THIRTEEN
Party Shoes
Jandi only made her wait three days. By then, early vid recordings from Kassa were all over the network. Garcia was frantic, wailing about the opportunities they were missing all day, and drinking himself into a coma every night. But Prudence didn’t have a destination yet.
Or a complete crew. Melvin was missing. She hadn’t heard from him since they landed.
“Captain Falling? If you could attend for dinner, I would be delighted.” Jandi’s smiling face was strained and haggard through the vid screen.
“Of course, Dr. Jandi.”
Pretending it was part of her disguise, she dressed for a dinner party. Girly clothes instead of jumpsuits. A silk frock, deep royal blue, purchased in a moment of weakness years ago and never worn.
It didn’t exactly go with work boots. Even the cabbie complained.
“The restaurant won’t let you in,” he announced. “Not in those shoes.”
“I’m not going to a restaurant.”
“Then your friends will make fun of you, and your young man.” Jorgun was wearing his best jumpsuit, spacer-gray and slightly worn. “I will take you to the shops. They will fix it, cheap. You will see.”
She let him have his way. It would give her more time to check for surveillance.
The shopping mall was the most extravagant structure she had seen on Altair. Glowing signs stretched a hundred meters into the sky, and there was at least one building up there that had to be grav-supported. Chattering people thronged the walkways, sitting on the grass in little groups and socializing. The cabbie led her through the crowds to a storefront.
“Here, you see. Ten minutes. I come back for you.” He strode off in a different direction. Altairian cabbies were worse than Virtue police. The police at least were prepared for the prospect of disobedience.
She almost did disobey. The store was full of teenage girls. Not the kind of place she fit into. But before she could walk away, a pretty young clerk approached her and Jorgun.
“A spacer party? You don’t want to go as a deckhand. Why not go as an admiral?” She pointed to a wall hung with costumes. Deep blue and soft gray uniforms with gold braid sprouting from them like shrubbery. “We have a special on.” She smiled at Jorgun. “Because of the spiders. Fleet outfits are very popular.”
“Can I be a captain?” Jorgun asked Prudence, like a child asking for something he knew he wasn’t allowed. She didn’t think the clerk noticed. The girl was too busy admiring him.
“Sure.” What difference did it make?
Jorgun grinned stupidly and started walking toward the wrong section—the children’s section, with outfits from his cartoon shows. The clerk attached herself to his arm and gently redirected him.
“Can we help you, too, ma’am?” Another young female clerk swooped down on Prudence.
Restraining a grimace at the terrible word, Prudence shook her head. “I think I’m good.”
“We have some very nice temporaries. The cost is extremely reasonable, considering what you get. Take a look at these shoes—they would really set off your dress so much better.”
The girl was like a gravity field. Subtle, constant, and too much effort to escape. Prudence let herself be led to a different display counter.
“How about these, for instance?” The clerk pointed to a beautiful pair of white strapped sandals with an arched heel. They were stunningly elegant and sparkling with clear gemstones. Prudence couldn’t believe the price.
“The tag must be wrong.”
The clerk grinned. “Not at all. Yes, they look just like Sammon Steps, because they are. A perfect replica of his latest, most fashionable design. A real pair would cost over five thousand credits, but you can wear these tonight for only twenty.”
“You’re renting them?” The shoes were brand-new, clearly unworn.
“Not the shoes, the design. They’re time-stamped. Eight hours after you put them on, they will melt into a nontoxic, perfectly safe lump of plastic. But until then—you’ll look like a millionaire.”
It was the stupidest marketing scheme she had ever heard of. Even Zanzibar wasn’t that shallow. But the shoes really were lovely.
While she was still justifying the expense, the other clerk brought Jorgun back.
The uniform would have looked silly on a smaller man. On Jorgun, the tangles of braid were tamed by his blond hair and massive frame. White and gold were not normally what Prudence thought of as a match, but the cloth of the uniform had a pearly, holographic sheen that reflected subtle colors as the light shifted. It wasn’t an official Fleet uniform, of course. It was much too flashy for that. With his glasses on, Jorgun didn’t quite look like an admiral. He looked like a vid star pretending to be an admiral.
On Altair, that was probably better than being a real admiral.
The clerk let go of him, reluctantly, and handed Prudence a bill. “We hope you enjoyed your shopping experience at Cinderella’s, but we know you’ll enjoy your party experience tonight! Come back soon.”
Prudence touched her credit stick to the bill, handed it back to the girl. Then she put her arm through Jorgun’s and led him away. The clerk watched them go, wistfully.
Was that part of the act? Any normal man would have been puffed up by so much attention. Maybe the girls did it on purpose.
Except that plenty of girls were watching Jorgun now. Teenagers, she thought, until she looked more closely. Most of the girls weren’t really much younger than Prudence. They just acted like children.
Jorgun, who really was a child, didn’t notice them at all.
“I wanted to be a Space-Wolf, but she said you would like this one better.”
“It’s wonderful, Jor. You look great.” She hadn’t expected to be able to say that so truthfully.
The cabbie pounced on them, his mouth and hands full of an aromatic treat from one of the vendor carts that dotted the pathway. “You see? You see, yes?”
“Yes, I see. But we’re going to be late now.”
He shrugged. “All the best people are late to parties. You will see.”
Standing outside Jandi’s door, she tried not to be nervous. The house was dark and quiet.
The little green man still guarded the door. Perversely, when Jorgun reached out to press the animated button on the little box he held, the cartoon figure didn’t move it out of the way. A doorbell chimed in the house. Eventually the door creaked open.
“Angels!” Jandi cried in mock horror, staring at them. “Am I already that far gone? But I haven’t even tasted the fish yet. Come in, come in, my glorious friends.”
He led them to the dining room, the smell of fine cooking growing stronger with every step. The room was gently lit by candles hanging from a chandelier. Real candles, burning with the pleasant scent of sandalwood.
Silver dishes sat on the table, maintaining the temperature of the food. Jandi began whipping off covers, revealing a feast of real fruits and vegetables, steamed to a perfect consistency. The biggest dish contained an entire salmon, missing only the head and tail.
“You shouldn’t have,” she admonished him. “Especially for only three people.” There were no other guests.
“But I wanted to. Even my doctors admit it no longer makes any difference. Their only complaint is that I’m spending my money on something besides them.”
“Is that rice?” she asked. Real rice, in tiny, fluffy grains, not cultured rice-protein. You could tell the difference because the fake stuff melted into a gluey mess when you cooked it.
“It’s imported. Real broth, too, from an animal.”
Prudence frowned.
“Indulge an old man. Decadence is all I have left. You can nurture your morals when I’m gone.”
She could hardly object while she was wearing those ridiculous shoes. “Don’t explain it to Jor.”
Jandi took the lid off of another dish. Formed, pressed protein cakes, fried in synthetic oil, still in the instamatic wrapper. Junk food for kids.
