"About wearing your spy ring? No."
"All right," Hagbarth said, apparently doing his best to sound reasonable. "Then how about this? How about showing me how to listen in on Mrs. B.'s private transmissions? You could do that the way you did with the Petty-Primes, right?"
"I could. I won't, though."
"Come on, Giyt! I'm not asking you to do it for me personally! It's for all of us. The Centaurians and all the other freaks will be sending reports back to their home planets. Who knows what they're really up to? If we could just get a look at what they're saying to the people back home—"
Giyt shook his head firmly. "No."
"Christ, Giyt!" Hagbarth's tone was both anger and disgust. "Maybe I've misjudged you. You sure don't live up to your stats."
Giyt felt a warning tingle. "When were you looking at my stats?"
"I've been looking at a lot of things, Giyt. It's a funny thing, though. There's not much documentation for you."
And how did you know that? Giyt asked, but not out loud. Anyway, he was pretty sure he knew the answer. From his base on Tupelo, Hagbarth didn't have the facilities to make enough of a search in Earth records to be inconvenient. There was only one other possibility. Someone on Earth had done it for him. Giyt shrugged warily. "There's been some sloppy record-keeping, I guess."
"Sure," Hagbarth said, heavily sarcastic. "Or maybe somebody not so sloppy messing with the records? Somebody who's pretty good at tinkering with the net? It doesn't matter, though. There wasn't much on you, but there was a pretty complete data file on your wife. The lady's had a really unusual career, hasn't she?"
Evesham Giyt did not have much experience of anger; he had arranged his life so that there weren't many occasions for it. Now he felt it, and felt it more strongly than he ever had. He kept his voice controlled. "What are you trying to tell me, Hagbarth?"
"I'm telling you that I'd like the two of you to be a little more cooperative, that's all." Hagbarth's expression was now smug; the son of a bitch was beginning to enjoy himself.
Giyt chose his words with care. "The thing is, Hagbarth, we just don't like cooperating with scum. Do you understand me? The answer is still no."
The smugness disappeared from Hagbarth's face; they locked eyes. Hagbarth was the first to break away.
"Ah, Giyt," he sighed, "What's the use? Just remember, I tried to warn you."
As Rina had reminded him, Evesham Giyt had never had many friends in his days on Earth. But there was another side to that coin. He hadn't had any enemies either, or at least he hadn't had any who knew where to find him. While here on Tupelo he definitely had acquired at least one certifiable enemy, and one, moreover, who was prepared to work at it.
Giyt got confirmation of that when Rina came storming back from the neighbors', her face dark with unexpected anger. "Have you been watching that bitch Cristl's show on the net? Well, you better take a look. Go back to about twenty minutes ago." And when he had backtracked to the beginning of the woman's call-in show there she was, Silva Cristl, wearing her fire lieutenant's uniform with the jacket unbuttoned enough to show her cleavage, smiling into the camera. Her caller's face was pic-in-pic below her, and Giyt recognized him at once: Maury Kettner, the man who had wanted to move his family to the Pole and had been turned down.
Only, according to what the two of them were saying on the screen, he hadn't been: "We'll certainly miss you around the firehouse, Maury."
"I'll miss you guys, too," Kettner said, flushed with the importance of being on the net, "so I just wanted to say good-bye for a while to all my friends. And to say thanks to Mr. Hagbarth, while I'm at it. He really came through for me, so I and the family are on our way to the Pole. No thanks to the mayor, you know. I must've asked him a dozen times, and he just wouldn't do a thing."
"I know what you mean." Cristl was grinning, too. "I hope he's a better fireman than he is a mayor."
"Well, you'd lose that one," said Kettner, chuckling as he was replaced by the next caller. The little picture showed a middle-aged woman, faintly familiar; Giyt thought maybe she was one of the ones he'd seen on Energy Island. She had criticisms of her own:
"Listen, I heard what Maury was saying about the mayor, and he's damn right. You know what this Giyt did to the boss Kalkaboo, don't you? How's that going to look when all the big shots come here for their meeting? I have to say, I really miss Mariam Vardersehn."
"There'll be another election one of these days," Cristl said consolingly.
"Yeah, and the dumb voters just might put Giyt right back in."
"Well," said Lieutenant Cristl, pursing her lips in a knowledgeable expression, "I don't know if you have to worry much about that, sweetie. There's a lot that hasn't come out yet, take my word for it, and not just about Giyt himself, either. Now let's go to the next caller."
That was enough for Giyt. He clicked it off while Rina protested, "They're being so unfair!"
"It's not a fair world," Giyt said absently, thinking about something he didn't want to say out loud in Rina's presence. And of course, Rina's next remark was right on that subject. "What do you suppose Cristl was talking about—stuff that hasn't come out yet?"
Giyt didn't answer her for a moment. He was wondering just what Hagbarth might have found out—and even more, how Hagbarth had known where to look. He said, "I suppose we'll find out sooner or later."
It wasn't later. In fact it was a good deal sooner than Giyt had expected. Rina had hardly returned next door to practice parenting on the de Mir kids when she came flying back. Both Matya and Lupe were with her, carrying the smaller children; Matya looked indignant, Rina wore anger and unhappiness, and Lupe seemed to have been crying. "Shammy," Rina said, "I don't know how to tell you this, but somebody's been telling around that I used to be a whore."
Giyt froze. He hardly heard Lupe sobbing, "I told you, Matya! You shouldn't have said anything!"
Arid Matya, half defensive, half repentant: "I thought she ought to know what those bastards at the firehouse were saying about her. They're all Hagbarth's buddies, I hated Lupe going there."
"They're not all like that," Lupe protested.
"No, but the ones in charge are. Evesham? I'm sorry as hell about this, but really you did have to know. Hagbarth's got all these regulations that he pulls out when he wants to. He might even be able to get you kicked off Tupelo, like Shura Kenk."
"She's the one who used to live here in your house," Lupe supplied.
"I remember," Giyt said. "But I thought she just got tired of living on Tupelo and went home."
"Went home! Hagbarth had her thrown out. They said she'd molested one of the Grayhorn kids—the twelve-year-old, a born liar if I ever saw one. But they believed what he said. So they sent a special rocket up to the pole and flew her back in the middle of her shift to face the charges."
"She didn't do it, of course," Lupe put in. "She said so, and we believed her. She said Hagbarth was just ticked off at her for something that happened at the factory."
"But the mayor deported her. Well, it wasn't just the mayor. It was Hagbarth, of course. And he could do that to you, too."
Rina looked questioningly at Giyt. "Maybe that's not such a bad thing, Shammy? Maybe we ought to go back home anyway."
"Oh, please no, Rina!" Lupe begged. "Everybody knows what a turd Hagbarth is. It'll all blow over. We don't want you to leave!"
"Do you really want a whore living next door to your children?"
"We want you, Rina!"
And Matya chimed in: "What does it matter what you did a long time ago? I mean, do I care? Back home, I used to work for the IRS."
The good thing about being on Hoak Hagbarth's enemies list was that it sure did cut down on the number of people who came to ask Giyt for favors. The bad part—
Well, there were more bad parts than Giyt could count, Never mind the crazy, silly problem with the Kalkaboos; never mind the possibility that Hagbarth might kick them right back to Earth. What troubled him most was what all this w
as doing to Rina. She had just barely got used to her status as the pregnant wife of a well-respected man when she had to shift gears and get used to his new status as a semi-pariah and, worst of all, to her own. It wasn't just the embarrassment. It was a situation that Giyt was certain couldn't be good for the baby. For that he intended never, ever to forgive Hoak Hagbarth.
Then there were the second-order derivatives of that bit of nastiness. One big question, for instance: How had Hagbarth found out about Rina's past? There was nothing about that in the open records even back on Earth. Giyt had made sure that was so long ago, as a minor and unmentioned courtesy to a friend. Had someone back home done some serious digging? And if so, were they likely to do the same sort of digging in Giyt's own records? They would certainly have a tough time, because he had erected some pretty solid blocks over everything that related to his own history. But would the blocks withstand a really serious attack by a really high-powered investigation?
If Giyt were still back on Earth himself he could certainly handle that problem. He had included plenty of fire alarms and snooper-detection systems, so that he would be warned of what was happening in plenty of time to derail any imaginable inquiry. But he wasn't on Earth.
The best he could do here on Tupelo was to create a scout of his own and task it with roaming through the files back on Earth and reporting back to him. Creating it was no particular problem, either, but the scout couldn't be transmitted until the next time the portal was open. Then Giyt couldn't hope for a response until the time after that.
He did it anyway. When he had finished he noticed an unusual food aroma, and when he went into the kitchen he found Rina cooking up a huge batch of french fries. "Oh, they aren't for us, Shammy," she said, decanting them onto paper to drain. "Remember, we got that nice present from Mrs. Brownbenttalon? Well, we never gave her anything in return—like, you know, a thank-you present for having us over? And I remember her whole family was crazy about french fries at the fair. Do you think she'd like that?"
"I guess so. Well, sure she would," he said, less interested in the gift than in the fact that Rina seemed to have put Hagbarth and his gossip about her out of her mind.
"So when they're ready, would you like to take them over to her place for me? I'd do it myself, but I promised Lupe I'd help her take the little ones to the clinic for their checkups."
He would. He did; and so an hour later he got out of the cart at the gate of the Brownbenttalon residence with a thermally wrapped kilo of french-fried potatoes in his hand.
The whole Centaurian compound was fenced in, and the entrance gate was not exactly a gate; it was more like a cattle-crossing guard for some ranch on Earth, metal plates carrying a small electrical charge to discourage the smaller children from wandering away. They were no barrier to Evesham Giyt, but he waited politely until an immature female bustled up. "Oh, it is Large Male Giyt," she said, clearly surprised, apparently pleased. "Wait kindly." And a moment later Mrs. Brownbenttalon herself appeared, followed by a gaggle of subadults and children.
She raised her foreparts to give her little paws room to work, looking like a thoroughly bowed frankfurter as she rested her weight on her belly to rip the package open. "Ah, tubers in fat!" she exclaimed, giving every appearance of delight. She sampled a couple for herself, then indulgently handed the rest out, one fry apiece, to the children. "Is notably kind of you and same-size wife, yes. Look how they gobble! Now you come in, have small beverage, okay?" And then, when they were settled in the little garden with two males hastening to bring them the beery drinks, she inquired sociably, "You tell how are things progress with you? Is all completely well?"
"Just fine," he said automatically, but the question hadn't been entirely sociable. Mr. Brownbenttalon raised his nose out of his wife's back fur and clucked reproachfully at him, while his wife simply gazed in silence at Giyt.
"Well," Giyt confessed, "maybe not absolutely fine." He hesitated. She didn't seem to know about the rumors floating around the Earth community, and he didn't want to discuss the troubles among Earth humans with a Centaurian, anyway. But Hagbarth wasn't his only problem. "It's the Kalkaboos. I don't know what to do about them."
"I conjectured this." She sighed. "You don't know what to do, no one else do either. Stinky, noisy people, Kalkaboos, always getting feelings damaged. You want me helping for this situation?"
"Helping?"
"Can do so," she said modestly. "I have personally among them some certain less unreasonable acquaintances. Could negotiate on behalf of you if you wish, perhaps arrange some arrangement to reduce tensions maybe, what do you say?"
"Well . . ." he began, but she raised one paw to stop him, its single twisted talon gleaming.
"It is not necessary to express copious thank-yous," she said benevolently. "You know next commission meeting? You don't go there by yourself. You wait. At proper time I come by your dwelling, pick you up, take you to meeting so you can expiate offense given to new noisy Kalkaboo High Champion. Have no further fears, Large Male Giyt. It is all to be okay."
When he got home Rina was just taking her leave of Lupe and the children. She hurried to join him, putting up her face to be kissed. "So did Mrs. Brownbenttalon like the fries?"
"Oh, sure," Giyt said absently, sniffing. "She said to thank you very much. What's that smell?"
"We've been wondering about that. Lupe said she thought maybe some Delts had been around, but it doesn't smell Delt to me. Anyway, would you like a cup of coffee?"
She started the coffeemaker, but left to take a message on her screen. She was gone long enough for the coffee to be ready, and Giyt was just pouring out two cups when she came back, broadly grinning. "Guess what, hon? I heard from my sister again. They loved the clock, Shammy! They say all the neighbors are green with envy because—Shammy? Is something the matter?"
He hadn't been able to keep from changing expression. "Nothing," he said. "I just remembered . . . No, nothing."
"You sure? Well, anyway," she said doubtfully, but picking up speed, "they're really impressed by what I told them about life here on Tupelo. Salen says she'd cut out of Des Moines and emigrate in a hot minute, it sounds so good, but her husband's a real stick-in-the-mud—"
By then Giyt had his expression under control. He nodded and smiled while he considered the sudden enlightenment that had just come to him.
Rina's call to her sister! That had to be how Hagbarth had tracked her record down. Once somebody who was looking for dirt on the Giyts knew that the sister existed it wouldn't take a major expert to find out everything there was to find out about Rina.
When Rina set down her coffee cup and excused herself for a moment Giyt pondered the consequences. That answered a question for him, but like many answers, it was of no practical help. There was nothing for him to do about it, least of all reproach Rina for giving Hagbarth's gang the chance to dig up old dirt. The damage was done.
"Hon?" Rina said, frowning as she came back. "I'm afraid the toilet won't flush. What do you suppose is wrong?"
Giyt was no plumber, but it didn't take long to find out the answer. When inspection of the bathroom showed nothing obvious, he looked out at the back of the house.
There was an excavation that hadn't been there before, and a rank smell of sewage. While they were out of the house somebody had dug up their drains. And it seemed that Hagbarth's harassment was not going to stop with gossip.
XIX
Good morning, guys and guyinas, it's me again, your Voice of Tupelo, Silva Cristl, with a weather report that'll cheer you up. The bad news is that Hurricane Sam has intensified overnight; now it's Class Five, with winds over three hundred kilometers an hour. The good news is that it's going to miss us. We'll get some rain out of it, sure, but we'll miss the big winds. Speaking of big winds, did you hear there's a movement to rename the hurricane? People don't want to call it Hurricane Sam anymore. They want to call it Hurricane Evesham, because it's a lot of hot air that misses the mark.
—SILVA
CRISTL'S MORNING BROADCAST
Giyt didn't want to talk to Hoak Hagbarth. Given a choice, he would have cut the man out of his life entirely, but the mess in his backyard left him little choice. Something had to be done.
When he tried to call Hagbarth about getting it fixed, the man didn't answer his personal communicator; when he called the Hagbarth house, only Olse Hagbarth was there. "You say they dug up your backyard? Really? Well, I did hear something or other about a complaint of stopped-up drains a while back, but I'm afraid I wasn't paying much attention."
When Giyt asked who had made the complaint she only shrugged. "I guess you'd have to ask Hoak about that. Well, no, he isn't here right now. He's in a major meeting—you know, getting ready for the six-planet congress—and I can't interrupt him. Anyway, the sewers are Slug business, you know. Why don't you file a requisition? Although they're so backed up with the congress coming heaven knows when they'd be able to get around to it."
She was right about that. The Slugs were so busy getting ready for their VIPs to visit that there wasn't a single Slug in the waterworks office. In fact, there was only one person there, and that person—oh, when your luck was bad, it was bad all the way—was a female Kalkaboo.
When she saw Giyt coming, she raced him to the door, but he got inside the office before she could lock him out. Sulkily she retired to her desk.
At first Giyt thought she wasn't going to talk to him at all, but evidently her sense of duty overcame her revulsion. "Have no authority accept requisition," she told the air, unwilling to look Giyt in the face. "Slugs all in Slugtown, performing extremely great group sing for safety of soon-arriving leaders. Go away."
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