Fall of the White Ship Avatar (46 page)

Dincrist's body and the restraint-bound, incoherent Constance had been removed by Spican peace officers. The Spican government was about out of patience, sanctity of the board meeting or no. Alacrity and Floyt were in total accord as to their next area of endeavor: headlong flight.

"I'm sure we can have you both cleared in short order," Sibyl Higgins told them as they were about to duck out of the airlock and fire up the
Tramp-Royal's
gig, and get moving. "If you'll stay, I'll stand by you in this matter."

"In the meantime, somebody'll kill us," Alacrity said sourly. "And we'll be innocent but dead. We prefer being live fugitives."

"We have more experience at that," Floyt explained. He and Alacrity were already dressed in nondescript working-breakabout shipsuits. With the White Ship inner hatch secure, the Ship amiably opened the airlock storage bin so they could retrieve their guns.

"Anyway, I'm not sure what's going to happen about Dincrist's shares and the others', or what the company'll do," Alacrity went on. "But what really counts is what the Ship figures she should do, and it looks like she's going to listen to this New Faction consensus. You sure couldn't do much worse than I did."

"I don't entirely agree," Higgins said. "And some day in the not-too-distant future now, this Ship will be ready to set forth. We shall need trained and seasoned personnel."

"Besides, Alacrity, you already have that pretty captain's suit," Heart added, running pale fingers through his hair, laughing.

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[Fitzhugh 3]-FALL OF THE WHITE SHIP AVATAR

It was nearly two full days since the Ship had been yanked back from the flames. Alacrity and Heart had spent as much of that time together in her quarters as they could steal away from crisis management and the other demands upon them. Those included his yearning to see more of the Ship, no matter how painful that was, and a few other matters he had to take care of when no one was watching, not even Heart. Alacrity had, as a matter of fact, just come from a transactions terminal.

The interlude had healed up what had gone wrong between them, made things dearer and deeper, made it, somehow, at once the same love and yet something new and better.

Now the Nonpareil slipped her arm around his waist, but Alacrity shook his head. "No, no; I'm not the captain of this ship."

Higgins looked vexed. "Come, come now! Just because you cannot make the rules you refuse to play the game? That is
infantile
!"

Alacrity sucked his thumb, nodding, then said, "There's more to it than that, Doc. Let's just say I'm finally convinced that I'm not—that it's not in the cards." He exchanged looks with Floyt.

"I hate to be the one to point this out, but time is pressing upon us," Wulf said. "The government is demanding cooperation and we really cannot refuse them much longer."

"All right, you both know how to get in touch with me," Heart told the two sidekicks for the third time.

"And
please
use your heads and go to Bankroll and sign aboard the
Slocum
!"

The
Captain Joshua Slocum
was one of the biggest ships in the Dincrist empire. She was being overhauled on Bankroll, outside Spican authority, for a voyage that would take her to the frontiers and beyond. Heart had given them letters of introduction guaranteed to get them comfortable berths under aliases.

"We'll think about it," Alacrity promised. But he wasn't so happy about the idea. For one thing, it could leave them terribly vulnerable to any enemies they might still have in the Dincrist organization who might get wind of the arrangement.

Heart almost punched him. She'd thought about joining them in their escape, but there was simply no way she could abandon the White Ship at this critical juncture. But the Spican writ, weighty as it was, didn't run far in terms of known space. The galaxy was big, and she knew Alacrity meant to be with her in it, whatever that took—as much as she meant to be with him.

Alacrity and Heart had a last kiss—a thousand wouldn't have been enough—and he and Floyt boarded the gig, Alacrity carrying his warbag and umbrella. He looked into the Nonpareil's eyes, and she into his, file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20krui...%20-%20Fall%20of%20the%20White%20Ship%20Avatar.htm (236 of 242)23-2-2006 17:03:15

[Fitzhugh 3]-FALL OF THE WHITE SHIP AVATAR

until the hatch closed completely.

Floyt let out a long yawn as Alacrity cast loose from the White Ship. Alacrity glanced aside at him.

"You tired, too? What's
your
excuse?"

Floyt stretched, joints cracking. "With all those data terminals and info files? Guess."

"So you've been accessing. What for?"

"Well, there's all that Heavyset/Precursor stuff, and more Precursor data than at any other source: field reports, archeological tapes, military intel files—"

Floyt held up his new proteus. "All the really unique material is now duplicated in here."

Alacrity's brows flickered. "Go back, now; what do
we
care about Precursors? No more White Ship, at least not for me, remember?"

Floyt looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Yes, well—you know, I've been thinking, and the mere fact that you aren't Master of the White Ship doesn't mean that you can't unlock Precursor secrets. If you care to.

Look here, you know more about them firsthand than perhaps anyone. Certainly it looks as though we're going to be doing a good deal of moving about for some time to come.

"Who's to say the White Ship is necessarily the key to it all? Who's to say the answers couldn't come from a couple of chaps like us, who get around a lot even if we do tend to travel bilgeclass? If we were diligent and perhaps a spot of luck came our way from time to time, as it's been known to?"

Alacrity had the gig moving at very low speed. "Hobart, just what is it you're getting at, here, please?"

Floyt gazed back through the cockpit dome at the White Ship. "I suppose you could say I have my own Grail now. Alacrity, remember in Hecate's Precursor lair? That genealogy, that incredible family tree of humankind? Linking every person who ever lived with every other!"

Alacrity answered slowly, "But Ho—I mean, I saw just a little of what was going on, but I guess Hecate didn't show Paloma or me what she showed you."

Floyt heaved a sigh. "It was miraculous; it was the most compelling Precursor thing I've ever seen. And somehow I'm going to recreate it."

"Why?"

"For what it
is,
I suppose. Besides, wouldn't it be a little harder to cheat someone or starve them or start a war with them if you could see how you were related to them? Just a
little
harder, at least? In some cases?"

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[Fitzhugh 3]-FALL OF THE WHITE SHIP AVATAR

"Hobart Floyt, you'll be burned in effigy and shot and stabbed and crucified and clapped in irons and strangled and spat upon and similarly inconvenienced the very first time you demonstrate this impossible thing you're proposing."

"Oh." Floyt's enthusiasm ebbed. "I … guess you're—"

"Where d'you think we should start?"

Floyt didn't know what to say, so he just nodded to himself, looking out at the stars. "I've got a little list," he sang at last, tapping his proteus.

"Great!" Alacrity said brightly. "First thing we have to do is get out of Spican jurisdiction. Y'know, it's a relief that you have a reason to really
want
to go off after Precursor secrets. Now we both do."

"Besides, I love Heart, but I really don't want to work for some
company
again."

"Perhaps we can start by tracking down the
Astraea Imprimatur,"
Floyt suggested. "Janusz and Victoria would give us a hand, don't you think?"

But Alacrity was shaking his head. "Janusz and Victoria made vague arrangement with Heart to get in touch when the heat half-lifes, but word from them may not come for years."

Alacrity added, "They might even be worse off than we are. We'll have to figure out something else, and I think I know what. I can only imagine how very glad and grateful you must be to have a synergenius for a partner!"

"I suppose so, but there's something else you should know, Alacrity. I intend to find Paloma, as well. I love her."

"Good. That'd give me a chance to sort of make things up to the both of you, helping you do that."

Floyt scratched the underside of his chin. "And, um, there's another matter. I did some research on my Inheritor's belt—on the symbols on it."

The Inheritor's belts had been sent forth by the late Director Weir who, the two had come to understand, was privy to his share of Precursor lore, too. The belts had sigils, symbols, or whatever, in common, but many that were unique to the individual Inheritor.

"So?" Alacrity said.

"So the symbols that Hecate's demon-lover systemry found so interesting—that saved us, I guess—

appear to mean the same thing as the words she yelled; I retrieved them from your proteus. Hecate, it turns out, was talking in her native tongue."

"Will you just
tell
me, so I can get back to flying this creampuff?"

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[Fitzhugh 3]-FALL OF THE WHITE SHIP AVATAR

Floyt settled back into the seat and looked at the stars. "The words and the sigils on my belt mean both,

'Strange Attractor', and '
Attractor
of Strange Attractors.' "

Heart had helped the investigators as much as she could.

"Honest!" as she put it.

Somehow, those two fugitives from justice, Floyt and Fitzhugh, seemed to have either completely disappeared from the universe or temporarily evaded apprehension, depending upon whether the official talking was a law officer of low rank or high.

The investigators didn't push things too hard inboard the White Ship; the board and the White Ship Company still swung tremendous weight in the Spican system.

The Old Guard was being very meek and close-mouthed. Their voting status was returned to them, but Captain Dincrist's stock would remain inactive until Probate had sorted things out and the will was executed. It seemed likely Heart would inherit. The Old Guard wasn't in any frame of mind to offend her.

"There's still the matter of a final vote on some procedural questions," the Ship said to Heart at a certain point.

Heart looked around her at the bridge, striking a faint chime from one duraglaze slipper. "Why are you telling me?" Her father's shares might make her First Shareholder, eventually, but not yet. Up until a few seconds before, the Ship had been addressing Sibyl Higgins as First Shareholder, as the Ship had since Dincrist's death.

"In the absence of an elected chairman, First Shareholder shall function in that capacity," the aloof woman-voice cited. Heart suddenly thought that she could get to like that voice if it kept on saying things of good omen.

"As of twenty-two thirty this date, Ship time, with the activation of the transaction-of-record of Shareholder Alacrity Fitzhugh, also known as Shareholder Jordan Bowie," the Ship told her, "you are now First Shareholder."

The bridge dome came alive in displays. It took a few moments to put together what Alacrity had done.

Wulf flashed his smile and patted the Nonpareil's hand. "He's transferred all Hecate's shares over to you.

And it seems he's given you that one other share, his parents', too."

Higgins was taking it all in. "Heart, you'll have your father's shares as well, but I would say this makes things definite. You're the leader of the New Faction. You're the First Shareholder, but I warn you: I'll file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20krui...%20-%20Fall%20of%20the%20White%20Ship%20Avatar.htm (239 of 242)23-2-2006 17:03:15

[Fitzhugh 3]-FALL OF THE WHITE SHIP AVATAR

always speak my mind and vote my conscience!"

Yester was beaming up at the displays. "Whoever heard of such a gift before? Heart, he's given you the White Ship!"

Heart turned away so that they wouldn't see the tears brim up in her eyes. The tears weren't for the three hundred forty thousand shares but rather for the three hundred forty thousand and first.

The Nonpareil put most of the commo surveillance resources of the White Ship to work, doubly eager for word of Alacrity after she found his note—YOU'RE MINE AND I'M YOURS!—under her pillow.

Ten hours into the search, when Spican authorities had been ejected from the Ship and most of the major problems were under control—when it had really come to her that this greatest and most advanced product of human genius and handiwork was hers to control and hers to answer for, with its implications of what the human race would be and should be—the Ship toned for her attention again.

Some subroutine had turned up a feature on the Uncensored Network.

Circe Minx stood outside her yacht, the
Tramp-Royal,
with her arm around the very wide shoulders of a fascinatingly ugly, tremendously powerful looking man a half meter and more shorter than she but far taller than the crowd that pressed round. The man had a blank look, but gazed up at Circe adoringly.

A rumorghoul named Salome Price, in plaid dermal frosting, was conducting the interview, standing on a lift platform.

"Mah plan, Salome, is to retell, as an artist, in song and dance and drama and even comedy, th' story of the long search:
The Circe Minx Chronicles: Lookin' fer th' Precursors!
We'll be showin' our audience many of the most famous sites and finds, along with the very latest ones and even some that've never been studied before!"

Salome was so thrilled with this second exclusive in mere days that her nipples grew prominent under the tartan frosting. "Circe, your trillions upon trillions of fans were overjoyed to hear that, in the wake of becoming your own woman again and jettisoning those two vomit bags, Floyt and Fitzhugh, you've found such fulfillment, as you've put it, in the arms of Gentry Standing Bear! But what gave you the inspiration for this
monumental
undertaking, which, I remind our Uncensored audience, has been underwritten by the Ministry for Educational Media?"