Tuning William - Fuzzy Bones

When he heard their voices stop, that meant they could hear him, now, and could be expected to deliver their calling card in about sixty seconds. He closed his hand around the automatic.

A bearded, disheveled man appeared from behind the front end of the boat. "Hi, friend," he said with a smile. So-it was going to be the stall-and-cannon play. The "stall" would take his attention, and the "cannon" would shoot him in the back.

The man was talking about something. Jack was looking at him with his eyes, but his ears were focused about thirty meters to his rear. When he heard the scrape of metal against leather-a very soft sound, but a very specific one if your whole being is focused on listening for it-he whirled on one knee and spun himself behind the open hatch-ramp steps. The cannon got off one shot while Jack was turning into a firing position and judging for size and distance.

His first shot was a little high, but Jack was able to put the second in his chest-no need to wait to see if that one did it. He now gave the stall his undivided attention.

The automatic bucked in Jack's hand as the stall blasted off two wild shots, kicking up a fountain of dirt around the airboat. Jack put his second shot in the man's left chest. When the man seemed to pause and did not drop his

weapon, Jack placed two more bullets within an inch-and-a-half of the first.

The impact snapped the man's head back and he went over backwards in a graceful arc and lay still, his legs folded under his body.

Jack felt a hot ache in his right side. Must have banged himself into something as he ducked behind the steps. He rubbed at his ribs where it hurt.

The hand came back red. "Old man Holloway is gettin' slow. That first fella creased me a little," he said aloud.

Jack climbed back up into the airboat and peered at a worried-looking Gerd van Riebeek m the screen.

"Jack! What the hell happened?"

Jack grinned lopsidedly. He felt hot and his ears were ringing. "Two promising hijacking careers that will never come to full flower. One Native Affairs Commissioner nicked in the right side-let the other guy get off the first shot. One Little Fuzzy safe and sound. Unnnh." He sat down on the deck, drew his knees up to his chest and rested his forehead on them.

Gerd was shouting from the screen. "Jack! I'll be there as quick as I can. Try to stop the bleeding and avoid shock."

"Don't forget to call the cops at Beta-15," Jack said softly. He felt something soft brush against his cheek and a little arm go around his neck. He opened his eyes and smiled at Little Fuzzy."Everything's going to be all right," he said.

"You hokay, Pappy

Little Fuzzy stroked Jack's arm. Jack? Tosh-ki-Hagga huhtsu?"

"Not very much, Little Fuzzy. You saved Pappy Jack's life. If you hadn 't heard them, I would have been tearing into the generator and making enough noise for them to have got me."

Jack looked closely at Little Fuzzy and saw something he had never seen before. There were two small wet spots in the fur just under Little Fuzzy's eyes. Presently, another tear welled up and rolled away.

Chapter 16

Grego whistled absently as the private lift sped toward the penthouse level.

Attorney General Brannhard had organized the agenda logically and presided over the meeting smoothly. No wasted words. Grego appreciated that sort of thing. He also appreciated that no one had tried to sell the Company more than its fair share of the contribution. They sometimes did that, presumably on the theory that the Company was a bottomless pocket filled with financial assets and cash flow.

He stepped out of the lift directly into the foyer of his penthouse apartment.

Christiana appeared in the living room doorway with a drink, which she handed to Grego.

"How did you manage to time this?" he asked, waving his other hand over the glass.

She grinned. "With an accomplice. Diamond can hear the lifter generator as soon as it engages at your office. There's just enough time-if everything is already laid out."

"Well," Grego said as he strolled into the living room. "You continue to amaze me, Miss Stone." He looked around the room. "Where's Diamond? He's usually climbing me like a tree as soon as I come out of the lift."

She held up one finger. "That's my fault. We have conspired to forego the usual greeting to show you something. Since it involved holding up part of dessert, I'm sure Diamond is waiting impatiently." She motioned for him to follow her into the kitchen.

"Heyo, Pappy Vic!" Diamond shouted. "SeehowIdo!"

Diamond was seated at the kitchen table, in a kind of highchair. In front of him was a place setting of Fuzzy-sized silverware-actually the half-size utensils that were manufactured for very small children-fork, salad fork, soup spoon, teaspoon, knife, and butter knife. A little liqueur glass had been pressed into service as a water goblet- Fuzzy-scale.

Christiana set a saucer in front of Diamond and a plate on the table. The saucer was empty; the plate contained an uncut cake of Ex tee-Three. She stood back against the kitchen counter and took a sip from her own drink.

Grego watched in rapt fascination as Diamond picked up his knife and fork, cut off a slice of Extee-Three, and with great dignity placed it on the saucer in front of him. He laid down the knife and separated a single bite-sized piece from the slice with his fork, shifted his grip, impaled the bite on the fork and popped it into his mouth. This process was repeated, with occasional sips from the water glass, until the saucer was completely bare. Diamond took his napkin-a small pocket handkerchief-from his lap, dabbed at each corner of his mouth, folded up the napkin, and laid it to the left of his salad fork. He turned toward them with shining eyes. "How I do, Auntie K'istanna?" he asked.

They both set down their drinks and applauded loudly.

"Perfect, Diamond," Christiana said. "You didn't miss a thing."

Diamond gave a whoop and bounded down to the floor. He leaped a few steps and threw his arms around Grego's neck, which, with its owner, had squatted down to Fuzzy-height.

After hugs and a little romping all around, Diamond looked proudly at both his hands. "Fingahs no weh," he announced, then ran off into the Fuzzy-Room.

"What'd he say?" Christiana asked.

" 'Fingers not wet,' " Grego repeated.

"Oh," she said, "of course. I 'm still not quite used to that pidgin Terran.

Does it have something to do with their speaking machinery?"

Grego nodded. " 'L' and 'R' pose quite a problem for them. As far as we know, the sounds don't exist in Lingua Fuzzy."

They had drifted back into the living room and seated themselves on opposite sides of the coffee table. "You continue to astonish me, Miss Stone, and this is only Tuesday evening of your first week. The mind boggles at what you may accomplish by the time you have been here a fortnight." She laughed. "It wasn't that difficult, "she said. "He had watched Hagga eat with silverware.

Given the tools, scaled down to his anatomy, he practically got it the first time. The only practice he's had was with dinner, before you arrived."

"Speaking of dinner," Grego replied, "let's get that started." He got to his feet and went over to his private screen, punched in a combination, and lit a fresh cigarette while he waited for the dinner menu to start scrolling.

What a remarkable young woman, he thought, as she joined him to make her selection.

George Lunt's party was a little more elaborate than a "beer and pretzels fest." Aside from the large cooler full of beer, there was a very respectable sideboard of cold cuts, cheeses, various sandwich makings, a tangy coleslaw of whacker-cabbage, the Zarathustran mutations of celery, radishes, carrot sticks, and pickled artichoke hearts, various kinds of crackers, salted nuts, dips, and-of course-pretzels.