L. Neil Smith - North American Confederacy 02 (28 page)

“Bernie, are you still alive?”

I blinked at her an’ finally managed somethin’ halfway between a croak an’ a whisper. “That’s a damn silly question t’ask. How about yourself? I thought you were a goner for sure.”

She grinned a human-type grin, still maintainin’ a watch where Edna’d gone down. “I
faked
it! Your disguise gave me the idea. I smashed the windshield with my pistol—I guess that accounts for the sights being off. I was aiming at her center-of-mass like Uncle Olongo taught me. You know, he
warned
me the .11-caliber was underpowered.

Look, it didn’t even penetrate!” She tossed the shovel aside, where it clanged and raised dust.

“Well,
my
disguise didn’t work out too well. How about all that blood?”

“The blood? Oh,
that!
She gave me a sheepish look. “Well, I sort of punched myself in the nose, also with the gun. Nothing like a nosebleed to—and let me tell you, it
hurts
too!”

“I’ll put you in for a Purple Heart. Meantime, kiddo, I’m in kind of a bad way myself. Can you get aholda Win an’ the folks? An’ you better check little Charm over there. I’m afraid he’s probably—”

“THIRTY SECONDS TO FAILSAFE AUTODESTRUCT!”
said Georgie suddenly at about a thousand decibels. Her voice was frozen an’ inhuman.
“TWENTY-NINE SECONDS TO FAILSAFE AUTODESTRUCT'!"

A hand crawled over the coamin’ of the passenger-level airlock. It was followed by its owner, Rand Heplar.

Georgie went blarin’ on.

“You’ve killed me, Bemie Gruenblum.” He laughed insanely, an’ by the look of his bashed-in cranium an’ blood-soaked hair, he was probably right. “But I’ve killed you back!”

"TWENTY-FOUR SECONDS TO FAILSAFE AUTODESTRUCT!"
Georgie said.
"TWENTY-THREE..."

22 Edna’s Last Stand

. . SECONDS TO FAILSAFE AUTODESTRUCT!”

“Georgie, cut that out!”

Rand Heplar was draped artistically over the sill of the passenger-deck airlock, unconscious but breathin’: exactly the same condition I’d be in—maybe even leavin’ out the breathin’—in a couple more minutes. Every now an’ again he moaned.

“All right,” Georgie said in a normal tone, “but Bemie, you’ll have to countermand the Autodestruct manually. I can’t do anything about it myself, and you’ve only got twenty—”

“No count-downs, please. Honey, I ain’t in any shape t’do
nothin’!
Koko, get up there an’ down into the engine—”

“I’m on my way!”

An’ she was, up the ramp, over Heplar’s carcass, Georgie helpin’ her by hittin’ corridor lights an’ panel indicators t’keep her headed in the right direction. Heplar murmured an’ stirred again. I tried wigglin’ m’toes. Far as I could tell, with the heavy boots an’ all, everything worked.

Real cautiouslike I laid m’ .45 down, worryin’ overtime about where Edna’d got off to, an’ with a cowardly left hand, felt along m’legs, inspectin’ for bendy places where there oughtn’t t’be any. The general architecture seemed in dandy order till I got up to m’right hip. Somethin' rasped nastily across somethin’ else, an’ I went all over kinda sick an’ hadda stop.

Poor little Charm. Some kinda god
I’d
turned out t’be; couldn’t even protect him—or Spin, for that matter—from one miserable lone crazy-lady.

“Fifteen seconds, Bernie. Koko’s at the bottom of the ’tween-decks ladder and starting down the corridor toward the reactors.”

“I hearya, I hearya!”

Not knowin’ about Edna bothered me. I hitched up on an elbow, tryin’ to ignore the pain like my Academy Yoga instructor’d taught me. Never’d been m’best subject—oriental positions just don’t fit occidental bones. Managed t’drag m’self mebbe a yard closer to the ship.

BLOMMM!

A fountain of concrete-dust kicked up directly in my path.

“Stop right there, Captain Gruenblum!”

Well, that took care of one mystery: it was little Edna, hollerin’ down at me from the glassed-in office cubicle above the garage-floor at the back. I oughta say “formerly glassed-in”—that blast’d done for mosta the windows. I could make out the shiny ring of her flechette-gun muzzle from where I lay.

Damn thing looked like the Gibraltar Tunnel.

“Don’t make another move, Gruenblum! I want to enjoy this, and I
won’t
have you ruin it by dying too soon!”

BLOMMM!

The air went fulla cement chips behind me that time, an’ I could even hear the whine an’ clatter of a shotgun dart or two that ricocheted into the corrugated steel walls.

Pretty plain what she had in mind: workin’ the pattern closer an’ closer till she could gimme just the edge of it— flesh wounds—without knockin’ me off outright. Remote-control torture. Ain’t science wonderful?

BLOMMM!

Bitsa concrete rained down on my head this time, like bein’ in a split-second sandstorm. With all the dust bein’ raised, it was gettin’ harder an’ harder t’breathe.

An’t
'see,
I suddenly realized. Never had been too well illuminated in this garage t’start with. If m’suit’d been right-side-in, she mightn’ta been able t’make me out at all. I hooked a finger through the trigger-guard of my Colt, dragged it slowly toward me, an’ gathered in m’nether limbs as far as the damaged hip-joint’d permit.

I knew pretty much just where the next shot’d fall. “Hey, Edna!” I shouted. “Answer me a question before y’take another crack! How come y’didn’t just stop Koko with your little play-toy—that’s the gorilla—an’ let the Autodestruct do your killin’ for ya?”

“Five seconds, Bernie. Koko’s at the panel, and I’m giving her the reversal sequence now.”

“But Captain Gruenblum,” protested my tormenter, “what fun would that be?”

“Well, you’re takin’ quite a chance, Edna. She may blow yet—an’ take
you
with her!” I peered into the darkness an’ driftin’ dust, watchin’ for the glitter of her gun again.

. “So be it!” she shouted back defiantly, “Gregamer and I had planned—”

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

I’d blasted in the direction of her voice, spreadin’ my shots a little, dragged m’self as quick as I could t’Georgie’s side, right to the same safe little comer in the shadow of the boardin’ ramp that Charm’d done his spyin’ from. Took me a second to recover from—

BLOMMM!

This time the cataract consisted of steel darts, aluminum confetti, an’ shredsa chewed-up lateprene from the gangplank. There was a pause in the gunplay as I held my fire, figurin’ I had four shots left t’Edna’s sixteen. My spare magazines were with my combat rig in Win’s hovercar, effectively a million light-years away.

Heplar’s arm flopped once, twice. Once more in this darkness an’ confusion, he was gonna look like a pincushion. Edna had a nervous trigger-finger an’ the ammunition t’back it up.

“One second to Auto—”
Clank!

Even out here I could hear that big lever bangin’ back into place. I breathed a partial sigh of relief. Or a sigh of partial relief. Mebbe both.

“—destruct is canceled, thank heavens. But Bernie, I

have a teenage gorilla here who seems to have fainted. What should I do with her?”

“Let her sleep, sweetheart, she’s a growin’ girl an’ needs the rest. Listen, I hate t’bother you, but I’m in sort of a jam out here.”

Heplar groaned an’ tried t’rise. I woulda slapped him with the slab-sided .45 but was reluctant to expose m’self t’Edna’s gunsights. Besides, I was sorta worn out.

“Oh, dear!” Georgie exclaimed. “I didn’t notice, with all the other emergencies going on. How can you ever forgive me? What can I do?”

“Take it easy, baby, if I had a quasar-bomb about t’go off behind
my
navel, I’da been a bit preoccupied m’self.” I could feel my strength fadin’ fast, now. That Olympic-style crawl’d plumb near used me up. Whatever happened better happen pretty quick.

I had an idea an’ shared it with m’best girl.

“Ready now, on the counta three?” I laid the undermuzzle of the .45 on the edge of the boardin’ ramp, prepared t’draw an instant bead on the office.

“Ready, Bernie!”

"Three!"

FLASH!
On went every one of her landin’ lights, swiveled straight in Edna’s direction. Musta felt like a stroke of lightnin’ t’her. Practically nailed her to the wall, that blindin’, searin’ photon-pressure.

I squeezed the trigger.

BLAM!

A shadow passed in fronta me, totterin’ down the gangplank an’ muckin’ up m’aim. Just as quick a skinny green appendage snaked around its ankle an’ jerked.

Heplar screamed.

BLAM! BLAM!
One shot left.

BLOMMM!

Heplar pitched over on toppa me, fulla little teensy steel arrows. Somehow I flopped him over behind me, took aim, thought better of it an’ ducked.

BLOMMM!
said Edna’s Remington.

BIAM!
replied the Hartford Colt, its sights lookin’ right at her midriff.

Silence.

“Well, Grandfa—Bernie, didn’t I
tell
you this could be your Most Important Mission?" Cuthbert looked disgustin’ly pleased with himself as he squatted there behind, that dance-floor of a desk. Trouble was, he had the stag-horn handle of a seven-inch bowie knife protrudin’ outa his blub-bery chest, an' though it didn’t seem t’inconvenience him much, it made polite conversation a mite awkward.

He scratched absently around the cross-guard.

“Look, Your Colonelcy, y’can’t fool me this time. I realize perfectly well this is a dream. I’m actually lyin’ all busted up on a greasy concrete floor in a universe you don’t even know
exists—
an’ I won’t stand still for this!

A big fat droppa blood ran down m'right wrist, the back a my hand, along the index finger an’ off, startin’ its lazy one-sixth gee voyage to the expensive carpet below.

“You volunteered!" pouted Cuthbert. “You can’t back out now!"

A chromium house-mouse bulleted out from the Aztec-modern wainscottin’: Ignorin’ the pain from my broken bones, I reached down an’ snatched the little bugger up. Looked like a teeny walnut-sized Army helmet with a little metallic gooseneck stickin' outa the top an’ about a million almost microscopic wirelike legs wigglin’ around underneath.

I popped it in my mouth,
crunched
an’ swallowed, washiri it down with a big gulpa coffee from the decanter on m’grandson’s desk.

“Skip the bullshit, sonny-boy. You’ve picked the wrong patsy. I know my rights! Insteada hallucinatin’ you, of all the vermin in the known galaxy, I oughta be travelin’ through a long dark tunnel, sorta floatin' like, with a brilliant light toward the end. When I get there, this guy with an aura an' a long white nightgown 1I hold two fingers up an' tell me t’cough—”

“Don’t be sacrilegious. Captain!” With sudden annoyance, he yanked the blade from between his ribs, makin’ a horrible suckin’ noise, an' tapped the bloody point on his desk-blotter for emphasis. “It must be the baleful influence of the Confederacy. But don’t worry, as soon as the Academy takes over and puts an end to their disgraceful anarchism, everything will be just fine.’’

He smiled so sweetly
/
considered reinsertin’ that toad-sticker somewhere where there’d be more effect. I glanced down at my feet. Somehow those combat bootsa mine’d been done over in bright red sequins when I wasn’t lookin’. This generated an idea: I clicked my heels together three times, real smartlike
—

“Ain’t no place like home. Ain’t no place like home. Ain’t no place
...”

“Bernie?”

I looked up into the glitterin’ faceted eyeball of a very worried Freenie. Gimme a pain right behind the bridge of my nose—an’ the feelin’ this was where I’d come in.

“Charm, old mollusk! I thought sure you was done for!”

“I’d never desert you that way, Lord. I only wish I had' been able to help you sooner.” He was parked there on the floor beside me, his tentacles makin’ little nervous pats on m’good shoulder.

Mighta known y’couldn’t eighty-six a Yamaguchian by throttlin’ his eyestalk. The anatomy just don’t work that way—be like tryin’ t’strangle a human bein’ by the earlobes. Painful, but far from disastrous.

I was still lyin’ on that lousy concrete, just like I’d told Cuthbert, but there was a blanket underneath me, an’ inflated plastic cocoons the lengtha my right arm, another reachin’ from my armpits to m’knees. Touchin’ m’face, I discovered a heavy bandage coverin’ the right side there, too.

I was gonna miss that eye.

Mary-Beth Sanders leaned over my pitiful remains, inadvertently deliverin’ herself of a scenic tour of her
decol

letage
as she handed me a cuppa somethin’.

“Take this, Bernie. It’ll grow hair on your chest.” “Mighty glad you’re not in the habit of drinkin’ it, then.” Not
everything
was broken. “What is it, anyway?”

She blushed. The garage was still lit up like a movie premiere by Georgie’s landin’ lights, an’ I could hear a buncha other people talkin’ an’ millin’ around.

“Vitamins, minerals—and about three ounces of singlemalted Scots whiskey. Bottoms up!”

I grinned. “Same t’you, lady. Say, anybody found Edna’s body yet? Up in that office-cubby, yonder?” I sipped at the potion. Mebbe she’d exaggerated, but not by much—it was
curlin’
the hair on my
chest.

A paira human legs suddenly popped over the shotgun-battered edge of the gangway beside an’ above me, dangled there an’ kicked their heels against the metal framin’.

“I looked up there, too, Bemie,” Fran said not uncheerfully. “There wasn’t any sign of her. I noticed the slide of your automatic, locked back on an empty magazine. That’s a lot of ammo to expend on just one little villainess, without any tangible—”

“You shoulda been there, girlie!”

“I
know
we should have!” a familiar voice replied. Win Bear clomped down the runway, unlit cigar in hand, with G. Howell Nahuatl trottin’ at his heels. “Next time you get invited to a gunfight, why not bring your friends along, too?”