch, and Harry Dodd's other things? How do you explain them?"

  "If The Law of the Razai means anything, there is nothing to explain." Pendril assumed a pose of self righteousness that would've done credit to anyone looking down from a cross. "This so-called evidence of yours was obtained illegally. It's inadmissible."

  As the dunes grumbled, I nodded as I realized why Pendril hadn't gone for a jury trial. If he had tried that line of horseshit on a thirteen shark jury he'd be lucky if they didn't demand his execution along with his client's. He was banking on a strict interpretation of the rules. The thing he didn't realize was that was exactly what he was going to get.

  "The evidence is the evidence," said Marietta.

  The cockroach warmed to his subject. "Are you saying, then, that the people are the only ones who have to obey the law? That the RCs are above the law? Are you saying that to get a conviction the RCs can break whatever laws they wish?"

  Marietta's face darkened into a glower. "The fact, cockroach, is that Makhumbi cut Dodd for his pack and put him into the maggot trough. There's not a shark within hearing that doesn't know that for a fact."

  "But you wouldn't have known that except that you broke the law yourself."

  I scratched the back of my neck as I listened to the angry grumble from the dunes. It was real clear to the sharks what needed to be done, and it was clear to me as well. How was the only question. Pendril hadn't a clue about the reality he was standing in, and the only issue was, did Marietta have an answer?

  I knew the Magic Mountain had guts, but I'd never seen her run a trial before. It was her case. I wasn't going to butt in unless I was asked.

  Marietta looked at me for a long moment, then she grinned broadly and said to Deadeye, "Itui Makhumbi has accused the RC of stealing his stuff. It's okay with me if you decide the thing." She looked at Pendril. "What about you?"

  Pendril placed his hands upon his hips. He held his head to one side and frowned. "You mean, you're going to have a trial within a trial? This doesn't make any sense."

  "Stealing's a crime in the Razai, cockroach. It makes sense to get this out of the way first. Is it okay with you if Deadeye handles it, or do you want to do a thirteen?"

  Pendril glanced at Itui Makhumbi and the big man shrugged and folded his arms. "Don't matter to me. Just so they can't use it, like you said."

  Pendril faced the Magic Mountain. "Very well," said the cockroach. "Jay Ostrow is acceptable, although I still don't see the point. The evidence was still obtained illegally."

  "I confess," said Marietta as she picked up the sack of provisions. "I took the pack away from Itui Makhumbi without his permission."

  Deadeye studied Marietta for a beat. Turning his head he glanced at me and, without changing expression, said, "My decision is payback. Give him his kit back plus a little." He went back to looking at Marietta, Makhumbi, and his cockroach.

  Marietta took a number of food items f
rom her own sack and dropped them into Makhumbi's. She then brought the sack over to Pendril and handed it to him. "That's square," she said.

  Pendril looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "Very well."

  "Case closed," said Deadeye.

  Marietta looked from Pendril to Itui, removed her rifle from her shoulder, and blew Makhumbi out of his sox with a shot just to the left of chest center. He hit the sand with a loud groan, and then he was still. The way Pendril's mouth was opening and closing he looked like a beached bass.

  "You killed him," he said at last.

  "Nothin' gets by you." She pointed down at the pooped perp. "The man murdered," said Marietta. "The payback for murder in the Razai is everything plus a little. I had to act for a dead man, and that requires the max. It's the law."

  "That's not the point!"

  "It is in the Razai." She poked his chest with her ham of a finger. "That is exactly the point." She turned and looked up at the crowd. "Makhumbi's payback to Dodd is everything plus a little, so Dodd gets all of Makhumbi's stuff. Did Harry Dodd have a squeeze or a bunghole buddy?"

  There was a lot of look around until someone shouted, "Harry was a loner."

  Marietta turned to Deadeye. "Get his stuff and give it to the supply sled."

  As the crowd on the dunes began breaking up, the Magic Mountain looked around, saw me, and walked over. When she was standing next to my critter, she looked up at me and raised her eyebrows. "How come you didn't butt in, down an' brown?"

  "You seemed to be doing okay."

  She reached up, placed her hand on my arm, and squeezed it. "Thanks." She turned about and headed off toward the front of the column.

  Deadeye stood there on the sand looking thoughtful. When the crowd had thinned out a bit, he kept his gaze on me as he cocked his head toward Pendril and his cooling client. "What do you think about that?"

  "It looks like a bad season for kitbag killers."

  "Is there a difference between what the RCs do and what I used to do on contract?"