Part 1 (2/2)

”Daddy, how nice of you - ”

But the visitor was Flix, not Daddy. At least, from what Nancia could see of his face behind the enor- mous basket of flowers and fruit, she a.s.sumed it was her little brother: spiky red hair in an old-fas.h.i.+oned punk crown, one long peac.o.c.k's feather dangling from the right earlobe, fingertips callused from hours of synthcom play. It was her little brother, all right.

”Flix,” She could keep her vocal registers level, to conceal her disappointment; but she couldn't for the life of her think of any words to add.

” 'S'okay,” Flix said, his voice coming slightly muf- fled from the stack of Calixtan orchids and orange Juba apfruits that threatened to topple over him from the insecurely stacked basket. Nancia slid out a tray from a waist-level cabinet just in time. Flix staggered into the tray, dropped the basket on it and sat back- wards on the floor with a look of mild surprise. Two glowing orange apfruits fell off the towering display and rolled towards Nancia's command console, reveal- ing a bottle of Sparkling Hereot in the center of the basket. ”Know you'd rather have Daddy. Or Jinevra, Somebody worthy of the honor you do House Perez y de Gras, You deserve 'em, too,” he added after a sprawling dive to retrieve the Juba apfruits. ”Deserve a bra.s.s marching band and a red carpet instead of this thing.” He brushed one hand across the soft nap of the sand-colored, standard-issue synthorug with which Nancia's internal living areas were carpeted.

”You - you really think I didn't disgrace the House?” Nancia asked. She had been wondering if that was why n.o.body had come to see her graduated and commissioned. Daddy had always spoken of her graduation with the words, ”When you win the Daleth....” And she hadn't done that.

9.

Flix turned his head toward the t.i.tanium column and gave Nancia the same disbelieving, slightly con- temptuous look he'd bestowed on the beige synthorug. ”Stupid,” he mourned. ”Only member of the family I can stand to talk to, our Nancia; only one who doesn't give me hours of grief about giving up my synthcomposing for a Real Career, and it turns out she has worse problems than a few little malfunctioning organs. If you hadn't been popped into your sh.e.l.l at birth I'd suspect you were dropped on your head as a baby. Of course you've done the House proud, Nancia, what do you think? Third in academics and first in Decom Theory and taking so many special awards they had to restructure the graduation ceremony to make time for your presentations - ”

”How did you know about that?” Nancia interrupted.

Flix looked away from the t.i.tanium column. Of course she could still see his expression perfectly well from her floor-level sensors, but it would have been rude to remind him of that He looked embarra.s.sed enough as it was. ”Had a copy of the program,” he mumbled. ”Meant to show up, as long as I happened to be on Central anyway, but... well, I met these two girls when I was doing a synthcom gig in the Pleasure Palace, and they taught me how to mix Rigellian stemjuice with Benedic- tine to make this wonderful fizzy drink, and ... well, anyway, I didn't wake up until the graduation ceremony was about over.”

He scowled at the carpet for a moment longer, then brightened up. ”Another thing I like about you, Nan- cia, you're the only relative I've got who won't burst into a long diatribe about how I could lower myself by playing synthcom at the Pleasure Palace. Of course, I don't suppose you have any idea what those places are like. Still, neither does Great Aunt Mendocia, and that doesn't stop her from sounding off.”

He got to his feet and began pulling things out of the basket. ”So ... since I was unavoidably detained at the Pleasure Palace ... and Jinevra's off at the tail end of nowhere investigating a Planetary Aid fraud, and Daddy's in a meeting, I thought I'd just drop by while you were waiting for a.s.signment and we'd have a little private party.”

”What meeting?” Nancia asked before she could stop herself. ”Where?”

Flix looked up from the basket, surprised. ”Huh?”

”You said our father was in a meeting.”

”Yes, well, isn't he always? No, I don't know where; it's just a logical deduction. You know how full his dayplanner program is. Y'know, I often wondered,” Flix rattled on as he unpacked the bas- ket, ”just how the three of us got born. Well, conceived, anyway. Do you suppose he sent Mother a memo? Please come by my office this morning. Can work you in between ten and ten-fifteen. Bring sheets and pil- low” He reached the bottom of the basket and pulled out two scratched and faded datahedra.

”There! I know you think I'm a selfish b.a.s.t.a.r.d, bringing fruit and champagne to somebody who doesn't eat or drink, but actually I have covered all contingencies. These are my latest synthcomposi- tions - here, I'll drop them in your reader.

Background music for the party, and you can play them on the trip to entertain yourself.

As the jangling sounds of Flix's latest experimental composition rang out in the cabin, he held up a third datahedron and smiled. Unlike the first two well-worn hedra, this was a glittering shape with a slick commer- cial laser-cut finish that spattered rainbows of light across the cabin. ”And here - ”

”Let me guess,” Nancia interrupted. ”You've finally found somebody to make a commercial cut of your synthcompositions.”

Flix's smile dimmed perceptibly. ”Well, no. Not ex- actly. Although,” he said, brightening, ”I do know this girl who knows a chap who used to date a girl who did temporary office work for the second VP of Sound Studios, so there are distinct possibilities in the offing.

But this is something quite different. This,” he said, sounding almost reverent, ”is the new, improved, vast*

ly more sophisticated version of s.p.a.cED OUT, not due for public release until the middle of next month, and I won't tell you what I had to do to get it,”

Nancia waited for him to tell her what the thing was about, but Flix paused and beamed as if he was expect- ing some immediate reaction from her.

”Well?” he said after a few seconds. His spiky red hair began to droop around the edges.

”I'm sorry,” Nancia confessed, ”but I have no idea what you're talking about.”

Flix shook his head mournfully. ”Never heard of s.p.a.cED OUT? What do they teach them at these academies? No, no, don't tell me.” He held up one hand in protest. ”I know. Decomposition theory and subs.p.a.ce astrogation and metachip design and a lot of other things that make my head hurt But 1 do think they could have let you have a little time off to play games.”

”We did play,” Nancia told him. ”It was in the schedule. Two thirty-minute periods daily of free play to improve synapse/tool coordination and gross propulsion skiUs. Why, I used to love playing Stall and PowerSeek when I was in my baby sh.e.l.l!”

Flix shook his head again. ”All very improving, I'm sure. Well, this game” - he grinned-”is absolutely, one hundred per cent guaranteed not to improve your mind.

In feet, Jinevra claims playing s.p.a.cED OUT can cause irreversible brain damage!”

”It can?” Nancia slid her reader slots shut with a click as Flix approached. ”Look, Flix, I'm not sure - ”

12.”Consider our big sister,” Flix said with his sunniest smile. ”Go ahead, just call up an image from her last visit Don't you think anything she disapproves of must be worth a try?”

Nanria projected a lifesize Jinevra on the screen that filled the center wall of the cabin. Her sister might have been standing beside Flix. Trim and perfect as ever, from the hem of her navy blue Planetary Techni- cal Aid uniform to the smooth dark hair that fell perfectly straight to just the regulation 1/4 inch dis- tance from her starched white collar, she was the pattern of reproach to every disorderly element in the universe. Nancia couldn't remember just what had caused the disapproving glint in Jinevra's eyes or the tight, pinched look at the corners of her mouth at the moment this image had been stored, but in this projec- tion she seemed to be glaring right at Flix. One of the red spikes of his retro-punk hair crown wilted under the withering gaze of the projection.

Nancia felt sorry for him. Jinevra had never bothered to conceal her opinion that their little brother was a wastrel and a disgrace to the family.

Daddy, she suspected, felt much the same way. The weight of the Perez y de Gras clan's disapproval would have been crus.h.i.+ng to her. How could she join them in condemning Flix? She'd heard stories enough about his wild tricks - there were times when Jinevra and Daddy seemed to have nothing else to discuss on their brief visits - but to her he was still the tousle-headed toddler who'd hugged her t.i.tanium sh.e.l.l every time he came for a visit, who'd waved and yelled as enthusiasti- cally as if she were a real flesh-and-blood sister who could cuddle him on her lap, who'd screamed with glee when she carried him around the school track for a quick round of PowerSeek with her cla.s.smates.

And what harm could it do her to try the stupid game?

”You'd like it, Nancia,” Flix said hopefully as the 13.

projected image of Jinevra faded into a blank screen.

”Really. It's the best version s.p.a.ceGamers has ever * released. It's got sixty-four levels of hidden tunnels, and simulated Singularity s.p.a.ce, and holodwarfs....”

”Holodwarfs?”

'Just look.” Flix dropped the glittering datahedron into the nearest reader slit - f.a.n.n.y, Nancia couldn't remember having decided to open that reader, but she must have done so. There was a soft whirring noise as the contents of the datahedron were read into com- puter memory, then Flix said, ”Level 6, holo!” and a red-bearded dwarf appeared in the middle of the cabin, brandis.h.i.+ng a curved broadsword whose hilt glittered with a shower of refracted colored light. Flix dropped to one knee as the dwarf's broadsword slashed through the s.p.a.ce where his head had been, rolled towards a control panel and shouted, ”s.p.a.ce Ten laser armor!”

A shape of light beams bent into impossible curved paths around him. The dwarf bent and thrust his sword through a gap between the rapidly weaving lights - And vanished.

So did the lights.

Flix got to his feet, aggrieved. ”You cut the game offl And I was winning!”

”I, umm, I don't think I'm quite ready for the holo- dwarfs,” Nancia apologized. ”I have this automatic reaction to seeing people I love attacked.”

Flix nodded. ”Sorry. I guess we'll have to bring you up to speed slowly. Want to start at Level 1, no holos?”

”That sounds... better.”

And it was better. In feet, after a few rounds, Nancia found herself actually enjoying the silly game, al- though she still had trouble making sense of the rules.

”What am I supposed to do with the Laser Staff?”

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