Jinx on a Terran Inheritance (53 page)

I've lost you, lost my little
Facetiae.
It was very painful to face, like losing your mother all over again.

And it's so plebeian. Lord! It's absolutely melodramatic. 'After all I've done for you, this is the thanks I get!' How could you let him turn you against me?"

"It wasn't Alacrity," she answered, calmly sipping. "And I don't hate you, even though I see why others do. I simply can't tolerate you any more—the things you do and the things you intend to do."

Dincrist nodded, tasting the spicy grog. "I've come to understand that. I know what you've been doing, how you've been intriguing behind my back. I've uncovered a lot of your new connections. Do you think the rest of you, even united, can stand against
me
?"

"We'll see," she replied indifferently. Alacrity was wondering if overturning the table would merely get Heart injured along with hastening his own demise.

"No, you won't see," Dincrist said angrily. "That nonsense is over. You're still my daughter. After the race is over I'm going to set everything to rights."

"You couldn't; you're too committed to what you already are."

Alacrity waited for that to galvanize the man to action, tensing up for a last-hope dodge or pounce. But Dincrist didn't seem to be listening; he was nodding, looking distracted or puzzled.

The wassail cup slipped from his fingers, spilling on the tawny, groomed turf. His hand made a convulsive movement with the jot unit but Heart was there first, grabbing his forearm, prying his hand file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...aley%20-%20Jinx%20on%20a%20Terran%20Inheritance.htm (280 of 320)19-2-2006 17:12:31

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from it.

"Fill me in; this makes no sense to me," Alacrity said.

Heart turned to him with a smile, slipping the jot unit into his sash, fluttering her fingers at him, reminding him that she still wore the Ouroboros ring. And she was the one who'd accepted the wassail cups and passed them out to her father and Alacrity.

"I love you as only a man with a whole hide can love the woman who saved it for him," he declared fervently. "How long will he be out?"

She looked at two more cruising constables as she set her father's cup on the table, shielding him from their view as she arranged him in a sleeping pose. "I'm not sure, but long enough. The dosage instructions on the blisterpack were a little vague, but I'd think we have an hour or so at the very least."

"Marginal. Let's collect Ho and Tilla."

They crossed Dincrist's knees and propped his head on his arms on the table. At the same time Alacrity patted him down and confiscated the purse he carried in a forearm pouch. The Nonpareil's face clouded.

"Heart, it's
war
from now on. We're going to need every edge we can get."

Sintilla adjusted her veil as she and Floyt neared the platform and the token bowl. They were among the last to hand in their entry discs.

The gracious mixing and mingling had an undercurrent of sensation, even scandal; the words
Terra
and
Praxis
could be heard everywhere. Floyt nervously patted down his pockets for the entry token.

Sintilla nonchalantly took a couple of wassail cups. Floyt got a grip on the small wheel of metal, drew it out, and tossed it into the bowl. "Here, darling," Sintilla said, handing him a cup.

Mason was nowhere near. He raised his cup and sipped as Sintilla lowered her veil to do the same. Then he took her arm to leave. At that moment the lovely young woman overseeing the token collection bowl called out, "Stop! Stop! Esteemed sir, come back!"

His impulse was to put his head down and forge on, but people had looked around and were directing his attention back to the platform. A few constables had noticed the commotion.

He felt Sintilla stiffen and decided that a dash would be a very dubious undertaking. With what aplomb he could muster, Floyt halted and turned to see what would happen next, trying to keep his heavily made-up face angled away from Mason.

The young woman was stepping down off the platform, holding up what he'd given her. "There's been some mistake, sir. This isn't an entry token."

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She gave him a bright smile. "It's a Terran coin, sir, see? 'TERRA: FIVE HUNDRED YEARS IN

SPACE.' "

She stopped before Floyt, who now had the real token in a sweat-slick hand. "This must be very valuable, sir; you wouldn't want to lose it."

There were suspicious glances and murmuring from those nearby. Floyt said, "A-ha. Ha. Yes," trying to think of a way to explain away the glaring coincidence.

Sintilla put her hands on her hips and flounced a bit. "I give you my most precious good-luck heirloom because it turns out you're going to the Solar system and what's the first thing you do? You give it away!

Men
!"

Onlookers began to laugh then, particularly the women, and Floyt made the exchange. She gave his arm a discreet yank, pulling him under way. They went out a side entrance opposite the one Alacrity and Heart had taken. They hadn't gotten five steps when Baron Mason confronted them.

"Oh, yes, who
else
could it be? A Terran coin, after all."

Floyt tried not to feel the fire of his jottings and the phantom iron of a collar around his neck. "What do you want?"

Mason took a step closer. "Want? I want to know what it is you're doing here. I should have known whatever you're involved in is bigger than just Dincrist or Blackguard. Bigger even than the regatta, perhaps? Above everything else, I hate being kept in the dark."

He inclined his head laconically toward a pair of cruising constables. "I suggest you tell me."

Floyt licked his lips, feeling Sintilla's grip on his upper arm. "No."

Baronial eyebrows went up. "So? Don't press your luck too far, little Citizen Floyt."

Floyt, the Terran functionary with the high compliance quotient, looked Mason square in the eye. "You weren't so tough the last time I saw you, remember? You should; I could've left a hot cavity between your ears, and
I wanted
to! Only … only that's not enough reason, for me."

"Baron, it might be embarrassing for you too, if we all start swapping accusations at the interrogation center," Sintilla suggested.

Floyt made a slashing gesture with his hand. "Never mind that! Baron, you can honor your debt by getting out of my way, or you can raise the hue and cry. Like any upstart would. Like any vulgar
arriviste
."

The frieze held for five of the longest seconds Floyt had ever lived. Then Mason stepped to one side file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...aley%20-%20Jinx%20on%20a%20Terran%20Inheritance.htm (282 of 320)19-2-2006 17:12:31

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with a courtly inclination of the head. "Who are you really, Floyt? And how did you come by such luck?"

"
Luck
?" Floyt laughed, a bit wildly. "Oh, if you only knew!"

Racers were making final preparations for the regatta's start; onlookers were streaming up to hillside vantage points. "Perhaps some day you'll tell me what this was all about," Mason said.

"Look for us in the newscasts," Sintilla recommended as Floyt drew her away. "Right now we've got a race to run!"

CHAPTER 23—MATERIAL STRENGTHS

"With all the excitement there, I never did find out. Where did we stand in the pack when we went into Hawking?" Alacrity asked as he collapsed next to Heart in the
Astraea Imprimatur's
salon.

"Not too well. It would have been worse, I suspect, except that most of the other racers were saving themselves for the Solar system leg."

"This old scow was built and rebuilt to take it. And Corva really knows his way around an engine room.

Janusz's no tyro either. We got the bottle fields sealed and synched again; they'll hold. But I don't think the normal-space engines can stand that kind of punishment again, at least not without a shipyard overhaul. We were pretty close to a serious malfunction, pushing them like that."

"Well, Janusz can scarcely be faulted," Floyt commented from the mold-lounger where he slumped.

He'd been as busy as the others before the
Stray's
transition to Hawking. Now he was sipping iced tea.

He hadn't much choice, right?"

Alacrity rubbed his eyes wearily. "Not really, if we're going to have a prayer of pulling this thing off and getting to Earth. We can make the Hawking-Effect leg of the race about as fast as any, I suppose, unless somebody's got something new or experimental under their hull. It's sublight that's liable to yang us up.

The thing is, if we fall way behind or even worse, the normal-space engines give out on us, somebody's bound to come after us—maybe board us. If we have to drop out of the race we might as well go back to Hawking and get lost forever; it can't be too long before word gets out about the Repository raid and the Camarilla starts taking extreme action."

Sintilla, sitting cross-legged on the deck, said, "But what if the sublight engines can't take it? We won't be doing anyone any good by blowing ourselves into the afterlife."

"What if we pass up this chance to throw light on the Camarilla?" Alacrity riposted. "There'll never be another."

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He reached over and began massaging the Nonpareil's shoulders. "Besides, Janusz doesn't look like he's giving up hope. He's doing a great job." He said that more or less to Victoria, who'd just come aft from the bridge. She did not seem to register it. "Let's see what he's got to say," Alacrity finished.

"Where is Janusz?" Victoria asked.

Alacrity kept massaging. "Arguing with Corva in the power section. Funny how those two get along."

Floyt nodded, grinning. Sintilla snorted. "
You
two should talk!"

"Anyway, I think they've got some kind of idea but I'm not sure what. They had their heads together, but they're not ready for outside opinions yet."

Heart was playing with a memory wafer. Alacrity looked over her shoulder. "What've you got there?"

"It's from my father's purse. Sintilla and I were going to try to crack it, the way we did Sile's. It can wait."

Janusz and Corva appeared. "Ship's complement's assembled," Sintilla said.

Janusz sat; Corva stood by a holoprojector, looking up absently at the frescoes. Janusz said, "We've roughed it out with computer models and calculations, analyzed the tech readouts, material strengths, all of it. There's no way our sublight engines can keep us up with the regatta; the racers are much faster than we foresaw."

"But we can't give up," Victoria said. "This is our one chance."

Corva said, "Oh, but no one was talking about giving up. Janusz has a plan and I feel it's feasible."

"We're listening," Heart said.

"We're listening
hard"
Floyt elaborated.

"Simply put," Janusz began, "it occurred to me that the
Stray
has two booster engine arrays, quite powerful ones. I propose we use those to augment the main engines long enough to make our approach to Terra."

"Two boosters … " Alacrity's face blanked with puzzlement, then his eyes bugged. "That's the craziest damn thing I ever heard! If you two mean what I think you do, the air's probably too thin in here, that's what's doing it!"

"What are we discussing?" Floyt inquired.

"The missiles, the Annie Vs," Victoria said slowly. "That's what you have in mind, isn't it? Yes, yes! It could work!"

"Stop the printout! Scram the reactor!" Sintilla squawked. "You're talking about mounting the engine file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...aley%20-%20Jinx%20on%20a%20Terran%20Inheritance.htm (284 of 320)19-2-2006 17:12:31

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arrays from the Annies on the
Stray's
hull? It can't be done; there's not enough time and anyway, we're in Hawking."

"That's true," Janusz admitted. "So we propose to brace the missiles in their tubes—rather like putting engines in a test mount—and to use them where they are. We'll correct course with the
Stray's
main engines. Our primary problem is that we cannot control speed; we can only buckle in and ride them."

"The alignment of the missiles and balancing of thrust will have to be very precise," Heart said thoughtfully.

"We can install simple engine cutoffs," Corva said, "and shut down to correct course if we have to.

We've been going through stores and other available materials. It can be done, although we'll have to cannibalize part of the ship's internal structure to do it. We'll make giant braces and collars."

"Will that kind of jury-rig hold?" Heart pondered.

"That depends on the material strengths involved."

Structural dynamics. Sleeplessness. Load tolerances. Stresspoints.

Floyt almost stumbled over Corva in the main deck midships passageway, grabbing a hatchframe for balance. "Oh! Sorry, I thought you were aft, rerouting the control auxiliaries."

The humanoid got to his feet tiredly. "Yes, yes; just checking the junctions here."

"But I thought all that stuff there was life support and utilities."

Corva toed closed an access panel. "What can I do for you, Hobart?"

"We're going to try to fit the collar again, if you can give us a hand. Otherwise I think Alacrity and Janusz will rupture themselves, even with the power equipment."

"I'll be right along." Corva bent to the panel again and Floyt watched curiously. Corva looked up. "I'll be right along, Hobart."

Floyt shrugged and went off to draft Heart and Sintilla.

Energy limits. An inflexible deadline. Breaking points.

"One down, one to go," Victoria toasted with a squeezepak of mango juice. "Here's hoping we have less trouble with Tweedledum than Tweedledee gave us."