The Best Rootin' Tootin' Shootin' Gunslinger in the Whole Damned Galaxy (12 page)

      
“I've got a little confession to make,” said the Jimorian with a smile. “I just said that to get you to take me along. Actually, my talents lie along other lines.” He paused. “And I really can sing and dance."

      
“I don't doubt it,” admitted Flint. “But I've got a feeling that you're being modest."

      
“I don't follow you."

      
“I'll lay plenty of eight-to-five that you've got a bushelful of tricks you can do if you want to."

      
“Truly, Mr. Flint,” said the Jimorian, “I've never seen a deck of cards in my life until today—though, of course, Billybuck told me about them."

      
“I wasn't referring to card tricks."

      
“Then what?"

      
“Something more in the way of illusions,” said Flint.

      
“You mean magic tricks?"

      
“I don't know,” said Flint. “Do I?"

      
“How should I know?"

      
“Tojo says you can do them. So does the Dancer."

      
“They say I can do magic tricks?"

      
“At the very least. How about mind reading?"

      
“I give up,” said the Jimorian. “How
about
mind reading?"

      
“What's all this about, Thaddeus?” asked Diggs restlessly. “I thought we were going to play a friendly little game of blackjack."

      
“Keep out of this,” said Flint. “I'm talking to my friend here."

      
“You're making me nervous,” said the Jimorian. “Just tell me—what am I supposed to have done?"

      
“May I interject a word?” asked Mr. Ahasuerus, looking up from his coffee.

      
“Shoot,” said Flint.

      
“It would seem that Tojo and Billybuck both saw you on the third level," said the blue man gently, “and in both cases, your appearance was different than it is now."

      
“Maybe it was the light,” suggested the Jimorian.

      
“I doubt it,” said Mr. Ahasuerus. “In at least one case you appeared as a person you couldn't possibly know about."

      
“Then it couldn't have been me, could it?"

      
“
Damn it
!” Flint exploded. “I'm getting fucking sick and tired of hearing you answer every question with another one!"

      
“Don't yell at me,” said the Jimorian.

      
“Are you threatening me?” demanded Flint, rising to his feet. “Because if you are . . ."

      
“You're making me lose my concentration!” cried the Jimorian.

      
“Then concentrate on giving me a straight answer!” snapped Flint.

      
“
Don't frighten me
!” screamed the Jimorian.

      
And suddenly he didn't look like a Western dandy any longer. His outline blurred and faded, and then he was . . . something else.

      
“What the hell is going on here?” said Flint, staring at him.

      
“Just stop yelling at me,” said the Jimorian. He seemed to make an almost physical effort to calm himself, and an instant later he was once again the overdressed Westerner.

      
“Most unusual!” exclaimed Mr. Ahasuerus, his face alight with interest.

      
“So now you know,” said the Jimorian wearily.

      
“Know what?” said Flint. “We already knew you weren't human."

      
“Exactly what did you see, Mr. Flint?” asked Mr. Ahasuerus suddenly.

      
“The same as you: a big shaggy heap with a face like a green gorilla," replied Flint.

      
“
I
didn't see that,” said Mr. Ahasuerus. “How about you, Diggs?"

      
Diggs was still staring disbelievingly at the Jimorian. “Huh?” he said at last, when the blue man had addressed him a second time.

      
“What did you see?” Mr. Ahasuerus repeated.

      
“Well, it's the strangest damned thing,” said Diggs, a wistful expression on his face, “but for just a second there I thought I saw . . . well, a girl I knew a long time ago."

      
“Ah!” said Mr. Ahasuerus happily. “It's a defense mechanism, isn't it?"

      
The Jimorian nodded.

      
“And when you're startled or scared, people see . . . what?"

      
“What they most want to see,” said the Jimorian. “Usually a loved one."

      
“Fascinating,” enthused the blue man. “Absolutely fascinating!"

      
“You think so?” said the Jimorian bitterly. “This is usually the point where people start throwing stones at us. They don't much mind that we can disguise ourselves as strangers. It's when we appear as their fondest dreams and wishes that the massacres start.” He paused. “Nobody wants to know that his most secret self is no longer secret. That's why I tried to hide it from you."

      
“There was no reason to,” replied Mr. Ahasuerus. “We are not barbarians here. You may very well find that carnival people, having lived and worked with oddities all their lives, are more tolerant of differences than you imagine. By the way, am I to assume that you have no conscious control of the images you produce when stressed?"

      
“None,” said the Jimorian. “I know that I appear as each of you wants me to appear, but beyond that I don't know anything about how it works.” He smiled ruefully. “And I really wouldn't call it a defense mechanism, since most of the time what it does is make people want to attack me."

      
“Yes,” mused the blue man. “I can appreciate the anomalous effect of the phenomenon."

      
“Just a minute,” said Flint, finally sitting back down. “Would someone tell me just what the hell it was that
I
saw?"

      
“Evidently you saw me as I really am,” said the Jimorian.

      
“I thought you said we each saw our heart's desire,” continued Flint. “Believe it or not, I'm not exactly enamored of your charms. So why did I see you?” He paused. “Better still, why did I see the real, unadorned, undisguised you?"

      
“I don't know. To the best of my knowledge, no one—except of course, for other Jimorians—has ever seen my true form before.

      
“Maybe what you most want to see is the truth,” offered the blue man.

      
Flint seemed to consider the statement for a minute, then shrugged. “How about you, Mr. Ahasuerus?” he asked at last. “What did
you
see?"

      
“I would prefer not to say,” replied the blue man.

      
“Probably a bald blue lady skeleton,” said Flint. He turned back to the Jimorian. “And this happens whenever you're scared?"

      
“Or startled,” said the Jimorian. “I've been under a lot of stress, wondering if you would take me with you, and I'm not totally familiar with my characterization yet. In a few days I'll be able to do it with almost no conscious effort, but not yet. After all, I have never even met a human being until last night, and I never saw one until this morning. That's why I stood in the shadows at the back of the cell: so I could get a good look at you before I created an identity. Billybuck told me how tall he was and what he weighed, but until I could examine one of you for a minute, I had no working idea how long an inch was, or how much a pound weighed.” He smiled. “You would have been surprised at my initial conception of your appearance—and, of course, I'm still not certain that I've got the genitalia right.” He paused. “Anyway, I was worried and preoccupied when I was walking in the corridor, and Tojo is so misshapen that he momentarily shocked me."

      
“And the Dancer?"

      
The Jimorian shrugged. “I was tired. Probably I just wasn't concentrating."

      
“Well, that answers a lot of questions,” said Flint, relaxing.

      
“And it gives him a name,” added Diggs.

      
“Yeah?"

      
Diggs nodded. “A man works in a carny, sooner or later he gets a carny name. In this case it's sooner.” He paused. “How's Jiminy Cricket sound to you?"

      
“It's a natural,” said Flint with a smile.

      
“Jiminy from Jimor,” said the alien. “I like it."

      
“Good,” said Flint. “Because from now on you're stuck with it."

      
“What does it stand for?” asked Jiminy curiously.

      
“Dreams and wishes,” replied Flint. “That ought to be right up your alley." He paused. “Now tell me the truth: can you juggle?"

      
“No,” said Jiminy.

      
“How about pantomime?"

      
“I've never tried, though I modestly admit to being pretty good at impersonations."

      
Flint shook his head. “I think we'll turn you over to the Rigger and let him whip up some patent medicines for you to sell."

      
“Thank you,” said Jiminy. “I'm truly grateful."

      
“And I think,” continued Flint, “that we're going to have to alert the other carnies to this little trick of yours."

      
“Oh?"

      
He nodded.

      
“Otherwise they'll all start thinking that they're going crazy.” He grimaced and added: “And except for Dancer and Monk and Batman and about half the others, they'll probably be wrong."

      
“If you think it's best,” said Jiminy dubiously.

      
“It is,” said Flint. “Unless you want the Dancer hollering at you to slap leather because you look like a killer out of the Wild West."

      
“
That's
what Billybuck saw?” asked Jiminy.

      
“You've got to understand that he's not exactly playing with a full deck," said Flint. “His job is shooting things with a gun, and he's so damned good at it that he's never been tested. So when
he
sees his heart's desire, it's Doc Holliday calling him out for a shootout at high noon."

      
“Then by all means pass the word,” agreed Jiminy.

      
“Well,” said Flint, leaning back in his chair. “I guess that takes care of business. Check with Mr. Ahasuerus after he's finished his paperwork and told the ship where it's taking us, and you can haggle out your salary with him."

      
The blue man checked his intricate timepiece. “We'll be taking off in about two hours,” he said. “Come see me about an hour after that.” He exposed his teeth in what passed for a pleasant smile. “And please plan to spend some time in my office. There is so much I wish to learn about Jimorians!"

      
“Three hours from now,” Jiminy promised.

      
“In the meantime,” said Diggs, clasping Jiminy's arm firmly, “he's working for
me
now, and the first order of business is that he's got to learn to play certain games of chance."

      
“How to lose at them, you mean,” said Mr. Ahasuerus disapprovingly.

      
“Well, those are the kinds of object lessons that are best remembered," replied Diggs with a smile.

      
“He has no money,” said the blue man.

      
“He's working for the carny. His credit's good with me.” Diggs began shuffling the cards. “Besides, this is
business
."

      
Mr. Ahasuerus sighed. “I'm delighted to have you with us,” he said to Jiminy as he rose from his chair. “I'll speak with you soon.” He drained the last of his three coffee cups and began walking from the mess hall.

      
“It'll be my pleasure,” Jiminy called after him.

      
Flint watched the card game for a few minutes, made sure that Diggs wasn't out to fleece the Jimorian too badly, and then went out to find the Dancer and assure him that Doc Holliday really had been dead and buried for an even hundred years.

 

 

Chapter 8

 

Two arms or four, big or small,
 

Yellow or green, short or tall,
 

Billybuck Dancer fought them all.

He was the best rootin' tootin' shootin' gunslinger in the whole damned galaxy!