“Damn stiff-necked Takisian. You’d put your head in a noose just to prove it’s a pretty necklace.”
“The point?” she gritted, eyeing him down the length of her upturned nose.
“From what you’ve told me, you’re going back to a pretty Byzantine and poisonous environment. You’re going to need bodyguards.”
“Tommy, I could not ask it of you.”
“You’re not. I’m offering.”
“Oh, man.” Tachyon had never seen it outside of a movie screen, but Mark actually slapped his forehead. “I’m so dense. Now I remember you. You’re the Turtle!”
“Yeah, I’m the Turtle. An embarrassed and red-faced Turtle. I should have been the one to break her out of Governor’s Island.”
“No, man, you’re, like, a hero. You don’t break the laws. Me” – he shrugged – “I’m already a fugitive from federal justice. What’s another count on the rap sheet?”
Tom’s face clouded at the memory of the last time he’d faced off with Mark Meadows – or rather one of Mark’s “friends.” J. J. Flash, Esquire, had firmly and comprehensively kicked Turtle’s armored behind. Mark remembered at precisely the same moment and sucked in air in a quick little hiccuping gasp.
“An… uh, I’m real sorry about Flash, but I had to get my kid.”
“Forget it.” Tommy waved him off.
Tachyon reasserted control over the conversation. “Gentlemen, I thank you for your most generous offers, but this -”
“Makes perfect sense. Me and my ‘friends’ would be happy to go. Give Turtle here some backup.”
Tach nibbled at a forefinger, studied them from beneath her lashes. Two middle-aged men, and a more incongruous pair could not be imagined. Mutt and Jeff. And, Ideal, she loved them both so much… and could use them so much.
Slowly she said, “Aces would do more than provide me with protection. If I was to return with you two in tow, it would improve my standing immeasurably.” She smiled humorlessly. “On Takis reality is often shaped more by appearances than by objective fact.”
Tom suddenly stood and took a turn about the living room. His plump cheeks had gone pink, and his brown eyes were shining.
“Another planet. Shit, I’ve hardly been to another state except New York. My whole life I’ve been waiting for this. When I was a kid, I’d stand at my bedroom window and watch the ships passing down the Kill. Just shadows and lights in the dark, going someplace wonderful. I wanted to be on those ships so bad.”
Tach held out a hand to him. “Now you will be.”
They were seated in a diner in Bayonne. Since Jube had traveled via Ackroyd’s finger, it was another charming establishment worthy of Jay’s low-class tastes. Jube’s colorful shirt flared like an abstract painting against the tattered red plastic booth.
“It’s been set. White Sands in three days’ time.”
Her mouth suddenly gone dry, Tach took a quick gulp of her vanilla shake. “How… how ironic,” she said, and remembered her arrival forty-seven years before at those same White Sands. “The area is much more heavily guarded than it was in 1946. Are you sure this is wise?”
“This is a Network ship. Nothing can detect it.”
“A slight exaggeration. You’ve been trying to run the Takisian sensor net, and failing – spectacularly, I might add.”
Jube brought his broad three-fingered hand down hard on the table. Glasses, salt and pepper shakers, and Tach, all jumped. “I haven’t been doing squat about invading or infiltrating, or infecting Takis. I’ve been settled on Earth studying a most admirable group of aliens who have been royally fucked over by you.”
Shame set her to plucking nervously at the strands of hair that had broken free from her braid.
“I am sorry Jube. Old hatreds make mockery of recent friendships. We are not representatives of our respective cultures, are we?” She turned strained and desperate eyes to Jube.
Taking her hand, Jube said softly, “If it’s any comfort to you, I’m not a negotiator. I’m a scientist, an anthropologist, that’s all. And I do love these people… at least as much as you do.”
Tach nodded. Her throat suddenly hurt too much to talk. Jube’s words had reminded her of just how much she was leaving, and the responsibilities she couldn’t help but fear she was evading. The sealing of the city could only mean that another attack on the Rox was imminent, and Tach wondered if this time Bloat could survive. She should stay and try to help, but the ship was arriving, and there wouldn’t be another. She did calculations and decided that if the Ideal favored her, she could be restored to her body, and back on Earth in two months. Could Teddy hang on that long?
“White Sands, three days. Well, I’d best get planning.” She drained her shake and slid out of the booth.
“Tachyon.” She stopped and looked back. “In memory of the old joker news vendor who told bad joker jokes, take this, and don’t think too harshly of me,” Jube said.
He placed it on the table. A tangle of wires topped with a yellow-green crystal. Tach’s eyes widened slightly.
“Thank you, Jube. It will help.”
“Cool,” breathed Trips as the heavy sunken door swung up to reveal the Turtle shell.
“You’re sure you’ll be all right?” Tach asked again nervously.
Tommy nodded. “Yeah, I got sandwiches.” He hefted the wicker hamper. “Plenty to drink.”
“Don’t get pulled over,” Mark said seriously. “I bet there’s an open-bottle law for turtle shells too.” He then allowed a delighted smile to crease his cheeks. Tom and Tach just stared up at the big ace, then began laughing.
“What a team,” Tom said. “Your relatives haven’t got a prayer, Tachy.”
“They could not withstand us before,” the girl replied. She stepped forward and gave the ace a quick hug. Tom started to close his arms around her, then abruptly dropped them.
“Like, go in peace, man,” Trips said, flashed Tom the peace sign, then vigorously shook the smaller man’s hand.
Tom entered the shell. Trips and Tach stepped back and watched the great armored shell slide silently out into the night. It dwindled quickly as it climbed. Their last sight of it was as it crossed like a small, self-propelled shadow across the face of the moon.
“Awesome,” Mark sighed.
Jay and Mark were waiting for her in a corner booth. The nightclub was jumping at nine o’clock with a bad salsa band making conversation virtually impossible. It wasn’t deterring the patrons, however. The rumble of three hundred voices provided a bass counterpoint to the wailing singer.
“How’d it go?” Mark asked. Under the colored strobe lights his face seemed to dissolve and reform every third second. It was sickening.
“Not so well,” Tach said. The memory of Cody’s tears gnawed at her. “She wanted to come with me. Impossible of course. A woman of childbearing years. Impossible.” She sat down at the table and briefly buried her face in her hands. “I love that woman. And I have brought her nothing but pain.” Tach threw her hair back. Turned to Jay. “So have you completed the arrangements for our journey?”
“Yeah.” He pushed three tickets across the table.
Tach stared at them. Blinked and looked again. They had not changed, they were still… “Bus tickets?” Tachyon finally said.
Jay threw out his hands palms up. “Hey, they’re watching the airports, trains don’t go anywhere close to where we need to be -”
“I thought you would charter a plane or something.”
“With what?” Jay asked. “You got no money. I got no money. He” – jerk of a thumb at Mark – “sure as hell ain’t got no money.”
“But a bus? I’m pregnant. The last time I rode a bus was from Lisbon to Amsterdam in 1953 It was awful.
Jay just shrugged. Mark laid a hand soothingly on Tach’s shoulder. Withdrew it quickly as she tensed. “Doc, it’ll be okay. They’re a lot more comfortable flow.”