Manhattan Transfer

by John E. Stith

  Kentin removed noseprints deposited on the display case by young visitors, visitors about the same age Tessa had been when she had made her own noseprints on the displays. At first she had been terrified when she realized what she had done, and she had almost panicked as she searched for a cleaning cloth to remove the evidence. Kentin had comforted her and told her she didn't have to worry, without ever mentioning her first father. He had felt such anger at the man he had never met, the man who had filled the child's heart with fear, that he was afraid his anger might show in his eyes.

  Letting Tessa learn for herself that Kentin was not like her first father was a slow process that made gardening seem like a frantically paced activity, but when she finally understood that no harm would come to her from Kentin, she looked happy enough for any ten children. Kentin had felt a satisfaction then that had never been matched by anything else in his life. It wasn't until that day that Tessa had begun speaking more than a few words a week. Sometimes she even had the strength to talk about her mother, who had obviously been driven away far too long before Tessa had been taken from her abusive father.

  Kentin normally remembered Tessa's happiness the most clearly, but right now what seemed most fresh in his mind was her early fear, perhaps because he felt fear now himself. He made frequent backward glances, wishing he knew exactly what he was afraid of, and wondering if Tessa had ever felt the same.

  He circled through the remaining caves, making sure they were ready for another assortment of people to file through, looking into windows to the past. Kentin had reached the next–to–the–last cave on his journey, almost back to where he had begun his inspection, when he noticed something wrong.

  He hadn't owned and run the museum as long as he had without developing a cataloguing disposition, an almost instinctive awareness when things were out of their proper places. The display case near the far cave wall had been shifted. Someone had moved it too close to the wall. Visitors ran the risk of knocking their heads on the irregular cave ceiling with the case that close to the wall.

  Kentin walked slowly toward the display case. Its contents were intact, all in their proper places.

  So why had someone moved the case?

  Crouching slightly to avoid hitting his head, he moved to one side of the case, meaning to get a grip on the back so he could pull it into its proper place. As he leaned toward the wall, he caught a glimpse of something even more wrong than a disturbed display case.

  For just an instant, he saw four electric blue eyes, a central pair looking generally in his direction, and a wider–set pair on the sides of the small furry head. Kentin jerked his hand back. "What the—"

  One pair of eyes blinked, followed quickly by the other pair blinking, and then all four vanished. Kentin heard a scurrying, scrambling noise like a pet clawing on a smooth floor, and whatever had been hiding behind the case was on its way, vanishing into the network of caverns. He swung around and saw nothing but a fast–moving ball of green and brown fur. What was going on?

  Astonishment held Kentin motionless for a brief moment, then he followed. The clicking against the hard cave floor grew more frantic before he caught another glimpse of the creature inexplicably trying to reverse its direction again. It was now racing back at him.

  An instant later, Kentin saw what had spooked the creature into turning around. Another intruder was in the locked museum, this one human, wearing a blue jacket. But now things really made no sense. The man was stepping through the solid rock wall as if it didn't even exist. The man held a weapon, and he turned menacingly to face Kentin.

  Despite his confusion, Kentin recognized the man's face, the face of the man responsible for the worry Kentin had been feeling for weeks.

  Kentin fled, bumping into a display case and pushing through the narrow opening into the cave where he had surprised the creature. If he could reach the entrance and get through the door, he might have a chance. His breath grew ragged, and a pain stung his ribs.

  But he would never reach freedom. He wasn't fast enough to outrun the intruder's weapon. Even before he reached the entrance to the next cavern, the fire from the weapon caught him high in the back, as if he were a bug being pinned to a specimen box. Fire boiled out of his spine.

  Kentin lurched forward, and another kick of pain slammed into the small of his back. He fell. One knee bounced against the rock, and he slid on the floor. Despite the incredible pain, he tried to pull himself back up to face his attacker, but a final shot caught him in the back of the head. The flaring pain obliterated all hope of escape and stilled the last indications of life.

  Chapter 1

  Homecoming

  "She probably won't be there, you know."

  Lan continued reading the news sheet for a moment before he glanced up, his concentration broken. His gaze took in the empty seat next to him, then rose to the stocky man standing at the aisle.

  Lan scanned the man's expectant face and said, "Parke? Parke Brenlek?"

  "Have I changed all that much?"

  Lan smiled at the not–quite–familiar face. Parke's hair had lightened slightly and he had grown a mustache clipped so short the hairs could have been just an ill–advised tattoo above his upper lip. He had put on maybe twenty kilos. Parke's ruddy cheeks were more rounded than they used to be. Despite the changes, he looked fit and strong rather than overweight. The faint pinch in the skin between his eyebrows gave an impression of cunning and maneuvering that was uncomfortably close to the image Lan still had of his friend.

  Still smiling, Lan said, "No, not really. I'm just surprised that you're still alive. I thought by now some jealous husband would have vaporized you." He moved to extend his hand and began to rise, but the seat belt bounced him back into the cushion.

  "Same old Lan Dillion," Parke said, grinning broadly. "You haven't changed a bit."

  Lan unsnapped the seat belt. He turned off the news sheet and returned it to the pouch beside the seat, then stood up and shook hands. His hand felt small in the grip of Parke's large fingers, and his ring cut into his fingers. "I can't believe ten years have gone by so fast. You have to be on your way back for the reunion, too."

  "Sure. I can't believe it either. You really haven't changed at all." Parke glanced at the display screen at the front of the cabin. "We've got plenty of time before changeover. How about a drink in the lounge?"

  Lan nodded. Together they followed the aisle to the back of the circular chamber. Ignoring the shuttle's shiny zero–gee risers, they took the stairs leading upward, Parke in the lead. The spongy treads muffled the sound of their footsteps.

  "I looked through every level," Parke said as they passed the passenger cabin above Lan's. "I didn't see anyone else familiar. It must be just you and me."

  "Maybe the rest of them found out you were coming back for the tenth reunion and decided to wait for the twentieth. If I'd known, I certainly would have reconsidered."

  "Take a long walk with a short bottle of air," Parke said good–naturedly.

  They edged along the curved wall to make room for a cheerful trio of fast–talking, blue–scaled Merentos heading downstairs, then reached the landing on the lounge level. Thick viewports broke the expanse of walls curving around the dimly lit lounge, and directly opposite the doorway was a large screen similar to the one downstairs. The upper–right corner counted the time remaining before changeover and read,

  TRANS SYSTEM SHUTTLE 2245

  SEAT BELTS: MAY BE UNFASTENED

  NEXT STOP: NEVEREND

  Occupying the center of the screen was the image of a dark, slightly off–round planet that from this distance appeared to be banded with fine black circles. Through the edge of one filtered port showed the dim arc of the nearby sun. Most of the other ports were totally clear, admitting light from a star field so dense that it seemed to be an uneven expanse of white, veiled with a scattering of black specks. Surrounding the black specks were individual stars far enough from their neighbors that they showed blue and yellow and red and
orange.

  They found an unoccupied table on the sun side. Lan settled into a chair and swiveled to face his friend. "It's really good to see you. So, what have you been doing with yourself these last ten years? At one date a night, that would put you in the three thousands, but a schedule like that would take a lot of stamina." He used the tabletop controls to order a drink and Parke made a quick choice, too.

  Parke looked up from the tabletop. "I've pursued lots of things besides women. School at Technigrad. I manage a materials production lab on Algontin. Did a little growing up." Parke's gaze flickered over Lan's shoulder. Lan turned to see what or who had attracted Parke's attention.

  Lan grinned. "She's very pretty. How much growing up did you say you did? Maybe all you did was age."

  Parke returned the grin, unabashed. "A little growing up doesn't mean I'm a little dead. But I'm more of a looker than a toucher nowadays."

  "This is probably a stupid question, considering your old habits. Did you ever get married?"

  Parke shook his head. "I don't think I'm ready to settle down. What about you?"

  "No. Never seemed—" Lan paused as the waiter arrived to deliver their orders. "Let me." Lan retrieved a couple of coins, checked the displayed balance on each, and placed them on the waiter's tray.

  As the waiter departed, Parke winked and said, "You know, you never did answer my first question."

  "Which was?"

  "Well, not a question, actually. I said she probably won't be there."

  "Who's that?"

  "Who's that? That's a stupid question. We haven't been gone that long."

  "You mean Tessa?"

  "Of course I mean Tessa. Come on, Lan. This is me. Parke. You're not fooling anyone."

  Lan let his gaze slide past Parke and rest on the veiled image of the sun, its mottled sunspots giving the impression of some ultra–large–scale disease. Because the ferry slowly rotated, the sun had slowly moved since they sat down.

  Tessa. Tessa Farlon. Even now Lan had trouble admitting his feelings to Parke.

  If Tessa truly wasn't coming to the reunion, then Lan had wasted the trip. It was fun to see Parke again, and he could think of a few other people he'd like to see, but Tessa was the reason he'd taken time away from his job.

  As the time of the reunion had grown nearer and nearer, Lan told himself he wouldn't go, that it made no sense to torture himself. Lan hated the closed–in feeling of the caves on Neverend, and Tessa wouldn't leave. Lan was just as stubborn as he had been, and surely Tessa was, too. But then again, maybe her feelings about staying on Neverend had tempered. Lan doubted that, but at the last minute he realized that he had to find out. Too, he might find that being back on Neverend wouldn't make him feel as trapped as before. Maybe he would be able to forget or ignore the need for sunlight, for open air overhead, for the sense of freedom he had when he was far from Neverend.

  But maybe all these questions were for nothing. Tessa could have married years ago. Who would blame her? Or she could have found a way to let go, to let her father have his own life and to start one of her own.

  Lan looked back at Parke. "That was a long time ago. We were kids."

  "We're not all that old right now."

  "Why do you say she might not be there?"

  "I hear from Toko Yinda occasionally. My folks left Neverend about a year after yours did, and I like to know what's going on. Toko says she hasn't seen Tessa lately. She thinks Tessa might have left Neverend."

  "That would be too bad," Lan said finally. "I would like to see her again."

  "Now we're getting some honesty here. I wouldn't mind seeing her again either. And maybe doing a little more than just seeing. From what I hear, she's gotten even prettier since school."

  Lan grimaced and took a sip from his drink bulb. "Is that what you remember? Her looks were more a liability than anything else. I would have preferred her plainer, to keep guys like you away."

  Surprise magnified the small folds in the skin between Parke's eyebrows. "What are you talking about? There's nothing wrong with beauty."

  "Nothing more than there's anything wrong with loud noises or flashy clothes. They just distract people from what's really important."

  "All right, mister wise old man. What is important?"

  Lan was silent for a moment. "Do you remember the time when some caverns caved in, a couple of levels up, and south from Marrotto Junction? Maybe four or five people were killed."

  Parke nodded.

  "A young girl, I think her name was Meccer, was orphaned. Falling rock damaged one of her legs pretty badly. Even after they found a family to adopt her, Tessa spent time with her, helping her relearn to walk, and keeping her spirits up by reading to her and just being a friend."

  Parke took a gulp from his drink. "I never knew that."

  "I'm not surprised. Tessa never bragged about the things she did. She just went out and did them." Lan drummed his fingers on the table. "She used to go down to the museum after school and help her father with whatever exhibit he was setting up, more to be with him than because he needed the help."

  "I'd figured she was always meeting you or one of the girls after school. Whenever I asked her if she wanted to go hiking or go for a meal or do anything together, she just told me she was too busy."

  "I don't know if that was the only reason. I think Tessa was wary of people she thought were interested in her just because of her looks."

  "Yeah, but I didn't just want to look," Parke said, leering broadly.

  "You're disgusting." Lan grinned. "And incorrigible. You know, I still remember the time you and Valma got caught in the lagoon in Optner Grotto. You had told her if you stayed close enough together, you wouldn't trigger the alarm system. I bet she didn't speak to you for half the next term."

  "It was worth it."

  Lan shook his head in reproof.

  "Please secure your seat belts and your belongings," said a voice from overhead. "Changeover is in two minutes. We are now halfway from the gateway to the Neverend dock." The voice droned on, asking people to be careful with their drinks.

  "Did you bring anything for changeover?" Lan asked.

  "No. But I'm sure someone did."

  Lan looked around the lounge. At least two people, one child and one adult, both making fists, seemed to be holding small objects. Changeover, the brief period of no gravity, had long ago acquired traditions. Maybe people figured if the law of gravity was temporarily suspended, so were some other rules. Shortly the voice said, "Changeover is beginning. Please remain where you are until the maneuver is complete." As soon as the voice died, Lan felt his stomach lighten as gravity began to disappear. He clasped his hands to keep them from floating. Before twenty seconds passed, he was weightless, held in place by only his seat belt.

  The child Lan had noticed, a boy with flaming red hair and freckles, pushed his hand into the air and flung his fingers open, releasing an insectoid. From Lan's left, another insectoid joined the first.

  The little powered toys rose toward the ceiling. One bounced off the ceiling and began to fly in a slow arc.

  From behind Lan's head came the faint whine of another insectoid. The black–and–yellow gadget whistled past his neck, then it, too, soared toward the center of the lounge, moving in large circles, occasionally darting one way then another, seeming to be genuinely alive. Several people laughed when the device started generating a noise that was a mixture of nasal buzzing and a moronic happy humming. This one was obviously more advanced than the average insectoid.

  As the toy buzzed around the lounge, a smooth pressure pushed Lan briefly against the seat back, and the ferry began its 180–degree turn to aim the propulsion system toward Neverend. Directly ahead of Lan, the star field panned slowly from the bottom to the top of the window. In the window to his right, the star field pivoted. The insectoid careened off a passenger's head, prompting chuckles from the people around the victim.

  A minute later Lan felt pulled away from his seat back, t
hen weightlessness lingered several seconds before the ship began to decelerate and he felt himself pushed down into the seat cushion. The almost unnoticeable vibration Lan had felt before changeover resumed as the thrusters began to slow the shuttle enough for it to match orbit at Neverend.

  The black–and–yellow insectoid had been freely cruising in the low gravity, but now it had to struggle against the increasing force, and finally it crashed into the floor a few meters away. The instant after it hit, it generated a programmed sound Lan hadn't heard before, an undignified splat followed by a sudden loud buzz that trailed off, as though a large, smart bumblebee had said "awwwwwww" and then died. Lan joined in the laughter at the pitiful wail.

  Over the laughter came the droning voice telling people they could release their drinks and unfasten their seat belts. Two adults and the redheaded boy retrieved their insectoids.

  At the table next to Lan's, a man, still amused at the insectoid's performance, either squeezed his drink bulb too hard or drank at just the wrong moment. He managed to get some of the fluid up his nose and proceeded to spray the woman sitting across from him.

  Parke started laughing loud enough that the man glared at him. The woman wiped her sleeve with a napkin.

  "I'm sorry," Parke managed, his voice high and tight. "It's just that we made it all the way through changeover without an accident and—and—" He started laughing again.

  The man and woman studiously ignored Parke as they left the lounge.

  Lan looked at his laughing friend and said, "That's what I like about you. You take everything so seriously. You know, I was wrong to say I thought you might have been killed by a jealous spouse. I put way too narrow a definition on the possible murderer."

  Parke laughed even louder, and several people looked their way. Lan turned to one of the nearby men and said, "You'll have to excuse him. He's always been a big fan of nasal spray."