Peru Abner slowly shook his head. "What's ailing me, Cholly, is something only a time machine could fix. Bone Breaker's all out of 'em." The old clown closed his eyes, then turned his head toward Cholly. "That Mutt and Jeff routine Ahssiel and I did... wasn't that a corker?"
Cholly nodded. "I wish the little plug was here right now." Peru Abner frowned. "I don't mean in this fix, Peru. But he'd want to be here with you."
"The boy's a prince, Cholly. He's got responsibilities." Peru Abner smiled. "Bet he'll make a dandy monarch when his time comes. Can't you see him holding court dressed in motley?"
Cholly shook his head. "You were a pair, all right." He ducked as Stenny missed a handhold and went careening into a bulkhead. Peru Abner reached out a hand and shook Cholly's arm.
"It's too bad you can't do your number in free fall, Cholly. It'd be a side-splitter."
Cholly raised his brows and smiled. "Peru, you never liked my act. You neat clowns never did go for tramps."
Peru Abner turned down the corners of his mouth and shook his head. "Jealous, that's all. The customers laugh at my stuff—my sophisticated stuff—but those belly laughs you got Cholly; boy, did I envy those." The old clown flew into a coughing spasm, then quieted down as his eyelids grew very heavy. "I always liked your act, Cholly. I'd like to see it again."
Cholly shook his head. "I don't feel very funny."
Peru Abner reached out a hand and grasped Cholly's arm. "What we do is art! For fun we play cards, cut up jackpots, get drunk. When we perform, that... that's for the soul. Perform for me, Cholly." He raised his eyes to the rest of the Joeys gathered around his bunk. "All of you. I want to see all of you. Go on. Make fools of yourselves."
Cholly paused for a moment, then, with neither gravity nor makeup, he pushed away from the bunk, steadied himself in midair between two upper bunks, then began his poor soul act, depicting the tramp that never succeeds, but has an everlasting flame of hope in his threadbare soul. The other Joeys went into their pratt falls and comic dramas, and in seconds the entire performance was chaos mixed with gales of laughter as clown after clown collided with either bunk, co-worker, or bulkhead. Cholly tried, but he could not maintain the deadpan expression that had become his trademark. He laughed until the laughter brought tears to his eyes, then he steadied himself and pushed toward Peru's bunk. He caught the railing, then shook his head. "Damn, Peru, can we get free fall planetside? This is great! If they have artificial gravity, maybe we can figure out an artificial free fall for the breakout..."
Cholly looked at Peru's face, eyes still open, his face relaxed, but smiling. "Peru?" He shook Peru's arm. The great clown had died.
Route Book, O'Hara's Greater Shows May 3rd, 2148
En route to 9-1134's fourth planet. Second attempt at course correction successful, but leaving shuttle fuel low. We should intercept the nameless planet on the 8th. A name the planet contest is being conducted to raise spirits. The Governor suggested "Momus" after the ancient Earth god of ridicule. One of the bulls, Lolita, died under tranquilization. The Governor's health is failing as well...
Warts Tho looked up from writing in the route book and glanced around the bridge at the crew manning the stations. Pirate Jon, strapped into his chair, was asleep, his head back. Bald Willy hung over his console, his only movement being a chest heaving for air. Since the communications bank was dead, the chair before it was empty. The Pendiian shook his head and looked at the screen above Pirate Jon's station. The tiny planet had grown noticeably larger. The blue-white orb had small polar ice caps, large land masses, and small oceans. Water covered only fifty percent of the surface. It would be a dry place, but habitable. The planet had no moons—not even one.
Warts closed the route book and stuck his pen in his jacket pocket, entertaining thoughts of the foolish sailor who went down with his ship while completing the ship's log. He unbuckled himself from his chair, tucked the route book under his arm, then pushed toward the bridge's entrance. He took a last look at the screen and was startled to see that a pile of twisted wreckage was crossing the Baraboo's path. "Pirate!" Warts pushed himself to the Chief Engineer's station and slapped Pirate's back. "Pirate! Wake up!" He turned to the pilot and shouted to the pilot. "Bald Willy! Do you see that ahead?"
Bald Willy looked around at Warts, then looked up at the screen. He turned back and punched in a code to illuminate his own screen. Pirate looked up, rubbed his eyes, then looked again. "I'll be a bull's backside. It's the Blitz." Sparks came from part of the wreckage. "Willy, it's under power! See the attitude correction jets?"
"Got you, Pirate." Willy punched at his console, then shouted into it. "Marbles, where are you?"
Pirate cut in. "Willy, the radios are still out."
"Yeah, but Marbles can read code. See that flashing light in the middle of that mess—just forward of the dorsal shuttle?"
Pirate squinted at his screen. "Yeah... I can just make it out. That looks like code, too." He shook his head. "How'd Stretch ever push that nightmare this far? When the pods went, they must have blown him quite a distance."
Warts waited until Marbles Mann, the ship's Chief of Communications, came on the bridge. He pulled himself over to Bald Willy's side. "What's up?"
Bald Willy nodded at his screen. "See that flashing light?"
"Yes. It's code ... Baraboo ... answer ... wake up ... hey, rube..." Marbles looked at Bald Willy's console. "Where's the button for the forward docking lights?" Willy pointed to one of a row of square, orange buttons. Marbles talked as he stabbed at the button. "Jerkface ... is ... that ... you?"
The flashing from the Blitz ceased for a moment, then resumed. "Marbles ... you ... pick ... great ... times ... to ... sleep."
"What ... is ... your ... condition?"
"How ... do ... we ... look ... stop ... plenty ... broken ... bones ... stop ... no ... one ... dead ... stop ... all ... in ... sleeping ... bay ... for ... party ... when ... it ... hit ... the ... fan."
Warts pushed away from Pirate's chair and headed toward the Governor's quarters.
The Governor's door hissed open and Warts stuck in his head. The compartment was dark. "Mr. John? Mr. John?"
"Who... who's that?" The voice was very small and weak.
"It's me, Mr. John, Warts." He pushed into the compartment. "It's Stretch, Mr. John. The Blitz is back!"
"Say it... say it again, Warts."
Warts pulled up to the Governor's bed and turned on the small reading lamp. The Governor's face was chalk white, thin, with large circles under half-closed eyes. He was straining against his straps. "The Blitz. Stretch and the advance are back."
"How many dead, Warts?"
"None!"
O'Hara relaxed and let his head go back onto the cot. "That's... good news." He closed his eyes and nodded. "Can the Blitz make light speed?" He looked at Warts. "What about it, and its communications? Can it transmit on deep space?"
Warts placed a lumpy hand on the Governor's arm. "Willy's finding out about that now."
O'Hara gasped, then coughed. When his lungs quieted down, he turned his head toward the Pendiian. "Warts?"
"Yes, Mr. John?"
"Thank you... thank you for coming to tell me."
"I thought you'd want to know right away."
"How does the Blitz look?"
Warts shook his head. "Looks pretty bunged up. I didn't even recognize it when I saw it."
O'Hara frowned, then nodded. "You been keeping up with the route book?"
"Yes."
The Governor closed his eyes. "How long have you been with the show, Warts?"
"This is my fifth season—well, it would have been—"