our names: “Max Smith and Linda Gibson.”
Linda, her fingertips resting on my arm, looked up and smiled. I took three steps forward, pulled the sword, and used it like a cane. Joy, already on her feet, curtseyed at the same exact moment that Linda did. No small trick while standing on someone’s shoulder. The two of them, dressed exactly alike, earned a roar of approval. We were already in motion when the next names were called.
I heaved a giant sigh of relief when we reached the other side of the ballroom, checked to make sure no one was looking, and wiped my forehead with a sleeve. “Thank god it’s over.”
Linda fluttered her eyelashes and looked over the top of her fan.
“Over, my lord? Whatever do you mean? The dancing has yet to begin!”
A rock fell into the bottom of my stomach. Assuming that I’d known how to dance once, the knowledge had been obliterated along with the rest of my memories. Sweat trickled down my temples.
The next two hours were pure torture. I stepped on Linda’s toes at least five times, tripped on my sword, and dumped Joy on the floor. Nor did the humiliation end there. I danced Linda into a collision with another couple, spilled wine on her boss’s dress, and delivered five seconds’ worth of mathematical gibberish to the ship’s captain.
But, just when I was about to declare the evening a total loss, a miracle occurred. The winners were announced, and we copped third place, right behind the juggling Rinaldo sisters, and the barbershop androids. Linda was thrilled, and hurried to collect our prize, a rather handsome chunk of plastic. It seemed that all my sins were forgiven. So, borne along on high spirits, and fueled by alcohol, we dropped Joy at my stateroom and headed for Linda’s.
Even a pirate wouldn’t go into the details of what happened next, but suffice it to say that it took Linda less time to get out of the gown than it took to get into it, and I did what I could to assist. And while I would have been happy to join her in the buff, she liked the pirate costume, and insisted that I continue to wear most of it, minus the hat and the unwieldy sword.
I enjoyed the next hour or so, and got the distinct impression that Linda did too. She had wonderful breasts, and I liked the way they moved when she handed me a drink. “I had a wonderful time, Max. Thank you.”
I took a sip and smiled. “No, it is I who should thank you. Especially your feet…which paid a high price indeed.”
She laughed, but it was a halfhearted laugh, as if her mind was on something else. Something that made her sad. I took another sip and felt my head swim. I tried to move and found that I couldn’t. Something, a drug of some kind, held me in a paralytic grip. I could see, hear, and to some extent think, though the process was slow and somewhat ponderous. I tried to speak but croaked instead. Linda nodded understandingly.
“I’m sorry, Max, I really am, but we lack the means to erase whatever Dr. Casad stored in your brain without destroying the rest of you as well. Yes, our operatives had a long and somewhat unpleasant conversation with Curt. We learned all sorts of things, including the fact that while Trans-Solar doesn’t know what the good doctor stashed in your gray matter, they know it’s worth billions, and would sacrifice anything to get their hands on it. But there’s enough techno-evil in the world already without creating more. Think about it, Max; think about the things they did to your brain, the Urboplex where you used to live, the condition of our home planet. It has to stop.”
I struggled against the chemical bonds. My limbs twitched ineffectually. I felt drool slide down my chin.
Linda shook her head sadly. A tear rolled down her cheek. “I wish there was some way to help you, some way to restore what they took, but there isn’t. And by the way, no one told me to make love to you. I wanted to.”
It was a nice compliment, the nicest I’d had in some time, but didn’t make up for the plan to murder me. Linda left me to drool, donned a robe, made a com call, and went about restoring the few items of clothing that I’d been allowed to remove. She had foresight, you had to grant her that. The skin-tight breeches offered the most difficult challenge, but by dint of such tugging, swearing, and lifting Linda got them on.
The door announced visitors, and she ordered it open. My old friend Nigel Trask entered and stood over the bed. Philip Bey, the guy I had met aboard Staros-3, was right behind him. Both wore nondescript costumes. No wonder Linda wanted to party with someone more colorful. I ordered my limbs to move, and they twitched spasmodically. Trask shook his head sympathetically.
“Sorry, Mr. Maxon…nothing personal. If only you had agreed to work with instead of against us. But it’s too late for that, I’m afraid. Philip, give me a hand.”
Philip pitched in, and between them they managed to get me into a slump-shouldered standing position. I’m heavy, so it was no small task to drag me across the cabin to the hatch. Linda spoke, and it disappeared. I wanted to see her face, to see if she cared, but my head refused to turn.
I thought they were crazy at first, dragging me out in the hall like that, but I was wrong. Passengers, most of whom were still in costume, and about three sheets to the wind, roamed the corridors in groups, and found the sight of a drunken pirate most amusing. Which is why the greenies were able to drag me through a lounge while the rabble laughed, and yelled things like “Yo, ho, ho, and a bottle of rum.”
The crowd thinned as we made our way down a series of little-used passageways. I hoped for a crew person. Someone who would question our presence and demand an explanation. The corridors were empty. Or so I assumed, since my view was restricted to beige carpet, followed by high-gloss decking, followed by unadorned steel.
Coping as they do with zero-gee conditions, spacers have a tendency to print directional signs on every available surface, including the deck. The Regis company was no exception. The words “EMERGENCY LOCK,” and an arrow pointed toward the right, disappeared under my toes as they dragged me around the corner. A lock! They planned to eject me from a lock! I could imagine the investigation and perfunctory report. “…And so, with no evidence to suggest foul play, and no history of mental instability, we conclude that passenger Smith was inebriated, wandered into the lock, and cycled himself into the void…” A tragic but understandable mistake.
Both men were panting by now, tired from lugging my dead weight a quarter-mile or so, and eager to be rid of their burden. “There is it,” Trask said, “at the end of the corridor. Come on.”
Philip renewed his grip around my waist and helped drag me towards my death. I imagined what it would be like to hear the hatch close, to feel the vibration as the pumps started, to gulp air in a desperate attempt to prolong life, to know it was hopeless, to feel my lungs start to burst, to see the outer hatch start to open, and to catch a glimpse of the stars before the vacuum sucked me out. I screamed, but nothing came.
That’s when three sets of boots appeared in front of me and I heard Sasha say, “I think you took a wrong turn, gentlemen. The lounge is thataway.”
18
“By protecting the proprietary nature of Project Freedom, and regulating access to it, Protech will earn excellent returns for its share owners while changing the course of human history.”
From Draft 16.2 of an unpublished Protech press release
The kid saved my life, there’s no doubt about that, even if her motivations were a bit clouded. The moment they were confronted by Sasha and two members of the Solar Queen’s security force, Trask and Bey pretended they were drunk and requested directions for the bar. No one believed them, least of all me, but it offered the security people a way to avoid conflict with the greenies, assuming they knew who the players were, and I was betting that they did. The security types made a big production out of escorting us to our respective staterooms and admonishing us to stay sober.
Yeah, like it or not, Sasha and her stubborn ways had saved me from a one-way trip through the lock. And that being the case, I knew it was simply a matter of time before the greenies or someone else tried it again. So, given the fact that the security people remained carefully neutral, I reversed my earlier decision and moved in with Sasha. It was a tight fit but a good deal safer than living alone.
Though afraid to launch a frontal assault, Linda tried to tease me out of the cabin with seductive voice-mail messages, Trask made futile attempts to bug our quarters, and the Regis folks monitored everything we did.
We, on the other hand, sent Joy on reconnaissance missions through the air ducts, watched entertainment videos, and ate elaborate meals obtained from room service. And, since it was difficult to eat without talking to each other, I allowed myself to be friendly.
