Starrigger

The three gunsels were eye-riveting me.

'Don't think you're safe in a public place,' Wilkes warned, eyes narrowed to slits. 'By the way, I own this dump. Silent partner. The help would back me up. Witnesses.'

'And the customers?'

'Are you kidding? They'll stampede as soon as you go down.'

The restaurant was awfully quiet. Wilkes could have been blustering, but I was worried. They had me, if they wanted me.

'Corey, I wouldn't put it past you, but it'd be just a bit too messy for your taste. Hearings, depositions. Not your style.'

I decided to call his bluff, which was the only thing I could do. I turned, but let my peripheral vision sweep behind me, and in doing so caught movement. The pale-eyed slug was reaching under the table.

I spun, but the boy was fast. He had probably had the gun in his lap the whole time. It was leveled at me, and he was grinning, but he didn't fire. My squib was halfway out from under the cuff of my jacket. I dropped, but there was no cover near.

Perhaps three quarters of a second had elapsed when the boy's hand and the gun in it went up in a blue- white ball of flame. The shot had come from across the room.

The alien and the other two had delayed reacting, for the sake of form, I supposed. It would have looked better in the report if only two combatants had been involved ? besides, their buddy had had me beaten. Now they pushed the table over and ducked down behind. Everyone in the place thought it an excellent idea. The restaurant exploded as chairs, food, dishes, tables went everywhere.

My squib was finally out, having gotten snagged in a fold of my shirt, and I drew a bead on Wilkes' forehead.

'Hold it!' 'Drop 'em!' Two voices off to the right.

I couldn't see who it was. Wilkes suddenly- threw up his hands. He still sat there, as if a spectator. 'All right! All right!' he yelled.

The pale-eyed one was sitting there too, eyes popped with horror as he watched a gob of melting flesh slither from the charred claw that had been his hand. He started to scream, the whimpering, surprised scream that comes from a sadist unused to the business-end of pain.

I got up. The place was silent, save for the gunsel's warblings. The alien and the other two rose, the humans with their hands in the air, the Reticulan with his forelimbs crossed in front of him, sign of submission.

I chanced a look to the right. Tomasso and Chang were down behind chairs, guns drawn and aimed at Wilkes. I backed away toward them.

'Nice shooting,' I said to Chang.

'It wasn't me.' He inclined his head to our rear. I looked back and was astonished to see Darla crouched down, holding a monster of a Walther 20kw on the proceedings.

'All right, people.'

I looked around the loom. About four other people had guns drawn. The man who had spoken was immediately to my left. I knew none of them.

'You,' the man said to me. 'You leave. We'll entertain this group while you're doing it. We'll give you five minutes. Then we'll let 'em go. The humans, that is. The bug we might fry for lunch.'

'Thanks.'

We all backpedaled our way out after Tomasso had poked his head out me front door and yelled that it was clear. In the interim, I got out my key and buzzed Sam, told him to pick us up on the road about a block away.

Out in the lot, I thanked Tomasso and Chang, told them their dues were taken care of for the rest of the year.

'Hell, we're paid up!' Tomasso complained.

'Next year!'

Darla and I ducked into the brush bordering the lot. The undergrowth was tangled, but we made it with a little help from Darla's blunderbuss. When we reached the road, Sam was there, and we piled in.

3

'Never figured Wilkes to make a grandstand play like that,' Sam said as we searched the hinterlands of Mach City for an out-of-the-way motel. 'Would've made a martyr out of you.'

'Just call me Venerable Jake, and take my cause to the Pope. I don't really think he meant to. His boy got too excited.'

'Probably. They would have had the exits covered for a genuine ambuscade. Howsoever?'

'There being only one way off this tropical paradise, and that being the Skyway?'

'It's safe to say they have the exits covered now,' Sam said.

'A good bet. Anybody still following us?' I asked.

'Not a soul.'

We passed plantations, a power plant, a few lonely residences off the road. There was not much to see besides jungle.

'What's this up ahead?'

I squinted. Off in the mass of overhanging greenery were little houses nestled in the treetops. It looked like a movie set. A sign by the road.

''Greystoke Groves ? Treecabins, Free Total Vid, Whirlpool Jungle Lagoon, Guided Safari Tour, Reasonable Rates ? VACANCY.' Charming. Just the thing for a cozy getaway weekend. What say, Sam?'

'All the same to me. I live in a truck.'

'Heck, you'll miss the safari. Pity.'

'Wouldn't miss it for the world. Hang on.' There was a large parking lot, which Sam traversed. Without stopping, he plunged the rig into the wall of undergrowth that bordered same. Branches thumped against the bulkhead, creaked, and shattered. Sam kept going, cutting a swath through the jungle.

Brightly colored flying critters took wing in our path, screeching their panic. We hit a hidden ditch and slammed down. The engine whined, groaned, and we were out of it, crashing forward again through a cataract of vinery. 'Sam, large tree.', 'I know. Damn! Let me back up.' The rollers crackled to maximum grab, and spun. 'Double diddley damn. This stuff is wet.' 'They don't call it a rain forest for nothing.' We backed up and whanged against something. 'Ouch. Hold on.'

After some uncomfortable maneuverings, we battered our way onward. A centipedelike animal found itself clinging to our forward viewport, much to its chagrin. It extended two sets of antennae, fore and aft, and elongated itself vertically, each end checking out a possible escape route. It (they?) decided on up, and crawled out of sight.

Finally, we came to a crunching halt near the base of a stout treetrunk. Sam cut the engine, and we sat for a while surrounded by chirping, twittering jungle.

Presently, Sam asked, 'One of those treehuts near here?' 'I think. Can't really see a thing.' 'Well, find the nearest one and see if it's vacant.' 'Wait a minute. Is this a clearing up ahead? Go forward a few meters.'

Sam started the engine, eased ahead. We poked through the edge of a paved footpath. 'C'mon, Darla,' I said. 'Take your pack. Let's look like tourists.'

The woman in the office was a short, dark-haired woman who spoke incomprehensible English, but her Intersystem was as bad as mine. The accent was Spanish, the eyes Oriental, and I took her for a recently arrived Filipina.

'Twenty UTC, please. You have ID?'

'Yes.' I showed her my Alonzo Q. Snerd persona, the duly authorized plasticard of which I keep for the times when I feel like Alonzo Q. Snerd. 'This is my lifecompanion,' I said, indicating Darla.

'Mistah-Missa Snerd? Happy you be here. You got bags?'

'Yes, thank you. By the way, we want that particular cabin,' I told her, pointing to the layout on the wall.