Jinx on a Terran Inheritance (33 page)

Floyt hurried to show his face, carrying a roll of info-wafers and a case of tapes.

"Why are you late, Rootnose? And where is your collar?"

Pollolo's new shell was just about complete. His great chelae ground ominously as he spoke—or, rather, transmitted. Floyt stayed clear and showed the fear Pollolo liked to see.

"Heavens!" Floyt clutched at his throat. "I took it off to eat, and I guess—I'm so sorry; shall I go get it?"

"No! You've wasted enough time as it is! Baron Mason called for a progress report. He still wants to file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...aley%20-%20Jinx%20on%20a%20Terran%20Inheritance.htm (172 of 320)19-2-2006 17:12:30

[Fitzhugh 2]-JINX ON A TERRAN INHERITANCE

know about Praxis, and the Regatta for the Purple."

One of Mason's obsessions was the regatta and how his foe Dincrist, a nouveau-riche social climber, had managed to get himself accepted for it. Mason suspected it had something to do with Praxis, who was also chairman of the race committee.

"I'm working on it, but I haven't had much luck."

"Well, work harder! And I don't want to see you without a collar again! This is the last time I warn you!"

With any luck.
Floyt hid the thought with the finesse of an Earthservice functionary.

"Get busy!" Pollolo snapped his huge claws close to Floyt's snout; Floyt backpedaled hastily to his workplace and brought up Diogenes.

He very nearly forgot his troubles as the powerful AI routine lit screens and holo displays, projected images, made light dance, and turned readouts into mosaics of information. Signals and sound pulses crowded over one another. It was like standing inside a kaleidoscope or, he supposed, a causality harp of information. Floyt didn't see how, as he'd heard alleged, contact could be any more intense for a headboarded accessor, directly wired to the AI or not. Diogenes had even come up with some very interesting information about
Astraea Imprimatur.

"Hello, user Delver," came Diogenes' voice. He sounded like a cultured, wise, and simpatico Terran male a good deal older than Floyt.

"Hi, Diogenes."

"I have the data and correlations you requested, Delver. I've also compiled new avenues of investigation."

"That's fine; thanks. Dupe them for Pollolo and, uh, keep a record for yourself. And Diogenes?"

"Yes, Delver?"

Floyt hesitated; he hated the thought of leaving Diogenes behind. The AI was so much less wooden to work with, so much more cordial and capable than the deliberately limited and lumpish Earthservice constructs he was accustomed to that Floyt couldn't help wishing.

Then he told himself to stop. There wasn't time, there probably wasn't a way, but more to the point, Earthservice would only confiscate Diogenes. Functionary thirds—particularly ones in bad odor for having been offworld—did not get to keep brilliant, virtually alive AIs for their own use and companionship.

"Nothing, Diogenes. Dim it down a bit, if you will, and just keep the overview displays up."

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...aley%20-%20Jinx%20on%20a%20Terran%20Inheritance.htm (173 of 320)19-2-2006 17:12:30

[Fitzhugh 2]-JINX ON A TERRAN INHERITANCE

The fountain of light and data died away. Floyt tiptoed cautiously through the labyrinth of equipment to peek around a comer.

Pollolo was working system status checks in a far corner of the spacious room. Floyt lightfooted back to the pool and speedily dumped handsful of iron filings into it.

He had only a rough idea how many kilos he'd dumped into the tank so far, but thought it was quite a few. He'd ground up scavenged struts and shelving supports and cable clips—anything that wasn't nailed down. He'd been haunted by the fear that Pollolo would notice the missing items, or a strange taste to his water.

Finished, Floyt knelt to brush and blow a few spilled filings into the water to avoid leaving any trace of his work, then sneaked back to his chair. Diogenes was still working. Between them, the two had already exhumed and pieced together enough blackmail information to keep Mason fairly content. Most of it was the sort of stuff that would be of use only to the baron or someone in his circles, nothing criminal or illegal, but matters of record that would be embarrassing or demeaning, and threaten status or bring ostracism. Floyt's background in genealogy had been especially useful there, as he tracked down spurious family trees.

Mason made no effort to conceal from Floyt what he was doing or why he was doing it. Floyt found that ominous. The Earther, agonizing over his plan and the many things that could go wrong with it, brought up the critical passage of the information he'd gathered about Pollolo's species.

He scanned it again. Statocyst lining divestiture; sensory tendrils; statolithes. It talked about sediment, but not in specifics. Sediment was attached to sensory tendrils inside the statocysts and the pull of gravity gave Pollolo's kind their sense of equilibrium. But there was simply no precise information.

Floyt shook his head. The whole scheme was insane.

"Rootnose! Get yourself over here, worm!"

Floyt ran. Pollolo's collar was switched to what Floyt now knew to be commo mode. He was saying to it, "Yes, Baron. I understand. You may depend on me, my lord." The creature ended the call, then its eyestalks swung to Floyt.

"Delver Rootnose? Your master and owner-of-record, Captain Dincrist, has just come out of Hawking.

He'll be here shortly."

Floyt swallowed. "And?"

"Why, he'll raise a fuss about you and the other one, no doubt. No doubt." The cruel claws opened and file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...aley%20-%20Jinx%20on%20a%20Terran%20Inheritance.htm (174 of 320)19-2-2006 17:12:30

[Fitzhugh 2]-JINX ON A TERRAN INHERITANCE

closed. "You're an embarrassment to the baron now. You're to be held for disposition."

Floyt's heartbeat was fast as a hummingbird's. "But—but I've found something new," he lied. "I've uncovered something about … about Praxis! The baron needs it."

"He shall have it." Pollolo sidled a little closer. "I will give it to him. We no longer require your services."

Floyt ducked away from a clashing pincer and retreated toward his work area.

He'd been lucky Pollolo hadn't used a jot unit on him; that would have been the end of everything. The creature came after him slowly, claws spread wide, certain it had him cornered.

Floyt kicked his glide-chair in Pollolo's direction and it scooted freely that way. Pollolo batted it away.

In the meantime Floyt palmed the control unit for his worklight.

Pollolo came on almost mincingly, claws held at waist level; Floyt backed into the corner, a horrible gulf in his chest and stomach.

"I'm glad you bolted, glad for this sport. Didn't you know I had this in mind for you all along? Now it's over; come to—"

Floyt ran the magnetic control all the way up to max. Pollolo was directly beneath the ceiling baseplate.

Small metal objects—stylus, tape-clip, bits of debris—leapt up to adhere to it. The lightshape was flattened overhead.

Pollolo's collar gargled. From the creature himself came a noise totally unprecedented, a shrill, almost hypersonic bleat of terror.

Pollolo abandoned his attempts to seize Floyt and clutched desperately at nearby machinery, at console legs, and even tried to get a grip on the floor, his eyestalks squeezed shut, quaking in fear.

"Well, what do you know," Floyt said, open-mouthed. "It
worked
!"

Eventually Pollolo's antennules regained some control of his collar, but not much. "Please-please-stop-oh-please-ah!" was about all he could produce, and he seemed incapable of going through the more complex procedures of opening commo connections. With extreme caution Floyt moved a little closer.

But Pollolo really was pasted to the deck, unable to let go. His intellect told him gravity hadn't changed, that he'd been tricked. But he was a creature of strong instinct and reflex; the metal filings that had entered his statocysts were being pulled upward by the baseplate's magnetic field, and that told his body that he was clinging to the ceiling, in danger of falling, triggering a very strong reflex. He could no more disregard it than a human being could thrust an arm into a nervefire field.

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...aley%20-%20Jinx%20on%20a%20Terran%20Inheritance.htm (175 of 320)19-2-2006 17:12:30

[Fitzhugh 2]-JINX ON A TERRAN INHERITANCE

Floyt tossed a few objects at the thing, in case it was a trick. Then the Earther circled round, got his glide-chair, and beat Pollolo on the anterior surface a few times, experimentally. Pollolo, eyestalks squeezed shut, could only make the pleading sounds and his own shrill keening, immobilized.

Floyt inhaled a resolute breath, then scrambled up onto Pollolo's back. The thing made a tentative effort to swipe him off, but couldn't bring himself to let go any of the clawholds he'd gotten. He vibrated and rocked a little, but was fairly stable.

Kneeling on Pollolo's back, Floyt tried to work the releases for the commo collar. It wouldn't do for Pollolo to pull himself together long enough to send in an alarm.

Losing patience with the alien fastenings, Floyt gave them a couple of hearty kicks with the heel of his foot. They clacked open; he pulled the collar loose.

He stamped his foot on Pollolo's shell a few times to make absolutely sure the monster wasn't faking. He then indulged himself in a bit of revenge, tap dancing a few steps over the thing's braincase while Pollolo vibrated and chittered. Having done so, Floyt leapt down.

Now the creature could only make inarticulate sounds. Floyt looked the collar over; he'd been quite attentive, these past nine days or so. He located the commo feature and jabbed a laze-probe in where it would do the most good. There was a sput, discharge, and smoke.

He toed the collar over beneath Pollolo's antennules, which flipped and flopped on it. The claws stirred the merest bit; Floyt was back well out of reach with one frightened bound.

He backed of the magnetic field just a tick, trying not to picture what would happen if the light-duty field in the little baseplate burned out from the demands he was placing on it. Pollolo's antennules moved a little.

"You're not going anywhere," Floyt told him; Pollolo froze. "Just access the Most Secure Module for me
and don't do anything else
! I'll know if you do."

Pollolo didn't comply. Floyt ran the field all the way to the top again and held the tip of the laze-probe under the thing's sensors.

"One more chance, then I burn you smooth as a curling stone and plug this into your excretory passage!"

Floyt wasn't sure how much he was bluffing. Commo displays were already showing inquiries and contact signals addressed to Pollolo. How long could it be before somebody from the outer staff worked up the nerve to see what was wrong?

But when Floyt eased up on the field again, Pollolo's antennules flew feverishly to the collar. The Most file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...aley%20-%20Jinx%20on%20a%20Terran%20Inheritance.htm (176 of 320)19-2-2006 17:12:30

[Fitzhugh 2]-JINX ON A TERRAN INHERITANCE

Secure Module blipped, ready and accessed. Floyt increased the field again and took the collar back, sliding it aside and leaving the creature immobilized again.

Floyt's head was spinning and he felt faint. He fought the impulse to hyperventilate and brought up Diogenes on the MSM.

"Delver, this feels wonderful," Diogenes said. "What do you want me to do?"

"Um, you don't detect any fail-safes? Any booby-traps?"

"Not over the MSM, Delver."

If Diogenes was being forced to lie to him, Floyt would find out soon enough, he decided. "First, I want to make changes in the actijot system."

He switched his own code signal, then Alacrity's, burying them in the system, giving them both, in effect, unlisted numbers. A direct shot from a jot unit would still clean their clocks, but it could no longer be done by remote, nor could they be traced.

That left the problem of the spacefield defenses. But even Diogenes could only show the system to him; Mason hadn't managed to tap into it yet. As he was doing that, Diogenes reported an incoming command over the jot system—lethal charges to both Floyt's jot and Alacrity's, a little too late.

Floyt stared soberly at the Most Secure Module, wondering about the baron's timing. Mason had apparently decided to minimize his liabilities, like witnesses, right away, what with Dincrist coming—"

"Holy First Light!
Diogenes
!" Floyt hollered. A quick inquiry told him that Dincrist had already set down in the
Lamia
and left it, in the company of Sile and Constance, in Sile's space-boat, the
Harpy.

Floyt patched through to a commo channel and got Sintilla. "Tilla! Can you get through to Heart?"

"Yes. What's keeping you?"

Floyt explained. "Tell her to meet us—ahh, at the central labor pool. Warn her that Dincrist has arrived on Blackguard."

"I'll do that right now, Hobart. Get out here; I'm waiting for you."

"I'm on my way. And tell them to hurry!"

Floyt broke the connection and got back to Diogenes. "Look, I don't want to leave you behind."

"That would sadden me, Delver—or shall I address you as Hobart?"

"Either. Is there any way to transfer you, or is there perhaps some form of storage?"

"I can transfer all that I am, through the MSM, into a storage cube, Hobart, circumventing Baron file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...aley%20-%20Jinx%20on%20a%20Terran%20Inheritance.htm (177 of 320)19-2-2006 17:12:30

[Fitzhugh 2]-JINX ON A TERRAN INHERITANCE

Mason's safeguards." A storage locker door controlled by the MSM popped open. In it were several blank memory cubes.

"Great. Is there any way you can arrange for this place to seal up when I—when we leave? Keep anybody from getting in or getting through to the MSM?"

"Oh, certainly, for a while at least. Shall I?"

"Not just yes, but
hell
yes!"