The Spheres of Heaven Read online

  "Not for me. You make your own deal. Come this way."

  She led him into the smoky interior of the Fireside, along an aisle bordered by a dozen small tables at which silver-skinned Salamanders sat cross-legged. The air held a curious aroma, like burning cinnamon and sulfur.

  At the far end a little cubicle sat tucked away out of sight of the main room. The light was much brighter inside. She gestured to one of the cubicle's benches with an arm that bent and flexed as though it had no bone within, and said, "You wait right there. You can't get service, so don't ask."

  "Where are you going?"

  "Nowhere. But I have to make a call."

  She walked away with an oddly sinuous grace. Danny thought of a snake, then changed his mind. The Salamanders were more complicated than a simple human/snake splice. For one thing, the eyes were wrong. The limbs also had that curious flexibility, as though the skeleton was not bone but cartilage.

  Could it be a human/snake/shark triplet? The Margrave had been a genius, and Danny had heard of stranger combinations.

  Fireside Elsie was coming back, weaving her way past the tables. She was holding two tall beakers of black volcanic glass.

  "He's on the way," she said. "Don't ask his name. And here's a Fireside special. You can't ask for service and get it, but I can give it."

  She handed him one of the beakers and drank deeply from the other. Danny could not see what was inside, but as he took a first sip he comforted himself with the thought that she had no particular reason to poison him. He needed that thought, because the thick liquid coursed down his throat like a train of fire. He could feel it as the drink reached each separate inch of his oesophagus. His eyes began to water. He saw a blurred image of Fireside Elsie as she turned and walked away.

  He wiped at the tears with the sleeve of his jacket. A Salamander who found it necessary to undertake self-immolation wouldn't need rehearsals, not with drinks like this available as practice.

  But he was no Salamander. Danny placed the beaker carefully on the low table in front of him. He peered into the dimlit room, wondering when Anonymous would arrive and where he was coming from. After ten minutes he was considering taking a second sip from the beaker out of sheer boredom when a bulky figure appeared from the shadows and slid onto the bench opposite.

  "You looking for somebody?"

  Apparently they would dispense with introductions. That was fine with Danny. He said, "A friend of mine, Bunnyfat Ramble. Do you know him?"

  Dead eyes stared into Danny's. Fireside Elsie was a model of geniality compared with the newcomer. "Depends. You say you're a friend of his. Who are you?"

  "My name's Jack Eckart."

  "Never heard of you." The Salamander rose and was leaving the cubicle in one lithe movement.

  "Wait a minute." Danny had to make an instant decision. "I'm using that name at the moment, but it's not the one he knew me by. If he talked of me at all, it would be as Dapper Dan, or Danny Casement."

  The Salamander had turned and was back in the cubicle. "I've heard of Dan Casement. But anybody could say that was his name. Give me proof."

  "What kind of proof? I don't have any identification on me."

  The wide, thin-lipped mouth opened, to show a multiple array of sharp triangular teeth. "If you're really Diamond Dan Casement, you have something else. Show me a sample."

  Alice Tannenbaum had laid claim to the last wrapped stone, but Danny always allowed for emergencies. He removed his jacket. It took a couple of minutes to work the quarter-carat specimen out from the lining of his coat. He didn't want to touch the Salamander, so he laid the stone on the table in front of them. "There you are. Take a look. It's genuine."

  "I don't care if it's genuine or not. The fact that you have it with you is the important thing. What's your question?"

  "What was Bun doing, and what happened to him?"

  "I can answer the first, but not the second. You ever hear of Flare-out?"

  "Never."

  "It's one of the big games on Salamander Row—there's a betting board right here at the Fireside. Solar flares can happen any time, so the managers of the Nexus run a pool on flare times and sizes. Now, computer models can't make a perfect prediction, but they can increase the odds. Of course, they rely on good inputs. You follow?"

  "I do." Danny had run his own gambling operations; he knew the importance of inside information.

  "Now, the managers don't want anybody beating the odds. So they make a law. The law says, it's all right to have any computer model you like, but the input data stays locked up. A gambling group didn't think that was fair—to them."

  "Who were they?"

  "You don't want to know. Do you?"

  Danny looked into those deep-set, lifeless eyes. "You're right. I don't want to know. Definitely I don't want to know."

  "So this group wanted to put a tap on the input data in a way that would never be noticed. People here tried and tried, and they couldn't do it. Not until somebody you and I both know came along, and he was smart enough to crack all the ciphers. The inputs rolled in smooth and regular and everything was fine. Until somebody talked. You don't need to know who he was, either"—Danny noted the past tense—"but one day the group was in big legal trouble. And so was your friend. Bun could have stayed and maybe bluffed it through and been all right, but although he was smart he was nervous.

  "He ran. Borrowed a ship, left the Nexus, dropped into a low skimmer orbit intending to ride past and off to the outer system. But he never made it. The drive misfired and he went right into the Sun. Sent messages once he realized what was happening. Said good-bye to everybody. Salamander's finish. End of story."

  Danny recalled the outsized solar disk, flaming outside the port. It was an awful prospect and a terrible way to die; but something was missing.

  "You said you could answer one of my questions and not the other. But now you're saying he's dead."

  "Smart Danny." The Sally gave a dry laugh like a chesty wheeze. "Logically, our friend is dead. But Bun was smart, too. I've wondered for the past few months. Suppose he wasn't on that ship? If anyone could rig a skimmer's communication system so it seemed he was there when he wasn't, the Bun was the man for that."

  It was wishful thinking, playing the wrong side of the odds. The Sally didn't seem to realize what was involved. There would have had to be more than the faking of a death. There would have to be an escape plan, a total disappearance, an opportunity elsewhere.

  "If he's not dead, then where do you think he might be?"

  "I can't begin to guess." The Salamander was standing up. "But I know he's nowhere on the Nexus."

  Danny stood up, too. "As far as paying you is concerned, I'll be glad—"

  "Forget it. And forget we talked. I'm not doing this for you, and I'm not doing it for me. I'm doing it for him. I liked Bun, as much as you can like a human. If he's not dead, and if you ever do see him again, say hello from me."

  "I don't know your name."

  "You're right." The silver countenance was split by another sword-toothed smile. "You don't know my name. You also don't need to know it, and you don't want to know it. You'll have to go with a description. Now get out of here. Do you want the rest of that drink?"

  Danny shook his head. As the Sally lifted the black beaker and downed the contents in one long gulp, Danny turned and walked the length of the room. He could see little after the brightly lit cubicle, but he felt sure that the faces were all turned his way. Fireside Elsie nodded at him when he was close to the exit. She did not speak. Alice—how long had she been waiting?—stood just outside.

  "Oh, dear." She took his arm and the smile faded from her face. "It's bad news, I can tell just by looking at you."

  "It seems that way."

  "Then it's my job to do what I can to cheer you up. You found out about your friend. Is he here?"

  Danny shook his head. Bun was not here, he was dead, a puff of incandescent gases on the surface of the Sun.

  "So wha
t do you want to do, Jack?"

  He had done what he came to do, all that he could do. Now he wanted to collapse into bed with Alice. But he could not suggest that.

  "I'd like to go some place where I can get a cold drink. I don't think I was actually poisoned in there, but somebody wandered down my throat holding a lighted torch."

  "You were permitted to drink in the Fireside? Then you were honored. It's for Sallies only. But I know just the place for us. Come on."

  Alice did indeed know just the place, cool and intimate and soothing. It had been a very long day. Sitting across from her, watching her bright eyes and the pink tongue that licked sugar from the side of her glass, Danny felt himself beginning to relax. If only he could get Bun out of his mind . . . they had not seen each other for years, but the idea of Bun diving to his death in the Sun . . . He felt Alice's hand on his cheek. "Don't think about it, whatever it is. There's nothing you could have done. Unwind, Jack."

  Unwind. He was trying.

  He peered at Alice, across the table from him, with weary eyes. Quite a woman. A fine woman, rich and classy and sexy. He felt almost sorry that he had set her up with a phony mining investment.

  The second place she took him to was dark, close to free-fall, and so ringing with Colchester brass that speech was impossible. He didn't recall ordering anything, but a bright blue potion mysteriously appeared in front of him. He and Alice sat in companionable silence, swaying together to the music.

  Unwind.

  There must have been a third place. He did not remember going to it, but suddenly it was darker yet. There was again a gravity field. He and Alice leaned close, speaking in whispers. And then they were sitting side by side, not talking at all but with Alice's thigh pressed against his.

  Unwind.

  Was he unwound? Yes, he thought so. Now he could suggest what he had wanted to suggest to Alice in the first place.

  * * *

  Danny did not so much wake as wander slowly up toward consciousness through pink clouds of bliss. He was lying naked on soft cushions in a low-gravity setting, and never in his life had he felt so rested and full of well-being.

  How wrong he had been to think badly of the Vulcan Nexus. It was one of the most delightful spots in the solar system. Ten more minutes of quiet peace, and Alice could perhaps go about ordering something to eat. But then, regrettably, after breakfast Jack Eckart would bid her a fond farewell and Danny would leave the Vulcan Nexus for a rendezvous with Chan Dalton.

  Eyes still closed, he reached out to where Alice lay in the bed. His left hand wandered around over the downy surface and found nothing.

  So she was up already. Maybe taking a shower, maybe in the other room making a breakfast selection. Danny yawned, stretched luxuriously, and opened his eyes. The bedchamber was large, with a high, vaulted ceiling. Alice was nowhere to be seen. He stood up slowly, with wobbly legs—it had been quite an evening, and quite a night—and wandered through to the living room. There was no sign of Alice.

  He walked back to the bedroom and through into the bathroom. She was not there, either. As he relieved himself, he realized that he could see no sign of the clutter of toiletries with which his female companions ordinarily decorated the premises. Alice was indeed an unusual woman.

  Still naked, he stepped back out into the bedroom. He found his underwear where he had abandoned it, on the floor along with his shoes. His suit? He looked around. He had dropped that on the floor, too, but it wasn't there now. Alice must have hung it up in the closet. Good for her. In Danny's experience, rich women seldom made good housewives.

  He walked over to the closet, opened it, and peered inside.

  No suit. Then where was it?

  He walked back to the dimly lit living room. Still no suit, but a piece of paper sitting on the low table next to the couch.

  A note. Danny turned on a light and picked it up.

  Dear Jack (or may I call you Danny?),

  What a wonderful evening, and a wonderful night! I will remember it always, but unfortunately I must now be on my way.

  In picking up your suit from the floor, where in our delicious haste we had abandoned it, I noticed in two hidden compartments a substantial number of trade crystals. The lining also held several samples of "Yang diamond," which I trust are genuine. I was obliged to take the crystals, samples, and the money that I found in your wallet, in order to defray certain incidental expenses of my own.

  I also took the liberty of removing the suit itself. The color does not favor your complexion, and the cut makes you look much older than you are (or than you act!). Naturally, I needed the use of your travel bag in order to transport the suit, trade crystals, and wallet.

  This suite is yours until midday. Unfortunately I was not able to make payment for it, or for my meal and a few other trifles that I purchased and charged this morning, so I leave you to settle the tab.

  I do not think that we will meet again, Danny, so let me express once more my appreciation for a fabulous twenty-four hours. Believe me, had it been possible for me to stay longer I would have done so.

  Yours in gratitude, Alice Tannenbaum.

  P.S. In case you should feel an inclination to try to find me, I would not recommend it. It would surely be a waste of time. I feel confident that I left none of my possessions in the suite; also, as you may by this time have guessed, my name is not Alice Tannenbaum.

  Danny read the note. Then he sat down on the couch and read it again. He had his underwear and his shoes. He lacked money, trade crystals, diamond samples, and outer garments. He owed whatever was the cost of this suite and Alice's "few other trifles." Considerable, he felt sure. Alice settled for nothing but the best.

  Danny went back to the bedroom. He put on his underwear and shoes and looked at himself in the full-length mirror. It was no way to face the management, or anyone else in the known universe. He picked up the bed's outer coverlet from the floor, wrapped it around himself, and sat down at the suite's communications center.

  He needed to do three things. Two of them could be done at once: arrange for a transfer of credit from Chan Dalton, to cover the bill here; and contact a local clothing outlet and have a suit delivered.

  The third thing would have to wait until they returned from the Geyser Swirl. Then he would tackle the difficult problem of tracking down "Alice Tannenbaum."

  Suppose that it took a long time, and involved a considerable effort. Would he still do it?

  Danny, already calling Chan Dalton's personal ID, nodded to himself. He certainly would. A woman like Alice came along once in a lifetime, and any man would be insane to let her go.

  9: EXPLORING LIMBO

  The ocean of Limbo seemed as peaceful as ever, but Bony made a careful survey of his surroundings as he drifted out of the airlock.

  No sign of bubble creatures. Small purple objects like floating umbrellas opened and closed to jet rapidly away from him, but they seemed more afraid of Bony than he was of them. He waved to Liddy, peering from the airlock, to join him. While she was doing it he made sure that the line connecting him to the Mood Indigo was clear, then cracked open the suit's internal pressure valve. His buoyancy became slightly greater, enough to begin a slow rise through limpid water.

  He looked down. Liddy was following him upward, her slim figure hidden within the bloat of her over-inflated suit. One of the annoyances of the situation was that radios meant for space use were no good under water. Although Bony could talk to Friday Indigo at long distance via the wire connection to the ship, underwater he could speak to Liddy only when they were close enough for sound waves to move directly between them. That meant they could not afford to get too far apart. He brushed his glove across his faceplate to rid it of the annoying layer of tiny bubbles that coated it after a minute or two in the superaerated ocean. High oxygen content must help the native sea-creatures, but to humans in suits it was a nuisance—like moving inside a gigantic bottle of soda water.

  The light level was steadily growi
ng brighter, just as it had when he ascended the undersea ridge. In the cumbersome suit it was difficult to bend his head to look upward. He craned back for a quick look and fancied that he could make out moving variations in intensity above him. Wave patterns, travelling across the surface? That would mean the ship could not be more than thirty meters down.

  Before he could confirm that guess, his head burst through into dazzling sunlight. The photoreceptors in his helmet recorded an overdose of ultraviolet and modified the faceplate at once to screen out most of it. As he floated at the surface, chest-deep and feet-down, Liddy's suit bobbed up a few meters away. A long, sluggish wave gently lifted them and then lowered them as they paddled toward each other.

  Bony tried the radio circuit. "Liddy?"

  "I hear you. My suit shows a really high light level. Does yours?"

  "Yes. It's real. There's the culprit." He raised an arm and pointed at the sun. "It's a blue giant type. That's really strange."

  "You mean it looks strange. That's not surprising."

  "No. I mean it is strange. For a planet around a blue giant star, every astronomer will tell you that there should be no life-forms. A star can't stay in a blue giant stage long enough for anything alive to develop on its planets."

  "Tell that to those funny little umbrella things down near the seabed. They don't seem to know much astronomy. Bony, can Friday hear us?"

  "Only when I have something we want to transmit. Do you need to talk to him? The circuit is off at the moment."

  "No. I was thinking I might feel like saying things I wouldn't want him to hear. We're really away from him for the first time, just the two of us. Isn't it great?"

  Bony had mixed feelings about that. Sure, it was great not to have Friday ordering him around or using Liddy as a personal sex toy. But out of the frying pan . . .

  As another wave lifted them he stared all around, seeking any sign of the winged mystery that had cast the tri-lobed underwater shadow on his first trip outside. He saw nothing like it, but far off to his left he caught a glimpse of a long horizontal line across the face of the sea. Land? Or clouds? Before he could confirm anything they were dropping back into the trough.