The Stardance Trilogy (87 page)

“But it’s still that much up in the air, is it? With four days to curtain? You have to give Kate an answer one way or another the following week.”

“I know, I know. But it’s the kind of problem where you can’t push for an answer, no matter how urgent it is.”

“Well, all I’m saying is, if she bails out, don’t necessarily assume that you have to follow her—for keeps, I mean. Just because Ethan and I couldn’t make it work on a commuter basis doesn’t mean it can’t be done. Look at that Philip Rose and
his
wife—and he’s a writer, like Rhea. Quite a few spacers have made marriage with a groundhog work.”

“You really think it’s an option? After what happened to you?”

“Well, maybe not a great one. But it might be worth giving it a year and seeing how it works.” He seemed to start to say something, and then changed his mind. “I’m just being selfish, bro.
Kinergy
is a good piece. I like working with you; I don’t want to give it up. Losing partners is a habit I’m trying to break.”

Rand thought about it, and shook his head. “I hear you. But I just can’t see Rhea and I staying married that way. Besides, it’s not fair to Colly to yo-yo her that way, uproot her every three months.”

“There are other rotation schedules.”

“Doesn’t change anything. If Rhea goes, my choices are her—and Colly—or my work. So you can imagine how relieved I am at any hint that she might be willing to stay.”

Again Jay seemed to choose his words carefully. “Rand? Suppose she does go? Suppose the wild sex after the flare was just the bomb-shelter reflex to celebrate not having been killed after all? Suppose your choice is Rhea or the Shimizu: what then?”

“That I can answer concisely and with absolute certainty. The answer is, it beats the shit out of me.” He picked at a cuticle. “I really like this place. I really like this job. I really love working with you. But I
really love
Rhea and our kid. All I can tell you is, I’m praying it never comes up. And all hopeful omens are welcome.”

Assorted Terran Locations
19 January 2065
 
 

H
IDALGO
R
ODRIGUEZ WOKE FROM A TROUBLED SLEEP
. His nightmares had been stranger and more unsettling than even a full gourd of
wheero
could account for. But opening his eyes was less than no help. He shrieked, and sprang to his feet even faster than he had on that distant childhood day in his father’s goat shed when he had learned empirically that a human sneeze means “Run for your life!” in Goat.

The shriek woke Amparo and the children; within seconds they were harmonizing with him.

Their homey familiar hovel was gone. It had been replaced, by something indescribable, almost literally unseeable. It was everywhere, on all sides, had no apparent openings, and no features that any of them could identify. The light by which they saw it had no detectable source. Their first and best guess was that it was some kind of magical trap.

This diagnosis caused Hidalgo to utter a bellow of what he hoped sounded like rage, and throw himself bodily at the nearest part of the thing he could reach. He did not really expect to break through, but he had to try. He struck hard with a hunched shoulder, rebounded and gasped. He had not produced an opening or even a dent—but part of the omnipresent…
stuff…
had suddenly became transparent.

A window…

Outside it Hidalgo saw the familiar landscape of his home region, with some odd alterations he was too busy to study. He grabbed up a rag, wrapped his fist in it, and smashed at the window. It emphatically refused to break. His hand was more equivocal; he swore foully.

His son Julio followed Hidalgo’s example, racing full tilt into the nearest wall to him. When nothing happened, he picked another spot and tried again. This time he was spectacularly successful: a door appeared in the stuff. He tested it; it worked just fine…and the entire Rodriguez clan joined him at high speed.

They stood outside the thing for a minute or so, all talking at the top of their lungs, none of them hearing a word—or noticing the sounds of similar loud “conversations” in the near distance.

The thing was still unidentifiable. It certainly did not look like a house, or even a building—not any that they had ever seen. It did not seem to have any straight lines or perpendiculars or right angles to it; there was no chimney.

Curiosity—and the growing realization that it was
much
hotter out here than it had been inside—finally caused them to reenter it.

They tried poking it some more. Finally Luz let out a scream. She had found a spot which caused it to grow a basin. Shouting at her to get away from it, Hidalgo cautiously approached the thing. For some reason, it had an extra faucet. He tried the one nearest him; its mechanism was unfamiliar to him, but not hard to figure out. Water came out, and swirled away.

Hidalgo gaped. His family had never, as far back as history recorded—yes, even unto his grandfather’s day!—had access to running water in the home. He was rich! And there were
two
of the things. He tried the other one—and when he had grasped what it produced, he fainted dead away.

Hot
water…

When he awoke, his new house was talking to him, telling him cheerfully of traffic conditions in a city he had only heard of. It showed him pictures…

Hidalgo was a little comforted when he learned, shortly, that all of his neighbors in the hillside shanty-community were undergoing essentially identical experiences. So, elsewhere around the planet, were the family of Nkwame Van der Hoof, and
their
neighbors…the family of Algie Bent and their neighbors…the family of Trojan (his parents had named him after their hero) Khamela and their neighbors…the family of Lo Duc Tho and their neighbors…the list went on. Indeed, it was never completed.

A plague of houses seemed to be loose on the world…

It took much longer for it to become apparent—and longer for it to be believed by anyone with an education—that people who lived in those toadstool houses could not get sick.

The Shimizu Hotel
20 January 2065
 
 

J
AY WAS WATCHING THE FIRST FULL TECH RUN-THROUGH
of
Kinergy,
and wistfully praying God to strike him dead, when the alarm went off.

“FLARE WARNING—CLASS THREE—”

“Again?” someone groaned.

“—REPEAT, CLASS
THREE
! THIS IS A SAFETY EMERGENCY: ALL GUESTS MUST GO AS QUICKLY
AND CALMLY
AS POSSIBLE TO THE POOL AREA, AND REMAIN THERE UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. THERE IS NO CAUSE FOR ALARM AS LONG AS—”

“Jesus, Class Three!” Francine said. “All right, everybody: drop what you’re doing and
move
. Quietly! Rand, Andrew, kill the holo and sound—”

It vanished, and the theater reappeared.

“—PLEASE REPORT ALOUD WHEN YOU HAVE LEFT FOR THE POOL; THE SHIMIZU WILL HEAR YOU AND NOT WASTE TIME SEARCHING FOR YOU—”

“Nova Dance Company, all members, leaving the theater now,” Jay barked.

Andrew, the tech director who had replaced the murdered Nika, was a spacer: he came popping out the hatch from backstage like a cork leaving a champagne bottle. Jay suddenly remembered that Colly was back there with Rand, and headed for the tech hole to see if his brother needed any help. On the way it dawned on him that his troubles were over, or at least postponed: the company—and everyone else in the Shimizu—would all still be in the pool when the curtain was supposed to go up on
Kinergy.
Rescheduling after the emergency would take days. The Sword of Damocles had extended its expiry date.

Rand and Colly were emerging from the tech hole as he reached it. Colly seemed frightened, but not panicked; Rand was looking grim. “Honey,” he said to her, “Uncle Jay is going to take you to the pool. Mom and I will join you there in two seconds.”

“Daddy, no—”

“Take her, Jay.”

“Rhea will be
fine
, bro,” Jay began, but Rand cut him off.

“I tried to phone. Not accepting calls.”

“At worst, somebody in a rad-suit will fetch her—”

“It’s only a little out of the way—
take Colly
.” He kicked off and fired his thrusters. Jay found himself reassuring Colly, which helped calm himself; they jaunted for the pool together.

So did most of the population. The crowd of course thickened as it neared the center of the hotel. Some had a festive, holiday spirit; some were manic; some were silent and terrified; some were being dragged, protesting bitterly, by employees in bulky anti-radiation gear. Those whose protests became loud were sedated. Every corridor seemed to have a calm, competent employee whose sole job was to keep traffic flowing, and another who said reassuring things to anyone who would listen. Colly was actually enjoying herself by the time they reached the pool area. A smiling employee gave her and Jay ear-buttons to insert; at once a calm voice was murmuring instructions in their ears. “The pool is nearly empty now. When you are told to enter, do so promptly. Look for your last initial in the large green letters on the pool wall, and jaunt to that area so we can sort you out. Look for an employee with red arm- and leg-bands. If you have any emergency—first aid, medicine, need for a toilet, a missing loved one—report it to that employee—” and so on. The whole thing was well thought-out, well rehearsed, and worked wonders in holding down the general confusion; the Shimizu had been doing this, successfully, every eleven years for the last half-century. In under a minute, all of the pool’s large doors opened at once, and they were told to enter. The ear-buttons became strident on the subject of not stopping in doorways to gawk. Jay and Colly were swept along with the flow, and found themselves inside the pool, with hundreds of chattering guests.

Jay looked around, located a green “P” on the wall a few hundred meters away, and took Colly there, breathing a sigh of relief that both Rand’s and Rhea’s last names happened to end with the same letter. “We’ll wait here for your folks, pumpkin,” he told the child. “This is gonna be lots more fun than a dumb old rad locker, huh?”

“Sure,” she agreed, counting the house. “Wow! Kids I don’t even know! There’s one that looks
my
age—over there, see? Uncle Jay, can I go say hi?”

“Later, honey. Let’s wait for your parents, okay? We’ve got three days, you know.”

“Oh…okay.” Suddenly she was horror-struck. “Uncle Jay—
what about the show?
”

He grinned. “The concert, you mean. Colly, do schoolkids back on Earth still get ‘snow days’?”

She blinked. “Oh. No—but Mommy told me about them. You mean like ‘sunspot days,’ when the school system crashes, and you don’t have to study.”

“That’s right. Well, your Dad and I, and the whole company, are about to have three ‘sunspot days’ in a row. And believe me, we can all use the rest.”

“Oh. Hey, well that’s great, then. Boy, it’s weird to be in here without any water…”

“That’s right, I hear this is your favorite place, isn’t it?” Jay said absently. His watch said there were a little less than five minutes left before the doors would seal; he was scanning all the door areas at once for Rand and Rhea. At this point the majority of the new arrivals were being dragged by no-nonsense employees; Jay tried to mentally subtract them from the view, and so he didn’t see Colly’s parents right away.

Then he did. They and Duncan were just being released by the trio of chasers who had hauled them in. They must have come peaceably, for they were all still conscious—but as Jay opened his mouth to call Colly’s attention to their arrival, he noted their respective body languages, integrated them, and closed his mouth again. Something was wrong…

He squinted. Duncan seemed to be saying something—whether to Rand or Rhea or both was unclear. Whatever it was required gestures to get across. Rand’s reply was so emphatic that even at that distance Jay could hear it, though not what was being said, amid the general din. Rhea and Duncan both answered at once and at length. This time Rand’s reply was inaudible. A few seconds’ pause…and Duncan spun around and started to jaunt away. Rand thrusted after him, overtook him, grappled with him, both their voices were heard shouting, Rhea chased them doing some shouting of her own—

For some reason nine groundhogs out of ten who attempt to fight in space make the same mistake: intuiting that a straight punch will push them away from their opponent, they instinctively go for an uppercut. But this only sends them sliding
past
him, toward his feet. Spacers know this, and are generally ready to meet the descending chin with an upthrust knee. Jay saw his brother begin an uppercut, and winced in anticipation. Rand massed much more than Jay—a terrible
disadvantage
under these conditions.

—but for some reason Duncan did not make the obvious counter. He took the punch, failed to lift his knee, and he and Rand went past each other like tectonic plates. That was all they had time for; the three chasers who’d fetched them here had already left in search of remaining stragglers, so it was a couple of the ear-button vendors who handled the job of sedating Rand and Duncan and, since she was still shouting, Rhea. In seconds, all three were at peace or a convincing imitation. The whole brief incident had gone largely unnoticed in all the general confusion.

“Do you see Mom and Dad anywhere, Uncle Jay?” Colly asked.

“No, honey,” he said gently. “But I’m sure they’re just fine. They’ve probably volunteered to help out with crowd control, since they know you’re with me.”

“Oh, I’ll bet you’re right,” she said. “Daddy’s real good at getting people to stay calm in a ’mergency.”

“Yeah.” He looked around and located an employee without arm- and leg-bands, a roving problem-solver, and waved her over. “How about this, pumpkin? How about if I stay here and wait up for them, and you go with this nice lady here, Xi—hi, Xi!—and meet some of those kids you saw? Xi, this is Colly Porter.”

“Hi, Colly.”

“Hi, Xi. Hey—get it? ‘High-gee,’ like the Space Commando’s ship.”

“That’s a good one,” Xi said patiently.