Jinx on a Terran Inheritance (43 page)

[Fitzhugh 2]-JINX ON A TERRAN INHERITANCE

Parish city maps, the floor plan of the Repository, timetables, and flow charts. As Alacrity began to understand the significance of the Parish Ink and Paper Company, his smile grew wider and wider.

In return, he told them about the Grapple and the Blackguard compounds.

"Which brings up something else," Alacrity said. "We've still got those actijots in us. Can you arrange for us to visit a medicenter, or bring someone out here?"

Corva looked distressed, but Janusz barked a laugh. "To remove actijots? We'd have to kill or confine everyone concerned after it was over."

"He's right," Corva said somberly. "One or two fugitives from the compounds have reached here over the years. The people of Parish don't know much about what goes on on the other side of their planet; they don't wish to. But they know enough to stay well clear of anybody escaped from there. There were some dreadful object lessons from the Betters, in the beginning."

"Aw,
fancula
!" Alacrity snarled, slouched in his chair. Then: "Oh, well; there'll be time for it later—and no chance we'll be traced. I guess we can live with the jots until we're off-world."

"Yes, to be sure; we'll find help for you at the earliest possible opportunity," Corva said.

The door opened just then and Victoria came in, looking weary. She sat down, refusing refreshments, massaging her neck.

"The Earthservice isn't as thorough as it might be," she said. "I suppose that was because they wanted Hobart socially functional, not robotized. In any case, I've countered the conditioning. I got it all, I'm fairly certain."

Alacrity almost kissed her until he remembered the dirty look he'd gotten from Janusz just for squeezing her fingers. Instead, he proposed they have a round to celebrate.

Victoria declined. "I'm all in, and we have a lot to do in the next few days. I'll see you all in the morning."

She left. The other three raised their glasses in a toast to what lay ahead. Alacrity felt on top of the world.
This Camarilla's gonna wish they never heard of a couple of hard-luck riffraff named Floyt and
Fitzhugh!

Janusz excused himself and left a few minutes later. Alacrity began yawning as Corva directed the autoservants to straighten up.

"Look, it's none of my business," Alacrity said tentatively, "but if Jaunsz and Victoria are—together, you know—they don't have to play innocent for my sake. After all, you three are taking us in, and all of file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...aley%20-%20Jinx%20on%20a%20Terran%20Inheritance.htm (227 of 320)19-2-2006 17:12:30

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that."

Corva's droopy-lidded eyes looked him over for a second. "It's rather more complicated than that. You know who he is?"

"Heard of him, yes."

"Well, once all of this Repository business is over, I'm afraid, Victoria plans to arrest him and turn him over to the authorities. Unless he kills or disables her first, or gets away. I, unfortunately, am sworn not to intervene; it's part of our compact."

Alacrity's mouth had fallen open. "He … she … "

"She was about to do that back when they first became aware of the Camarilla. They formed an alliance of necessity, or they'd both be dead now. It's a very complicated situation, Alacrity; I'm telling you this so that you and your friends don't get involved. It's something strictly between them."

"Thanks. You won't get any arguments from me. As long as they hold off until the Repository's taken care of, that is."

"They will. Of that much I'm certain."

Corva took one whisk-platform to his second-tier room; Alacrity boarded another programmed for the third-tier bedroom he'd been assigned. As he floated up through the great epergne of Old Raffles, he changed course to check on Floyt.

The Earther was sleeping soundly. As Alacrity left Floyt's bedroom, he heard low voices around a turn in the curving hallway. He eased in that direction, listening. Being a courteous guest had its place, but he preferred knowing what was going on and where he stood.

He peeked around the turn. Farther along, Victoria stood with her back to her bedroom door, Janusz standing very close and looking down into her eyes. Whatever the conversation had been about, it was over. Victoria reached up and put her arms around Janusz's neck. He embraced her, putting his lips to hers.

Oh, yes, they've got themselves a ceasefire, all right,
Alacrity thought, watching Victoria draw Janusz into her bedroom.

Alacrity drew back around the corner and started for the whisk-platform. As it wafted him upward, he tried to figure out why things never got simpler, but only more and more complicated.

"But I still feel like I want to go back to Earth. In fact, I know I do."

"Well, naturally you do, Ho," Alacrity said patiently. "It's where you live and where your family is. That file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...aley%20-%20Jinx%20on%20a%20Terran%20Inheritance.htm (228 of 320)19-2-2006 17:12:30

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hasn't changed."

Floyt, propped up on the sleeping dais, sipped at tea flavored with local herbs and spices.

"See here, Alacrity: I appreciate what you thought you were doing for me, but the deconditioning didn't work, period. The tension's still there—in my gut and in my head—over getting the ship and all of that."

"Of course, because those are real problems, Ho, and you'd be crazy not to be worried about them, but—

okay; watch."

Alacrity gesture opened the door to Floyt's bedroom and he beckoned in Corva, Janusz, and Victoria.

"Now, Ho," he said. "Tell them who Chief Clinician Skinner is."

"What? Why, he's the one who—who—who conditioned us." He looked at them wonderingly. "Then it's true," he said slowly. "Oh, this is … Victoria, I'm forever grateful to you."

"Uh-huh, even though you're still going to insist on taking the damn ship back to the Earthservice, aren't you?" Alacrity said in mock disgust.

"You're very welcome, Hobart," Victoria said. "Did you rest well?"

Floyt nodded.

"Good," Alacrity said, "because there's lots to do."

"Things are getting active over at the Repository," Corva explained. "We think the Custodians are preparing to move their operation. We will move against them just as soon as we can, about eight days from now."

"So there're all kinds of things to see to," Alacrity said. "Look, Ho, I've been thinking: how would you like to learn to fly?"

The chateau's spacious hangar-garage had a half-dozen ground vehicles, everything from a beat-up old power rickshaw to a stretch touring car, and four aircraft, including a spaceboat slightly larger and somewhat older than the
Harpy.

"How did you people come to be so well set up?" Floyt asked as he, Alacrity, and Victoria walked the row of vehicles. "The chateau and all this—it must have taken a great deal of money," Floyt added.

"Weir funded us generously," Victoria explained. "And—money came our way, from time to time. It's like that when you have your own starship."

Alacrity nudged Floyt on that one, fluttering his eyebrows. Floyt pointedly ignored him.

"Plus," she went on, "every so often we saw our chance to take off people tied in to the Camarilla, or file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...aley%20-%20Jinx%20on%20a%20Terran%20Inheritance.htm (229 of 320)19-2-2006 17:12:30

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underworld types, or whomever. I mean, between what Janusz and I know and things Corva picked up before he became a contrition-knight, we mounted some pretty good takes, if I do say so myself."

Alacrity had halted. "Corva's a Srillan contrition-knight?"

"Yes. He doesn't mention it very often."

"No reason he should, I guess. Thanks for telling me, before I went and shot my mouth off or something."

"Think nothing of it."

Still panicked by the thought of flying an aircraft, Floyt decided he didn't care what they were talking about. The three passed the airsedan and stopped by a larger craft, a sky truck with flat battleship-gray hull and no trim.

Alacrity started to climb into the pilot's poz, but Victoria stopped him. "Friends shouldn't teach friends; it puts too much of a strain on things."

She buckled herself in and Floyt, after some hesitation, took the copilot's seat. Alacrity fastened himself into a rear seat.

To Floyt's enormous relief, Victoria said, "You just watch for now." She ran through a preflight check, explaining things as she went, then brought the power up and signaled the hangar door open. She guided the skytruck out with a deft touch and made a smooth ascent. Floyt calmed a bit; it didn't look all that hard. As Janusz had the previous night, she followed the ground-access roads to avoid provoking the residents of Parish Above.

"Aren't people curious about you three?" Floyt asked.

"Nobody knows Corva's here; a Srillan would attract too much attention. Poor thing, except for one or two times he's been offworld in the last year or so, he's had to be pretty much a shut-in."

There was some traffic below, animal-drawn and motor-powered mostly, tradespeople and others servicing the great houses. Few other aircraft were up, all of them over Parish Below. For privacy, Victoria kept the cockpit windows at full tint.

Alacrity gave her her course. She banked for open country and cut back speed, gesturing to Floyt's controls. "Take 'er, Hobart."

Of course he was too tense at first, overreacting then over-correcting. But the old skytruck was a steady flier and Victoria was patient, taking back control only once or twice, long enough to straighten things out, instructing but never criticizing. Floyt quickly calmed down and began doing rather well.

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Alacrity stuffed his knuckles in his mouth to keep from butting in, convinced that the two of them were doing everything all wrong. To distract himself, Alacrity asked, "What's with that kid Notch and his gutter babies?"

"He runs errands for us. He's well connected in Parish Below, and he knows how to keep his mouth shut and make sure his troops do, too. He had a standing order to be on the lookout for anybody like you two

—he thinks you're all part of a medium-small interstellar contraband operation."

Victoria debated with herself for a moment, then added, "Notch likes to taunt Janusz and he's getting bolder and bolder with me. He's decided he wants me and convinced himself I want him back."

"He's a lifelong boxtowner, right? It's a good bet he's not right in the head."

"Well, soon we'll be shut of him, Alacrity, but we need him for the raid against the Repository. Once that's over, we leave the house, the businesses, everything, and jump in the
Stray
—in
Astraea
Imprimatur
."

"Businesses? What businesses?" That was Floyt, who was gaining confidence in his slow maneuvers, fighting down a sublime giddiness.

"Fronts we acquired so it would look like we were properly crooked, if you see what I mean. We own a couple of warehouses, a fencing operation, and control a hangar at the space-field through one of the tribes. And there's a salvage yard out on Scrap Metal Hill; oh, and
we
actually own the Dis Hill Caravansary … You're doing very well there, Hobart; I think you're the one to make our landing approach."

Floyt did a creditable job on the approach but Victoria took over for the last part, setting them down neatly near the camouflaged
Harpy.
Blackguard's primary was just reaching its zenith.

When the spaceboat's hatch opened Heart was pointing a stungun and Sintilla was backing her up with Constance's pistols.

Heart greeted Victoria with unfeigned warmth, but then gave Alacrity a long, very moving welcome-home kiss and hugged Floyt. Sintilla was a whirlwind of hugs, kisses, handshakes, and more hugs, Victoria included. All the while she was bombarding them with questions.

Alacrity held up his hands. "Answers galore in town, Tilla! We'll be there in no time. Ho and Victoria are going to fly the skytruck back; you can go with them if your life insurance is paid up. We'll bring the
Harpy
along as soon as it's dark. Corva has a landing beacon set for us."

"Who's Corva? What's all this about, damn you?"

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"You'll find out all about it, I swear," he said.

Sintilla, eager to see everything, decided to go back in the skytruck. After a final admonition from Alacrity to be careful, it lifted away unsteadily, Floyt making his first take-off.

"If we have to wait it out, we might as well get this place cleaned up," Heart said, looking around the boat. "You can answer a few hundred questions for me."

A number of Sile's info-wafers and memory lozenges were lying around, along with various readers and adaptors. When Alacrity asked what had been going on, she explained, "We spent some time seeing what we could find out from Sile's records, Tilla and I. It turned out some of his codes and scrambles were based on my father's commercial ones. Here; brace yourself, and look at this."

She loaded one lozenge. Alacrity found himself looking at a somehow familiar old man, white-haired and very distinguished. The setting seemed to be an underground room or dungeon, and the old man had neuroprobes, flensing beams, and so forth. And he had a live victim …

Alacrity averted his eyes, the breath hissing from him. "There's more, even worse," Heart said, freezing a closeup. "Recognize him?"

"Wait … yeah. That's Praxis, isn't it? The guy Baron Mason had Ho trying to find out about?"

"The one and only. So now we know why Sile had influence with my father, and why my father was permitted to enter the Regatta for the Purple."