Yarn

by Jon Armstrong

  My heart was hammering. My scar throbbed. Wobbling, I bent my knees like Kira in battle. First I would cut his throat with the glass. I'd slash it back and forth. Then I would bash his head. And bash it again. I would keep on slamming my fists into him until he stopped moving.

  ANTARCTICA

  It might have been prudent to slow on the tiled surface of the Antarctica Extension, as one moment tremors seemed to come from the nose of the car, and next the back would hum an odd harmonic, but I kept up my speed, afraid that I was falling behind.

  Five hundred miles from my destination, an emergency call came in. "Mr. Cedar," said the cool voice of a Mz Foss of the Security Board, "I need to ask you a few questions."

  I cursed myself for not turning off all communication. "Yes please… go ahead." I tried to make my tone as light and cheery as possible.

  "You had a visitor."

  "I did?"

  "We believe a woman visited your design studio yesterday."

  "A client did."

  "We suspect this client may be a freeboot."

  I shook my head even though she couldn't see. "I doubt that."

  "This matter is of extreme concern." She had stretched the second syllable of extreme like spandex. "To be blunt, the woman in question is wanted for crimes against humanity."

  "I didn't know. I don't quiz clients about their personal lives."

  "Mr. Cedar," said Mz Foss, her voice shifting into a lower, more powerful, gear, "the Security Board is fully aware of your history, actions, and associations." She paused as if waiting for me to confirm.

  "I am aware of your awareness," I replied.

  "Am I to assume from your insouciant tone that you spoke with this wanted criminal and are possibly engaged in criminal acts yourself?"

  "I'm just stating the facts as I know them, Boardmember." Grasping the steering, I mashed the accelerator to the floor for a moment in anger. Letting up, I finished, "Please accept my apology, Boardmember."

  I heard nothing for several seconds. I hoped that the connection had been cut, but just as I had positioned my index finger above the off button, she spoke again. "You are hereby charged with aiding the enemy of the families. You must immediately report to the Security Board headquarters and plead your case."

  "Yes, Boardmember," I replied, pulling down the skin beneath my eye to give her a Red Hole! "I'm on my way now." I switched off the communications and pointed the Chang toward the exit ramp activating the mercury brakes.

  From the off ramp, I found the highway heading toward Birudu and sped along. The drivers here, mostly in ancient Wangs, Arlies, and Maxis, were an aggressive bunch, but not enough of a distraction from the call and its implications. A storm was building on the horizon, and I worried that Vada would be caught before I ever made it back. I hated to imagine what the satins would do to her.

  I gazed out to my left, where the land slowly descended to reveal a tangle of crowded roads lined with shops and coffee houses and their twittering and blinking signs. The windowless, hulking warehouses, the drab slabs of factories, and above it all-the product of a hundred smoke stacks darkening the sky-a writhing mass of black smoke lit by the flashing licks of flame from the oilrigs below. A travel poster for hell.

  KONG: THE PACIFICA SHOWHOUSE

  Color began to saturate the coat. It seemed to change from near black to maroon. The collar and sleeves were trimmed in black, but the shirt and pants shone bright in the gloom. As I stood waiting, nearly hyperventilating, I noticed the man's gait. Rather than Withor's artificial tiptoeing bounce, this man's stride was solid, firm, and calm. He didn't carefully set his feet, but plopped them onto the ground with relaxed authority.

  As the figure came closer, the maroon of his coat was revealed to be a vibrant red, and I could see that the trim was made of a fuzzy feather-like substance that shimmered and shook in the breeze. And when my mysterious visitor's features became clear-I knew for certain that it wasn't Withor. The eyes were dark with shadow. The bee-stung lips were burgundy; the eyebrows arched and curious. Each cheek was dotted with a large circle of rouge.

  "Y-You!" I stammered. "You're dead!"

  She stopped six feet away. Her initial smile turned to puzzlement. She glanced around. "Where the shit are they?"

  "Who?"

  "Those idiots! They weren't supposed to even bring you yet. And they weren't supposed to just leave you." Vada focused on me, and her eyes lingered on my nude body for a beat before I dropped the glass and covered myself. She laughed at my modesty. "How do you feel? Are you all right?"

  "Not really."

  She frowned sympathetically, gathered up the sides of her skirt to her hips, and began working down her full panties-a red and white pair with embroidered white dots and ruffles all over the bottom. Stepping forward, she held them out. "I don't know why you didn't even get a gown. I guess you have to be explicit with that shit hospital."

  I didn't move. I wasn't sure this was a good idea.

  "Oh, go on. They're clean and comfortable." Wincing, she glanced down. "You need something!"

  In what felt like an emulsion of embarrassment and gratitude, I took them. Her warmth still lingered in the soft material. She turned to give me privacy and after I tried to scrape off some of the mud from the bottoms of my feet and ankles, I carefully inserted my legs and pulled the panties up.

  "You look good!" she said with a smile. "Sort of. Are you really okay?"

  I nodded. "I saw the Europa explode. They shot you down."

  "Yes." Scowling, Vada let out a long exhale. "She almost got me."

  She meant Bunné. "How'd you survive?"

  "We got out of the ship a couple of seconds before." She pursed her mouth. "The United Sisterhood of Entervator Entertainers and Pilots."

  I should have known that someone who could blow up a jacket only to make it reappear would have other tricks. "This is the slubs, right?"

  "Outside of Kong." She squinted up at the sky, then down at the mud. "And what a cut of a rendezvous spot! This is shit. I'm sorry."

  "What happened?"

  She frowned. "Mostly awful things." Her shoulders sank and she peered at me doubtfully. "I'm very sorry. We thought you had much more time to get out of the Keep."

  "Satins came for me. Withor was there. He said I killed the drap-de-Berry woman."

  "I believe their original plan was to leave you next to that drap-de-Berry woman, as you call her. Your dead body was supposed to take the fall. Someone knotted it." She squinted at me. "Why didn't you tell us about Izadora?"

  "I didn't know."

  "From now on, please tell me everything that might be important. Actually just tell me everything." Vada looked skyward for a moment. "We got out of the ship before the rocket hit it, but on our way out of the city, Xavier was captured. They tortured him." She frowned at me.

  "I'm sorry." I brought a hand to my face. "What happened to me?"

  She pursed her mouth tenderly. "You were almost recycled. We checked outgoing from the city and found a prisoner who was returned." She shook her head slowly. "It was kind of lucky actually that the orders were to toss you into the deboner alive. They do that sometimes for special cases. When our sympathizer realized who it was, he shut down the line just as the blades started on your head."

  "I kind of remembered that! It was terrible."

  "I caught up by then. It was completely awful. I didn't know if you were going to make it. We pumped you full of nem-d. We headed across the Pacifica and… well… I'm very sorry."

  I touched the stitches on my face. "Did you sew me up?"

  "Oh no!" She snorted a little laugh. "Don't even think it. I couldn't. No, I know a tissue sculptor here in Kong. That's why we're here." She shrugged. "And it's a good place to start over." She gazed at me sympathetically. "You had very little flesh left. I want to warn you that you look a little different and you'll have some scars." Her eyebrows rose as if anticipating my surprise. "I had him do a flat-fell down your nose." She suppressed a smile
. "That's my favorite."

  A flat fell seam is formed by interlocking the seam allowances with two parallel rows of topstitching. I couldn't tell if she was joking or not.

  She pointed her small nose aloft and snorted. "And of course he's late."

  Who could she mean? I peered above wondering if some other Showhouse entervator was about to glide to a crash landing nearby.

  Vada was still studying the sky. "How well can you sew?"

  "I can sew. Thank you! Thank you for saving my life."

  She made a face. "It was really close. I don't know how you really survived that grinder. Just getting you out of that thing was a huge mess, and then transporting you to Kong was a disaster. You almost died. We ran out of nem-d and had to stop in Fiji for more… anyway… everything completely unraveled."

  "Why go to all that trouble for me?"

  Vada stifled a smile like a gardener pinching an unwanted flower bud from a stem. "You have talents."

  I was about to ask what they were, but crouched and caught myself before I fell into the mud. The earth seemed to have shaken.

  She stooped before me. "You all right?"

  "I just got dizzy."

  "You need some rest and some food." Vada glanced up again. "Damn it, where are you?"

  "What's coming?"

  "The Pacifica."

  "What's that?"

  I heard a rush of air and looked up.

  "There it is!" Vada raised a shiny black-gloved finger. And like a flower unfolding from the rumples of cloud and fog, a sky-grey dirigible silently emerged and floated down to the dark earth to where we were.

  THE HIGH EUROPAS AND PACIFICUM: TWO HUNDRED AND FORTY COSTUMES IN TWO HUNDRED AND FORTY DAYS

  Once we were inside what they called the low port or the mudroom, Vada buttoned the hatch. I touched the cloth walls and stared out one of the chiffon windows at the twists and curls of fog as we began to ascend. "Welcome honored consumer to the adjunct airship of the magical traveling show… we call her The Pacifica Showhouse." Vada's eyebrows rose with the promise of a marketer. "It is made of nothing but silk and longing." "I love it," I whispered as the ship breached the fog and the orange light of a sunset illuminated the cloth, the world, and us. To the right, I saw an impossibly huge city. I was used to Seattlehama, which was all height. This one wasn't as tall, but was easily a thousand times wider. Buildings, bubbles, towers, Turkishes, scrapers, and beepers created a dazzle of lights, grids, and patterns. It was a crazy tapestry-a jacquard loom gone mad. "That's Kong," said Vada.

  Far to the left the sun melted into a glowing coal as it sank to the horizon.

  "Listen," she said, quietly, "Xavier escaped, but was badly hurt. Don't ask him about it, don't look at him, or mention it. He hates that."

  "Sure. I'm sorry. How'd he escape?"

  Vada just grimaced. After a beat, she glanced at the sunset. "Kong is a glorious city."

  I turned to the window. "That's where we're going?"

  She shook her head. "South."

  I had no idea where Kong was and thus no concept of south, but I was satisfied. Vada unbuttoned a door, and we stepped into the central hallway. The basketweave floor stretched and warped underfoot and I could sense that my weight slightly twisted and bent the whole craft. I tried to step lightly, and worried that even in my emaciated state, I was too heavy.

  "There are two floors," she whispered. "Your room is here." She unbuttoned a door that led to a small cabin. "Tomorrow, when it's light, and you've had some rest, I'll show you around."

  Beside a narrow mattress on the floor sat a low table, holding a nano-denier crochet bowl filled with what looked like steaming water.

  "There's linens and clothes for you in the closet. We don't have running water and when we're traveling-especially near cities-it's lights out. It might take you some getting used to the airborne movements, the feel of the ship, the turbulence. And there's not much heat, but we can talk about that later." She eyed me. "You should clean up before that gets cold. I've left some food here. Sleep well. I'll see you in the galley for breakfast." She then stood and her expression seemed to vacillate between anticipation and hesitation. She then said, "Welcome," leaned in, kissed me on the mouth, and was gone.

  I stood for a long moment savoring the lingering warmth and moisture of her lips. She had saved my life. I wanted to laugh, but just then the floor shuddered, and the bowl with the water would have spilled had I not leapt at it. After I had washed and changed into a simple pair of red pants, a button-down shirt, I ate, felt incredibly sleepy, and crawled into bed.

  When I woke, it took me a moment to remember where I was. I heard distant laughter. Unbuttoning my door, I stepped into the hallway and followed the sounds.

  Up a spiral oilcloth stairs, I found the ship's galley where five sat around a table. Their conversation and laughter stopped as soon as I entered, and when I swallowed, I was sure they could all hear. As Vada smiled and stood, I was overcome by the childish disappointment that I wouldn't have her all to myself.

  "Good morning. You look rested."

  "Thanks, I feel better."

  She introduced the others. At the far end sat Xavier. Gregg, his first mate, sat to his right. Haas, who I almost never saw after that first meal, was the cook. He sat next to Gregg. Vada was on the other side of the table. Marti, the captain's boy-a young woman-was nearest the door.

  Gregg glared at me with what seemed like preemptive loathing. Marti didn't look up from her bowl, but sat with her spoon hovering before her mouth like she was waiting for someone else to speak. Haas stood and rushed past. Xavier looked at me blankly. His right arm and his right eye were missing, and the flesh of his face was lumpy as muffin dough. Beneath his bare pate, his mouth now twisted to the side in a permanent snarl. I quickly glanced away.

  "They just left him there in the mud!" said Vada. Gregg harrumphed displeasure. "Come in… Come in!" She waved me toward her. As I wedged myself into the chair beside her, she patted my shoulder once.

  "He shouldn't be here," Gregg muttered.

  "He is," replied Vada, staring him down.

  "Could have got you both killed," added Marti, finally downing that spoonful of stew.

  "He has as much right to be aboard as either of you two halfbreeds!" Vada closed her eyes for a beat, gathering herself. "And it was not his fault. Caam was talking too much, and Ffem, bless her bones, was also linked and slaughtered. Our cell broke too many rules and procedures."

  Gregg cocked his head to the side. "But he's the enemy!"

  "Shush!" said Vada, who glanced at Xavier for an instant. "I will have no more of that! He's with us! Treat him with the respect you do all crew members."

  I held my head up and tried to smile, but I wondered if I should be here, if I even wanted to be here-if I would last.

  "He can help." Xavier's voice, which had been as full and deep as an oak, now sounded like a twig scratching a windowpane. Frowning-or snarling less-which seemed the best he could do-he held up his remaining hand and the two gnarled finger stumps. "I can no longer sew."

  I glanced at Vada and the long red-and-white-striped jamdani robe she wore. Was Xavier saying that he had made it and the rest of her costumes?

  Marti stood and left the room. As the rest of us sat in silence, I had just enough time to wonder how I had offended her before she surprised me by returning with a bowl of dark soup and a spoon, which she set before me. I thanked her, receiving just a grunt in response, but I sensed the beginnings of a grudging acceptance.

  "You have to understand how protective they are," Vada said quietly when we were alone in her room that evening. After I ate, I napped the whole day. Now it was dark, but light from the three-quarter moon filtered through the layers of fabric of the dirigible above us to hazily illuminate the curves of her face and the open pages of her writing book.

  "Were they with you in Seattlehama?"

  "This ship was folded and put away." She eyed me. "They were working with another cell, but the
y got news every few minutes."

  I lowered my voice to a whisper since I had found that the oilcloth walls of the ship didn't absorb much. "What happened to Xavier?"

  "Yes… that…" Her voice cracked. She shook her head and started again. "We're just thankful he's alive. They hurt him badly. He's got all sorts of internal problems too. They used dark Xi."

  "I've heard of that, but what is it?"

  "There's pure and dark Xi. They're almost identical yarns, but are treated differently. The-" she stopped again. "I'm sorry I just, I can't talk about it."

  We were lying across her wide bed, our heads propped up on the pillows, our legs loosely intertwined. Vada untangled herself and stood.

  "I didn't mean to upset you."

  "Everything is upsetting!" she said loudly. "Everything is going wrong. And don't think that you're the only one to blame!" She tossed an arm at the door. "They want to lay it at your feet, but that's not right. It's all of us and all of our incompetence and our pettiness and our lousy tactics!"

  I had lots of questions, but didn't dare ask.

  Vada sat with her back to me. "Everything unraveled."

  "How long was I… out?"

  "You were in a suspension coma for two months."

  "Two months?" I had figured it had been only a few weeks.

  "Miss Bunné pinned the Izadora murder on Xavier and me. And because we're deadly, horrible Toue, in the ensuing panic, she disbanded the city's Fashion Board so that there's no opposition. Bunné is in complete control. And like the peons they are, the rest of those horse-hairless CEOs are all going along. The Toue have been flushed out and the tourists are coming and spending."

  "I knew that drap-de-Berry thing was bad, but when nothing happened, I just hoped it would all go away."

  "When the satins followed you to the entervator Keep when you came to see us, they made it into a grand Toue conspiracy."

  The ship rocked gently, and then began to move in a slow wide turn.