Part 32 (1/2)
”This was self-defense.” Bullson faces him, gun still in hand. ”You saw it.”
”We all saw it.” Gambo moves beside them, face pale. ”The d.a.m.n Hee-Haw tried to kill me.”
”And now it's dead,” Jason says. ”But according to the Treaty of Alliance, it must be buried right on this spot. The Talto Theocracy now owns this place; they're allowed to take possession of any burial grounds without charge.”
”Holy grounds?” Matecca stares at him.
”Holy s.h.i.+t.” Gambo turns even whiter. He rounds on Matecca and s.n.a.t.c.hes the check from her fingers.
”But we had a deal!” Matecca shrieks.
”We're out of here.” Gambo nods at Bullson. The guard shrugs and they head for the door. Matecca follows, screaming.
Jason starts after her, glances once at the fallen Glib, grins, and then puts a hand on Matecca's shoulder. She glares at him, but stops.
”Do you realize what you've done?” Matecca whispers.
”You won't be sorry.” Jason takes her arm, leads her back to the Talto. He kneels down beside Glib. ”It's all right now, chum. They're gone.” Gently he shakes Glib by its suit shoulders. Nothing.
”Glib man, come on.” Jason shakes harder. ”It's cool. They bought all that burial c.r.a.p.”
”What are you trying to do?” Matecca stares at him. Others gather around. So many that Bardog can't see.
Bardog's tongue slips around its muzzle, laps at the dripping Talto sap. Such a wrongness to the Flavor, so bland.
”-Bullets don't hurt you?” Jason asked.
Glib caressed the Fendercaster. ”Only one chance in a thousand. We're very redundantly built. But painful. You'll make up for that?”
”I stand by my word.” Jason nodded. ”We'll each have what we-”
The Flavor dwindles away. Bardog finds nothing; Glib feels nothing. Then, hidden deep beneath the blandness in what's left of Glib, Bardog savors a Flavor to end all Flavors. A big hall, bigger than Broken Dreams, with a parking lot stretching on forever.
So much Flavor lost! Bardog charges forward.
”Hey!” Jason stumbles back.
Big Tongue extends and slides into the bullet hole just below Glib's oculars. Sap, clogging the neural tubes, flows back into the heartrings. The heartrings seal. Big Tongue slips out, having changed what must be.
Memories explode! Bardog stares at a red sky, everywhere Taltos dying. Blue beams flash. But the sounds! Like bandnoise but incredible...
”Did we make it?” Glib murmurs, its oculars focusing on Bardog. ”A biomed? A prime C from the war? How did it get here? Was I really dead?”
”A biomed?” Matecca follows Glib's gaze. ”But that's Bardog. Bernie told me it was broken but good for trash.”
”It did mess with you a bit.” Jason studies his feet. ”And we let it. I didn't know what else to do.”
”You did good.” Glib pats Bardog's head. ”Your owner doesn't know what a bargain she got.”
Bardog's Little Tongue licks Glib's tentacle; good, much stronger Flavor.
”You lost me a million dollars.” Matecca, hands on her hips, glares at Glib.
”I'll get you five million.” Jason touches her shoulder.
Matecca jerks, then looks at him, and finally smiles. ”For what?”
”For the new Fillmore.” Glib sits up. ”For Broken Dreams.”
”Deal.” Matecca beams. She turns to Jason, takes his arm. ”This was all your doing?”
”d.a.m.n right.” Jason grins at her.
”Ever had your portrait painted?” Matecca puts her arms around Jason's shoulders.
”Not with this face. Are you nuts?”
”But you can buy a new face,” Glib says. ”After all, you have twenty million coming from Bobbibrown.”
”And all I got was a lousy five.” Matecca shoves Jason away. ”You cheat!” She turns and stalks toward the stairs. ”I'll be in my office. Packing!”
”Uh oh.” Glib watches as Jason's fingers knot upon the Fendercaster.
”It's cool.” Jason suddenly grins. ”After all, I am rich. Guess I'm just a money grubbin' man. Used to dream about wealth when I was a kid.” He slips the Fendercaster off his shoulder and offers it to Glib.
”No.” Glib's tentacles come up, refusing the instrument.
”But you wanted to learn.” Jason holds the instrument out while Glib climbs to its pseudopods. ”That was our deal.”
”It was.” Glib pauses, looks around, then retrieves a cigarette b.u.t.t from a nearby ashtray and pops it into its mouth. It offers one to Bardog.
Bardog oozes back on its peds, refusing. No more little tastes, it decides. Only Flavors!
”I had a vision while I was dying,” Glib goes on. ”I saw the new Fillmore West in all its glory. Man, the parking lot went on forever! Perhaps I've been caught up in this Fendercaster thing too long. I've forgotten the joys of middle management. I'm going to run the place soon as it's built.” It glances down at Bardog. ”With this little biomed at my side, of course.”
Jason nods thoughtfully. ”Sometimes we forget what truly matters. Cheapness. The cheapness of fate. There's a song in that. I'll pay someone to write it.”
Bardog wriggles, delighted. Whole again, memories intact, it could change Flavor whenever it needed. Now it would always be safe and happy. Gazing hungrily at the Fendercaster in Jason's hands, Bardog licks its muzzle. Could it savor such an instrument? What Flavor is Zappa?
THE TIMES SHE WENT AWAY.
Paul E. Martens
The first time she went away, I was a young man, younger than her in fact. I was a poet and I thought myself das.h.i.+ng, even though I was working at my father's tavern at the s.p.a.ceport. That was just to earn my keep, and perhaps a few dollars more to spend on girls. My hair was long, tied back with a black ribbon, and I wore a moustache that wasn't quite as lush as I supposed it to be. I was tall and strong, and really not a very good poet, but it was the image I cultivated, not the rhymes.