The Best Rootin' Tootin' Shootin' Gunslinger in the Whole Damned Galaxy (19 page)

      
The crowd milled about, seemingly unsure of what to do next, but displaying no hostility toward the humans, and finally the band music was piped in again.

      
“Nobody seems to have figured out what to do after the finale,” remarked Flint. “They need someone like Stogie."

      
“I think they were probably planning on carrying Dacklan around the ring on their shoulders just about now,” answered Jiminy.

      
“Well,” said Flint, getting to his feet, “I'm sure Kargennian's going to be collecting the money, so let's you and me go collect Tojo and the Dancer and head back to the ship. It's been a long day."

      
He walked to the transparent door, with Jiminy close behind him, strode onto the floor of the arena, called to Tojo, left through another door, and made his way down the long, winding corridor leading to the Dancer's dressing room. He slowed his pace enough for Tojo to join them before he got to the door, then knocked loudly.

      
There was no answer.

      
“He couldn't have gotten lost,” muttered Flint, knocking again. When there was still no response, he opened the door and entered the room, followed by Tojo and Jiminy.

      
The Dancer was sitting on a table, staring at the dull-gray wall, tears running down his face.

      
“Look, Dancer,” said Flint gently, “I know you feel bad about this, but it was a fair contest."

      
“It wasn't no contest at all,” said the Dancer softly.

      
“What are you talking about?” demanded Flint.

      
The young sharpshooter turned his tortured eyes to Flint. “Next time I want to face four of ‘em at once,” he said, and his expression reminded Flint of nothing more than a child who has waited all year for Christmas and unwrapped a lump of coal.

 

 

Chapter 11

 

“I've run through my competition,"

Said the Dancer, still feeling that yen.

“I'd much rather suffer perdition,
 

Than never hit leather again.

So hunt up the best,
 

Put me to the test,
 

Let's have it out once and for all.

My hands they are steady,
 

I'm rarin' and ready,
 

I won't be the first one to fall."

—from “The Ballad of Billybuck Dancer"

 

      
Flint walked into the galley, took a large pot of coffee from one of the robots, and made his way through the crowded mess hall to his usual corner table, where he found Tojo, Diggs, and Jiminy already eating breakfast.

      
“I hope I'm not intruding,” he said caustically.

      
“If you see another empty table, I'll take it,” said Diggs stuffing another forkful of artificial omelet into his mouth before looking up. “I guess everyone got hungry at the same time."

      
“I can't imagine why,” said Flint, looking distastefully at Diggs' plate.

      
“You're in a great mood today, aren't you?” said Diggs. “I should think you'd be a little more cheerful on the day after your boy won his gunfight and made you ten million credits."

      
“Two million,” Flint corrected him.

      
“What's all this I've been hearing about ten, then?” persisted Diggs, chewing noisily.

      
“Five for the Corporation, one for the Dancer, and four for the carny. Half of the four is mine."

      
“Would the Corporation have paid five million credits if the Dancer had lost?” asked Diggs.

      
“What do
you
think?” said Flint with an ironic smile.

      
“Me? I think that when Kargennian finally dies, you're going to need a crowbar to pry his fingers loose from the first penny he ever made.” He pushed his plate away and cleaned his fingers fastidiously with a paper napkin. “He's still around, you know."

      
“Who?"

      
“Kargennian. I saw him going into your partner's office about an hour ago.” An alien crew member walked by with a foul-smelling green-and-blue concoction, and Diggs wrinkled his nose.

      
“That'll just make Mr. Ahasuerus' day,” commented Flint an amused grin on his face. “The little bastard's probably setting up a distribution network for the films of the fight.” He looked around the mess hall. “I see the Dancer hasn't come down yet."

      
“I hope he's all right,” said Tojo, carefully spreading artificial margarine on an artificial roll.

      
“Why shouldn't he be?” asked Diggs. “He really looked sharp last night— kind of like John Wayne and Gary Cooper and Clint Eastwood all rolled into one."

      
“I stopped by his room this morning,” volunteered Jiminy, who had not eaten any food, but seemed to have developed the same enthusiasm for orange juice that Mr. Ahasuerus had for coffee. “He's pretty much the same as usual."

      
“That means he's sitting in the dark, staring at a wall,” chuckled Diggs.

      
“Exactly,” replied Jiminy seriously.

      
Stogie, dressed in pajamas and a tattered terrycloth bathrobe, entered the mess hall just then, with his schnauzer tucked under his arm.

      
“Come on over and have a seat, Max,” called Diggs, shouting to be heard above the din created by the untranslated alien voices, and the ancient comic made his way carefully to the table.

      
“I thought you were supposed to be in bed,” said Flint.

      
“I had to walk Schnoozle,” replied the ancient comic, as the little dog twisted in his grasp, eager to see what was on the table. “Besides, I get lonely staying in my room all day."

      
“You start disobeying Fuzzy-Wuzzy's orders and you're likely to spend even more time there,” said Flint.

      
“He's a nice guy, Thaddeus,” protested Stogie, accepting a piece of Tojo's roll and feeding it to Schnoozle, who gulped it down happily. “But what the hell does a big yellow caterpillar know about taking care of human beings?"

      
“He's the only doctor we've got,” said Flint.

      
“He'd never seen a bone in his life until he came to work for us,” chimed in Monk, who was sitting a few tables away with Batman. “He's the reason I walk with a limp."

      
“You're having breakfast with the reason you walk with a limp,” said Flint. He looked at Monk and the Sabellian. “Is there some reason why you two are wearing yellow scarves around your necks, or am I going to wish I hadn't asked?"

      
“
You're
sitting with the reason for it,” replied Monk.

      
“Oh? Who?"

      
“Him,” said Monk, jerking a thumb in Jiminy's direction. “Every time he gets shook up he starts looking like Batman, so I told Batman to wear a scarf so I could tell them apart."

      
“And
you
think he looks like Monk?” asked Flint, turning to Batman.

      
“Occasionally,” replied the Sabellian.

      
“A shrink could have a field day with those two,” said Flint, turning back to his companions. “Seriously, Max—how are you feeling today?"

      
“Old,” said Stogie. “Old and tired. I think Schnoozle and me are having a race to see who keels over first. He's thirteen, you know; not much time left for either of us.” He petted the little dog's head. “I hope to God I outlast him. He wouldn't know what to do if he was still around here after I die. Would you, Schnoozle?” He smiled as the schnauzer licked his wrinkled face, then looked up. “You know, the poor little son of a bitch hasn't had a girlfriend in six or seven years."

      
“He's got a lot of company,” said Diggs sardonically. “Thaddeus is a monopolist, in case you hadn't noticed.” He looked at Flint and shook his head in puzzlement. “I can't imagine why. You ain't as ugly as Tojo, but you're no Errol Flynn, either."

      
“I think the current standard of comparison is Robert Redford,” offered Tojo.

      
“What's your secret, Mr. Flint?” asked Jiminy with a smile.

      
“The two greatest aphrodisiacs in the universe,” answered Flint easily. “Money and power.” He paused. “A hell of a lot of rhinos could have kept their horns if people had just looked at things the way they are, instead of the way they'd like them to be."

      
“Money I'll grant you,” admitted Diggs. "But what's this power crap? You're just a carny owner."

      
“I can fire you,” said Flint. “Can
you
fire
me
?” He didn't wait for an answer. “On a carny ship, that's all the power there is."

      
“How about firing
me
?” said Stogie, only half jokingly. “Then Schnoozle and me can go home to die on a
real
world, one with only one moon, and people who don't look like nightmares, and air that doesn't tire you out just from breathing it."

      
“Don't be silly, Max,” said Flint. “You're just feeling gloomy because you're sick."

      
“Or the other way around,” said Stogie.

      
“I can't imagine why anyone would want to go back to Earth,” said Diggs. “There's races we haven't even dreamed of up here, and each of 'em just waiting to be fleeced."

      
“Earth's my home,” said Stogie stubbornly.

      
“It's mine, too,” replied Diggs. “All the more reason never to see it again. Too many attachments back there, too many things to hold a man down. We're freaks, Max—you and me and Monk and the rest; that's why we're carnies in the first place.” The amusement vanished from his face. “It's better to put temptation out of the way and just stay with the show."

      
“I wasn't always a carny,” said Stogie.

      
“Don't tell us again how you appeared on the same bill with the Andrews Sisters,” moaned Diggs in mock anguish.

      
“Well, I did,” said the old comic defensively. “And Bert Lahr, too,” he added. “And once I had a part in a Laurel and Hardy film. It wasn't just a walkthrough, either."

      
“We've heard all that before,” said Diggs.

      
“Well, fuck you, Rigger!” exploded Stogie. “I'm seventy-five years old and I'm dying and I haven't
got
any new stories to tell!"

      
Schnoozle, sensing his master's distress, bared his teeth and began growling at Diggs.

      
“Hey!” snapped Flint suddenly. “Let's everyone calm down, or I'm going to repossess my table. I came down here to relax."

      
“I'm sorry, Thaddeus,” said Stogie, stroking Schoozle to calm him down. “Just tell him to stop picking on me."

      
“That's just the way he is, Max,” said Flint. He turned and stared directly into Diggs' eyes. “But if he does it again before I get up to leave, he's going to wish he hadn't.” He paused. “Is that clear?"

      
Diggs nodded, looking like a schoolchild who had just been scolded by his teacher. As he did so, the Dancer entered the room. The alien games workers gave him a standing ovation as he walked over to Flint's table, and finally he tipped his hat in acknowledgment of their plaudits.

      
“Mind if I sit down?” he asked.

      
“Be my guest,” said Flint. “You know, that was more applause than you got last night."

      
“That's 'cause they didn't see how easy it was,” said the Dancer.

      
“I hear you whipped him good,” said Stogie.

      
The Dancer looked at him expressionlessly, but made no reply.

      
“Talkative as ever,” muttered the comic, and turned his attention to his schnauzer.

      
“I saw Julius in the gymnasium this morning,” remarked Jiminy, trying to break the uncomfortable silence.

      
“Is he feeling any happier?” asked Flint.

      
“I think
determined
is more the word,” said the Jimorian. “He had put away his weights, and was working on agility exercises. He looked pretty serious about it."

      
“The picture of an agile three-hundred-pound green lizard is a little more than my mind can take this early in the day,” commented Flint.

      
“At least
his
opponent put up a fight,” said the Dancer softly.