“That’s what they went after,” I announced. “Your men made Trub and me take them to it. The, um, Bugs have to write it off now. Trub is pissed, and she’s taking it out on you.”
“He’s lying,” Sarah said.
“Sure, fine,” I said. “Pass up the chance to get in on what your men have. Your not getting a share just makes Trub happy.”
While I’d been talking, some of the other women had redeployed to get a look at the screen, studying the image like a fashion layout in Vogue.
Now to pile it on. “Just think of what a well like that could get your men. Besides all the great stuff that could be gotten from it.”
“Like what?” This from a lean black woman armed with a crude but unnervingly dangerous looking hoopstuff machete.
I rolled my eyes. “Yo, sister, what do you think? Any women they find are going to latch onto them for piece of that well.” I turned and pointed at a woman picked at random. “How long has your husband had you living in this dump, stuck here after he and his buddies bought you the boot from up there?”
Her upper lip curled. “Almost a year.”
“You probably had it pretty good up there, right? Until that greedy slob Cyrus convinced your husband to help him grab it all for himself. Now you’re going to let him dump you for some babe who wants what you should be getting?”
“Don’t listen to him,” Sarah cawed. “He’s trying to trick you.”
The woman stuck out her chin. “Shut up. It’s your fault we’re here, you pushy bitch.”
“Don’t you talk to me like that, Crissy Nyland!”
“I’ll talk to you any way I want! We wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for you and that pig of a husband of yours talking our guys into joining his stupid scheme. We ended up with nothing. Now we don’t even have our men.”
Sarah sniffed. “Not much of a loss in your case.”
I jumped in before things got out of hand, though in some ways I wouldn’t have minded watching a catfight civil war get started. Problem with that, people would get hurt, and odds were I’d be one of the first casualties.
“Ladies, ladies,” I said in the best jolly game show host voice I could muster. “No need to fight. The door is right there. All you have to do is use it. Go find your husbands. Go get your fair share before some well-slut beats you to it.”
Six of the women did just that, heading for the door. They were keeping their weapons. I had the feeling that certain guys were very soon going to be trying to talk their way out of primitive vasectomies. Several of the other women were wavering, including Mrs. Geek.
“Looks like your gang is deserting you,” Trub said with a laugh calculated to punch Sarah’s buttons. “Probably tired of being bossed around by a pair of incompetent crooks.”
“You scar-faced whore,” Sarah snarled, swinging her spear around and launching herself at Trub.
Without thinking I leapt toward Trub to help.
Trub blocked the spear’s blade with her artificial hand, the wooden shaft hitting nanolastic with a sharp crack!
I lowered my shoulder to tackle Sarah in the side. One of the women crashed into me first, knocking me down. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her lift the club she carried.
Before I could duck everything went white.
The next thing I knew I was floating in a featureless white capsule. I freaked and tried to throw myself against the side of it. It was like trying to hit something underwater.
Suddenly Tinker Bell appeared in front of me, wings beating in a sparkling blur. “Calm down,” she said. “No need to panic.”
“Orchid?” I said uncertainly, pretty sure I recognized the voice.
“That’s me. Now take it easy, guy. Everything’s all right.”
“What about Trub?” I wailed.
“Don’t worry about her.”
“But they—”
“Really, she’ll be fine.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely.” Orchid crossed her tiny arms before her tiny bosom, looking me over and smiling. “So, my friend, are you having fun yet?”
“Am I—” I shook my head. “Look, can’t I go back and help her out? She was pretty outnumbered back there.”
“Gotten kind of fond of our Trub, have you?”
“Uh, sure. I guess.”
“So what do you think of your Hoop?”
“I haven’t seen that much of it, and most of that’s been bad spots.”
Tinker Bell whirled into Kermit the Frog, who hung there, feet paddling slowly as if treading water. “True. Trub’s been taking you on the ‘meet the pukes’ tour. Sorry. But enough about you. What do you think about us?”
I struggled to shift mental gears. “You mean your, uh, species?”
Kermit shrugged. “You could start there.”
“But I’ve only met you.”
“Are you sure of that?”
“Pretty sure,” I said uncertainly.
“Interesting.” A tiny clipboard appeared in one of Kermit’s flippers, a pencil in the other. He licked the tip of the pencil and made a notation on the clipboard, then regarded me askance. “Any second thoughts about your answer?”
“My brain hurts,” I sighed.
“Points for the Monty Python reference. You may be a lumberjack after all.” With that Kermit vanished, leaving the tiny clipboard hanging in the air. It sprouted a tiny propeller, flew to the side of the capsule, merged with the white stuff, and was gone.
“My brain hurts,” I said again.
“It would be a good idea to sit down, or your butt will too.” Orchid’s voice seemed to come from every surface of the capsule.
“Why?” I asked, trying to pull myself into a sitting position.
“Because,” Orchid said.
“Welcome back, kid.”
“Back where?” I mumbled, looking around and trying to figure out where the hell I was now. One second I’d been inside that capsule and trying to sit on thin air, the next I was sitting beside Trub. We were perched atop a low hill, surrounded by rolling, unformed white terrain on all sides. In front of me the Hoop narrowed and curved down into the horizon.
“Unused segment about a quarter of the way around from High Vista. I come here sometimes when I need some peace and quiet. I thought you might need a break.”
“Thanks.” It was peaceful, white, and silent. It occurred to me that I’d never experienced quiet like this back in the city. There was always some sound somewhere: muffled voices; the buzz, whirr, and beep of electronics; distant sirens and engines; the guts of the city rumbling.
I looked Trub over, relieved to see that she appeared unhurt. “You okay?”
“Better than okay.”
“You sure?”
A loopy grin. “Oh yeah. I cleaned Sarah’s clock and slapped some hurt on a couple of her girls. Sorry to send you away when things were getting interesting, but I didn’t want you getting banged up.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
“No problem.” She gestured toward the ground between us. “I grabbed some brunch on the way here. The mug is coffee. Be careful, it’s still hot.”
As soon as she mentioned the food and coffee, I started smelling it. There was a woven leaf bowl, a Venusian takeout container filled with what looked like deep-fried fritters. I helped myself to one, took a bite. My mouth filled with the taste of banana and spices.
Trub took a sip of her coffee, smacked her lips. “Yeah, it was definitely worth a detour through Upper Jolta.”
“Through where?” I asked, putting down the fritter and picking up my own mug.