She became sarcastic. "I see we have one more thing to thank you for. Have you any more delightful surprises?"

  "We can defend you against the Lorns!"

  "I do not need your defense. If the Lorns come here I will defeat them as I defeated you."

  "They won't land on your planet or try to establish communications. They'll simply attack."

  "You did not establish communications from any benevolent motivation, Commodore Briggs. You wanted to use our computers. Tell me now, why did you want to use our computers?"

  Briggs hesitated. Could he give her the truth? Something told him that, with her, nothing but the truth would do. She would see through any lie he might concoct. "Our ship's energy banks are almost empty. We have a device—the same device we use to broadcast power—by which we can tap energy out of a star. We were going to refuel from your sun, but there was a chance that if your sun was near a period of instability, our tap could trigger a nova."

  "Trigger a nova?" The Ecolog sprang to her feet. "You were going to blow up our sun?"

  Briggs tried to explain. "We wouldn't make the tap if there was any danger to human or other sentient life forms, and you were here. We had to analyze the data and determine exactly the probability of nova. If there was too much risk, we wouldn't do it. But our own computer had been damaged in an earlier skirmish with the Lorns, so we—"

  Her fists were clenched. Her body shook with suppressed fury. "So you thought you could borrow ours!"

  "Yes, that's right. It was the only way we could avoid endangering you and your—"

  "Tell me, Commodore. In this earlier skirmish with the Lorns, did you defeat them?"

  "No, but—"

  "If you did not defeat them then, how can you be sure you'll defeat them in your next encounter?"

  "We can't be sure, but—"

  "You can't be sure? You tell me you've led some sort of interstellar monsters to our doorstep. You tell me you have to risk blowing up our sun in order to combat them. And then you tell me that you can't be sure of defeating them?"

  Briggs smiled nervously. "I guess it doesn't sound too good, but with your cooperation we can reduce the real risk…" He felt suddenly old and tired. His arguments rang hollow even in his own ears.

  Her voice rose. "I will reduce the risk, all right! It is you who are the risk! It is you who constitute the greatest danger my people have ever faced! You, personally! I cannot allow you to communicate with your mothership. I cannot allow you to run around free. I cannot allow you to go on living!"

  With two strides she reached the edge of her platform. Her slender fingers reached out and tugged on a bellcord. Briggs put his foot on the first step leading up to her. She whirled, sword in hand. Beside him the pet ngaa awoke with a start and stood up, fangs bared, fingers flexing, yellow eyes glaring at him.

  Briggs, unarmed, halted instantly.

  She brandished her saber expertly, like a master swordsman. "I give you a choice, Commodore. Die now or die later!" Her voice was challenging, exultant.

  He sighed and said wearily, "I don't mind waiting."

  Behind him he heard the heavy doors burst open and the running footsteps of the guards rushing forward to drag him away.

  Captain Klain stood apart from the other conspirators. Omen, Sewall, Nord and Wing were speaking together in low voices, huddled near the sphere that housed the holographic model of the galaxy. Klain could not hear what they were saying. He did not want to hear! If there was something important, they would tell him, force him to listen. In the meantime he could not bear their trivial nitpicking, their worries, their paranoia.

  His mind was riveted to the weapon in his belt, hidden under his cloak. The others could talk all they pleased; it was Klain who would act.

  He knew the other conspirators were asking each other if Briggs had informed on them, or if the Ecolog had somehow guessed the plot on her own. Perhaps they were wondering if the Ecolog would kill them quickly or slowly. To Klain it no longer mattered. He would do what he must, yet it would be almost a relief to be caught, to not have to do it after all.

  Suddenly he heard the sound of running booted feet. Surprised, he turned to see a squad of riflemen jogging through the front entrance in formation. They're coming for us, he thought without emotion.

  From the round-eyed expressions on the other plotters' faces, he guessed they were thinking the same thing.

  Klain stood, half-smiling, and watched the soldiers come toward him.

  They came.

  They passed.

  Klain heard the others sigh with relief as the soldiers continued on down the hall to the room where the off-worlders were being held.

  And now Marcia of Green and Angora appeared.

  "Marcia!" Klain called. "What's going on?"

  "We can't stop to talk," Marcia answered briskly. "The Ecolog has ordered the imprisonment of all the off-worlders."

  "The imprisonment?" Klain was dumbfounded.

  "And the execution," added Angora as she went by.

  Klain stared after them. A fat hand clutched his arm.

  "If the Ecolog kills the oflworlders, it will spoil everything," said Omen in dismay.

  Wing said, "It's not too late to call the whole thing off."

  "No, no," said Omen hurriedly. "We may never have another chance. And have you considered how the offworlders' friends will react to her butchery? They're up above us somewhere, you know, in a space vessel armed with weapons we've probably never even heard of. The Ecolog must be insane to risk their displeasure! Don't you see? She is, in effect, committing suicide and taking the whole planet with her."

  Nord turned to Captain Klain and said in a low voice, "We can't delay the assassination any longer. She must be dead before—"

  "Calm yourselves, gentlemen." Omen was sweating profusely. "The offworlders are still alive, are they not? And Lady Marcia said they would be imprisoned before being executed. The Ecolog must be planning a public execution, and for that she will need onlookers. You know the habits of the court. Almost everyone sleeps away the morning. That means the offworlders have at least until tomorrow noon!"

  Wing nodded thoughtfully. "That makes sense."

  "We must proceed calmly," said Omen, "but we must proceed. Captain Klain, when do you think you can get a private audience with the Ecolog?"

  Klain answered numbly, "I don't know."

  The riflemen were emerging once again from the room at the end of the hall. They had the offworlders with them. And someone else.

  Klain said with surprise, "Look! Mara is being arrested too."

  Klain left the knot of conspirators and started toward the troops. "Halt, there! Halt, I say!"

  The soldiers halted.

  Marcia of Green and Angora bustled up to him.

  "You can't interfere here," said Marcia. "These troops are acting under direct orders from the Ecolog."

  "But you're making a mistake." He gestured toward

  Mara, who stood in the midst of the offworlders watching him with sullen eyes. "That girl there is one of us. She's no outlander!"

  "She used to be one of us," Marcia corrected him primly. She turned to the soldiers. "What are you waiting for? Forward march!"

  The soldiers obeyed.

  "Halt!" cried Klain.

  The soldiers ignored him, though some looked frightened. They knew as well as Klain that an order from a woman takes precedence over an order from a man, even if that man is the Ecolog's second-in-command.

  Lady Marcia and Angora trotted along behind the troops. Klain followed.

  "I'll take this matter up with the Ecolog," he said.

  "Do you have an appointment with her?" demanded Marcia of Green.

  "No, but—"

  Angora said, "We may be able to arrange—"

  Marcia broke in angrily, "We'll arrange nothing!"

  Angora turned on her and screamed, "Who do you think you are?"

  Marcia of Green did not reply, only smiled and continued on her way.

  Angora, however, hung back with Klain. She took his hand and patted it. "I understand, Captain. Lady Marcia has no heart. She pushes everyone around, takes whatever she wants…" Angora was on the verge of tears. "But never mind. I'll help you. I'll get you in to see the Ecolog."

  She led him off in the opposite direction from the one taken by the troops.

  The Ecolog's voice was weary. "What is it, Angora?"

  "Captain Klain wants to speak with you."

  Klain saw the masked face turn in his direction, as he stood in the half-opened doorway. The blue eyes behind the slits were puzzled, questioning. "Tomorrow…" said the Ecolog.

  Angora's voice lowered, became confidential. "It's a matter of the heart."

  The Ecolog chuckled. "Very well." She opened wide the door.

  Klain felt the weapon in his belt, the strange offworlder pistol, pressing against his belly. The gun seemed to have grown, to have become so huge the Ecolog could not fail to see it, even under his cloak.

  Angora said, "Good night, Your Majesty."

  The Ecolog said, "Good night, Angora."

  Angora departed. Klain stepped through the door. The Ecolog closed it.

  The pet ngaa, sprawled on the floor, raised its head to eye him suspiciously. The air was thick with its smell.

  "Could we go out on the balcony? The smell…" To his own ears his voice sounded false, lying, but the Ecolog seemed to notice nothing unusual.

  "All right, Klain," she answered.

  She opened the intricately carved doors that led out onto the balcony. A light gust of wind caught the sleeves of her delicate blue gown as she stepped outside. She said softly, "The wind is picking up. Is your dirigible in the hangar?"

  "No, but it's well tied down." He followed her through the doorway.

  "I should have known you had everything under control. You always do." She walked to the heavy marble railing and looked down at the desert, her back to him. The sky was cloudless, the Galaxy brilliant.

  He carefully closed the doors and latched them. They were sturdy. The ngaa would not be able to break through them by force. But the creature has fingers, he thought. It can turn the doorknob.

  She said softly, "There are so many fools at court. Women like that silly Angora, men like that pompous blimp Omen. I need someone like you, someone I can depend on. We've gone through a lot together, haven't we?"

  "Yes, My Lady."

  She shook her head slowly, sighing. He watched the back of her neck. Bare skin showed there. The pistol could probably pierce clothing easily enough, but on bare skin it would be certain to hit the mark.

  "There have been rebellions," she went on. "We fought side by side. There have been earthquakes, fires, droughts. We worked together. We worked hard. We made life go on whether it wanted to or not."

  "Yes, My Lady."

  "Remember the wild ngaa hunts?"

  "I remember."

  "Remember the nights when we moored the dirigible to the rocks in the wilderness somewhere and camped out?"

  "Yes."

  She laughed softly. "We've done almost everything, at one time or another. Most of the time I've been happy, or at least too busy to ask whether I was happy or not. I don't know if I ever asked you this before, but have you been happy?"

  He paused, then said, his voice shaking slightly. "Yes, I've been happy."

  "You didn't miss… the physical side of love?"

  "I've had the ladies of the court to supply that."

  "I know." She shrugged. "I might as well admit I've been jealous sometimes. Yes, it is the truth. But I know I can't expect a man like you to take a vow of celibacy. You have your needs. I recognize that. So if you wish to discuss what that silly woman Angora calls 'a matter of the heart,' you can be frank with me. I'll do what I can for you."

  "Her name is Mara." His hand closed on the butt of the gun.

  "The one who drinks?"

  "Yes." His finger found the trigger.

  "I would have hoped you could do better, Klain."

  "She's… not so bad." He drew the pistol slowly out of his belt. His cloak still concealed it. "But sometimes she does foolish things, because of the drink. She's gotten herself arrested now, along with the offworlders."

  The Ecolog laughed her low melodious laugh. "Is that all?"

  "She could be executed with them." The gun was outside his cape. He raised it, took aim.

  "So I will release her, my dear. You know I can deny you nothing! I want your mind free now, without worry or bitterness over some little playmate. There may be troubled times ahead. The offworlders have friends—yes—and enemies we must contend with. Life may not be so peaceful." Her head had begun to turn toward him. In a moment she would see him.

  His hand shook violently. But what did that matter? This gun shot missiles that would seek out their target, missiles that could not miss. He need only pull the trigger.

  But he could not.

  She caught sight of the pistol and became motionless. When she was still she was somehow more still than anyone else.

  His mind was awash with images. He and the Ecolog, pilot and copilot of the dirigible. He and the Ecolog at parties, whispering their opinions of the guests to each other. He and the Ecolog supervising the construction of buildings, planning things, directing things. He and the Ecolog talking quietly in the evening, after everyone else had gone.

  The Ecolog spoke calmly, quietly. "Do you want to vote against me? Go ahead. My suffering will not last long." She drew back her blue gown to expose her slender throat, her shoulders.

  Klain began to weep. At first there were only sniffles and the wet sensation of tears running down his cheeks, but as he gradually lowered his weapon he was wracked with a series of horrible tearing sobs that built up, little by little, to a final strangled cry of despair.

  He stumbled forward, half-blind, and thrust the weapon into her hands.

  "Take it," he cried. "Use it on me. You have every right to!"

  She took it, examined it thoughtfully, caressed the handle. Her forefinger closed around the trigger.

  Then, to his astonishment, she laughed. It was the same low melodious laugh as always, if anything a little more warm and playful than usual. With one hand she slipped the gun inside her flowing blue gown; with the other she reached out and touched his cheek.

  "I think not, my darling captain," she said. "At this moment you are the one person in this court whose loyalty is proven."

  The holding cell was large but uncomfortable; cut into the bedrock beneath the palace its walls, floor and ceiling were hard, cold and impenetrable. There was no furniture. The door was made from a single slab of steel broken only by a tiny, square window at eye level through which dimly streamed a yellow, flickering lamplight from the hall. This was the room's sole illumination. The air was motionless and bore the subtle odor of ancient dust and sweat and urine. The silence was disturbed only by the sound of breathing and the distant murmur and occasional laughter of the guards.

  Seated on the floor, backs to the wall, were Commodore Briggs, Lieutenant Mike Phillips, Garbage, the seven crewmen from the Corregidor, and the sullen Mara. There were others in the cell with them; Briggs could see dark, slow-moving figures on the opposite side of the room.

  Briggs sighed and turned to Garbage. He said softly, "I feel I'd like to talk to you, but I really can't think of anything to say."

  She answered, "Don't say anything you wouldn't want a spy to hear." She nodded toward Mara.

  Mara said without emotion, "I'm no spy."

  "I don't know any other reason for you being here," Garbage said.

  "That's right," said Mara tonelessly. "You don't know."

  Briggs said, "Tell me, Mara, why did you join us?"

  "To die," said Mara, still without emotion.

  "To die?" Briggs was puzzled.

  Mara explained, "I knew the Ecolog would have to kill you. You don't fit in. None of you do."

  “Do you?" asked Garbage. "Do you fit in?"

  Mara shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. I'm the same as everybody except… well, I've wanted to die for a long time, to kill myself. I mean, think about it. No more hangovers! But suicide was always too much work. You know, I didn't care about it all that much, one way or the other." She brightened. "But if I'm executed along with you, I'll be a scandal, a wonderful scandal. The court will never stop talking about me! They'll never stop wondering why I did it. I'll be immortal in my way. It's not as good as the Ecolog's way, but, well…" She shrugged again. "Finally I'll be somebody!"

  Garbage said mockingly, "You won't be at all."

  Mara drew away from her angrily. "Are you trying to spoil my fun?"

  Garbage's voice was weary. "No. Never mind. You're no crazier than the rest of us. I didn't really have to come to Abbutututikan. Neither did you, Commodore."

  Briggs spoke sadly. "That's where you're wrong. I did have to come. A soldier does what he must, not what he likes. But I deeply regret dragging you in here with me."

  "Dragging me?" Garbage sat up haughtily. "No man drags me anywhere I do not want to go. You fool! Back in the desert, when nobody could see but me, I could have abandoned you anytime and left you for the ngaas to dine on. That was what I'd planned to do the moment you caught me."

  Briggs asked gently, "Why didn't you do it?"

  She looked at him in the dim, flickering light with an odd, enigmatic expression on her face. "I saw something in you, Commodore, something I needed, something this planet needs." She chose her words with care. "You did not appear to be a man who takes a vote before he decides what to do. You did not appear to be a man who looks around before he decides what to think. Once, perhaps, there were many men like you, but now they are nearly extinct. Instead we are surrounded by boys. Some are young boys with long, girlish hair. Some are old boys with bald, empty heads. All are very, very fashionable." Her voice had become bitter and sarcastic, but now it became low, warm and melodious again. "You are someone who does not often say yes, but when he does, means it. You are someone who needs little, but never gives that little away. You are someone who loves peace, but will kill to defend what is yours. You are neither cruel nor kind. You do what needs doing, and move on. Yes, Commodore, I saw something in you, and I see it still."

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18