Fall of the White Ship Avatar (36 page)

Alacrity was at the nearest transactions terminal as Floyt and Van Straaten shook hands. "Business for a second, here. What d'we owe you, Nils?"

Van Straaten, putting his equipment away, stopped to look at him. He said very slowly, almost unwillingly, "I would say that I am still in
your
debt, Alacrity."

Alacrity's mouth curved down, bracketing. "Or my father's, huh? Look, it's all on the tab, Nils, but the hotel will pay you up front and give itself a healthy service fee. Besides, I'm an Interested Party in the White Ship."

Van Straaten rubbed his hands together, going for the terminal. "Well, in
that
case … "

A few minutes later they'd shaken hands all around, Van Straaten admitting, "I don't even know what to caution you about, Alacrity; Hobart. But do be cautious. And I'll tell you one other thing I heard about La Higgins: Precursor sects, White Ship Company, crime
aparatchiks
—she's got her reasons to hate them all, and she
does.
That Reno Magusson, he must've had
some
sense of humor!"

Just like Weir, when he named me in his will,
it occurred to Floyt.

"And there's that Heavyset starship and the whole Dincrist/Heart square-off," Van Straaten was saying.

"Don't forget what I'm telling you, boys: the fangs are showing, and you're not a very big bite, I think."

Then the cab was lifting away over Avalon, which was coming alive with light as dusk came on. "More news updates?" Floyt proposed.

"Let's take a break and let the programs rummage around some more. What d'you say we abolish pain out in that big formal garden?"

They each got another meltdown and wandered out across the obsessively faultless garden, which ran down a gentle slope to a picturesque pond. A bare, pristine-white flagpole stood there, flying Earth's globe-and-olivebranch in Floyt's honor, though he had no idea how the hotel had found one and gotten it up there on such short notice.

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The sward was blue-green, softer than fleece; Floyt couldn't name any of the flowers, shrubbery, or trees. Spica's glow still brightened half the horizon, and Avalon looked like a photon refinery, some huge petrochemical plant pumping out splendor.

They paced along beside an intricately detailed wall topped by big, jagged sawteeth. "When there are enough shares represented, the meeting will be convened, Alacrity?"

"Yes." Alacrity looked up to where several of Nirvana's sister planets had already appeared. "And then we get ferried up to the Ship, and if we live through that, things
really
start to boil. This Sibyl Higgins—

I just don't know how she's gonna change the equation, here."

"It would seem to me, Alacrity, that anything that changes the
status quo
could very plausibly work in your favor."
My god! If he proves the causality harp wrong there'll be no living with him! But no; I'd
welcome that kind of exasperation.

"True enough, Ho. Now, I figure that if we stay alive long enough to get there and start intriguing without any more surprises—"

A sound—a full, contralto bellow, actually—had been rising in the background.
"Tim-ber-rrr!"

Something heavy and metallic
bonged
down on the wall right by the spot where they stood, with a death-toll sound like the universe's time was up, breaking off the top of one of the sawteeth, knocking fragments and dust every which way.

CHAPTER 16—PUT 'ER IN THE LONGBOAT TILL SHE'S SOBER

Alacrity was hugging the turf, the xanthous eyes wide. Floyt, aside from shielding his face, had stood his ground.

"Goddammit, Ho, geddown!"

"Why? Are assault troops generally in the custom of crying '
Timber
!' when attacking, in your experience? Or, for that matter, 'Yoo-hoo!'?"

Alacrity grudgingly shook his head no, but "Yoo-hoo!" was undeniably what that same rich, sultry, high-decibel contralto was calling out.

"You win; you're right." Alacrity stopped trying to recall where the Captain's Sidearm was and scrambled to his feet. The thing that had crashed down on the wall sawteeth was a thin, snow-white cylinder that looked troublingly familiar until Floyt placed it: a flagpole just like the one in their own garden, only its red, white, and blue flag displayed a coiled-rattlesnake emblem. The voice sounded file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20krui...%20-%20Fall%20of%20the%20White%20Ship%20Avatar.htm (184 of 242)23-2-2006 17:03:14

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louder, lilting and huskily coy.

"Yoo-hoo! Neighbuhs! Ay!" There was a piercing fingers-in-lips whistle.

Floyt looked at Alacrity and Alacrity looked at Floyt; they both stepped over to a wall planter filled with lush blossoms, climbed up into it, and waded across to peer over the wall. The flagpole ran from their rampart to that of the Imperial Domain's east wing, a matter of a mere ten meters at that point in the figure-eight floorplan.

"Hello, ge'mun," she purred, a
loud
purr. "Ah thought somebody ovah theah might be up foah a game o'

Grafenberg hockey. Why, ge'mun! Whut's wrong?"

They did look a little foolish; slack-jawed and frog-eyed. She was standing across the way, in a white gown that shone blue in the dusk and threw out tiny speckles of starlight. It was tight as sausage skin on a truly awesome shape.

She was that same startling female persona they'd seen in dozens of holoflix and tapes, with the honeyed, stand-clear voice. Her windblown coif was no one color; it was all colors, a spectrum or rainbow that shifted around her face and neck and shoulders.

And, where they just about had to chin themselves on the wall, she was leaning
down
on it, a tumbler looking small as a fruit-juice glass in one long hand. Floyt and Alacrity looked down at the planter on which they were standing, and at each other again, and back to their neighbor.

"Look heah, hons: the least y'all could do is say good evenin' and invite me ovah theah! Oh, well … "

She put the glass down behind one sawtooth and vaulted up very neatly for someone in a designer sheath gown, to stand with one foot on either side of the makeshift assault bridge. The fabulous floor-length dress had a walking slit that reached all the way to her treated, jewel-threaded pubic locks.

The two friends squeaked like a pair of gerbils and bumped into each other, hands outflung to ward her off, not sure what to do but anticipating catastrophe.

"No! Circe, you can't—"

"Don't! Miss Minx,
please
! I beg you, stay back!"

She put fists on her hips and thrust out her lower lip at them.
If the scale is the same at her end,
Floyt processed,
she's about three and a half meters tall.

"Now, ge'mun,
ah
come fum Damfino, which is a planet wheah folks
innerduce
themselves to one an-othah! So, heah ah come!"

She put one big, pink, bare foot out onto the flagpole; Floyt sprang to brace it but Alacrity dragged him file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20krui...%20-%20Fall%20of%20the%20White%20Ship%20Avatar.htm (185 of 242)23-2-2006 17:03:14

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back, afraid he'd only jostle Circe Minx.

Circe Minx—after Hecate achieved her tremendous fame, the whole pantheon had been pillaged by people in search of catchy stage names, pseudonyms, and aliases—walked the balance-beam of the flagpole with a definite air of authority, the long, wide feet grasping, toes reaching and feeling for purchase, gripping. Air traffic passed by in the distance, beyond the Sceptered Isle's restricted zone, and low-level fliers and ground vehicles streamed below in rivers of light. She was out beyond the climate controls, where the winds carried Avalon sounds from far away and the fall would be long, long …

"Alacrity, shouldn't we call somebody?" Floyt whispered harshly.

"No! No, don't leave me in the middle of this! And anyway, who would you call? Just get ready to grab the pole if it bows too far, but don't let it drag you over the side if we can't save 'er."

Circe Minx's weight—no fan publication or publicity outlet ever revealed it—caused a pronounced dip in the composite flagpole, but then again she was halfway to her destination. She held one cross-tie, stiletto-heeled dancing sandal in either hand, arms out for balance like a circus pro. Except she was giggling.

Alacrity and Floyt waffled between shielding their eyes and watching fascinatedly. Alacrity couldn't help thinking what a splat the reigning sex symbol of the Third Breath would make if she misstepped.

One moment she was doing fine, hair tossed by the breezes; the next, she was in trouble, arms windmilling slowly, brows knotted as if she couldn't recall something. "Uh-oh … "

Alacrity breathed "
Vaina
!" to himself and got ready to grab for the pole or go after her or something. But Floyt jumped up to brace his elbows on the parapet, to yell through cupped hands.

"There's a commo call for you here, Miss Minx! Something about you not having script approval on your next feature!"

She dropped both big sandals. "
What
?" The shriek hurt their ears. She finished the walk one foot in front of the other, arms outspread, so quickly that the two friends fell to either side so as not to be trampled.

Circe Minx hit the turf with a solid thud and a swirl of sense-satin. "Where the hell's that commo terminal?
No script approval
? Would you two ge'mun be gallant enough to 'scuze a gal while she goes and toe-asses a little butt?"

"Yes, well now, how shall I put this?" Moisture beaded on Floyt's forehead and in his mustache. "I'm afraid I made that up. Heh-heh!"

"To get you in off that flagpole. I mean, really," Alacrity hastened. "You had us kinda scared." They file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20krui...%20-%20Fall%20of%20the%20White%20Ship%20Avatar.htm (186 of 242)23-2-2006 17:03:14

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both gulped, staring up at her. Alacrity estimated that she came in at three hundred kilos and a good deal more, but distributed on that amazing frame it all looked healthy and dynamic, fetchingly proportioned if voluptuous, but under the circumstances, frightening.

Uh, where
is
that gun
?

Floyt was more contemplative, recalling things he'd read. Height was a matter of some introspection to him, what with most non-Terrans running to extra-tall according to his standards, by way of nutrition, eugenics, bio-engineering, and what-all. Circe and people her size were about as far as human physiology could be stretched and not run into prohibitive troubles like osteological breakdown, critical loss of coordination, and square-cube revenge. As it was, cardiovascular glitches almost always cropped up, necessitating transplants, implants, and synergies.

Despite that, Circe Minx struck him as a big, healthy woman in her early thirties who'd adapted about as well as anybody could be expected to. She'd started out in erotic entertainments that were still prized and praised as high paradigms. Her lackluster dramatic vehicles only pointed up the fact that she was bright, funny, well read, and woefully underserved by the material given her. Much better things came with time.

As a performer and actress, her main problem was that there were few enough costars of
any
height with talent to match hers, much less leads who could play a scene opposite Circe without recourse to a forklift. Of people her size with her comedic timing, singing, and dancing ability, there were just about none. That notwithstanding, she'd almost singlehandedly made the "larger-than-life" school of holo and multimedia enormously popular and profitable, and become the fantasy figure of billions of people.

Still, all that mass was more than a little intimidating up close, especially to someone who'd just conned her, Floyt decided.
Where
is
that Webley
?

Circe scowled down at them for a beat, then broke into a smile warm as a fireplace. "You did it foah feah of mah safety?" The big hands bloomed, somehow graceful as Japanese fans. She affected to be a little breathless. "Such
noble
ge'mun. Are y'all sure yoah not fum Damfino?" The magnificent bosom rose and fell.

Oh, Freud in the Void! If she faints, she'll crush us!
Alacrity thought, a little unkindly, wanting to yell
timber
! himself but refraining, because he figured she'd probably become sick of height jokes long since.

"Just admirers of yours," Floyt said honestly.

She threw her head back and laughed. When she spoke again, a lot of the Damfino accent was gone.

"Well then, you're forgiven for userpin' my favorite half of the Imperial Domain. You mean you didn't file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20krui...%20-%20Fall%20of%20the%20White%20Ship%20Avatar.htm (187 of 242)23-2-2006 17:03:14

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know? Who'd you
think
that economy-size furniture was for, gents? Trained polar bears?"

"Won't you come and sit down in some of it?" Alacrity invited, the only thing he could think of to say.

"Hold up, now." She was looking at them closely. Circe Minx pointed at them with an elegant forefinger the length of a tentpeg.

"You two fine darlin's are Alacrity and Hobart, now aren't you? You look just like your pictures, but not a thing like those book covers! My, my! Aren't you just the most
dappah
things ever?" She clapped the big hands, a small explosion.

They squared away uniform and tux as best they could, trying to live up to the billing, Floyt mumbling,

"You're too kind, I'm sure."

"Things weren't any fun over at your place?" Alacrity asked.

"Aw, everybody says they want to comfort me about the diz-bonding, but mostly they wanted to freeload and try and take a canoe trip up the Delta!"

"We were sorry to hear about your divorce—your diz-bonding," Floyt lied a bit.