by Allan Cole
Billy was too young to know what “insane” really meant, but old enough to be aware he was skirting the edges of a terrifying abyss.
Ultimately, it was the boy’s determination and marked differences from so-called normal people that had saved him.
He was an orphan and alone. So be it!
He was a hated half-breed, part Rooskie, part Amer. So be it!
And he was also a wizard. Damn, but now he knew it for certain.
So be it!
Sure he was a child mage, sure he was weak, but it was still him, Billy Ivanov, who had conjured up a spell so powerful that he’d been able to rescue himself from the space disaster.
Who else could do something like that?
That pompous little man named Daniel Carvaserin? Powerful wizard though he was, Billy hadn’t been impressed when he’d met him.
He didn’t think Carvaserin would have been able to escape a spaceliner that had just been blown up. Much less be capable of staying alive in Uttermost Space.
Billy had done that.
He wasn’t sure how. Desperation had apparently uncovered strengths he hadn’t known he’d possessed. Not that he could duplicate the magical effort, although he’d secretly tried several times.
Still, he had a deep awareness, growing daily, there were powers within that wanted to get out.
And with that growing awareness had come the realization that one other had escaped the HolidayOne: Old Scratch, the Engine Devil, whose presence he’d only dimly noted when he’d been aboard the liner.
Sometimes when he slept his dreams took him to the strange, fiery demon world where Scratch was housed with the other odd spirits enslaved to the Borodino.
He’d seen Scratchy in those dreams— which Billy was beginning to think of as “real,” so maybe they were visions or something.
He was also certain that Old Scratch had seen him.
That very night Billy had experienced another of those dreams. Scratch had opened the huge maw that demons call a mouth as if to speak.
But Billy never got a chance to hear what the Engine Devil was going to say, because just then he’d sensed the approach of the strange man and had come awake. Heart bumping against his chest, anger flooding through his veins.
The anger was so extreme, Billy had the sudden, unreasoning desire to form some sort of killing spell that would shrivel the guy to a crisp.
Well, maybe he wouldn’t really kill him. Billy couldn’t imagine doing such a thing.
But something that would hurt him. Hurt him bad.
Except, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t come up with anything.
Then the man came into his room and the moment passed.
“Who are you?” Billy said in English, his tone accusatory.
Davyd hid his surprise. He shrugged, pretending not to understand. “I’m here with your medicine,” he said in Russian.
“If you can’t talk English, go away,” Billy demanded. “I told them all that. I hate Russians! Russians killed my grandmother and grandfather. And Lupe, too. And … and … everybody else.
“So I won’t talk Russian. ’Cause from now on I’m an American. So put that in your report and go away.”
Billy flopped over, turning a stubborn back to Davyd.
“Okay, no problem,” Davyd said in English. “No more Russian.”
Despite himself, Billy was curious. He turned back, sitting upright.
“Hey, that’s a pretty good accent,” he said. “Real American! You don’t sound hardly Russian at all.”
Davyd shrugged, putting the medicine tray down and busying himself with the record. “I used to watch a lot of old American movies.”
“Weren’t you worried about getting thrown in jail?” Billy asked. “Amer movies are forbidden.”
Another shrug. “I was just a kid,” Davyd said. “I didn’t know any better.”
Billy laughed. “So am I,” he said. “A kid, I mean. And I know better.”
Davyd grinned. “I guess you’re smarter than I was,” he said. “But you sure missed a lot of good movies just the same.”
Billy didn’t like that. Did this guy think he was dumb, or what?
“You can’t fool me,” he said. “You’re not a medtech.”
Davyd froze. Shit, he thought. Now I might have to kill the kid. He glanced at the tray. Among the medicines and devices was a small hypo gun. It was Davyd’s.
The gun had two settings: one would shoot a deadly poison into the child’s veins, killing him instantly. The other was a special Odysseus Corps drug that would wipe the boy’s memory of this visit.
The only thing was, he’d been warned the drug wasn’t always completely effective. When in doubt, his orders said, always trust the kill.
Davyd’s head came up and he looked at Billy, misery churning in his guts.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
It made a tender sight: Two lovers facing the cold fates together; Katya sobbing, Igor embracing her in strong arms, face a mask of anguish.
As charming a scene, Tanya thought, as one of the “weepies” currently cluttering the entertainment bandwidths.
She had a secret fondness for them herself when she was sick and stuck at home. Nothing like a good old-fashioned tin of chocolates and a good cry at a fantasy person’s expense to cure what ails you.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t see Katya and Igor without also seeing the HolidayOne exploding on her screen and hundreds of innocent lives being snuffed out.
That was no “weepy.” That was bloody reality.
“Let me get this straight,” Tanya said in her most sarcastic tones. “The two of you were in a closet enjoying a little knee trembler when the alarm went off.”
She curled a lip at Igor. “And you— your mind stuck in your zipper— stiff-walked into the firing room and finish the deed by blowing a tourist ship off the map.
“Is that how it was? If so, congratulations! You’ve just made history in the sexology books. A classic example of the evils of coitus interruptus if I ever saw one.”
“But we did nothing!” Katya wailed. “Nothing!”
“I believe that was my point,” Tanya sneered.
“We were off duty, ma’am,” Igor protested.
“But you were on call,” Tanya accused.
Igor hung his head. “Yes.”
Katya’s tears turned to fury. “You are making everything sound so… so … dirty!” she shouted. “But it wasn’t like that. We were… we were…”
She stomped her foot. “We are engaged to be married, damn you!”
Instead of Tanya putting Katya in her place for insubordination, she merely shrugged. “And the hundreds of people he killed,” she pointed at Igor, “were already married couples on their honeymoons. Lot of interruptus there, don’t you think?”
Katya’s jaw snapped shut and the blood drained from her face. Then she heard Igor’s groan of agony and she turned to embrace him. Quickly, she pulled herself together. It was her turn to be strong.
“Please, ma’am,” she begged Tanya. “Can’t you see what this is doing to him? He suffers every second for each and every one of those people. He’s nearly been driven mad with horrible nightmares. I hold him every night like a child so he can catch a few moment’s peace.
“Let him be, ma’am! Let him be! Can’t you see your questions are killing him? Every single one a new wound in his poor heart? Mercy, ma’am. Mercy! He only pressed the stupid button, ma’am. And it was not his decision to do so!”
Tanya listened intently to her every word. Making notes now and then. Her face blank during the entire speech. When Katya was done, Tanya scribbled a few more notes, then raised her head.
“Tell me, Igor Dolgov,” she said, “if this woman’s claim is true. For the record: Are you engaged to marry Katya Popova.”
Igor shrugged. “Why, yes. It’s exactly as Katya says, ma’am.”
Angel blinked green. He was telling the truth.
“You are engaged now,�
� Tanya persisted. “But were you engaged at the time of the incident?”
Again Katya stamped her foot. “Absolutely!” she shouted. “Absolutely!”
Angel blinked red. Actually, truth or lie, it made no difference to Tanya. The answer wasn’t all that important. Other than for filling in the necessary record, this whole line of questioning was of small value. Her purpose was much more calculated than that.
To get at the truth of HolidayOne she desperately needed a break. The faster the better. In any investigation, truth is available for only a few moments after the event. Then it sinks along with all the evidence into an oily swamp of half truths and lies.
The only thing different from this case and most others was the stakes were higher and the price of failure bottomless.
Unfortunately for Igor and Katya, she’d found a hammer to use on them and now she was going to wield it. She hated herself for it. They were innocents, of this she was now certain.
But what could she do except still her heart, grit her teeth and commit the high sin of duty?
Tanya picked up Angel, glanced at the winking red light, then sighed with infinite weariness and placed it on the table again.
“You beg my mercy,” she said to the two— ignoring that it was only Katya who’d begged— “but even as you beg you tell me lies.”
She shook her head. “Lies, lies. Nothing but lies.”
Then she exploded. She slammed to her feet, knocking the chair back with a crash. In a fury worthy of the greatest actress, she stabbed her finger at Igor.
“Is that your intention, Igor Dolgov?” she demanded. “To lie and keep telling lies until you bury all those poor souls with your prevarications?
“Is that right? Is that fitting? Lies for their graves? Lies for their tombstones? Lies to choke on in the hereafter for all eternity?”
Igor shattered. He collapsed on the floor, shouting, “I know it! I know it! I killed them all! I know it! Even God can’t forgive me for what I’ve done!”
Then he hid his face in his palms. His shoulders shuddered and he sobbed soundlessly.
Katya stood over him, so shocked by the force of his grief that she was frozen in place.
Tanya lifted Angel. “Admiral?”
Slight pause, then: “Yes, Major?”
“Please remove the woman, sir. I have no further need of her.”
Katya remained frozen over her sobbing lover until the guards came to usher her away.
Then she came unstuck, shouting at Tanya: “I swear to the heavens that if any harm should come to my Igor, I will hold you responsible. You, and only you— the bitchwoman with a heart of stone will be to blame!
“And by the name of Heaven and Hell, I’ll be after you. You only want to condemn him and to receive a ribbon. A medal! But —”
And Katya suddenly burst into tears, crying, “I swear, I swear, I swear …”
She railed on, but her words collapsed into ravings as the guards dragged her away, spitting and screaming threats.
Although stony-faced, Tanya was not unaffected. She’d been threatened many times in her career and by far more deadly people than this poor little girl.
But Katya’s wrath had been so intense— like a fire out of the earth— that it had seared her. Given her reason to reflect once more on what she was doing and to despise herself for it.
Tanya shook off the feeling and strode over to Igor’s collapsed form.
Sensing her presence, he moaned, “What more do you want of me?”
“Tell me what happened again, Igor Dolgov!” Tanya demanded. “But this time I want no lies.”
Then she helped him to his feet, sat him down, let him compose himself and then clicked Angel back on.
“Begin,” she said to Igor.
And so he began, telling the tale much as before. But this time it was no dull recitation. This time he was there! This time he was reliving the events …
… The commander’s voice crackled in his ears. “Shoot, dammit, shoot!”
“Yes, sir. Shooting procedure in operation sir.
“Weapons room. All systems in order. Target in range.”
“Launch!”
Igor depressed the firing button and… and… and the missile containing Chyvaist sped toward its target, his senses penetrating the spells shielding the ship.
With a jolt, Igor flash/caught Chyvaist’s observations. The ship seemed too weak for a destroyer! But was that part of its disguise?
Then he shuddered as Chyvaist’s evil and hissing voice crawled into his mind like a poison…
“Hey boss! I’m on target! Goblins ejecting!… Done!… Yeah, I’m up on ’em!…
“Okay, now… now…”
And then in the very last moment Igor saw it all. He saw the ship, only a tourist liner and not a destroyer at all. He saw the cabins filled with sleeping people. Innocent people.
Then he heard Chyvaist’s mocking voice: “Direct hit, boss! Nice work. Pity it was a wrong’un or there’d be bonuses for everybody!”
“Stop!” Tanya commanded.
Igor stopped in mid-flow, lips bloodless, eyes wild from the images crawling through his brain.
“Go back, lieutenant,” she said. “Return to the point where you first realized it was an American ship.”
Igor shook his head. “Please, no more. I see… I see… damn, but I see all their faces! Don’t make me look again!”
“One more time,” Tanya insisted. “Only one… I promise.”
But this time she went with him. She let her senses flow into his… and… and…
Tanya was a missile hurtling toward an Amer destroyer. And she hated the Amers like Igor hated them… like a true Russian… centuries of inbred hate erupting… wanting to kill… to evaporate the Amers with this powerful missile!
And then her blood turned to ice as the destroyer suddenly became an ordinary spaceliner. A weak and innocent thing, filled with weak and innocent people.
And emblazoned on the ship’s side was the legend: HolidayOne!
But it was too late, she couldn’t stop. Chyvaist was shouting at his devils, urging them on and she couldn’t stop…
The force of the imagined blast was so realistic that Tanya’s head snapped back in reaction.
She opened her eyes— although she hadn’t realized they were shut. Her heart was pounding at a furious rate and she could taste blood in her mouth.
Igor was staring at her, eyes bright with madness. “Did you see it?” he asked.
Tanya nodded. “I saw.”
Igor laughed, a touch of hysteria in his laughter. “Then you know I am the guilty one,” he said. “No need for any others to suffer. It was my fault. My mistake. An accident due to my incompetence.”
Tanya shook her head. “It was no accident, Igor Dolgov,” she said.
She wanted to add that it wasn’t his fault. But suddenly a strange feeling of lethargy came over her. What had only a moment before seemed quite clear, now appeared hazy and confused.
Maybe it was an accident. Maybe she was leaping to conclusions. Still, she thought, she should tell Igor that he wasn’t at fault. Why, she’d known that almost from the beginning.
Tanya opened her mouth to speak, but she was so weary that dealing with poor Igor’s guilt seemed too vast an effort.
It could wait. She’d talk to him later when she had her wits about her.
Tanya picked up Angel. “Admiral Amiriani?”
“Yes, Major Lawson?”
“I’m done with Lt. Dolgov, sir,” she said. “For the time being, that is. I’d like to talk to him again later. So if you could keep him available, please?”
“Very well, Major,” Amiriani said.
Tanya keyed out and leaned back in her chair. Every bone seemed to ache as if she were coming down with an old-fashioned case of the flu.
“What of your promise?” Igor asked, voice quivering. “You said it would be over now.”
At that moment the doors of the interrogation room
hissed open and two guards entered to escort Igor away.
“Don’t worry, Lieutenant,” Tanya said. “I’m done with you. Just one more little chat so I can complete my report. Nothing more.”
Her soothing words didn’t seem to have any effect on Igor. He was suspicious— not that she blamed him. But never mind, she’d put his guilt to rest before the day was out.
To avoid Igor’s accusing eyes, she kept her head down as the guards led him away, concentrating on putting her things back into the briefcase.
The door hissed closed and she had a sudden sense of dread so powerful that the lethargy was shattered.
“Wait!” Tanya shouted, crashing to her feet.
She ran to the door, which obediently came open. “Wait!” she shouted again as she ran into the corridor.
The corridor was vacant, but she could hear bootsteps coming from around a nearby corner.
Tanya sprinted for the bootsteps but then she heard loud shouts and the sounds of a wild struggle.
As she around the corner she saw both guards sprawled on the floor, Igor standing over them.
And dammit he had a gun!
“Igor!” she shouted. “Don’t!”
He turned to her, weapon turning with him until the barrel was pointed at her face.
Igor smiled at her. “This time it’s over when I say so,” he said.
Then he turned the gun around and shot himself through the mouth.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Oh yes, Lawson was really good, Vlad thought as he followed her around the ship, observing her as she questioned key people. She even made Daniel Carvaserin hop and wriggle like crazy.
To tell the truth, Vlad had felt much vindictive joy as he monitored that conversation. Miss Lawson had been clever enough to command the admiral to “shut off the bugs!” She couldn’t have expected that Vlad was listening in. Oh yes, she had made things very difficult for him. But it wasn’t anything he couldn’t solve.
Once again Vlad said a silent thanks to Brosha— his old batman Brownie— who had taught Vlad a lot about minor fiendish creatures.
