A heavily mascaraed woman with a stiff pile of brown hair atop her head and a professional smile that went no farther than the chartreuse lips regarded him from behind the padded counter. “Can I help you?”
“You bet you can help me,” thought Todd. “Send for the police. I’m being brain-napped!”
But as neither he nor she was telepathic, the message did not communicate. However, his chunky baritone did.
“Yes.” Calm as steady spring stream water in the mountains, that voice. He set the bags in the weight cleft cut into the counter, then slipped tickets and identification from the zippered pocket of the largest. “I’m going up to the Star Fall.”
“Oh. How nice for you.” Genuine interest showed through a toothy smile as she, in accepting the packet, brushed his hand smoothly with a green-lacquered fingernail. Drawing out the information, her eyes slid over them leisurely but not too slowly, obviously wishing to return to the more interesting item standing and breathing before her. “I wish I could go on that voyage. But of course I could never hope to save up the creds.” A wistful sigh. A bat of eyelashes. She pulled a truncated helmet-like bit of apparatus from behind the counter—the machine to which it was connected was not in view. “Slip this on, please, Mr. Spigot. A routine identification check. What with all this crazy body-switching there’s no telling who’s who these days. Thank heaven you can’t alter your brain’s holographic schematic or we’d never be sure—would we?’ She smiled brightly.
“It’s not Todd Spigot. I’m Todd Spigot!” Todd fruitlessly screamed over and over in his mind. He felt worse than he had in the convertible.
As his hands reached out to take the shell-like bit of plastic and trailing wire, Todd found his eyes take an encompassing hike up the woman’s trim form. Her eyes glittered with the glance, and Hunk leaned slightly toward her, saying, “Alas, what we have here, I’m afraid, is the beginning of a star-crossed love. However, when I get back, I must look you up, if you don’t mind?” Pleasantly. Suavely.
“That would be nice.”
“Ah, more promises to keep before I sleep.” The creature actually chuckled as it donned the helmet, folded its arms, and waited. Todd tried for all he was worth to’ change his reading (perhaps he could make the machine’s EEG needles spell out “HELP” on the paper’) but the most he succeeded in doing was to get himself more upset.
“The name is Dorothy Lace,” the woman said as she fiddled with the controls. She bulged the side of her mouth thoughtfully with her tongue, and then smiled glowingly. “Everything is in order, Mr. Spigot. The car to shuttle 19 is in port four. Your luggage will be attended to. Have a seat in the waiting room, and they’ll call you when departure is imminent. Do have a pleasant trip, won’t you?”
“I’m almost tempted to stay. But Fate is seldom kind in these matters. See you in eight months, Dorothy.”
With a casual wave, Hunk strolled away, bouncing on the balls of his feet, as though he was actually happy.
What kind of crazy thing was in control of this body, anyway?
Hunk threaded expertly through the weaving crowds of people in the station toward the waiting room. He stopped at a bar and drank two beers, which succeeded in rendering Todd a little drunk.
When he arrived at the waiting room there were twenty people there. Humans all. Hardly any aliens lived on Deadrock. The body that was his prison sat with crossed legs, wearing a satisfied smile. It was all excruciatingly frustrating.
“Okay. The screams I’II keep down, and I won’t demand anymore.” Todd said, trying to talk to it. “So at least you can talk to me and tell me why you’re doing this?” His mind was full of pitiful entreaties—almost begging. If it had knees, it would have gotten down on them. But whatever other intelligence was inside this strange body, it stolidly refused to respond, like a lump waiting to be ushered into the car and then into the shuttle for the Star Fall. And once that space-liner was on its way, there would be no return here to Deadrock anytime soon.
A short, grizzled man next to him smoked a fat cigar. Todd could not smell it. A fashion-model type across from him wore a sweater and still looked chilly. The room must have been over-air-conditioned—but Todd could not feel it.
Suddenly, a woman staggered into the room, heaving strained breaths. A corpulent woman, saggy of flesh, baggy of face.
Tears coursed down her cheeks. She was Todd’s mother.
No spectral visage, this. No guilty memory, but the real article, the genuine item.
Come to rescue him? Was it possible?
“Mother?” But the stubborn jaws of Hunk did not work.
“Mother! Mother! I’m over here!”
Mrs. Spigot scanned the entirety of the room with bloodshot eyes, and she called, “Todd? Todd, are you in here?”
Eyes turned her way, their owners annoyed and embarrassed at this show of emotion. She must have come to the starport to try to talk him out of leaving, Todd surmised. She would know he was here if she’d checked at the desk.
Breathlessly, she ran over to the nearest person.
Hunk.
She gazed imploringly into his eyes, and asked plaintively, “I’m so sorry to trouble you, but I must find my son before he gets on that ship. There’s something I’ve got to tell him, whether he goes or not. Oh, I’ve been so stupid.” She quickly described him. “Have you seen him?” she concluded. Hope shone in her eyes.
Hunk just sat, while Todd despaired.
Finally, Hunk said, “Todd Spigot? Short, fat guy? Uh-uh. I’d have noticed him, lady. But he hasn’t shown up here yet. Maybe he stopped off at the men’s room.”
Limpid eyes lit with hope. “Oh. Of course. That must be what happened. Thank you, sir.”
She turned and drifted away, while Todd stared after her, numbed.
But no, he thought. No! Buck up. This is foolish. You’re acting like a little child again. Take on the responsibility of your fate. That’s what you have to do to truly mature, to become a full-fledged adult.
He’d gotten himself settled by the time, two minutes later, when the officials present began to sift the passengers through the runway to the shuttle. Todd Spigot—or rather, Spigot being carried in the braincase of the creature he called Hunk—was the fifth to be so processed. Hunk took him to the front of the large windowed vehicle as though this were just another casual commuter run to the office. Todd had composed himself enough by this time to accept the fact that he was indeed inexorably headed toward a very uncertain, but at least safe, future. Just before the car was ready to take the passengers to the shuttle-rocket, a commotion of late arrivals stirred the back.
Hunk did not bother to turn his head.
With soft, mumbly air-blasts, the giant hovercraft swept slowly to the docking platform of the large, streamlined rocket, erect on its pad, framed by its structural latticework like a temporary exoskeleton. The hovercraft slid slowly into its slot, automatically affixing its front doorway to the access ramp with a hissing and a clank. Hunk responded promptly, springing up immediately. He was the first to board the rocket, dragging Todd’s bemused brain right along.
They were led into a circular room with rows of grav-seats, especially built to nullify the extra gees that pushed you down like a giant’s thumb. Barely perceptible mood-muzak played from the speakers, to alleviate any tension.
Todd had taken shuttles before, in his previous body. They were not expensive, and they afforded an interesting use of a day’s time. There were space stations orbiting Deadrock that were quite interesting to visit from time to time—and Todd did just that, more frequently in the past few years as he gradually had begun to assert his independence. However, he had never gone farther than that. This was to be his first trip beyond his system. But he was accustomed to riding a shuttle craft.
Hunk seemed equally familiar with the routine. The creature’s general air of competency astounded Todd.
As his fear dissipated, true curiosity and a general sense that maybe things were not quite as bad as he had feared were beginning to take hold. After all... once away from this system and into under space, Deadrock law would no longer be in jurisdiction. So, whatever crimes had been committed by this body would not result in problems. Yes—he was actually coming to accept his situation, even though he still did not care for it a great deal.
Hunk walked jauntily toward the front section, selected a middle seat, and plunked down easily. He clipped on the various belts and safety accoutrements, and then leaned back as though to relax.
He shut his eyes.
Todd was startled at the impact of this shutting-off of yet another faculty. If the hearing went, that would be total sensory deprivation. He did not relish the idea. He heard the shuffling of feet as the passengers boarded. The murmurs of expectant conversation, the clicks of buckles and clatters of strap metal against seat metal. The swish of clothing against the fabric of the seats ...
He heard the harsh sound of the exterior doors cycling closed and sealing. “Lift-off in two minutes, ladies and gentlemen. Take your seats, please... ” and the voice droned on explaining the system of preparation.
Todd heard the sounds of someone sitting to his left and securing the belts quickly. “Hello there,” said a female voice. “Care for a bite?”
Hunk opened his eyes. The first thing in his field of vision was a half-unwrapped Hershey bar. The eyes canted upwards, and a woman billowed into view.
Hunk smiled and accepted the offering. Todd could not taste the chocolate or feel it being chewed.
“You know, I never gave you my name,” said the woman. “It’s Alexandra. Alexandra Durtwood. You may call me Alex.” She jerked off a hefty bit of the bar like a shark might bite off a swimmer’s dangling leg and looked away absently. “The boys figured it was important enough to spring for my passage. They’re just like me, you know. Very into revenge.” She licked melted chocolate off her fingers. “Very into blood and death.”
Her eyes half-closed, smiling from within self-confidently.
Todd realized that his previous panic had been nothing at all. Nothing at all to this cold worm of fear that crawled inside his head, burrowing, burrowing.
Oh God!
The seat to his right squeaked: someone sitting.
The steward, through the public address system, announced in clipped tones, “Smoking is permitted. No danger.”
“Oh, excellent,” said the new neighbor jovially. A man, then… but with a very odd-sounding voice. He turned to face Hunk, his voice growing. “Hey, pal. You got a lighter? Damned things I got here aren’t self-lighting. Blasted starport concession stands.”
Hunk, not in any way showing he had an inkling of the danger Todd knew they were in, turned to face the new arrival, giving Todd a full view as well.
Facing him were quite familiar features. Round cheeks, stumpy nose, sloping chin.
In fact, it was a face that used to look at Todd while he was shaving.
The fat man shrugged his shoulders ponderously. The cigarette between his lips bobbed. “Oh well,” he said. “I guess I don’t need a smoke.” He smiled, amusement lighting up his eyes. “But hey! Haven’t you seen me somewhere before?”
As the rockets below boomed and lifted the shuttle gradually upwards to pierce the sky, Todd Spigot stared at his real body and tried to remember how to pray.
EVEN THROUGH his fear, Todd could not help but be struck by the mounting wonders of the Star Fall. Once beyond the tug of Deadrock gravitation, the holo-tank above their heads obligingly faded into view, and a hushed whisper ran through the room. The air was charged with excitement.
They had all seen this spectacular starship represented in snaps on their cruise data. But none of those could come close to matching the visual majesty of that kilometer-wide triumph of celestial science and technology. It hung there against the star-beds of space like a castle. This distracted Todd’s attention from the dual trouble that bracketed him.
But not-for long.
The sleek woman smiled like a vixen that had just gobbled down a fine fat pheasant. Smoothly, she ran a dallying finger down Hunk’s arm, teasing. “I daresay it will take time,” she whispered, wind on satin. “Time to organize allies, time for a little mourning, a little reflective grief at the untimely cessation of my dear father’s life. Perhaps even time to be sociable with my intended quarry. Don’t you think that would be tres chic—superbly civilized? It appeals to me. Yes, it does.” Her facial tic suddenly resumed, and her eyes filled with lightning, her voice with hints of thunder. “But one day, perhaps soon, perhaps late—one day, when you least expect it, you’ll be mine.” She popped the last of her candy bar into her mouth, head tilted back. She appeared to drowse.
The space-liner Star Fall grew larger in the holo. Closer, once the sense of surmounting majesty disappeared, the sinister sidelights of the construction became more apparent. The small part of Todd’s mind that was not congealed by now with fear was reminded of gothic cathedrals—yes, mammoth medieval colossi of religion with their stained-glass windows, their spires, their flying buttresses joining towers like the mold of beehive secretion. The liner seemed a collection of many such architectural giants of a darker age, obscenely melded with skyscrapers, bridges, pressure domes—all manner of structures, human and alien, welded now into one gigantic ugly mass, streaked and dabbed with parti-colored lights. It was like some crazy bobbing, floating junkyard someone had tacked an FTL drive upon. The Star Fall, in all its metallic and transparent facets, was endlessly absorbing, morosely fascinating in its insectoid extravagance.
The fat man—himself, his body, his past eyes—had been staring at the approaching destination with a detached curiosity. Now the glance swung his way. Todd Spigot had never considered himself remotely good-looking; not any aspect of his face, nor his body. But he never thought of his features appearing so pleasantly relaxed, as confidently amiable as they seemed now. The Not-Todd stared at him a moment, then spoke in measured low tones.
“Hi. I think you’ve got something of mine. Think we can make a trade? Because I think I’ve something of yours. I’m sure we can make do with facilities aboard our destination.”
The eyes stared, demanding immediate reply.
“Sure. Sure. Take the thing. I don’t want it. I just want to get out of here,” Todd said. But thought did not translate into words.
Not-Todd frowned. “Okay, okay. Maybe you can wear it for a few days. I can see why you prefer it. Man, this body is for the birds. I feel like I’m walking around in two gee. So how about it? I’m a reasonable sort? Let’s get together on this, okay?”
“Oh, Alexandra,” thought Todd. “Listen! This must be the real Philip Amber you’re after. Oh, please pay attention.”
With the peripheral vision he now owned, he realized that Alexandra Durtwood was oblivious to the proceedings. Todd vaguely wondered what it was she kept in those chocolate bars, really. Whatever it was, it certainly whacked the woman. She just sat there now like a zombie with a load on.
“Now, c’mon pal. I’m not shitting around,” said the man who surely must be Amber. “You’re walking around in valuable merchandise. I paid a pretty creddie for the stuff you’re wearing, and I sure as hell want it back. So what you say? I don’t want trouble.”
Todd involuntarily turned his head and smiled. Didn’t Amber know that there was some extra intelligence working in this body? One would think that after wearing it for a while ...
Oh, no. What was Hunk doing?
“No, oh God, no!” Todd screamed silently.
Hunk raised his right forearm. Middle finger extended. Hunk was giving Amber the bird.
Amber’s eyes opened wide, and cold fury entered them like an ice flow. Todd had no idea that face could look so devastatingly frightening.
“Okay, chum. If that’s th
e way you want it, that’s the way it will be for now.” Sulking, Not-Todd scrunched back into the padded seat. “But while you’re on that batty ship we’re coming up on, watch out for dark corridors, huh?”
Sitting like a smug statue, Hunk resumed its stare at the holo-tank, ignoring the obviously fuming Amber.
The holo slowly dissolved into a two-gee projection of the boarding-lock of the Star Fall.
* * *
“Welcome aboard the Star Fall,” said the floating football. “I am Albert, your preliminary guide. I shall introduce you to the facilities available to you. And then you will be shown individually to your assigned cabins.”
Well, it looked like a football, anyway, thought Todd, standing amongst the small crowd of attentive passengers. It hovered there, ovoid, a hum with robotic servitude, dispensing precise instruction and information. Maybe half a meter long, bright-eyed oculars staring at them, voice-grille curved in a permanent parody of a smile.
“We’ll be getting underway momentarily via rocket propulsion to make a pick-up at the Skyhook, and then to a point sufficiently far from Nautilus’s gravity well that we can slip into under space via the Mattin Drive. Should you like extra information on the technical aspects of the flight through normal or abnormal space, or any part of the Star Fall’s construction, please refer to your separate computer link screen you will find in your cabins. But in the meantime, on behalf of the crew, human, Morapn, Aslasi, android, and robot, welcome aboard this spectacular ship, this marvelous voyage. In the name of peaceful coexistence between all races of the galaxy, welcome.
Todd stood there with the rest, comfortably distant from Amber and Alexandra, listening attentively some heads away from him. Not that he had assumed control of the body; far from it. But Hunk was behaving himself well enough. No more obscene gestures from rebel fingers, anyway.
They had docked cleanly enough, with a bell-like clang that had sounded to Todd like the voice of doom. What had he ever done to deserve this, he constantly asked himself. And no one answered, for a change. Todd wasn’t certain if that was comforting or not.
Star Fall Page 9
