Fall of the White Ship Avatar (3 page)

[Fitzhugh 3]-FALL OF THE WHITE SHIP AVATAR

The eyeing and silent debate among the muscle ended. They started a retreat to the main corridor that led up into the boxtown proper, seeming to surrender the field.

"Uh-uh!" Alacrity hollered, waving the energy pistol's muzzle, which was wide enough to fire walnuts.

"
You
stay
here.
Get back where you were, or you'll all four of you get a
real
hot bath!"

They didn't like it, but they obeyed, eyes on his.

"Sit all the way down, pants on the pavement. And sit on your hands while you're at it!" Alacrity snarled, and they did. Guns held at waist level, Alacrity and Floyt backed into the corridor.

Floyt glanced back over his shoulder every few paces—or, more accurately, skips—until Alacrity advised, "Don't bother. You'll only trip their predator instincts. Besides, they won't try anything else, at least for a while."

"What if they have guns?"

"Anybody in boxtown with a gun or the price of a gun wouldn't stay long."

Floyt forced himself to keep looking ahead. When he began taking in the scene, shock made him forget about the muscle.

The last time he and Alacrity had been through there, when it was a Forager lashup, it was clean, well maintained, and neat. Now it was seedy, walls covered with graffiti and smears of filth. Dirt and debris were everywhere, and the place smelled like a latrine. None of the make-do shelters resorted to by boxtowners cluttered the corridor yet; Floyt concluded that the rambling lash-up hadn't reached capacity.

Much of the lighting and power systemry had been scavenged, leaving the place in semidarkness.

Recalling how proudly the Foragers had kept house in their temporary settlement, Floyt found himself deeply offended.

The main airlock was open, unsecured, something the Foragers would never have permitted, being meticulous in preventing danger to their lashup from air leaks. The inner surface of the inner hatch still showed the effects of a bolt fired from the Captain's Sidearm, weeks before.

"Are you sure it's safe laying up here?" Floyt asked.

Alacrity's long eyebrows lifted. "The Sockwallet Outfit didn't leave too long ago, from the looks of things. There should still be room. It's a question of taking what we want. If we can, it's ours. Very Darwinian, box-towns."

The lock had been stripped of all its insignia and emblems. Waiting there was another gang of bystanders, less menacing than the platform muscle.

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...y%20-%20Fall%20of%20the%20White%20Ship%20Avatar.htm (11 of 242)23-2-2006 17:03:12

[Fitzhugh 3]-FALL OF THE WHITE SHIP AVATAR

"You looking for something?" a slender, swarthy little man asked. He had a suppurating wound on his neck, a healing energy-gun wound, Floyt thought.

"A flop," Alacrity bit out. "We lockered here with the Foragers, so we've got a claim."

The man was shaking his head disdainfully. "You don't stay nowhere unless we say so. We're the town council of New Upsie, and I'm the legal mayor, see? It's gonna cost you, bigboy."

Floyt was so outraged over what had been done to the lashup that his natural caution evaporated; he was fiercely glad when Alacrity's gun appeared again. Floyt raised the Webley.

"It's gonna cost
you
if you don't get out of our way, kumquat." Alacrity bristled. "Make up your mind; it doesn't bother me stepping on muttshit, but I hate to waste time."

The man glared at him. "Better think what you're doing, Stretch." But the rest of the New Upsie town council was already moving aside, Floyt covering them. The swarthy mayor saw he was alone and slouched aside.

Alacrity called out, "If we get any more trouble from you, or if you look at us cross-eyed, I'm gonna push you out a lock, read me?"

Floyt followed Alacrity into the onetime lashup proper. When they'd gone, the mayor of New Upsie turned to his council, snapping his fingers. "Who's got a commo token? C'mon, c'mon! I gotta call somebody in Lunaport!"

One of them surrendered a token unwillingly. "Look, we don't want any scuffle with the cops, or—"

The mayor cuffed his ear. "I don't deal with cops! Just stay away from those two highbeams, but keep track of 'em. I'll be right back."

The big gathering-area dome that Floyt recalled with such fondness, where the Sockwallets had thrown the best party he'd ever been to and changed all his attitudes about non-Earthers, was the worst shock yet. The central pylon, assemblage of trinkets, mementoes and keepsakes, accreted record of the long history of the Sockwallets, was gone, naturally, with the Foragers. But the place had been stripped by boxtowners scrounging for materials to sell, trade, or use in their own makeshift subdivisions. Even the Foragers' sacrosanct hatches weren't safe; some had been removed completely, while others were cored of usable systemry or saleable parts.

Floyt had expected that; what he hadn't expected was senseless defacement, mindless vandalism. Worse, there was a long crack near the base of the dome, where some uncaring squatter had removed an environmental unit by main force. The clear material of the dome had held, the crack sloppily patched.

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...y%20-%20Fall%20of%20the%20White%20Ship%20Avatar.htm (12 of 242)23-2-2006 17:03:12

[Fitzhugh 3]-FALL OF THE WHITE SHIP AVATAR

The sight made Floyt's hair stand up. So dangerous.

"Will it hold?" Floyt wondered anxiously.

"I guess so. Hope so." Alacrity looked to the sunlight heating the lunar landscape only meters away.

"Piss fire and save the matches! Now I
know
we can't hang around here for long. Come on; I want to check something."

There were only a few dilapidated shelters in the dome; it was too open to intrusion and weakened to boot. Too, it looked like the abandoned lashup hadn't filled to anything like capacity yet. The few makeshift doghouse dwellings, mostly packing crates and slapped-together coops, were scattered around the base of the dome. It occurred to Floyt to wonder if a Pleistocene cave had smelled any worse. People in rags and castoffs peered at the twosome, unblinking and resigned.

Armed and healthy and well fed, Alacrity and Floyt had little to fear, but were on guard anyway as the bolder and more desperate ones approached, palms extended, begging for money, food, anything.

Alacrity had his long, sturdy breakabout-model umbrella out, his "brolly," a Viceroy Imperial. As the first of the rabble got to him—a fleshy man with a snarled beard, layers of dirt on him, wild bloodshot eyes, and a thick reek—Alacrity came
en guarde.

"Stay back!" Alacrity had removed the brolly's ferrule cap, exposing its wicked point. The man disregarded him, coming closer, pawing for him, trying to get close enough to force alms from him or just make a grab for whatever Alacrity had to be stolen.

Alacrity jabbed him hard with the spike, making blood flow. The man screeched, clenching his bleeding forearm. Alacrity thwacked him on the head with the brolly. "I warned you!"

The other boxtowners fell back, Floyt following them with the Webley. Alacrity swung right and left, driving them even faster. The man he'd stuck was on his knees, moaning theatrically, cradling his head.

"You've killed me! Give me money or I'll report you, you murderer!"

He was quick enough to scuttle away when Alacrity took a step in his direction, though. Alacrity waved the brolly. "If anybody even steps in my way again, so help me, I'll stick 'em full of holes like an ocarina!"

Alacrity checked his proteus, the do-all cyberinstrument on his wrist, for the time. Then he and Floyt crossed to the lock on the far side of the dome and skid-hopped into boxtown.

CHAPTER 2—" … AND CAULDRON BUBBLE … "

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...y%20-%20Fall%20of%20the%20White%20Ship%20Avatar.htm (13 of 242)23-2-2006 17:03:12

[Fitzhugh 3]-FALL OF THE WHITE SHIP AVATAR

"Darwinism" was the operant word in boxtown, all right: a person could have just as much space, comfort, food, and status in New Upsie as they could wrench free and hang onto.

Alacrity and Floyt walked down a trash-cluttered passageway in a salvaged hull portion from an old
Virago
-class Solar Pact warship. The Sockwallets had refitted it as living quarters for couples and severals.

But now it was a smokey, dimly lit maze of gerry-built lay-ups, minuscule sleeping niches and nooks not much bigger than so many sarcophagi. Among the human discards in residence there was a total inertia, an absence of hope or thought. The adults had heads hung in misery, or stared off at nothing with lost eyes; children were torpid, too weak to go gang-jamming or looking for some minor score.

"Not crowded yet," Alacrity observed. "The Sockwallets couldn't've left too long ago. Air circulators are still working, sort of; utilities haven't been completely stripped away. I figure, not more than a week or so."

There were sounds of construction, people improvising shelter in compartments, holds, and even storage lockers, using pulpboard, mineralsheet paneling, and whatever else came to hand.

Prime real estate was close to the air duct outlets and had access to plumbing. "There'll be a lot of arguments over water rights," Alacrity predicted as the two made their way, hop-scuffing through the
Virago's
lock into a long pressure-quonset that was being subdivided. "People get killed over stuff like that in a sealed-environment boxtown."

"But how much longer can this place support life?" Floyt wondered. The basic utilities and air system, stripped and vandalized as they were, with no Foragers to run or maintain them—the thought of that had him looking around uncomfortably. "It could become a deathtrap at any moment."

Alacrity nodded, picking his way around a coughing old man who spat blood into a soiled rag. Floyt gave thanks that his immunizations were up to date.

Alacrity said, "If they're dumb enough to let that happen, they'll either have to scramble for a new lay-up or hammer out some kind of system to keep things running. That's when a sealed boxtown usually goes through a shakedown and organizes, at least half-assed, even if it takes a few turf wars. Anyway, I think we're safe for a bit."

"
Huh
? Alacrity, we can't stay here!"

"Don't pop an aneurism; I'm with you. But we've got to take a second, here, and figure out what to do next. Besides, there's something I have to see." He led the way toward the end of the quonset. A group of box-towners stood there, looking apprehensive rather than mean. Floyt could see a few knives and a bo file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...y%20-%20Fall%20of%20the%20White%20Ship%20Avatar.htm (14 of 242)23-2-2006 17:03:12

[Fitzhugh 3]-FALL OF THE WHITE SHIP AVATAR

stave among them, and one tall, equine woman cradled a thing that looked like a crossbow built from metal scraps. On the floor lay a discarded vacsuit they'd been repairing; patching materials and spare parts lay all around.

"Just the local protection committee," Alacrity said out of the corner of his mouth. "They're not part of the extortion gangs."

No one impeded their way. Beyond the quonset, a kid who looked fifteen or so lazed on a mound of carpet that had been ripped up from some lashup deck. He looked better fed and bolder than most, and wore a colorful paisely jumpsuit and a skullcap sewn with shimmerettes. He gave them a lackadaisical grin and held his hand out to block their way, palm up, rubbing his fingertips. "I'm in need, burghers, and you look like you've got it to spare."

"No," Alacrity said tersely, about to shove the hand aside. Floyt knew his friend was generous to the needy but absolutely refused to give to the able-bodied.

The kid snatched his hand out of the way and shoved himself to his feet with old-hand-Lunie grace.

"Think again; it could be worth it. I know things. I see things, and I hear even better than I see."

Alacrity pointed to his right boot with his brolly. "Then d'you see
this
! Know where it's going in another second if you don't lose yourself real fast?"

The kid moved aside with fending motions of his hands. "I'll be here if you change your mind. I'm Quirk; I give good advice."

Alacrity threw a growl at Quirk as the duo went on. Alacrity was headed, as best Floyt could surmise from his recollection of the place, to where Simoleanna Coup's quarters had been. Sim, a winsome, feisty young Forager woman equally at ease in streetfighter's clothes or sequined evening gown, was very taken with Alacrity, and vice versa, during the brief stopover months before.

In that extreme end of the vacated warren, where no squatters had yet staked claim, the pillaging had gone on in earnest. The only light was from the occasional porthole or skylight, the harsh sunbeams cutting through the stale gloom.

The boxtowners had been through like locusts, stripping away furnishings and anything else that wasn't welded down. There was more of the nitwit vandalizing: a mural marked with urine; elaborate wainscoting pried loose and pulverized. When the underclass got a chance to work off its frustration, savage emotions broke loose, and there were bloodstains to prove it.

Alacrity wasn't surprised to find that all the air ducts in that section had been shut down to bolster circulation in the occupied areas. "The fights over air will be worse than the ones over plumbing?" Floyt file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...y%20-%20Fall%20of%20the%20White%20Ship%20Avatar.htm (15 of 242)23-2-2006 17:03:12

[Fitzhugh 3]-FALL OF THE WHITE SHIP AVATAR

inquired, and Alacrity nodded.

"But why didn't the Sockwallets sell off all this property before they left?" Floyt asked. "All this material

—the lashup itself?"

"The real estate's public land, I guess." Alacrity was squinting at the walls as he went along. "Foragers can't just dismantle a lashup and drag it along with them, and people know that. So why pay for something that's going to be available for free when it's abandoned? When somebody with resources wants the buildings, they just come for them, and I wouldn't want to be living here then, pal."