The Rainbow Cadenza: A Novel in Vistata Form

by J. Neil Schulman

  When he came out of the bathroom, though, Joan was holding a laser gun on him. It looked as if it had been jury-rigged-- indeed it had, from a very special LCAA MARK 800B--out of a chromatic laser. Joan had a power pack slung over her shoulder, and an extra gun on her hip.

  "What on Earth do you think you're doing, Joan?" Filcher said.

  "You told me I should stick to the laser, Burke," she said, "but you didn't want me entertaining with it. Well, am I entertaining you?"

  "What--"

  "I'm going to rape you, Burke."

  "That's impossible."

  "Is it? You told me that the essense of rape is trespass. Well, I can't be sure if I'm trespassing you--since I'm just returning a compliment you once paid me--but I'm going to try. Now listen to me carefully. I have this thing rigged either to deliver a continuous pulse at eighty-six watts--including a deadly line in the infrared--or, by switching from direct feed- in to capacitance, to give you bursts of power ten times that. My first shot will be at your family jewels."

  "You've just sentenced your mother to death," Burke said.

  "I don't think so. You're going to turn over custody of her body to me, all nice and legal, by the time we're through."

  "You'll never get away with this!"

  "I will."

  Burke Filcher was not a stupid man. He knew if he could get a mirror behind him, Joan would not be able to shoot without risking a bounce-back to herself. He made a dash to get in front of his bedroom mirror.

  He didn't make it. Joan shot directly into the mirror and landed a short, continuous pulse of the laser reflected into his behind.

  Filcher yelped as the shot hit him, and the pain caused him to lose control. His bowels and bladder cut loose at the same time, making an utter mess of the silk pajamas.

  Joan laughed; this was something she had not expected. "I like your Scatata in Fifth, Burke. It has a wonderful first movement. No, keep your hands at your sides, where I can see them."

  "Are you going to allow me to clean up, now that you've had your fun?"

  "Fun was never my intention, Burke. Nor was revenge--though I'm gratified that your accident provided me some. I'm doing this to save lives I can't save any other way. You're about to make a phone call to the Federation First Lady. Tell your computer to get her--now--or it'll be five years before you'll have anything to fuck with again."

  "You must allow me to clean up before I call her."

  "I must nothing! Call or lose it, raper!"

  He ordered the domestic computer to call the First Lady. While the connection was being made, Joan told him exactly what to say, and assured him that if he did not do as he was told, the First Lady would be witnessing his assassination.

  "If you kill me, you'll be dead too," Filcher said.

  "That's a price I'm willing to pay, if I have to, Burke."

  Joan stood out of range of the camera pickup, holding the laser pointed at Filcher's crotch. About another minute later, the domestic computer announced that it had the First Lady ready now.

  "Burkie, darling!" the First Lady gushed. "I never expected to hear from you tonight!"

  Joan had seen the First Lady on the holy, but somehow she seemed even more stunningly beautiful without her usual makeup, allowing her silken blond hair and large blue eyes to dominate.

  "How are you tonight, Madam First Lady?" Burke said.

  "Oh, you're not going to go all formal on me just because I'm First Lady, now, are you? I remember a time when you weren't formal with me at all. Or have you had so many other women that you don't remember?"

  "How could I ever forget, Devereux?"

  "That's better. Burkie, is there something wrong with your pajamas?"

  "Hmmm? Oh, I'm afraid my bride spilled some pineapple juice on me."

  "Really? For a moment I thought you'd had an accident in your pants!"

  "You're still a cat, love. Would I be standing in my bedroom talking to the First Lady--in the middle of my honeymoon--with scat in my pants?"

  "You never did have an appreciation of my sense of humor, Burke. What's so important that you had to tear yourself away from your bride?"

  "I've just received a picturegram from Wendall Darris, Madam First Lady--"

  "It's still 'Devereux,' darling," she said. "I'm not mad at you."

  "Devereux. He tells me that a certain Touchable we've just condemned to the ovens is one of St. Clive's best-loved missionaries. I'm afraid if we go through with it, we're liable to be pushed back twenty years in our economic dealings with them."

  "Oh, dear!" the First Lady said. "Well, we certainly can't have that over one Touchable."

  "They say if we pardon him, they'll accept him back into St. Clive with a minimum of publicity to embarrass us. If we move fast, we can have him on a ship to St. Clive tomorrow."

  "I'll order a full pardon immediately," the First Lady said. "What's his name and number?"

  "The name is Hill Bromley," Filcher said. "Sweetheart," he said to Joan, off screen, "what did the Facility in Detroit say the number was?"

  Joan said, "It's 809-8PC-101."

  Burke repeated it.

  "My computer got that, darling," the First Lady said.

  "Thank you, Devereux. If you'll have him released tonight, I'll take care of the rest."

  "That's sweet of you, Burke--and so is your erection. It that in honor of me, or your bride?"

  Burke looked down; he had been so nervous that he hadn't even noticed that his penis had climbed out of his pajama fly. "Just a salute to the First Lady," he said quickly, as it shriveled up.

  The First Lady laughed. "This had been some day for you, hasn't it, darling? I heard about the debacle at your wedding. I do hope you and your lovely bride can visit me as soon as you get back from your honeymoon. Perhaps it will change your luck."

  "Thank you, Devereux," he said.

  "Good night, darling."

  "Good night, Madam First Lady."

  Burke stood at full attention until the image faded out.

  Joan couldn't restrain her laughter any longer. "Bravo," she said. "That took guts and fast thinking, Burke. I compliment you."

  "Why don't you go ahead and shoot?" Filcher said. "When she finds out the truth, my political career is over. And that bitch is the worst gossip in the Federation."

  "That's the rape I intended to commit on you, Burke. Perhaps now that you're out of politics you might let your natural talents predominate and do something useful, for a change. You've been wasting yourself terribly."

  "Small consolation," he said. "I suppose you realize that this is going to mean an annulment of our wedding?"

  Joan laughed again. "That's what I like about you, Burke. You're standing with your pants full of scat, with me holding a laser on you, and you still have the wherewithal to be sarcastic to me. You're quite a man. Don't worry about me. I don't consider us married, anyway. I've never acknowledged any agreement I've made with you or the Federation to be binding on me--legally or morally--since they were made under duress. I've simply been waiting for the most strategically advantageous time to make a move. You can't say I didn't warn you."

  "Do I get to clean up now?"

  "I'm really sorry, Burke, but no. I can't risk that. We'll take care of my mother's custody now."

  Joan had a prepared change-of-custody agreement brought up onto Burke's computer terminal, and held the laser on him while he took a light pen and signed it. She had an independent computer notarize the agreement, and filed it with Forest Hills Vivarium's computer.

  "How can you consider that agreement morally binding," Filcher said, "since you made me sign it under duress?"

  "Morally binding, Burke? I'm saving my mother's life. This isn't a legal agreement, but a payment of ransom. You're free to try to cancel it because it was made under duress. You'll find, however, that the loot will be missing."

  Finally, she told him to stand at the foot of the bed, with his back to her. She pulled out a small gun. "Are you going to kill me?
" he asked.

  "I'm just putting you to sleep for twenty-four hours," Joan said. "It's been fun knowing you, Burke. Look me up sometime. You'll find me listed under 'human race.'"

  She shot him with a tranquilizer dart, then waited until he had collapsed onto the bed and she was sure he wasn't shamming unconsciousness.

  Then she got out of the bedroom fast. It stank to high heaven.

  She still had a very busy night ahead of her.

  Chapter 35

  JOAN WAS PACKED and ready to leave Villa Olga at midnight, when the taxi she'd phoned for arrived. She had already called ahead to order the Forest Hills Vivarium to prepare her mother's capsule for immediate travel, and had given Zack the go-ahead to pick up his mother--and his own luggage--and catch the next shuttle up to Virginia Station. Zack had said that getting away from the Nova Cancy Hotel had been no problem at all, since Gramps was down the hall with his younger brothers and Stanton was spending that night at Vera's house on Earth Street.

  Before the taxi's arrival, Joan had weighted down her jury- rigged laser gun and had given it a decent burial in the Caribbean. The Sword of Goddess had performed its jury duty well, Joan thought, redeeming itself from its one unintentional sin. She hoped if found a pleasant resting place in Neptune's Kingdom, and would never find a shelf in Hell's Basement.

  She loaded her luggage and laser instruments into the taxi, then took a moment to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything. Joan had decided to take with her no wedding present except Wendell's brooch--the ascending helix formed out of her grandfather's fire gems. No, there was nothing she wanted from this planet anymore.

  The rendezvous took place in Virginia Station at 5 A.M., Thursday the 28th. Joan's younger brother Zack was there, with Eleanor safely awaiting transfer to the torchship. The entire Roland Church ensemble was there. And Hill Bromley was there.

  Joan practically broke Hill's neck when she hugged him.

  Everyone was exhausted, but nobody wanted to sleep. There would be time enough for that on the voyage: Roland Church had brought first-class passage for all of them, including Zack, who jumped at the chance to leave Earth. "I'll pay it back at first chance, Roland," Zack told him. "All of it."

  Roland smiled. "Don't pay it back, friar. Pay it forward. As an old friend of mine says, 'Everything that goes around comes around.'"

  There was no problem in obtaining valid exit permits for anyone, though Joan had to sign Zack's as his legal guardian, and there wasn't a brainprint that Federation security had the slightest interest in. Just before boarding, Joan made a phone call to a computer on Earth that would be monitoring the Legos, Ltd., courthouse agenda. It would do the rest. Then she forgot about Earth and looked out to the stars. De Profundis ad Astra, she thought. She had certainly plumbed the depths. Now was the beginning of her voyage to the stars.

  They all boarded the torchship at 8 A.M., and spent the next hour getting settled in their staterooms. Joan and Hill were sharing one stateroom, and Zack was bunking with the vampish percussionist of the band, Phoebe Norton. Joan thought Zack would enjoy the voyage.

  At 10:30 A.M., the torchship Robert A. Heinlein departed Virginia Station for its nine-day voyage to St. Clive, Deep Heaven. Joan doubted that there had ever been a happier departure in history.

  When Burke Filcher phoned Vera Friday evening, the 29th, and told her what had happened, she was furious. "Then the bitch was behind the destruction of Helix Vista!"

  Filcher nodded. "I'm afraid that's not all she's managed, my dear. With her went my political career, your mother, the Darris family name here on Earth, any chance that you might have had for a seat in the Upper Manor, that Touchable priest who sassed you on the holy, and possibly Wendell's ambassadorship as well. Not bad for a few days' work--and we can't touch her. The Heinlein is registered out of Ad Astra."

  "Can we extradite?"

  "Are you joking? Once the King of St. Clive finds out how Joan saved one of his missionaries from the ovens, he'll probably knight her."

  "We can't let her get away with this!" Vera said.

  "Vera, she's gotten away with it. There's nothing we can do."

  "Can't we at least have her court-venereed and declared Touchable? At least we can make her persona non grata on Earth."

  "I don't think she has any desire ever to come back to Earth," Filcher said. "Aside from that, she's a civilian now."

  "You could ask the Corps to rescind her discharge."

  "To what end? The Corps won't conduct a court-venereal without the prisoner being there in the flesh. Besides I'm out of office now.""

  "Do we have anything else we can prove?" Vera asked. "Some charge that doesn't depend on her being in the Corps?"

  "Well," Filcher said, "we did catch her transporting false transponders."

  "That's enough for me," Vera said. "I can issue a court order declaring her Touchable in absentia on 'Interplanetary Flight to Escape Felony Prosecution.'"

  "If it will make you happy, Vera. But don't count on my testifying beyond next month. I'm going to be leaving Earth myself."

  "For where?" Vera asked.

  "For Daedalus, probably. I heard whispers of 'Old Scatbottom' a few times too often when I resigned from Commen this morning. If I'm going to begin a new life, it will have to be someplace where everybody is given a clean start. Nobody cares what your background is in a mining camp."

  "You, as an asteroid miner?"

  "Oh, I think I can manage at least an administrative position. I'm not completely without friends in the habitats."

  Vera thought about it for a few minutes after they had disconnected. Then she got on the phone to the Federation prosecutrix and told her to prepare her case from evidence that would be supplied by Burke Filcher and the Monitors. She scheduled the trial of The World v. Joan Darris for Tuesday, February 2, at 10 A.M. in her courtroom.

  When Vera came into her office on Tuesday morning, she gasped. There was a Touchable's red cloak laid out on her desk, and her message indicator was flashing. She went to it and retrieved the message. It said:

  Vera:

  Do as you would be done by.

  Joan

  Vera called her law clerk immediately. "Ted, how the rape did this get in here?"

  "Your Honor? A robot brought it half an hour ago. Isn't it evidence?"

  "Uh, no," Vera said.

  "You look pale, Your Honor. Can I get you something?"

  "Uh, no. Yes. I could use a cup of mocha."

  "Coming right up."

  Ted left.

  You're not going to get away with this, Vera thought. And as if in deliberate emphasis of that thought, she went to her handbag and look out the fire-gem brooch Joan had given her. She pinned it to her blouse.

  Vera was wearing the brooch under her black cloak, at noon, when she banged her gavel and said, "So Mote It Be!" She had found Joan guilty of Felonious Flight and had sentenced her immediately. Then Vera went back to her chambers, sat down at her computer terminal, and entered her Legos, Ltd., code. She informed the Federation Bureau of Immunity that henceforth, the brainprint of Joan Seymour Darris should be filed under "Touchable."

  Vera was still wearing the brooch when she went to lunch.

  On the last night of the voyage to St. Clive aboard the Robert A. Heinlein, Joan and Hill returned to their stateroom after a night of dinner, celebration, and dancing. "Hill," Joan said. "do you have any thoughts about what sort of place we should get in Cair Paravel?"

  "You mean what sort of place you should get," he said.

  "You mean you want to preserve appearances?" Joan said. "That's not like you, Hill."

  "No, it isn't," he said. "And that's precisely why this will be our last night together, Joan. As soon as we got into a reasonable time-lag range, earlier today, I had long conversation with my bishop. He's going to allow me to remain in the Church. As a priest. And priests can't live in sin, Joan. Since you're engaged, that's what it would be. Unless you've changed your mind about marrying me?"
/>   Joan shook her head slowly. "I made a promise."

  "I understand. So have I."

  Joan asked the next question after a pause. "Do you know where your next assignment is going to be?"

  "I asked for something interesting," he said. "I'm going to return the favor an old miner once did for me. I've been assigned to a mining camp in Daedalus."

  "You will be able to be there for the St. Clive Competition, won't you?"

  "I can't promise you that, Joan. But I will promise to be there, no matter what, for the premiere of your Mass."

  Joan got up and put her arms around him. He hugged her back. Then she smiled. "Wolfgang made me promise not to live the life of a nun. I want to know. Have I?"

  Bromley laughed.

  "I think I could love you, Hill."

  He wiped a tear off her cheek. "Tonight will be your only chance to," he said.

  It was dark on Earth Street as Vera got out of her skymobile and began walking from the landing strip to her house. She was still wearing the brooch Joan had given her, and--perhaps it was the sort of almost-posthypnotic suggestion one finds it impossible to ignore--she had found it almost impossible to get Joan off her mind in the two weeks since she had declared her sister Touchable. There was very little satisfaction in it, she thought, with Joan far removed from the place where she could be touched. She heard the distant whine of a flying belt, and it made her wonder how many Touchables had been sentenced to be hunted in the almost nine years she'd been on the bench.

  She was going to have to go hunting with Stanton soon again, she thought. He still hadn't seemed to recover from the collapse of Helix Vista. Perhaps things would be better when the architects had finished their new designs and he could begin construction.

  The whine of the flying belt became louder.

  It seems to be very close, Vera thought. Was there a hunt going on right in her neighborhood? Perhaps, if she got suited up in time, they'd allow her and Stanton to join--