Reaching the captain's quarters, Maigrey activated the controls, opened the door. She found the captain—what was her name? Corbett?—leaning drunkenly over her bed, supporting herself on the nightstand. Brother Daniel was near her, speaking to her in low earnest tones. At the whooshing sound of the door's opening, he looked up, sprang back away from the woman. A crimson flush stained his cheeks.
"What is going on, here, Brother Daniel?" demanded Maigrey.
"I don't know, my lady. I gave her the injection, as you commanded. She has, as you can see, only gone partially under."
"You're certain you gave her all the drug?"
"Yes, my lady," he answered, his eyes level with hers.
Maigrey believed him, sighed inwardly, in relief and was immediately irritated at herself for having done so.
The captain, it seemed, had just realized that someone else was in the room. She lifted her head, gazed at Maigrey with drug-glazed eyes.
"Hullo, bitch," she said, and though her speech was slurred and thick, Maigrey could hear the fury, the hatred in the woman's voice, see it glint through the drugged mists that clouded the eyes.
So that's what was keeping her going.
The captain swayed, nearly fell. She caught herself, held fast to the nightstand with hands that shook with the effort. Her breathing came fast and shallow, sweat glistened on the brown skin.
"I've been trying to make her lie down. I'm afraid she'll hurt herself, my lady," said Brother Daniel.
"If she does, she does," said Maigrey. "Come with me, Brother." Turning on her heel, she walked out the door.
Brother Daniel, with a sigh, folded his hands together and started to follow.
The captain shouted after them, "Aren't you afraid your meat'll get damaged, bitch?" and then pitched forward onto her face on the bed.
Daniel, when he joined her in the corridor, was extremely pale. Maigrey shut the door.
The trio was waiting for them outside. Raoul looked aggrieved, wounded, unusual emotions for a Loti, but then he was obviously taking this failure as a personal affront to his skills. The Little One had his gaze fixed on Daniel, as did—perhaps—Sparafucile. One never knew for certain exactly what the misaligned eyes were looking at.
"According to Brother Daniel," Maigrey began, "he gave the woman the correct dosage of the drug—"
"And he is telling the truth," interrupted Raoul with a smile and bow for Brother Daniel. "According to the Little One."
"Thank you," said Maigrey. "When I want the Little One's opinion, I'll ask for it. The question is, what do we do now? And your other 'solution' is not an option. When, we reach Corasia—safely we all hope—and have no further need of this ship, we will turn it back over to its captain, who will then join up with His Majesty's armada and fly it and the passengers safely back to our galaxy. Therefore, we need the captain alive and well.
"You saw her." Maigrey gestured at the closed door. "I admit she doesn't look dangerous in that condition, but anyone with that much guts and determination could do about anything. Well?"
Raoul's eyelashes fluttered. "My lady, I cannot possibly give her any additional injections of the drug until it begins to wear off, which will be, tf she continues to struggle against it, in about seventy-two hours."
"A sedative along with it?"
"That is, of course, a possibility, but it might prove extremely toxic, my lady. If it is imperative that we keep this woman alive, I would not advise risking it."
Maigrey heard Brother Daniel, standing beside her, exhale softly, saw his taut face relax, some color return to his cheeks. It never occurred to him, of course, that this increased her problems, doubled their danger, imperiled the success of the mission.
You won't be so pleased, Brother, when you hear what I'm about to propose, she promised him silently, bitterly. Let's see what happens when the devil takes you to the top of the mountain!
"Very well, then," said Maigrey. "She'll have to be restrained, for her own protection. And someone will have to stay with her, perform the duties of nurse and guard. Fortunately, we have with us someone who can handle both."
Brother Daniel realized what she was asking—stay with the woman, guard her day and night. The color in his face deepened, then fled altogether. He stared at Maigrey wildly, his lips trembled.
"My lady—"
"Brother Daniel, you are the only one I can spare for this duty. I need Xris and his men to run the ship, maintain security. Agis and Sparafucile and I will man the bridge, share the watch, spell each other as pilot and co-pilot.
"Raoul and what's-its-name here will be able to give you a break, now and then. But Raoul has to monitor the other passengers and he will be required to manufacture and administer additional injections of the drug in order to keep them from coming out of the hibernation prematurely.
"If you refuse, Brother Daniel," Maigrey continued relentlessly, "I will have to give the woman a sedative and risk the consequences. She is far too dangerous to leave unattended."
Brother Daniel had regained his composure. "I will do what is required of me, my lady."
"Satisfactory," she said, softening her severe tone. "I have every confidence in you, Brother."
"Thank you, my lady," he said quietly, but his eyes were cast down, the hands—clasped together—were clenched tightly.
Maigrey was, it seemed, the only one who had confidence in him. He certainly didn't have it in himself. Or in God.
That makes two of us, she told him silently. She knew she should feel something, remorse that she had been vengefully pleased to inflict this suffering on him, sympathy for him, even human curiosity to see whether or not he broke his vows. But she didn't. She felt nothing except irritation that this stupid problem should have been foisted upon her.
She felt nothing for Dion either. Be careful what you wish for. . . . His wish had come true, he'd made it come true. It wasn't exactly what he'd wanted, what he dreamed it would be. The shining silver ball had spikes.
They were all standing there, staring at her expectantly.
Maigrey realized she'd wandered off again on some inner excursion. She wrenched herself back, prodded her weary mind to continue plodding along.
"Sparafucile, rig up some type of restraints for the woman. Make them comfortable, but make them effective."
"I already think such a thing might be wanted, lady-mine," said the half-breed and reached a hand into the bundle of rags that passed for clothing. He removed a metal box, opened it, displayed its contents.
"Sometimes I paid not to kill a person but to keep a person very much alive. I am paid to have pleasant conversation with a person. But sometimes a person does not want to have pleasant conversation with Sparafucile."
"Paralyzers," said Maigrey. "Satisfactory."
"They won't hurt her, will they?" asked the priest, staring at the four objects lined up in a neat row in the metal case.
"Not at all. Here." Maigrey reached in, lifted out what appeared to be a thick metal bracelet. "Hold out your hand."
Brother Daniel did as he was told, eyeing the mechanical device dubiously. He flinched when Maigrey locked the contraption around his left wrist, stared at it curiously when it was in place. It was lightweight, fit loosely, slid easily up and down his slender arm. He might truly have been wearing nothing more than a bracelet. Maigrey, smiling slightly, reached out and activated a switch.
The bracelet began to hum faintly, a row of lights flickered. Daniel stared at the contraption, eyes wide, mouth gaping wide.
"I ... I can't move my fingers!" he said, voice squeezed in panic. "I can't feel my hand!"
Maigrey deactivated the device. The hum faded, the lights went dark. Daniel flexed his hand, curled the fingers in on the palm, uncurled them. He examined them in perplexity, looked up. "What?"
"It's all in your mind," explained Maigrey. "The paralyzers simply block the nerve impulses from the brain to the hand and, when you put them on the ankles, the feet. They don't disrupt the blood f
low, don't injure the body in any way. But it's quite an effective restraint. Sparafucile, put them on the woman—"
"No," said Brother Daniel firmly, taking the box, casting a grim glance at the half-breed. "Show me how to operate them. I will put them on her."
Sparafucile chuckled low in his throat, a sound that was much like an animal growling and chortling over a fresh kill.
Maigrey hesitated, then decided wearily that it didn't matter. The half-breed had his listening device. He would be able to warn her if . . . But who would spy on the half-breed?
Maigrey was suddenly sick and tired of the whole lot of them, sick and tired of herself. "I'll be on the bridge," she said. "Report to me there."
Brother Daniel paid close attention to the half-breed's tutelage, though it took an effort of will on the young priest's part to stand that close to the assassin, who seemed to Daniel to smell of blood and death.
"I understand," said the priest, voice level, even. "This activates it. This shuts it off."
"These two fit over ankles, these over wrists. You can increase size, if you want. But I think that will not he necessary. The lady have very long legs, very fine ankles. A man could put his hand around them—"
"I am certain that they will fit properly," interrupted Brother Daniel. Grasping the box awkwardly under one arm, he walked to the door, activated it.
Tomi lay on the bed. She did not stir. He hoped she was asleep. That would make his heinous task easier. He took a step into the room, realized that the assassin was silently following right behind him.
Daniel turned, blocked the door with his body.
"What do you want?"
He tried to remain calm. If once the half-breed caught the scent of fear, he'd go for the throat, rip him to shreds.
"I watch, check to see that you put them on right." The assassin took a step nearer.
"I'll put them on right."
Daniel did not move. A swift glance showed him Raoul and the Little One, standing across the corridor. They would be of no help, however. One was watching with amused curiosity. God knew what the other was doing or thinking beneath that hat, behind the turned-up collar of the raincoat.
Sparafucile came a step nearer. The deformed face was horrible, close up. He was grinning, which had the effect of nearly shutting the lowest of the two eyes. Daniel couldn't help but involuntarily turn his own face away. The assassin's foul breath was hot upon his cheek.
"You ask what I want. I tell you, priest. I want only to have a little fun. The Starlady, she not care. I not hurt woman. Maybe woman enjoy it, eh? Maybe you enjoy it, priest? We not that much different, you and I. We both want same thing, eh?"
Brother Daniel looked back at him in horror, looked into the misaligned eyes of the half-breed, and shuddered. He saw the lust, die desire, and it was like looking into a mirror, held up by his soul. He saw, in those eyes, what he feared the half-breed must be seeing in his. They were alike. Too much alike.
"Get away from this door," said Brother Daniel.
The half-breed's eyes squinted, narrowed. The leer changed to an ugly snarl that showed rows of white, sharp-edged teeth. "How you stop me, priest? You have no weapon." He shoved Daniel with his body that was hard-muscled, strong, and powerful.
The priest staggered, caught himself, stood firm, held his ground. "Get away from the door."
Sparafucile's body tensed. Daniel braced himself, for the knife, the hands, whatever . . . He started to pray. The words stuck in his throat. Unworthy.
The assassin's hands moved with lightning-swift speed, but not to attack. He clapped Daniel soundly on both shoulders, eyed the priest with approval.
"You brave. You stand up to Sparafucile. This God you serve, the God of my lord, He gives you such courage?"
"Yes," said Brother Daniel faintly, not at all certain he understood what was going on, not at all certain danger had passed.
The half-breed nodded once, abruptly, shaking a quantity of dirty hair over his face. "Lady-mine choose wisely when she bring you. I wonder, at first. Now I know, eh? We be good friends, now, you and Sparafucile." The half-breed held out his hand, grinned. "Like brothers."
Like brothers, Daniel thought in silent misery. Once I would have scorned to touch that hand. Once I would have refused to dirty myself. But now, I no longer have that right. He clasped the assassin's hand in his, pressed it tightly.
"And maybe you tell me something of this God of my lord's."
Daniel replied with a nod. He had lost the power of speech. Sparafucile grinned, flashed a swift look past the priest to the woman, lying on the bed. Turning with a shrug, he ambled away, his shuffling step and hunched shoulders a deceit, a sham.
Raoul, across the corridor, sparkled and bowed. "Most impressive," he said with a toss of his head, as if he'd just come from watching a particularly entertaining bit of theater.
He and the Little One, whose eyes beneath the fedora glinted wickedly, minced daintily along down the corridor after the assassin.
Brother Daniel shut the door, sealed it, started to move, found he couldn't. He leaned weakly against the wall, shivering, sweat chilling on his body.
"You're not like . . . those others," came a slurred, soft voice behind him. "Why are you doing this?"
Daniel jerked around. "I thought you were asleep," he said, eyes on the bedspread. "I'm sorry you heard."
Step firm, he crossed over to the nightstand, put down the metal box, opened it.
"You . . . stood up to him. No weapon. You knew what he meant to do to me. ..."
"It was only some sort of test,' said Daniel, removing one of the bracelets from the box. His gaze focused on the woman's arm, brown-skinned, smooth. "He didn't mean it."
"Like hell," said Tomi.
She yawned, drowsy. Her eyes were liquid, black as the night, warm as the dreams that sometimes tormented his nights. She propped herself up on one elbow, watched him position the bracelet on her arm with only faint interest, as if the arm didn't really belong to her, but to someone else in the next bed.
"I've never met . . . man like you." She ran her fingers over the hand that was clasping the paralyzer around her wrist. "Gentle hands. A touch . . . like a woman's. No weapon, he said. No weapon. And you stood there. That killer. Never seen . . so brave." Her eyes shut. Her head lolled back on the pillow.
The drug proved too powerful. She had fallen asleep.
Daniel paused before activating the paralyzer, studied her intently. Perhaps it wouldn't be needed. Perhaps, after all, she would sink into the hibernation. He drew nearer, hand outstretched, thinking to check her pulse.
The black eyelashes fluttered on her cheeks, eyes opened. "Free me," she whispered. Her arm slid around his, drew him in to her softness, her warmth. "You and I . . . together . . . take control ..."
Daniel stood up, breaking the hold that had, after all, been flimsy, flaccid. Tomi smiled at him, sweetly, sleepily.
He clamped the paralyzer firmly on her wrist, activated it, and reached for another bracelet.
"My lady," said Agis when Maigrey returned to the bridge. "I have received a signal from His Majesty. All is arranged. The fleets belonging to Baroness DiLuna and the vapor-breather Rykilth are on their way. If everything goes as planned, His Majesty will meet us at the rendezvous point on schedule."
Poor Dion. He'd caught the silver ball, spikes and all.
"Very good." Maigrey rubbed her burning eyes. "Course plotted?"
"Yes, my lady. Xris reports from engineering that they're ready down there. Do I make the Jump?"
Maigrey looked out into the Void, the darkness that was cold and empty.
"Make the Jump," she said.
Chapter Eighteen
Now I, to comfort him, bid him a' should not think of God . . .
William Shakespeare, King Henry V, Act II, Scene 3
The kings shuttlecraft was returning to Phoenix.
The shuttle took its time; wending its way among the ships of the line, assembled for i
nspection, assembled to do him honor. Bursts of lascannon fire exploded from each ship as the shuttle passed, the traditional salutes unheard but visible, tiny, sparkling stars flashing yellow-red amid the blackness.
Dion, in formal dress uniform with purple sash, stood at attention, watched with solemn gravity from the bow of the shuttlecraft. The Honor Guard in splendid panoply formed ranks behind him. This image was being transmitted to every ship in the fleet and to countless billions watching the galaxy over. All eyes were on him, the boy-king, the romantic hero of human legend throughout the centuries, going forth to do battle against evil. He had been compared to Achilles before the walls of Troy, to David facing Goliath, to Alexander conquering the world, to John F. Kennedy and the Cuban missile crisis. President Robes had sent the king a message, lauding his courage.
Dion, standing in lonely grandeur on the deck of the shuttle, thought of all the countless numbers watching, entranced as humanity is always entranced and seduced by parade, pomp and circumstance. He was reminded of something Sagan had said to him, quoting Bertold Brecht.
"Unglucklich das Land, das keine Helden hat! . . . Unhappy the land that has no heroes."
And the reply.
"Nein, unglucklich das Land, das Helden notig hat. No, unhappy the land that needs heroes."
This was a land, a universe, that desperately needed a hero, a savior—someone to fight their battles, bear their burdens; someone to die for them, make them feel alive.
Dion was the elect, the chosen—either by God or by circumstance. Or himself.
I have to be who and what I am.
Flying that stolen Scimitar, flying to Phoenix to find a name, to find destiny. He recalled, with a kind of regretful sorrow, as for innocence lost, how awed he'd been at the sight of the magnificent warship, shining brightly as a sun, of its attendant planets. And how insignificant he'd felt, a speck of dust in comparison.
He remembered, too, how lonely he'd been, as lonely as he was now. How much everything had changed . . . and how little.
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