Free Homefall: Book Four of the Last Legion Series by Chris Bunch Page B

Emton said. “Insect. On picture. Catch it for him.”
    He pointed at Garvin, but made no other move.
    A cat leapt suddenly from the desk up to the mounted holo of Jasith, caught a bug, bit once, and dropped it daintily in Garvin’s lap.
    “Interesting,” Garvin said. “But more suitable for a sideshow. Which we aren’t.”
    “Pyramid,” Emton said, and three cats moved together, two more jumped on their backs, and the third completed the figure.
    “Play ball,” he said, taking a small red ball from his pocket, and tossing it at them. The pyramid disassembled, the cats formed a ring, and began passing it back and forth.
    “Hmm,” Garvin said. “We will have projection screens so the audience can see what’s going on … maybe something with the clowns?”
    “Clowns,” Emton said, and the six cats stood on their paws, walked about, then sprang cartwheels.
    “I’m afraid not,” Garvin said.
    “Oh. Oh. Very well,” Emton said, and got up. His cats sprang back into the two carriers he’d brought in.
    “Oh … one other thing … I, uh, understand that tryouts are welcome at your dukey?”
    “Certainly,” Garvin said, and noted a slight look of desperation about the man. It must’ve been his imagination, but it seemed the cats had the same expression. “We’re happy to feed you. And your animals.”
    “Well … thank you for your time, anyway,” Emton said as he fastened the carrier closers.
    Garvin, feeling every bit a saphead, said, “Hang on a second. Can I ask you a personal question?”
    Emton’s expression was a bit frosty, but he said, “You may.”
    “Can I ask what your last performance was?”
    Emton looked wistful.
    “Last time we were on a show … just one going back and forth, a mud show really, more to keep from getting rusty … actually, was, well, almost an E-year ago.”
    Garvin nodded.
    “I said something about clowns. Do you have any objection to working with them?”
    “Of course not,” Emton said eagerly.
    “Perhaps I’m not seeing your act’s full potential, or maybe you could use some new material,” Garvin said. “I’ll buzz our Professor Ristori to meet you at the main lock in, oh, thirty minutes or so.” He hastily added, seeing Emton’s expression, “Sorry, an hour. Time enough for you and your troupe to get fed at the cook tent.”
    “Thank you,” Emton said eagerly. “I promise, you won’t be sorry.”
    “I’m sure I won’t,” Garvin said, thinking that Jasith wouldn’t mind spending a little of what had been her money this way.
    Besides, the creatures might be useful somehow.
    • • •
    Clowns and more clowns inundated
Big Bertha
until Garvin had more than thirty signed up. He made Ristori clown master, gave Njangu other duties.
    • • •
    “All right, all right, break,” Garvin shouted. The robot bears’ handler looked sheepish, and the aerialists overhead went back to their pedestal boards.
    “People, we’re trying to hit some kind of rhythm here. Let’s take it back, to where the bears just come on.”
    • • •
    “This much better,” the
ra’felan
told Monique Lir. “Used to be, was real rope nets. If a human not land right … on back of neck … could get hurt. Break leg. Maybe bounce out and no catcher. Bad, very bad.”
    The circus “net” was composed of a series of antigrav projectors, all pointed up and inward, now set up in the tent’s center ring. Anyone falling from a trapeze above would be slowed, then stopped two meters above the ground. The net also had the advantage of being almost invisible. Only a small blur could be seen from the projector mouths, so the audience could get the thrill of thinking the performers were chancing death every time they went aloft.
    The being rolled an eye at Lir.
    “Why you want to learn iron-jaw act?”
    “Why not?”
    The
ra’felan
reached up with a tentacle and pulled down the rope with the metal bit at its end.
    “Good. You put in mouth, just clamp teeth. Hold firm.