Man of Two Worlds

  “I looked. Are those cameras valuable?”

  “Quite valuable.”

  “I thought so. I put them under our house seal to protect them for you.”

  “Why are you taking such good care of me?

  “I have read about you and looked up your history.”

  “And you’re curious.”

  “That, too. But I am also practical. You are very rich and you are not married.”

  Lutt found himself utterly charmed by her candor. No beating around the bush. He was a rich catch and she would not lie about it.

  “And you could probably bring yourself to find me physically attractive?” he asked.

  She placed his glasses on his face. “Oh, that is the easiest part. You are very brave and you have the intellectual look I admire. If I ever give myself to a man it will be to someone like you.”

  “And you would like to be very rich?”

  “Oh, yes!”

  Lutt, now amused as well as charmed, entered into the spirit of her straightforward honesty. “Do you think you could be a rich man’s wife? What would you do?”

  “I would watch his diet and his health. I am a very, very good chef. And I would help him entertain important people.”

  “But rich men hire cooks, and what do you know about how important people are entertained?”

  “Hired chefs need supervision, and as to important people, you might be surprised at the names I could reveal, people who have visited us here.”

  “I might at that. But isn’t the entertainment here pretty simple? I mean . . .”

  “Oh, sex is only part of it. We are taught here how to discover what people really want. I am very good at that, too.”

  “So you know what I want?”

  “You want me but there is more. You are a man who wants great power.”

  Lutt was startled by her perception.

  “You are surprised,” she said. “There is also something very strange about you, Monsieur Hanson. Something in your eyes.”

  He suddenly felt cautious. “What about my eyes?”

  She studied them—large, olive. “You see deep. Perhaps it’s because you have been close to death, but . . . no. There is something else. You look at things in a different way from anyone I have ever known.”

  “Maybe I do.”

  “Tell me how your cameras work.” “

  The change of subject startled him. “Why?”

  “I am an amateur photographer. Perhaps I could help a rich man there, too.”

  “How?”

  “Who knows what things might be valuable if they are photographed?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like the inside of this bordello?”

  Once more, he was startled.

  “You have heard stories about this place?” she asked.

  “A few. Is it against rules to shoot in here?”

  “It is a private enterprise of D’Assas Anon. Nothing is impossible if the Madame allows.” Nishi sat on his bed and took his left hand in both of her hands. “Tell me of your valuable cameras.”

  Why not? he asked himself. It’d involve us in something together.

  Lutt found he wanted nothing more than to be involved with this charming woman . . . so beautiful, so young . . .

  “How old are you?” he asked.

  “I am twenty-three. Will you teach me the cameras?”

  “Bring one of them,” he said.

  She slid off the bed, left the room and returned quickly with one of the cameras in its inceram case.

  Lutt pushed himself up in the bed, took the camera in his lap and began explaining it.

  Nishi was a quick study and her questions were pointed.

  “And if anyone tries to dismantle the camera to learn its secrets, it will explode?” she asked.

  “It will self-destruct.”

  “Who in the Legion knows about your cameras?”

  “Colonel Paul and . . . and that’s all I know about.”

  “He is dead. He tried to recover Madame Humperman’s body.”

  “I . . . I didn’t know.”

  “These Spirals where your signals go, where are they?” she asked.

  “Everywhere, anywhere. I don’t know.”

  “Then why do you call—them Spirals?”

  He knew he could not tell her about the Vortraveler and the Dreens but he had to say something. Lamely, he said: “Because there’s a funny twisting sensation when you use the camera.” That, at least, was the truth.

  “And the transmission is truly instantaneous?”

  “Almost.”

  “Do you think anyone will ever see your Spirals?”

  “I hope so.”

  “Can you also send messages without pictures?”

  “Of course.”

  “And no one without such a camera can intercept them?”

  “Of course not.”

  “The Legion might find this very valuable, Monsieur Hanson.”

  Lutt was suddenly conscious he might be dealing with a Legion espionage agent. And spy devices could be focused on him here. Venus, after all, was a complex and dangerous place.

  “How valuable?” he asked.

  “So valuable that I have made sure you are in a room without spy eyes. For a businessman. Monsieur Hanson, you seem very innocent of the possibilities of your invention.”

  Stung, he said: “And you seem very sharp for a twenty-three-year-old virgin singer in a Legion whorehouse.”

  “My father always said it was my bourgeoisie ancestry. I think you need me, Monsieur Hanson.”

  It was the truth and he knew it. “I think maybe I do.” He reached out and patted her buttocks.

  Nishi twisted away. Her face flashed rage, then calmed. “Not just yet, monsieur.”

  “I wish you’d call me Lutt.”

  “Very well, but do not think that a sign you can take liberties with my body . . . Lutt.”

  “Don’t you want me to take liberties?”

  She stared at him for a moment, then: “I think I have been too forward. I would be pleased to be rich but you must think perhaps I am teasing you.”

  Lutt felt a surge of lust. “I have a chance with you?”

  “Perhaps. But first there is the business of your cameras.”

  “What about them?”

  “I will transmit pictures to your people on Earth and tell them where you are. I will say I am working for you. It is well your people know your situation.”

  “Why?”

  “The Legion can be ruthless, Lutt. But they also can see a position of strength where they must bargain.”

  “And right now I’m their prisoner, more or less.”

  “Oh, no! You are a guest of an independent contractor. And the contractor is also interested in making a profit. This is a business, Lutt. Never forget that.”

  “You’re saying the people who run this . . . this business will want their cut off the top.”

  She raised her shoulders in a Gallic shrug. “I think we can keep them from being too greedy. They will not kill the goose of the golden eggs.” She reached down and squeezed his cheek, “And you, I think, are the big goose.”

  “Am I your goose?”

  “I think maybe you are, but we do not make the nest just yet.” A smile danced at the corners of her mouth.

  “Give me a kiss to seal our bargain.”

  “What bargain?”

  “That you’re working for me.”

  “But you have not said it.”

  “Okay! I’ve hired you for the Enquirer. You’re a full-fledged field rep.”

  “And what is my pay?”

  “What does this place pay you?”

  “Three hundred new francs a month and I keep half my tips. In a good month I make a thousand of your dollars.”

  “Your starting salary with the Enquirer is five thousand.”

  “That is too much. I do not intend to earn it in your bed. No! You will pay two thousand plus expenses and give me five
percent of whatever I get you from the Legion. Agreed?”

  Charmed more than ever by her candor, Lutt nodded. “Agreed.”

  “Now, we must talk about the camera,” she said.

  “I’ve told you how to run it.”

  “Yes, but if it were not a camera, just a transceiver, could it be made smaller?”

  “Y-yes, it could.”

  “Then I will send a message telling your people to make such a device for the Legion. They would pay very much. Who should I tell?”

  Lutt was amused by her cupidity, but asked himself: Why not?

  “Have the Enquirer relay orders to Sam at my shop,” he said and pointed to the camera on his lap. “Use this. Tell them now. And if there’s any question you can put me on to confirm it.”

  “Is this how a wife helps her rich husband?” she asked.

  Lutt broke into laughter. “So you are after my money.”

  “Remember my bourgeoisie ancestors. I wish the proposal, not the proposition.”

  “Nishi, honey, you may get just that.”

  “When?”

  Suddenly cautious, but still amused, Lutt said: “I’m just like you, Nishi. When it comes to my body, I say when.”

  “Very good!” she said. “Now you learn to bargain. I will teach you of this. I can see you do not know it well.” She turned to the camera and slowly but methodically activated it, giving the call signal for Earth station response, then focusing on Lutt.

  Lutt put his dinner tray aside as Ade Stuart came on the response cell. “Lutt? Is that really you, Lutt?”

  “It’s really me, Ade.”

  “Where the hell are you? We thought you were dead.”

  “I’m in the infirmary of the Legion bordello on Venus. They rescued me.”

  “In the . . . oh, for Crissakes! I swear, Lutt, if you fell into a shithouse it would turn out to be a gold mine. Who’s running the camera?”

  “A new employee, Nishi D’Amato. Put her on the payroll at two thousand a month plus expenses. How did the sales party go?”

  “A smash hit! Christ! Those pictures of the battle. We got one hundred percent acceptance from every rep at the party. We hit every front page in every major paper in the country and they’re clamoring for us overseas.”

  “Has L.H. been in touch?”

  “Just to ask for a copy of the sales report. Hey, look. How badly are you hurt?”

  “I’ll be up and walking in a day or so.” He reached for the camera and turned it toward Nishi. “This is Nishi D’Amato. She has some orders for you to relay for us. Get word to Sam at the shop immediately.”

  Nishi flashed a dimpled smile and then turned serious. “First, you will get the word to the French ambassador in Washington and to the government in Paris through your own ambassador there that Monsieur Hanson is here and under the protection of D’Assas Anon, the owners of our ship.”

  “You want me to say exactly where he is?”

  “But of course.”

  “Do as she says,” Lutt said.

  “Okay. But your mother may think this is even worse than believing you dead. I mean, she took it pretty hard, Lutt, but. . .”

  “Just do it, Ade.”

  “Monsieur Hanson’s life may depend on it,” Nishi said. “It must be done at once.”

  “At once. Got it. What else?”

  In a brisk tone, wasting no words, Nishi gave him the message for Sam R. Kand.

  “Just a communicator?” Stuart asked.

  “As small as is practical,” she said. “And when it is done, he must send the devices to Monsieur Hanson in care of D’Assas Anon. And they must be protected against tampering.”

  “Self-destruct system,” Stuart said. “Anything else? When do we get more copy from you?”

  “Nishi will send you some stuff soon. An exclusive from inside this bordello.”

  “Porn?”

  Lutt looked at Nishi and shook his head.

  “It will be a feature story,” she said. “An interview with Madame and some of the other women. Pictures of the women in their leisure moments, meeting clients, dressing, eating, chatting and discussing their experiences. Perhaps some of the legionnaires will consent to speak to me.”

  “Life in a Legion bordello!” Stuart said. “Great! When can we expect it? The subscribers are pressing us.”

  “Today,” she said. “Now, we must not waste more time. Tell the ambassadors at once.” She deactivated the camera and placed it on the floor beside the bed. “There. That is the first step.”

  “And what’s next?”

  “I have been thinking about us. It is the custom of my people to require a marriage contract.”

  “Are you proposing to me?”

  “Is that not my right?”

  “Sure, but what if we’re not compatible?”

  “Not com—Oh, you tricky man. Is this a proposition?”

  “I think we should conduct a test.”

  She shook her head from side to side, “I am not one of the professionals, Lutt, but I have studied them at work.”

  “You ., . you watched?”

  “When they said I could and when they did it in public. You will not find me a poor student. We will be compatible.”

  Lutt grabbed her hand and pulled her toward him. “But shouldn’t I have that kiss to seal our bargain?”

  “Just the kiss, nothing more. Do not presume too much. There are men of the Legion aboard. If I shout for help, they may come and injure you severely.”

  “And we wouldn’t want that,” he said, pulling her closer. His arms went around her and he pressed his lips to her cheek, then to her mouth. When he cupped a hand over her breast, she pushed him away and pulled back.

  “Not now, Lutt!”

  He wanted to force himself on her. Would she call for help? Kill the goose? As he was resolving to test it, Ryll intruded.

  That’s enough, Lutt!

  Oh, for Crissakes! You still with me?

  We are with each other. I have been observing and thinking. You are doing a very dangerous thing. For whom does this woman work?

  For me! You heard us!

  Indeed. I heard it all.

  She’s just playing hard to get.

  If she is playing anything, she is playing you, and she is doing it superbly.

  She wants to be my wife. You heard her.

  I heard her, yes. But what we heard is not necessarily true. Do you think such a beautiful woman does not have a lover?

  She said she was a virgin.

  Yes, I heard her say it And she also has a head for profit, but she did not accept your first generous offer,

  Her percentage on any deal we strike with the Legion could make her very rich!

  But she has no contract Do you not always require contracts? Did she not speak of a marriage contract? She plays a very strange game, Lutt. You should be more suspicious.

  “Lutt, why are you looking at me that way?” Nishi asked, freeing herself from his arms and standing beside the bed.

  “What way?”

  “I cannot describe it. Sometimes, your eyes frighten me. It’s as though a stranger looked out of them.”

  “It’s a head injury I got in a crash,” he said. “Sometimes it hurts.”

  “Are you schizo?”

  “Not really. I’m just a little remote at times. It’s not dangerous.”

  She took a deep breath. “Do you take medicine?”

  “Sometimes. Hey, look. We’re in a crazy place on a weird ship in an oddball war for control of a nearly useless planet. Who wouldn’t go a little weird here sometimes?”

  “You call this a crazy place but it is the only place I have known for five years. It is not crazy if you know how to survive here.”

  “You weren’t fully grown when you came here?”

  “My body was fully grown but not my mind. I have learned much here. Other places seem crazy when I hear about them.”

  “I think we need each other, Ni-Ni.”

 
She gasped. “What did you call me?”

  “Ni-Ni.”

  “Only my father and brothers have ever called me that! How did you know?”

  “It . . . it seemed right to call you Ni-Ni.”

  Her expression softened. “I like it when you call me that. You may call me Ni-Ni when we make love.”

  “And when will that be?”

  She patted his hand and drew back quickly when he tried to grab her. “Soon. Do not be impatient. First, we must have the proper contract.”

  See? Ryll demanded.

  She’s just being cautious. A good business head. This is the woman for me, Ryll. This is my Ni-Ni.

  She probably has other lovers! Many men who do disgusting things with her!

  I don’t think so. She would enjoy having money but I know it goes deeper. This is Ni-Ni. I’ve found her!

  ***

  Many of the lesser planets created by our great Storytellers experience sewer and garbage problems. Dreenor is more fortunate. Wastes are idmaged into delectables. You will perfect this procedure in your present class. Adults should not be expected to clean up after you all of your life.

  —Proctor’s presentation, Dreen elementary school

  Prosik arrived at the consulate as a crew was removing what remained of the man he replaced. The removal crew did not have to exert themselves. Some shards of inceram armor and a few ashes were all that remained of the late guard.

  The consulate was a domed building that sat by itself on a raised black inceram platform above the Gorontium base. It looked like half a giant eggshell on an overdone slice of toast. A large U.S. flag and a golden eagle, all in colored inceram, were worked into the front of the building above the entry lock.

  The fatality turned out to be the man who had wanted to bet that Prosik would not last ten days.

  “A sniper from somewhere up the canal got him,” a fellow guard explained. “Some kinda rocket. I think there was trouble over a woman and it may’ve been the other guy. Don’t mess with another man’s woman on Venus.”

  Prosik shuddered and took up his station inside the lock. Two of them had the duty here, checking passes.

  Prosik recalled his fellow guard’s name from the introductions that morning: Hollis Weatherbee, a slender redhead with burn-scarred face.

  “Your name’s Doughty, Lew Doughty, right?” Weatherbee asked in the first lull.