No Small Bills Page 19

  It was amazing. I easily could’ve spent an entire day in there, just wandering around looking at everything.

  Too bad we didn’t really have time for that.

  “We require new attire,” Mary informed the salesman behind the counter. He had deep purple scales all over his body, bat-like ears, slit blue eyes, and a third arm sprouting out of his chest, but otherwise looked pretty normal. “For each of us. Something suitable for travel.”

  “No problem,” he answered, hopping off the stool and coming around the counter, which is when I realized he had a tail as well. He flipped open a catalog that’d been sitting in front of him. “Travel, you say? Perhaps a karzonite coverall? Useful, durable, fits in anywhere, comes in a variety of colors, patterns, and textures.”

  “That will be fine,” Mary agreed. She examined the catalog pages. “The Cobalt Stardust for me, I think.” Then she ushered the rest of us over. “Select the style you prefer,” she instructed. “And if you require undergarments, request those now as well.” I definitely did—no commando for me, thanks very much! Tall apparently felt the same way, which amused Ned and Gwarmesh and Tansy to no end, but I noticed Mary surreptitiously requesting some lingerie for herself. She caught me noticing and winked, which I’m sure made my feathers turn bright red. When we’d all made our selections, the clerk returned to his original post and pulled a small lever. There was a loud clank and a soft hiss and part of the wall slid back so a silvery oblong like a futuristic shower could emerge. It had a panel on the side and he reached over to type in a few quick commands before motioning for Mary to step inside. She did and the thing slid shut once she was in. We could make out her profile, which meant we saw her shuck her prison clothes and drop them at her feet—I wish I had a camera built into my head so I could’ve recorded that forever. Next the chamber filled with smoke or steam or something, and we heard what sounded like clicking and ticking sounds for a few seconds. Then the pod opened and Mary stepped back out.

  Wow.

  She was wearing a one-piece jumpsuit, exactly the kind you see in sci-fi movies. It clung to her beautifully, close enough that you could see all her curves but loose enough that there’d still be all the fun of discovery if you ever got it off her. It was a silvery blue in color, and of some kind of shimmer fabric, which went really well with her black hair and bright blue eyes. There were pockets along the stomach and over the thighs, and a few more just above the ankles and up on the shoulders, and it had a flared collar. It went all the way to her wrists and completely covered her feet, too—add gloves and a helmet and she’d be sealed in. She looked amazing.

  Ned went next, and it was like night and day. He’d been wearing overalls and a T-shirt and a Mets baseball cap when we’d first met, of course, so I shouldn’t be too surprised that he came out wearing denim overalls, a flannel work shirt, and some kind of ribbed long-sleeve T-shirt underneath that. Oh, and steel-tipped work boots. And he’d opted for a new baseball cap—it didn’t say Mets but the logo on the front could easily have been for some baseball team I’d never seen before, like a minor leagues one. Or one of those foreign expansion teams that seem to pop up in places you’d think had never even heard of baseball, like Tanzania. Or Boise.

  Tansy hopped up next, and emerged in a cute little iridescent green jumpsuit that looked far too much like dragonfly wings for me to appreciate it properly. Tall stepped out in a U.S. Air Force flightsuit, complete with rank markings on the shoulders and at the lapel, and work boots under that. Gwarmesh wound up with a heavy wool kilt crossing his chest and then wrapping around his waist, in a swirling green and red pattern that made me nauseous if I stared at it too long. Apparently that was as much coverage as he wanted, but then he did have fur everywhere already.

  And me?

  Hell, I decided to have some fun.

  “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Tall gasped when I exited the pod. “You requested THAT?!?”

  “Sure, why not,” I replied. “What, it looks bad on me?” I strutted a bit across the floor.

  “I think it’s very striking,” Tansy assured me, the little flirt.

  “Classically stylish,” Ned agreed.

  “Hunh,” Gwarmesh grunted.

  The person I most wanted to impress hadn’t commented yet. “So?” I asked her. “What do you think?”

  Mary continued to study me for a second. Then she smiled. “Very handsome,” was her decided opinion, which made me strut even more. And this was definitely an outfit made for strutting.

  Hey, they were coveralls. Which equaled jumpsuits. And he did say a variety of colors, patterns, and textures.

  They weren’t quite rhinestones—something called “optical refraction arrays.” But they were close enough. And the wide lapels and flared pant legs were spot-on.

  I’d even selected enormous gold-framed sunglasses. All I needed now was a black pompadour and a microphone.

  Hail to the King, baby.

  Oh, yeah.

  We picked out some other things, too, of course. We still had our dried food squares from prison, so we were good on food for a while, and I had the pharmeon loop, plus we had a few odds and ends—they’d confiscated most of our stuff when we’d entered prison but had left us with any small items they didn’t consider too valuable or too dangerous. All of Ned’s devices had been removed, of course, so he selected a basic tool kit and a few little gizmos. Tall wanted a pistol, and opted for a sonic variety that could stun, kill, or obliterate depending upon the setting. He wanted to replace most of his Boy Scout kit but it was too expensive, especially the finger puppets. Mary picked up a universal communicator, presumably so she could get back in touch with the Grays. I went for a packet of licorice, a yo-yo, and some Silly Putty. Tansy got some make-up. And all of us got canteens equipped with a “proximity filter” that apparently let them absorb and filter water from any nearby source, including us—the clerk and Ned both assured me it was such a miniscule amount I’d never even notice, and that most of it would come from moisture in the air anyway.

  Then we walked up to the front counter to pay. The coverall salesman followed us over, and slipped behind it—I guess a place like this didn’t require that many workers. The cat was nowhere to be seen, but then he’d have a hard time handling the old-style till, anyway. The clerk hopped up on a stool there, folded all three arms together—I wasn’t sure how he’d get them untangled again—and nodded.

  And that’s when we started to run into problems.

  “Galactic credit number—a” Mary started, but the clerk cut her off before the first number was more than a “wah” sound. His tail uncoiled from behind him and rose to tap a sign posted to the wall, one I hadn’t noticed before. Which is amazing, really, because in great big black letters it read:

  CASH ONLY!

  We all stared at it for a second. “Really?” I asked. “No credit?” I’d been itching to try out one of those new credit cards I’d gotten—fortunately I’d selected easy-to-remember numbers for several of them, like the batting averages of some of my favorite all-time players. But now that plan was scotched. And Mary didn’t look any happier.

  The clerk didn’t even bother to answer. He just tapped the sign again. Below “Cash Only!” were three other words I’d somehow missed the first and second time around:

  ABSOLUTELY NO CREDIT!

  “Uh . . .” I glanced at the others, who shrugged or shook their heads or both. We’d just broken out of prison! What were we supposed to do, knock over a convenience store on the way here? I wondered if they had a stagecoach we could hold up.

  “What about trade?” Ned asked the clerk, who nodded and tapped the sign. Below “Absolutely no credit!” it said:

  BARTER CHEERFULLY ACCEPTED

  I was sure it hadn’t said that a second ago.

  “Okay,” Ned said cheerfully, turning back to the rest of us. “Empty your pockets! Just the stuff we didn’t get here, of course.”

  Unfortunately that didn’t amount to much.

/>   I had the pharmeon loop, of course. I was loath to surrender it, but I pulled it off my waist and handed it to the clerk, who studied it closely. I’m surprised he didn’t bite it.

  “Pharmeons, huh?” he said after a minute. He squinted at me. “That’ll do for you and the lady,” was his final proclamation, with a nod toward Mary.

  “Done!” I agreed, and stepped back away from the counter. I figured I’d done my part, and the smile Mary gave me was well worth it.

  Ned offered up two of his little explosive staple-remover gadgets, the last two of the batch he’d made to break us out of prison. He also laid his old Mets baseball cap down on the counter, with clear regret. “It’s authentic,” he assured the clerk. “Real Earth ketchup and relish stains and everything.” I didn’t need to ask how those had gotten up there—I’d seen him eat.

  The clerk studied the gadgets before nodding. “Those’ll do for yours,” he agreed. He scooped up the baseball cap and set it on his own scaly head. “Next!”

  Tall had lost most of his Eagle Scout kit, of course, but the prison wardens had left a few things on him, and he piled those up on the counter: permanent marker, chewing gum, tube of skin lotion, travel toothbrush, and his handkerchief. The clerk glared at the assortment, and at Tall, before finally nodding. Four down, two to go.

  Tansy didn’t look too worried. “I can just summon up the cash,” she assured me softly. Then she winked, crossed her arms, and did that little twitch-thing again.

  But nothing happened.

  She twitched harder—I thought she was about to have a fit—but still nothing. Which is when the clerk grinned at her and tapped the wall again. Now the sign was completely different. It read:

  NO REALITY-ALTERATION ON PREMISES!

  “Hey, that’s not fair!” Tansy protested, and I wanted to agree with her out of solidarity but really I could see the clerk’s point. If people could just go around altering reality everywhere, why would they ever pay for anything?

  “Fine!” she huffed after a second, and pulled her stack of food squares from her pocket—we’d all transferred them over from our old clothes already. “And the old clothes must be worth something in trade,” she pointed out. “Especially those slippers.”

  The clerk growled something under his breath, and looked about to argue. Then his nose twitched. He bent over the counter and sniffed one of the squares. “Lasagna?” he whispered.

  “With garlic bread,” I told him.

  “Hm.” One of his arms—the middle one—came up to scratch his jaw as he considered the prospect, but by the way he was eyeing that square I could tell he was hooked. “Oh, okay,” he agreed after a minute. “But only because you’re so cute.”

  Which just left Gwarmesh.

  Who was anything but cute.

  Except maybe to a vacuum cleaner.

  He stomped up to the counter, and the clerk eyed him warily. Gwarmesh smiled in return, and then started to cough. Well, it was more like he was getting ready to throw up, actually. I’d heard that sound before—I had a cat once. Still might, for all I knew—I hadn’t cleaned the guest room in a while. But I knew enough to look away as Gwarmesh coughed more, hacked more, and finally opened his mouth to spit something out on the counter. Something roughly spherical and made of matted fur.

  Yuck.

  “Yuck,” the clerk agreed out loud. “And what’s that supposed to be?”

  “Gene-replicating bio-form,” Gwarmesh grunted in reply. “Full sonic mimic, unlimited mobility, extended lifespan.” I was impressed—put that way, it sounded a whole lot better than “it’s a furball version of a pod person.”

  But the clerk shook his head. “Sorry, no organic lifeforms accepted.” He tapped the sign behind him, which now read:

  NO ORGANIC LIFEFORMS ACCEPTED

  “Hey, cut that out!” I pushed my way forward and studied the sign. Then a light dawned and I reached across the counter to tap it. Instantly the last restriction vanished. Now it said:

  ALL KILTS FREE TODAY!

  “Perfect!” I grinned at the clerk. “Then we’re all set!”

  “Not so fast,” he snarled. His tail whipped against the sign, and the words changed again, this time to:

  SIGNAGE OFF-LIMITS TO CUSTOMERS!

  “Oh, you wanna play, do you?” I pushed up my sleeves and deliberately laid a finger on the sign, changing it to:

  THE CUSTOMER IS ALWAYS RIGHT!

  MANAGEMENT RESERVES THE RIGHT TO REFUSE SERVICE, he replied.

  MANAGEMENT SUCKS ROCKS, I answered.

  OH YEAH? YOUR MOTHER! he shot back.

  AT LEAST I HAD A MOTHER, I retorted.

  RRAARRRGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!

  “What the hell kinda reply is that?” I asked him. But he shook his head—actually he was shaking all over—and pointed up. To where a long, curving talon had actually pierced the sign completely. A talon connected to a finger as thick as my arm, which was part of a hand as big as my head, which led to an arm the size of my torso, which led straight back to—

  —Gwarmesh. Who was growling out loud now. At both of us.

  “New strategy,” I whispered quickly to the clerk. “Let the wookie win.”

  I don’t know if he got the reference but he sure understood the point, and he nodded quickly. “Kilts on sale today,” he squeaked in our general direction. “Free in exchange for one good sign-piercing.” His eyes strayed to the sign and the talon shoved through it—I had a feeling those things were supposed to be impenetrable. “All set!”

  Gwarmesh retracted his talon and pulled back his hand, but he was still growling. He shoved me aside—I collided with Mary, Ned, and a barrel of saltwater taffy, and all of us went down together—and snatched the clerk up from his stool. And started to shake him. All sorts of objects, clothing, and coinage began to rain down.

  “Hey, it’s enough, big guy,” I managed to gasp as I righted myself and helped Mary up. Ned was busy assisting the barrel, mainly by shoving taffy into his pockets. “He said we’re good! Let’s just go!”

  Gwarmesh kept shaking. It was like a cat with a toy. I hoped the clerk didn’t have the space-equivalent of catnip inside him, or the big furball might never let him go. At least not intact.

  “He’s right,” Tall urged, stepping up and bravely putting himself between Gwarmesh and the clerk. “We should just leave. We don’t want any trouble.”

  That did get a reaction, at least. Gwarmesh laughed. “Trouble?” he growled. “Trouble? I’ll show you trouble!” He hurled the clerk against the wall—which dented—knocked Tall out of his way with a single sweep of one long arm, and then smashed both fists down on the counter. It cracked. He smashed again, and it collapsed completely, glass and metal and wood flying everywhere. But Gwarmesh wasn’t done. He turned around, those little black eyes glaring from under his heavy brow, his fangs exposed as he snarled in our general direction, and then he spotted the clothing pod. Three quick steps and he was beside it, bashing away at it with his fists. The second blow made the surface spiderweb with cracks. On the third we heard a loud crash, and the entire front shattered. He just stepped into it and started bashing on the back of it, and the wall it was connected to.

  “We need to stop him!” I shouted. But Tall of all people got in my way and shook his head.

  “Nothing we can do,” he pointed out. “And we need to get out of here. The mission comes first.”

  “He’s right,” Ned assured me. “We have to save the universe, remember? If Gwarmesh’s little tirade draws the authorities, we could wind up right back in prison. And then the invaders win. Let’s go while we still can!”

  I glanced at Mary, who nodded. “We must put the mission first,” she admitted. Then she turned and led the way toward the door. I followed her out of habit. The sounds of devastation followed us outside.

  “Where now?” I asked, trying to ignore the crashes behind us.

  “We are within a few light-years of the matrix,” Mary reminded me. “All we require is short-range
transportation to finish our journey.” We all eyed the two vehicles/creatures tied to the hitching posts. Neither of them was big enough to take all five of us, but if we grabbed the mechanical kangaroo and the space-bike we could probably manage. Ned pulled out one of his new tools, walked up to the space-bike, and fiddled with something, then went over and did the same to the kangaroo. “All set,” he told us after a second. “Let’s go.”

  He hopped onto the kangaroo—which I mentally dubbed a “space-hopper” because that’s how I roll—taking a place at the front of the saddle-structure. I made a beeline for the cycle, dragging Mary along with me—we reached it before Tall could, and I slid into the driver’s spot, pulling Mary up behind me. That left a grumbling Tall and an amused Tansy to join Ned on the space-hopper.

  “Can you operate this vehicle?” Mary asked over my shoulder.

  “Oh, sure,” I assured her. I wasn’t even lying—except for the bell-wheels it really was configured an awful lot like a standard Harley, and I’d driven a few of those back in my misspent youth. One of them even with the owner’s consent. I clicked the thing on and revved the engine. “Better hang on,” I warned her. She wrapped her arms around my waist and snuggled up against me in reply. I was in heaven.

  Ned, meanwhile, had raised the space-hopper to an upright position and then dropped it into a crouch, ready to jump. “Follow me!” he shouted, and I nodded. Then he tugged on some levers and his interstellar zoo-creature hopped away down the road and toward the spacelanes. I gunned the space-bike and took off after him, and we blew out of Proximi Garn.

  I wondered how far it was to Graceland. Thank you very much.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Playing the Name Game

  Twenty minutes later, I pulled up alongside Ned’s mechanical marsupial.

  “How big was that store?” I shouted.