Get Off the Unicorn (35 page)

“Think on it, Helva, and remember that you can count on my support if you feel that you have actually been constrained against your own best interests.”

Niall's hearty “Helva, I got 'em,” as he waved the grapelike cluster of circuit guards, dwindled off in surprise at seeing their guest. “Well, we're honored, Rocco?”

“My congratulations on your appointment, Parollan. I'll be following the exploits of the NH-834 with renewed interest.”

“I'll just bet you will.” Niall's smile took the sting out of his slightly aggressive words.

“Fair enough,” replied the Double M official, his own expression sardonic. He moved toward the airlock. “You are, you realize, very definitely in a minority.”

“How so?” asked Niall, amused, as he neatly arranged the circuit guards on the gutted console and turned to face Rocco.

“My good Parollan, you are the only man who ever resigned from BB ship service to become a brawn.”

“I'm no mutant.”

Helva could hear the edge in Niall's voice, although generally his small stature didn't bother him.

“What is the definition of a mutant?” That was Rocco's exit line as the lift took him down, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Well, hump me, what was he after?” Niall asked.

“I gather he's been listening to Broley's gossip.”

“And what is the gospel according to City Manager Shell Person Broley?”

“We're being coerced.”

Niall scratched his ear, screwed up his face, and gazed out of the open airlock. Helva was situated by the immense Engineering sheds of the Regulus Base Complex. Niall had a clear view of the distant administration buildings at the opposite end of the plain. There were, as always, tremendous comings and goings of small ground vehicles and light helis. as well as slim BB ships.

Niall looked away from the airlock, toward her. Fleetingly Helva wondered if Niall Parollan “saw” the titanium column behind which her encapsulating shell rested, or the solido the Asurans had made, extrapolating a mature human body from her genetic background.

“You should have asked Rocco what's the definition of ‘coercion,' “ he said.

Helva gave a snort. “Well,
you've
never been restrained, either morally or physically.”

“Balls,” Niall replied in disgust. “And I don't need Rocco on my tail, too.”

“Speaking of tails,” Helva said gently because she caught the pulse of the comset about to light up, “here's our daily Railly now.”

“Fardles! He's two minutes late. Railly,” said Niall before the Chief could speak, “I'm up to my crotch in circuit guards that I should have had two days ago. Go way now and I'll call you back when I've finished.”

“Parollan, there's isn't a Guild on this Base that isn't . . . Come out from under that console while I'm addressing you!”

Helva realized that all Railly could see of Parollan was his rear end.

“As you're constantly addressing me, and I know what you look like, my position provides no impediment to hearing every word you say. Besides which, I'm busy.”

“Parollan, I'm warning you . . .”

“Which you do hourly. But I thought you wanted this expensive ship to lift ass and cease to offend your eyes, so what are you complaining about now?”

“You are not, I repeat, you are not to walk into any other section of this Base and badger, bully, or beat any other section leader or supervisor into giving
your
request top priority!”

“And if I don't comply, what'll you do? Throw me off Base?” Niall suddenly reversed his position and glared up at the comscreen. “Good, then Helva does not have to complete this mission if I am not her brawn.” He made as if to quit his task.

“Parollan! You get on with the job! But I'm warning you . . .”

“Let's see, that's the fourth warning today, isn't it, Helva?”

“I don't keep track, Niall,” she said gently, hoping her tone would warn him to be a shade more diplomatic. They'd be completely at Railly's mercy if the c-v drive weren't approved by the Corviki.

Fortunately Railly broke the connection. Chuckling, Niall ducked back under the panel.

“You know, Niall, if . . .”

“Helva!” His tone was slightly exasperated but reassuring. “The Raillys of this world can take a lot more backtalk than you think. Particularly, my girl, with all he stands to gain with you . . .”

Helva would rather he'd said “us.”

“Even without that drive vetted, you're twice the ship. And with me to keep you from going soft with the likes of Railly, we'll make out one way or the other.”

Helva was grateful for the plural pronoun. Now why had Rocco come to disturb her with his questions? While it was flattering to think she had so many friends, willing to do battle for her, she'd prefer to rely on her brawn.

Just then Supply arrived with an order of emergency rations to be stowed away.

“Why the fardles get in ‘fortified coffee'? Yecht!” Niall was disgusted when the invoice was screened in.

“
If
we try that drive and can't manage it, or the particular emissions disqualify that application . . .”

“Think positively, my dear, and besides you're not ham-handed, gal, like those cloddies on the manned test ship.”

“You might need concentrated supplies . . .”

“That coffee bubka is for—”

“It's better than no coffee. And half the supply hold
is
coffee. I wish I could figure out why everyone wants that stuff.”

“Which reminds me,” said Niall, crawling out from under the console and heading for the galley.

“Ah yes, you haven't had a cup in the last fifteen minutes.”

“Longer. I had to extrude these things myself, you know. And we're having a party tonight.”

“We've had a party every night.”

Niall shot an overly innocent glance at her. “All work and no play . . .”

“What'll you do when we're aspace?” The question slipped out of her, probably due to Rocco's crack about enforced celibacy and Niall Parollan.

“The modern man is
not
dominated by his gonads, love. Think of the memories I'll have to sustain me.” He cracked the seal on the coffee container as neat emphasis.

The lift buzzer rang. “If that isn't Breslaw, I'll have him arrested on board.”

It was indeed the engineering officer, panting from the run across the huge engineering field. Helva was certain that Commander Breslaw had never, since he reached that rank, worked as hard as he was in overseeing each detail of her refitting, his computer cassette overheating from his constant demands. He was losing weight, too, Helva noticed with a critical eye. Do him good; make him look better in uniforms if he won his gamble on Helva's future.

“Do you two appreciate me?” asked Breslaw, leaning against the lock bulkhead to catch his breath. “Anyway, the ceramic coating is scheduled for tomorrow at 0900.”

“About bloody time.”

“Parollan . . .” And there was a slight edge to Breslaw's mock animosity. “One of these days I'm going to—”

“Get that final stripe for doing some work for a change,” Niall finished. “You've only been promising that ceramic coating for the past three days. Fardles, how do you guys run this Base at all?”

“Look, Parollan, I want to run a final check on those tolerances in the drive room.”

“Bloody right. I don't want something coming adrift at the speeds we'll be traveling.”

“You hope,” Breslaw amended gloomily.

Niall ignored him but the Commander's pessimism did not reassure Helva, not after Rocco's disturbing visit.

“Helva,” her brawn said, “when those electricians appear—”

“I'll assemble them.”

“Make 'em do it right the first time.”

No sooner had he and Breslaw disappeared down the hatch to the drive room than the four tech ratings arrived, tremendously relieved that Parollan was not in evidence.

“He's a bugger to work for,” muttered one of the men as he surveyed the console.

“Then use the luck,” said another, “and let's get cracking before he does come back or we'll have to do the job over to prove we did it properly.”

“Then do it right the first time,” said Helva.

“Fardles,” exclaimed the first man, looking nervously around him. “I forgot she was here.”

“Where else did you think Helva would be?” asked the oldest of the quarter. “Sorry, ma'am. Now these green circuits have to be laid in first. Get with it, Sewel.”

Helva turned on microvision, focusing it on Sewel's hands. Once she was certain he knew what he was about, she scanned the others. That panel had to be wired with the utmost precision or a cross-circuit could short out the entire panel at a crucial time. Further, the work was done with a minimum of waste motion. Niall Parollan may have been a bugger to work for, but work for him, and her, was well and expeditiously completed.

When they'd finished, she broached some of the party spirits for them in appreciation.

“Sun's over the yardarm for you, too, Commander,” said Niall, returning with a dusty but pleased Breslaw. “Well worth it,” he said after he'd inspected the console wiring. “I appreciate it, men,” he said, toasting them: “my partner appreciates it,” and he raised the glass to Helva's column: “Commander Breslaw appreciates it, and the Service will undoubtedly not bother to appreciate this unusual and prompt performance of your duties.”

Sewel and the others were not certain that they should appreciate his toast, but the spicy Vegan liquor was far too palatable to resist.

After a third round from the bottle, Breslaw suddenly remembered that he was the supervisor of the Engineering Section of Regulus Base and that there were other matters for his attention as urgent as refitting the NH-834.

“But not as rewarding,” Niall said, and restrained Breslaw.

When Sewel tried to leave, he and his men were all told to stay until the party had begun.

“Hell, your work day's over. We can't do anything more to Helva until tomorrow when she gets her unbreakable, unheatable, unwarpable, fusion-resistant coat, so let's have some fun.”

The tech ratings were far too flattered to think of going and Helva was certain that the next time Niall Parollan needed an urgent electrical systems job done, these same men would leap at the chance to work on it.

The lift signal went just then as the duly invited members of the party began to arrive.

As usual during one of Niall's parties, the lounges, the cabins, the galley, the passageways soon filled with people prepared to enjoy and give enjoyment. Several brawns arrived, two of whom Helva knew were awaiting assignment and very envious of Niall's luck, but the majority of visitors were not service personnel. Therefore Helva was not only pleased but flattered that every new arrival first directed attention to the hostess, coming to her panel and either introducing themselves if this were their first appearance, or renewing their acquaintance with a chat. They tended to treat her as if she were visible and as mobile as themselves. She would have expected such courtesy from service-trained people, but in her travels Helva had regrettably discovered that the average person found it hard to cope with the concept, much less the reality, of a shell person. She'd used that to her advantage, but it was a welcome change to be considered a real person. How much of this was Niall's pre-party instruction or the good manners of intelligent, well-traveled men and women, she didn't know. But she enjoyed it.

A youngish art dealer, Permut Capiam from Ophiuchus Minor, gave her one explanation.

“Actually, I met Niall when he commissioned those Asuran solidos he used to get done for his BB ships. He used to complain that he had to spend a fortune keeping solidos of your partners because you changed so often. Seen yours?” Permut frowned. “No, I don't suppose that'd be good or rather . . .” he giggled, “a bit too good for your old ego.” He waggled a finger at her exact position behind the panel. “Can't blame old Parollan for having a fix on
you
, Helva. You ‘strapolated out the best of the lot. Must say, though, that it makes it easier to think of your solido than all this tinplating.”

So, Niall's emotional attachment to her was public knowledge? Was this a good sign or a bad one?

Permut rattled on knowledgeably about Asuran extrapolations as he'd handled quite a few commissions. “Prehistory Roman and Greek statues are the rage right now. The Asurans merely need a fragment to do the whole sculpture, you know. They do it up in whatever material the client wishes—anything inanimate. There's a law now against low-life constructs.” He became very serious. “That way lay madness . . . ugh! Zombie things. I was ever so relieved when the whole business was interdicted by CWC. The sort of low-life restoration is very dangerous.” He stressed the syllables of the last two words.

“Have you tri-ds of the work you've handled?” Helva asked, curiously.

“You mean of the realities?” Permut was startled.

“No, tri-ds of, say, your latest showing. I don't fit in most galleries . . .”

“Oh my word, my gallery'd fit in you.”

“And lately I've been so busy I've not had time to revise my library.”

“My dear Helva, what an appalling omission. What's wrong with Parollan? It's the least he could do for you. Man doesn't live by bread alone, nor exist on a diet of pure physical sensation. Really. Say, I know just the person to give you. —Abu, honey girl, don't you have some spares of those marvelous tapes you did of the Ceta tour? You do like ET dance forms, don't you, Helva? I mean, you've done your stint on the boards, so to speak. Abu has some perfectly magnificent free-fall performers.”