Dark Space - Marianne de Pierres [57]
At one stage during the thirty-hour binge, he Cossack-danced naked with the OLOSS judge (Samuel L.) on the back of a pair of stocky Balol twins. His toes bled from the frill pricks, but during the process he and Samuel L. bonded for life.
Hour twenty-nine of the binge saw them arm in arm on the lounge sofa, exchanging stories.
Samuel L., who was inclined to be verbose at best, and at this stage of the proceedings was melancholy with guilt, produced images of his family and children at home on their privately owned world in the OLOSS system of Betelgeuse.
As Jo-Jo surveyed the images through the smear of too many cocktails and not enough stimulants, something caught his eye. A rippling objet d’art the like of which he had never seen before. ‘Tell me, mate,’ he said. ‘What the fuck is that?’
Samuel L got a rather sly look on his face.
Which made Jo-Jo wonder if he’d cheated on the binge and left his blood stabilisers functioning.
‘That is an extraordinary little something I picked up from a planet way out west. Can’t remember what it was called now.’
The ‘little something’ was a feature wall—in the entrance of his mansion—that shimmered and rippled and changed form. ‘It’s made of a shape-memory alloy: “quixite” is the common name. I’ve been on the circuit to some hick planets for a long time, never seen it in these quantities before. Rare combination of mineral. Did a little deal for it.’ He winked. ‘Course, it’s not something I spread around. Wouldn’t do for everyone to have one. The wife would never let me hear the end of it.’
At that point Jo-Jo produced a rather nifty recording dice of the entire binge, including Samuel L.’s attempt to give adequate cunnilingus to the bordello’s mistress who had six state-of-the-art orifices. ‘And I don’t suppose she would let you hear the end of this, either.’
Samuel L.’s newly implanted hair stood stiffer in alarm than his erection ever had in passion.
‘Now, mate,’ said Jo-Jo. ‘Where did you get that alloy?’
* * * *
MIRA
Trin led Mira to the front of the villa’s ruins as if she were blind. Djeserit carried the crying ‘bino and the korm limped behind her. Rumbles from more explosions across the city shook the ground underneath their feet. Shots echoed between villas, followed by shouts and screams and the whirring of AiV rotors lifting into the air. Familia from the nearby Villa Cabuto stood, peering through their fence.
Trin signalled for their help but they withdrew inside.
‘Cazzone!’ shouted Trin after them. ‘Who are you that you would not help your Principe?’
‘They don’t know you,’ said Djeserit. She rested a hand on his hip. ‘It’s us they avoid. They hated the Baronessa taking us in. They excluded her from their gatherings.’
Faja, thought Mira. Faja.
Trin made an angry noise and ran a few steps. He pointed to Villa Fedor’s collapsed gate pillars. They lay across the back of his vehicle. ‘We must walk further to get help,’ he said.
‘But the heat. . .’ Djeserit shaded her head with her arms. She wore only an indoor robe and no velum. ‘I can stand the heat but the sun . . .’ She showed him her palms. Already welts had appeared on them and on her face.
The korm chittered as if agreeing, yet its reptile skin and patches of feather-fur looked as impervious as Balol skin armour.
Trin glanced up and down the viuzza. One direction led out of the city, the other, which ran past the Villa Cabuto, intersected other viuzzas at a vehicle shelter. ‘There. The TerV-way.’
They moved quickly towards it, Trin pulling Mira along. With relief they found the coldlock still functioning as they crowded into the passenger set-down.
From an observer’s distance that meant as little to Mira as the cuts on her feet and the scoured grazes on her face, she heard them discuss her condition.
‘What is wrong with the Baronessa? Why won’t she speak?’ asked Djeserit.
‘Shock,’ said Trin.
‘How long will this last?’
‘I do not know.’
Another explosion rattled their shelter, raining debris