New Celebrations: The Adventures of Anthony Villiers

by Alexei Panshin

  Villiers said, “This is not a time for horse-trading. If you want a second, let me say that I think I can find Mr. Adams right now. Can you?”

  Srb looked at him for a long silent moment while he thought. He was a horse trader, and he hated to swap so easily. But his position was not that strong. Think of Adams—not that strong at all.

  “I’ll accept your point,” he said at last. “If you can find Mr. Adams, you can have him and your bargain.”

  Villiers turned instantly for the door.

  Srb said, “One thing, Mr. Villiers.

  “Were you serious when you said we weren’t discussing theology?”

  11

  WILL YOU ADMIT THAT YOU HAVE FEARS SO BREATHTAKING, so elemental, and so personal that you only allow them free run of your mind in the last hour of an October night?

  Ca-lonk, a heavy distant door said reverberatingly to itself. A cold dusty echo. The girls, sitting close together at the base of the white cart in which Derek Godwin presently reposed, huddled and listened.

  Shirabi had just turned away. His evil capering had been cut short by the arrival of a messenger. The freighter was approaching, and the overtime shift of second-dealers and double-shufflers from upstairs stood ready. His directions were required.

  Shirabi looked down at the girls, who shrank before his gaze. “Back in a minute,” he said. “Mind my place.”

  The girls pressed close together. They waited, afraid now that Shirabi had gone, but afraid also of his return.

  Motor noises, smooth, cool, and regular. Echoes, the inarticulate memories of distant voices. They shivered, touched by the cold winds that lurked in these closed halls.

  They were as totally afraid as it is possible to be—mark by that Shirabi’s growth in presence. If one was less afraid, it was Louisa, something of the practical jenny wren. She was afraid, but her mind was still working. Alice, on the other hand, was devoting all of her more sensitive nature to feeling terrified.

  If the truth be known, Alice’s life thus far had left her unprepared for the realities of romance. There is a sine qua non of romance she did not know: no weeping over corpses without true pain felt; no embrace by a lover without trials endured; no final rainbow without rain.

  Alice, Alice, Alice was afraid. Alice was afraid. Alice was afraid.

  Her heart throbbed so loudly that the hand clutched to her breast trembled. She became aware then of her own fear, and it was raised through awareness to a higher power.

  The floor under her right hand was cool and dry. Louisa’s back, where it touched Alice’s arm and shoulder, was rigid. The cart was an uncomforting support to her right cheek.

  Terror is a hot flood. Terror is probing rivulets. Terror is cold spoom drift.

  She waited in frozen terror for Shirabi to return. Unrecognized tears wet her cheeks. She didn’t sob. She simply cried and knew not that she was crying.

  A sudden icy creak drew her but her vision was blurred. She wiped her eyes desperately as heavy steps approached cautiously. When she could see, Levi loomed horribly above her.

  He was soft, huge, gross, repellent. He was a wild idiot dressed in a uniform that proclaimed a nonexistent domestic nature.

  “Want to have fun?” Levi asked with curious and heavy innocence.

  She did not answer, but pressed closer to Louisa. He reached a slow hand toward her head, which she moved to avoid. The hand had the look of a whittled but unfinished block. The hand turned into a cypress knee which nudged her shoulder twice.

  “Hey, want to have fun?” he asked.

  Alice turned her face away and hid it in the crook of her arm. Her shoulder was seized and she was roughly flopped around and lifted by Levi’s right hand.

  “Hey,” he said, and smiled. “Hurr-hurr.”

  His teeth were the size of Alice’s fingertip. His tongue glistened and flopped loosely.

  Her mind was spinning as he looked at her and panted. Her knees would not hold her upright. He was so hideous. It did not seem proper to her that this terrible moment should be the end of her maidenhood. She had had more ambitious plans.

  He continued to hold her with his right hand. He reached out and touched her with his left forefinger.

  “Fun,” he said.

  Alice fainted. Consequently, she missed much of interest.

  * * *

  As he briskly walked, Villiers thought of knocking. Which is the most efficient order? Knock and try the door? Try the door alone? If locked, do you knock, or do you try to unlock it?

  He decided finally on directness. When he found the proper door, he put hand straight to it, and to his great surprise it swung open on the instant.

  “All right,” he said. “Where are you, Adams?”

  Maybelle Lafferty sat upright in bed. Her long brown hair fell in a tangle over her bare shoulders.

  “It’s my husband. It’s my husband. Oh, hide.” Villiers turned calmly and closed the door.

  Adams, surprised, kicked wildly in the bedclothes. The sudden commotion and Maybelle’s imperative took him out of bed on the far side to land sprawling on the floor. Then the fact of Villiers’ presence and the sense of Maybelle’s ululations struck at the same moment. He scrambled to his feet and stood there, a single stock his only piece of apparel.

  “What do you mean?” he demanded of Maybelle. “What are you doing here?” he demanded of Villiers. “What do you mean?” he demanded of Maybelle.

  Maybelle didn’t answer. Her whole attention was devoted to her homage to Thespis. Her failures in talent and technique were more than compensated for by her beauty and enthusiasm.

  “I’m here from General Srb,” Villiers said in a voice intended to penetrate. “Junior Lieutenant Adams, you are needed by the Empire.”

  “But I don’t trust you,” said Adams. “How did General Srb know I was here? Tell me that.”

  Villiers said, “You underestimate your superiors, son. I think you will find that Srb always knows everything. Now, look.”

  Quickly, Villiers sketched the recognition signal he had been shown.

  “I missed that,” Adams said when he was done. “Would you mind repeating it?”

  Maybelle only now realized that something was amiss. It wasn’t Henry who had entered. It was Villiers, one day late. A frantic thought crossed her mind. By some incredible chance had she written, “Come urgently to my rooms tomorrow night”? She looked at Adams in his single stocking and Villiers with his finger on his palm. Her mind was blank and there was total silence.

  Then Henry was standing in the doorway. She felt relieved. All was in safe hands. She did not need to think. She went back to where she had been like a well-schooled girl.

  “My husband! Both of you hide.”

  Henry stepped within the unlocked room at exactly the moment he was due. It was a pleasure to him to see things going well for a change. The door was unlocked just as it should be. Directly in front of him was a well-dressed back.

  He seized a shoulder, and said, “I have you, sir. You have been in private with my wife for more than twice the time it takes water to run from a broken jug. Explain yourself.”

  Villiers shook free. “If you don’t mind.” He finished resketching the recognition signal. Then he looked over his shoulder and said, “I think Adams over there is the man you want to speak to. I’ve not been here quite so long as you say.”

  Adams, recognizing the accuracy of the recognition signal on its repetition, stamped his bare foot and for the most part came to stiff attention. “Sir!”

  Henry Maurice walked over to him, looked him up and down, and said, “I trust you can explain this.”

  Adams kept his gaze directed above Maurice’s head to Villiers.

  Villiers said, “General Srb and I are working in concert together here. You’re needed, Adams—now. Get dressed.”

  “Sir!” Adams said, and turned for his pants.

  Henry followed him and said, “I hope you can explain.”

  Adams shook his h
ead as he put on his pants. “I can’t explain.”

  “Well, what do you mean to do?”

  “I’m going with Mr. Villiers over there. We’re needed.”

  “Just make yourself functional, Mr. Adams,” Villiers said. “You don’t need to be decorative.”

  Henry turned to Maybelle. “Do you know what is going on here? What is Villiers doing?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know,” she said. “He just walked in here a few minutes ago. He hasn’t spoken to me.”

  “I beg your pardon, Miss Lafferty,” Villiers said. “It was inexcusable. How are you this evening? It’s pleasant to see you again.”

  He did his duty as Adams drew on his first boot. Maybelle received the gesture and inclined as gracefully as one possibly could while lying flat in bed. Very prettily.

  Henry turned to Villiers as Adams drew on his second boot. “What do you propose to do about this intolerable situation?”

  “Me? Why nothing at all, sir. Adams, are you ready?”

  “Sir! I’m ready!”

  “Come along, then. Good day, Miss Lafferty. Mr. Maurice.”

  He turned to the door and Adams hurried across the room after him. Pants, boots, shirt, but no coat. Gun in hand.

  “Good,” said Villiers. “You’ll need that.”

  * * *

  Levi Gonigle looked curiously at the girl hanging so limply from his hand. Had he shaken too hard? He didn’t think so. He didn’t remember doing it.

  He prodded her several times, but she seemed to have lost interest. She was asleep. It was a very odd thing for her to do.

  She didn’t seem to be of any use, so he put her down and she lolled back against the cart. He poked the other one.

  “How about you? Do you want to play?”

  Levi reached into his pocket and pulled out a closed hand. He opened it to show in the center a red ball and a glomp of silver metal.

  “See.” He scattered the jackstones across the top of the closed cold cart. He bounced the ball over Godwin’s hidden nose and made a sweep at the jacks.

  If Louisa had been in a mood to play, it would have been a most unfair game. Elevenses was a cinch for him. The only thing to keep him from walking away with championship after championship was some minor difficulty in ball handling.

  “Ah, there you are, Levi,” Mr. Shirabi said.

  Levi hurriedly stuffed the ball and jacks away. Mr. Shirabi didn’t understand some things that were fun. Other than that, he was a nice man to work for.

  “We need two more boxes,” Mr. Shirabi said. He pointed.

  Levi trotted over and picked up one. The boxes were large. The boxes were heavy. Usually it took two men to pick one up and carry it, but Levi could manage one by himself. He brought it back to where Mr. Shirabi was standing, and set it down.

  Mr. Shirabi nodded, and straightened the cold box so that it was in line with all the others. “Bring me the dark girl,” he said. “Gently.”

  Levi changed direction from the other cold box to the girls. He looked at them closely and thought the one who was asleep was darker. But he didn’t want to make a mistake.

  “This one?” he asked.

  Mr. Shirabi said, “Yes.”

  Remembering to be gentle, Levi carefully lifted the girl and bore her to the open box. He laid her gingerly within.

  “That’s right,” Mr. Shirabi said. “Don’t bruise the merchandise.”

  There was a click and a hum and then Mr. Shirabi closed the box. The other girl was on her feet and she was backing away.

  “Get the other box, Levi,” Mr. Shirabi said.

  Levi went for the box.

  “Don’t try to run,” Mr. Shirabi said. “There isn’t any point to it. But if you really feel you must, go ahead.”

  She started to dodge one way around the cart, and Mr. Shirabi matched her. Back, and he matched her again.

  “You see?” he said.

  Levi set the second box down. Mr. Shirabi straightenened it and put it in line with the others, keeping his eyes on the girl, frozen behind the cart.

  “Oh, is that how you wanted it?” Levi said. He was standing where he wouldn’t be in the way. He didn’t like to be in the way. People would say, “Levi, you’re in the way,” and then he didn’t feel good, so he tried not to be in the way.

  “Come on, now,” Mr. Shirabi said, opening the box. “Climb inside.”

  “I’ve heard about those boxes,” the girl said. “Sometimes they can’t get you to wake up from them.”

  “That’s true,” Mr. Shirabi said, “but that’s just the chance you take when you climb inside one. Come on, now.”

  The girl stood taut and looked at them. Levi put his hand in his pocket while he was waiting and fingered his ball.

  At last the girl’s resolve wilted. She trudged over and put a hand on Mr. Shirabi’s shoulder and stepped into the box. Then she lay down and Mr. Shirabi reached for the switch.

  “Goodbye, thumb,” he said.

  The giant doors at the end of the warehouse began to move upward to allow the grasshopper clearance. When the doorway was clear, the grasshopper moved fluidly forward, bent, slid arms under the first cold boxes and lifted. Levi watched in fascination. He liked to see machines operate.

  * * *

  Villiers moved along with complete surety, Adams a half-step behind. Adams caught up.

  “Mr. Villiers, you seem to know Mr. Srb better than I do,” he said confidentially. “What sort of man does he seem to you?”

  “Firm, but fair,” Villiers said. “Yes, I’d say firm, but fair. A mature man. Quiet, confident, deeper than he appears.”

  “Oh,” said Adams. “You see, I don’t know quite what to make of him. He smokes, you know. They expelled three senior cadets while I was in the Academy for smoking.”

  “You haven’t been commissioned long, have you, Mr. Adams?”

  “Well, Sir, a year and a half.”

  “Try not to worry about it now,” Villiers said. “Concentrate on being alert.”

  “Yes, sir,” Adams said. “And I want to thank you for coming for me when you did. That was very embarrassing. Imagine, they were married. She must have told me several fibs.”

  Villiers nodded.

  “But I don’t think she was bad basically,” Adams said.

  “Shh,” said Villiers.

  Just ahead in the hall was someone Villiers recognized. It was Josiah, the Flambeau table operator. The marks of Levi’s hands were still on him. He recognized Villiers and Adams and turned quickly away.

  “Let’s have him,” Villiers said.

  Before Josiah could dodge away, Villiers had him by one arm and Adams had him by the other. It was just as well that Adams was there because Josiah was considerably larger than Villiers and no doubt could easily have overpowered him and escaped. No doubt.

  “What does he know?” Adams asked.

  “Yeah, what do I know?” Josiah said.

  “This gentleman is part of the crooked gambling here—I have no doubt he can guide us directly to the basements.”

  “The basements?” Josiah asked.

  “What is this crooked gambling?” Adams asked. “The gambling here isn’t crooked, is it?”

  “The third landing port,” Villiers said. “We want the smuggling operation.”

  “Oh,” said Josiah.

  “What do you mean by crooked gambling, sir?”

  “Did you expect a man you suspect of heartier villainies to run an honest gaming house?” Villiers asked. “Josiah was cheating you systematically.”

  “Well, is that so?” Adams asked. His grip on Josiah’s arm increased substantially in force and he touched the warm tip of Josiah’s nose with the cold tip of his gun. “You’d better show us the way.”

  Josiah looked at Villiers with sensible blue eyes. “It’s not that I’m craven, you understand. But if you’re going to close things down, I suppose I’d better help you. Usual terms?”

  “Usual terms,” Villiers said.


  “What does that mean?” Adams asked.

  “It would only distress you, I’m afraid,” Villiers said. “Perhaps it would be better not to know.”

  * * *

  Shirabi closed the box over the second girl and rose. He was pleased by his new personal force, strong enough to dominate already-terrified little girls. He rubbed his hands together and then flexed them. He admired the blue tracings on the backs. They seemed to him an elegant corruption, like the veins in blue cheese.

  The grasshopper deposited its second armload of boxes within the hold of the freighter. It poised like a father who means to let his baby son stand alone, and then reached out an inevitable steadying arm. Then it slid back on its rails into the warehouse.

  The operator swung the front around briskly on its central pivot wheel. He brought the arms down.

  “Over here. These boxes.” The operator, Achdut Haavoda, responded to the new authority in Shirabi’s voice. “Aw, shit, Shirabi. Let me do it my way.”

  Shirabi said, “I want these boxes aboard next.” He pointed to the boxes at his feet, the ones containing the bodies of Alice Tutuila and Louisa Parini.

  Haavoda shrugged, brought the grasshopper around, and made the indicated boxes part of his next armload. It meant refiguring his entire stacking order, but Shirabi didn’t care anything about that.

  Shirabi folded his hands over his stomach as he watched this load of boxes safely within the hold. It gave him a solemn satisfaction, the glow of a newly-blooded hunter who knows that today’s pigeons stand for elephants tomorrow.

  Levi was still watching the grasshopper with lips agape. He was toying with something in his pocket.

  “Go to the door and watch,” Shirabi told him.

  “What?”

  “Go to the door. And watch.”

  Shirabi got behind the cold cart in which Godwin reposed and began to push it. It started slowly, but once he had momentum going he found it easy to guide it parallel to the grasshopper track. The grasshopper was picking up another load and swinging around to follow behind him.