Spiv, a lanky youth with tousled dirty-blond hair, caught sight of the malingering Todd Spigot, and he punched Marty’s shoulder “Hey, Rancer. What have we here?”
Swiveling, Rancer, a head shorter but heavier in muscle than his comrade, caught sight of Todd as well. He slogged to a halt. A smirk split his mouth, showing teeth that seemed all molars. “Well, shit. If it ain’t Tub-Tub. Hey, boxo,” he said sauntering up like he owned the woods and the sky above and the earth beneath. “Thought I heard the teach tell you you’d better finish this one.”
Todd had long since learned that any attempt to play along would only cause further contempt. Besides, he was tired of these two. He elected to ignore them, to pretend they were not even there.
Marty Rancer jauntily approached Todd, hand on hip. “So sorry, Wobbly. Didn’t hear you, I’m afraid.”
Todd looked away.
“Damn, Spiv. The fat’s grown into his ears, too.” With a blustery laugh, he inched closer, cupping his hand to his mouth. “Hey, Spigot!” he yelled. “Race ya!”
“He looks like a friggin’ toad there on that rock,” said Spiv. “Like a friggin’ toad.”
“Wonder if he’ll hop!” Rancer prodded him with a sneaker.
“Hey, would you cut it out?” asked Todd in a small, surly voice.
Marty withdrew a moment, considering. “Maybe we can just roll him back. Coach’ll be wonderin’ where he’d gone to by now.”
“Just leave me alone,” Todd said, unable to prevent a pleading note from penetrating his command. “I’m just resting. I’ll be along in a little while. Don’t worry about me.”
Spiv shook his head. “Damn, Marty. That ass he’s sitting on is the biggest I’ve ever seen. You must do nothin’ but eat, Tubby! Let’s have a feel, huh?” He grabbed a handful of Todd’s thigh. “Shit, Marty. Feels just like a girl’s tit. How about that.”
Todd wriggled away and stood, eyes wide with hatred. “Just get away!”
“Ah, c’mon, Todd,” said Marty, grinning. “Just one feel for me too, huh? You don’t want to leave me out, do you? Won’t snap a towel at you in the showers for a whole month! Honest!” Slowly, steadily, Marty moved in, groping hand outstretched.
Todd stood and backed away. Folding his hand into a fist, he brandished it. “Come closer, and I’ll belt you.”
Their jaws dropped with astonishment, and Spiv said, “Well, what do you know. Jelly-belly has some spirit!”
Marty leered mischievously. “That’s not good. Not good at all. Let’s see if it’s just bluff.”
“Sure, let’s.” Simultaneously, they marched up to Todd, the rank stench of their sweat roiling ahead of them. Todd took a wild, desperate swing that slapped into Spiv’s meaty hand and was held there. With blurry quickness, Marty grabbed hold of the other arm. Todd found himself imprisoned.
He squirmed hard, and he kicked, and he found himself screaming with a helpless fright.
Lithely, Spiv stuck a shin behind Todd’s knees and tripped him. Todd tumbled to the ground hard, and Marty crouched over him, holding him fast.
“No bruises, Marty,” cautioned Spiv.
“Shit, don’t make no difference.”
Spiv clipped him one in the solar plexus. Streamers of gripping pain shot through Todd’s body. Another punch in the gut and the nausea he had battled built overflowing into a wave that flooded his esophagus with bile and vomit. He spouted the remains of his breakfast from his lips and onto Marty’s brand new running shoe. Todd lay beneath them, wheezing and coughing as Marty stared down in horror at the mess atop his shoe.
“Jesus Christ! The kid’s puked all over me!” He slung his foot, slipping the stuff back into Todd’s face. “Now he’s really going to get it!”
Through bleary vision, Todd looked up and saw that they were no longer even smiling. He felt no more hatred, no more fear, not even despair. He felt only an overwhelming self-loathing that he should be so hated to merit this ... every blow he deserved, he thought. Every smack.
Then Spiv kicked him in the groin, and the pain precluded everything.
With perfectly calibrated caution, the mechanical hands transferred the naked, wet brain to the other body, and commenced the insertion and bonding.
The computer-surgery machine bonded the final cells of the scalp, leaving no scars ...
He seemed to be floating in a pool of bubbles. They coated his body, tickling, breathing over his face in popping fizzes. Head over heels he turned, drifting in a lazy dance of relaxed life. Overhead was a sun-streaked surface, a glossed mirror he had passed through and was slowly rising up to pierce once more. Faster and faster he rose, and the cool clear water surged as he surfaced.
Todd awoke quite suddenly.
All was darkness, shot with a hazy film of light.
“Oh God,” he said. “I’m blind.”
“You’re eyes are closed,” came a clipped, disembodied voice soothingly. “Open them, Mr. Spigot.”
“Oh.” He tried. A sliver of light cracked through, brilliantly. But the eyelids seemed gummed together with some sticky substance. He instinctively lifted a hand to rub it out. But something held his arm down.
“One moment, please,” said the voice, at his side now. “Just a few more attachments to be removed. It appears to be an absolutely splendid job, yes it does!”
With no appreciable field of vision, Todd had to rely on his other senses for immediate impressions. The air that touched his bare body seemed unusually brisk and cool—and yet invigoratingly so. There was a bitter, harsh taste in his mouth-like salty bark. All through his body he felt a remarkable sense of well-being.
He opened his mouth and said, “How long—” He stopped, absolutely astonished at the new, deep quality to his voice: a booming resonance that vibrated with health and authority.
The clatter of apparatus falling away from him under the quick and nimble fingers of Halpine: the vibrations were heard and felt. “A quick wash to get some of this nutrient residue off and that will be it,” declared Halpine.
Todd felt a warm rag, spongy-wet—rub him all over, bringing on a blissful repose of pleasured muscles. Finally it glided over his eyes, sluicing off the gummy stuff that remained.
Todd opened those eyes.
The angles of the room, the colors, seemed clearer, sharper.
Better focused or something.
Halpine’s face hovered over him. “How do you feel, Mr. Spigot? Everything working right? Why not test it out’!”
Todd slid off the table and he stretched. Luxuriously. Ripply muscles snapped to immediate faithful attention. He seemed absolutely laced with liquid-smooth steel. springing strong. He felt lithe, he felt as though there was nothing he could not do. He felt overflowing with animal happiness and confidence.
“The mirror’s this way, Mr. Spigot,” said Halpine with unsuppressed admiration in his tone.
Todd pivoted sharply as though his body had once been in the military. Proudly, haughtily he marched behind the intern. Halpine opened a door—backed by a full-length mirror. Todd stepped in front of it and found himself breathless.
“Cocky, eh?”
Todd jumped at Halpine’s intrusive voice. “What?”
“I said, you must feel pretty cocky in that body. Sure of yourself.”
“Why. yes, I suppose I do.” replied Todd.
“I must say, it’s a damned fine slab of flesh and bone.”
It truly was.
* * *
He stared into the eyes, and he knew pure and unadulterated love for the first time. As he had guessed, they were blue, but bluer than he had ever imagined. He felt as though he stared into binoculars trained on a deep azure sky.
“It’s ... it’s almost a religious experience.”
“Listen, my friend. In that body you’ll have lots of experience. I should let you know. th
ough, that there is one minor problem.”
“Oh?” Todd could not pull his riveted attention from this marvelous new body. Oh, if he could only meet up with Marty and Spiv now!
“Oh, indeed. There’s no way in hell that the clothes in your suitcases are going to fit now.”
Shocked from his trance, Todd turned. “You’re quite right. And I am in a hurry. I suppose I could buy new things on the Star Fall. But do you have anything for me now?”
Halpine grinned congenially. “I think we can probably find you something functional.” He rubbed a thumb and forefinger together. “Of course, there will be a small surcharge.”
“No problem.”
“Hey. You want to have one last gander at the old beast before I prepare it for a storage tank?” He pointed blithely back at the machine wherein Todd’s discarded former body lay.
Todd shook his head. “No. No thank you.”
* * *
Halpine took only a minute to scrounge up a pair of black, somewhat wrinkled pants, a white silky shirt, and a green mohair sweater to cover Todd Spigot’s new body. The clothes fit snuggly but comfortably, and actually smelled newly-laundered. They felt remarkably good on him, not pinching-tight as the clothes on his other body felt even when his mother let them out a bit for him.
After Todd was finished admiring himself in the mirror sporting his new duds, he handed over the extra money from his supply of creds he kept in his luggage. He wondered briefly if he could sell his old clothes on the ship. Worth a try, he decided. He hoisted up the battered leatherette suitcases with pleasurable ease and skipped a little helpless dance of glee, he felt so good.
Halpine looked even shorter than before from his new, somewhat higher, vantage point. He seemed to catch the elation that flowed through Todd. He ogled a digital chronometer embedded in the wall as he might some half-robed voluptuous jiggle-dancer and slapped his hands together with a note of happy finality. “Goodness, and it’s only nine-thirty! Cream on the cake. Mr. Spigot! Topping for the treat! You’ve got plenty of time to make the skyport ... I took the liberty of calling a cab while you dressed!”
“Thank you, Mr. Halpine.” Todd dropped his cases and grasped up the intern’s hand, shaking it with enthusiastic abandon. Crushingly. Halpine grimaced. his tongue protruding comically.
“Gah, Mr. Spigot. Please—you don’t know your own strength!”
Immediately, Todd released the hand. “Oh. Sorry. Really, Mr. Halpine. I must admit, I had doubts ... but you came through much better than I expected. I can’t thank you enough. You can be sure I’ll send a postcard to Doctor Chiro, thanking him for your terrific help.”
A pained smile trembling on his lips, Halpine rubbed his hurt hand gingerly. “Right ho, Mr. Spigot. Have a good trip. I’m sure the assets of your new body will be used to good effect aboard the Star Fall.” The young man winked and nudged Todd with an elbow. “Know what I mean?”
Todd hefted his luggage once more and lightly paced away, a cheerful goodbye trailing behind him, lingering in the sterility of the air. He darted one last admiring look at himself in the mirror. Incredible. Absolutely no scars in the head where the incisions had been made. Modern technology was indeed wonderful—not the mechanistic monster his mother had always made it out to be in her long harangues on the subject. The words of Rev. Marshall of his church rang hollowly in his mind: “Shirk the ways of the universe, for surely the universe will imprison a winged soul behind its bars of metal and sin!”
Todd laughed aloud, a rich, reverberating sound. How wrong the Reverend was. This magic-like technology and science of the present had grafted superior wings to his soul and had unlocked the prison he’d been rotting in!
He stopped still with a kind of transcendental shock. He was feeling happy doing things that his mother and his church would weep over. The wailing interior voice of his mother echoed in the drafty corridors of his conscience, pointing an accusing finger.
He felt totally released. Todd paced cheerfully into the reception room, the previously distasteful odor now the scent of his freedom. He was about to boom a hearty note of thanks to the grumbly middle-aged man behind the desk—but the man had his head cradled in his arms, snoring. Todd, in love with the world and all its creatures, did not disturb the man’s slumber. He eased the squeaky door open and slipped out as silently as possible.
The taxi that Halpine had thoughtfully dialed up hovered patiently before the building, thrumming like a busted hummingbird. Beaming, Todd hailed it—and the side door opened. He hopped up to it, tossed his bags into the back seat, and then slid into the front with a nimbleness that surprised him.
He barely noticed that there was no cab insignia on the door.
“Starport, please,” he said, savoring the baritone of his new voice. He settled into the seat and he gazed over at the driver. His eyes seemed to blend into hers like warm water into brown sugar.
Hers were supple with a brilliancy that a pert lipsticked mouth fulfilled. Black hair somersaulted down to her shoulder in crazy dives and twirls. A one-piece body suit accentuated her figure.
Todd’s mouth quirked into a scared half-smile at her attention. She was obviously interested.
“Starport it is, sir. Too bad you have to leave so soon.” Bat of long lashes, innocent and wanton.
A kind of victorious panic flooded Todd. Astonished by the woman’s reaction to him, he underwent still another flash of comprehension. For the first time he really understood how his life had shockingly changed. His slow smile broadened over his features.
Honey-colored nails tapped at controls as the car eased from its stand by the curb and sailed softly around a corner.
He did not take his eyes from her as they sped from the decaying neighborhood. Neither noticed a smaller hovercar, bubbletop closed, barreling down upon them from straight ahead like a demon disgorged from perdition at the last moment. With a broken scream the woman jeered the car sharply away from the approaching speedster, veering into the high sidewalk. The hovercar rocked jaggedly as the maniac in the other car screamed past them, turning onto the street they had just departed with such abandon it caromed off the side of a building. Righting itself, it zoomed away.
Todd, shaken, commented, “My oh my. Looks like that guy’s in a hurry!”
“Yes, you might say that,” said the woman. She wore a puzzled expression.
PHILIP AMBER rocketed down into a crunching, jarring crash that skidded over meters of pavement, finally smashing janglingly into a weather-stained curb. Painfully, he hauled himself from the car’s confines through wisps of steam and smoke that plumed from it. He lost his balance and flopped to the gritty sidewalk, staggering in a kind of waddling sprint to the building that was his destination, the Steinmetz Body Parlour.
Propped against the dirty front window, he paused long enough to retch into the gutter. He stumble-walked to the door.
The drive here had been a careening bitch. Although the car was semiautomatic, still it was difficult to operate one-armed and with a hand that had to cling steadfastly to a gun that was heavier by the second. The Zero-Pain gradually wore off. A headache to be measured in megatons was growing steadily inside Amber’s skull. His arm was beginning to feel like it was jammed elbow-deep into an operating garbage disposal. Somehow on his roundabout trip back he had fumblingly managed to punch up a detailed map on his car-screen—but locating his exact whereabouts, the exact destination and the best route between had by no means been a Romper Room task.
His speed and breakneck recklessness had attracted and lost no less than three cop-cruisers. There had been a running blast-battle with some monster cruiser that had emerged from nowhere, that could have been one crime faction or another, or the vengeful Devil himself, for all he knew. Through luck he left it behind, burning in a ditch.
He dived into the room, rolled off to the side, prepared for anything that might await him.<
br />
The receptionist’s eyes bulged wide. He gripped a voice phone tighter. But the older man did nothing more as Amber trained his gun on him and shook his head, a wordless warning.
“Oh—uh, no sir,” the receptionist said into the pyramidal mouthpiece. “No, he hasn’t gotten back. Besides, the law is probably scraping him off some side street by now. Even if he is alive. In any case we’ll prepare on this end and I will expect your men at any moment.” Trembling slightly, the middle-aged man cradled the phone and gazed down at Philip Amber. “Jeez, Phil. You really blew it, didn’t you? And my God, the merchandise!” He shook his head back and forth despairingly as he eyed the wrecked body. “Chiro will— ”
“I’ll send money. Just fix me back up, and I’ll get to the spaceport on my own.” His cautious eyes narrowed. “If I think you’re still trustworthy.”
The man chuckled mirthlessly. “You don’t really have a choice, do you, Captain?”
Amber smiled grimly and rose from the floor, lowering his gun. “No, I suppose I don’t, Sergeant Fowly.” He slipped the gun back into his belt and commenced a leaning march straight to the back room.
Fowly opened the door for him, saying, “I haven’t seen you looking this bad since the time on Fortunata.”
“Yeah.” The particular memory did nothing too much in the way of soothing his pain. Nor did the sight of a stranger fooling with some bloated body beside the surgery machine. “Hey, who’s the jerk, Sarge? Where’s Chiro?”
Fowly said, “That female we got in the other day.”
“Yeah.”
Fowly leered. “Doc Chiro is busy.”
“Who’s going to operate— ”
“No problem,” said Fowly. “We can handle it.”
Halpine had turned around from his poking and prodding and was staring at Amber. “God. This isn’t the hospital, you know.”
Star Fall Page 7
