“Holy shit,” Jay breathed, and they all followed his gaze. “Twenty billion dollars spent on Star Wars, and they can’t even detect that.”
A ship was slipping down a wash of moonlight. The shape was triangular, the regularity broken by a light-filled dome that topped the vessel—a moonstone mounted in a silver setting. After the clarion announcement of its arrival, its landing was virtually soundless, but some braking force was in operation, for whirling dust devils of white gypsum sand went coiling and twining toward the ship like beckoning fingers. Gypsum flakes chattered hysterically against Turtle’s metal sides, and Jay, Tach, and Mark covered their eyes and gave their backs to the stinging sandstorm.
The ship settled, three great landing pylons sinking with a crunch into the sand. It was the first sound directly attributable to the arrival of the alien vessel, and Tachyon noticed that even the desert night birds remained undisturbed. Their fitful cheeping still pierced the darkness. Suddenly a large spot sprang to blinding life and pinned the foursome like bugs on a needle of light.
“Are you sure Blaise is headed for Takis?” asked Jay softly.
“It seems the most likely guess,” Tach answered.
“I’d hate to be climbing aboard that thing for a guess.”
“THEN I GUESS IT’S A GOOD THING YOU’RE NOT COMING,” Turtle boomed through his speakers.
Tach was eyeballing the ship, trying to estimate its interior capacity. The answers she was coming up with weren’t very encouraging. The sleek little flying pie wedge was fast, but it was small. Obviously only a scout ship. Turtle seemed to suddenly bulk much larger beside her.
A ramp extruded tonguelike from the side of the ship, the motion accompanied by a soft humming. It dropped with a soft thud onto the sand, and they heard the sound of boot heels rapping metallically in the night. The birdsong cut off abruptly. At her side Tach heard Mark draw in a sharp breath and hold it.
They’re about to see an alien, she thought. Naturally they’re frightened.
The Network contact reached the base of the ramp. It was still in the shadow of the ship, so Tachyon couldn’t determine the species. It stepped forward, and moonlight lit the tips of the white blond hair, seemed to etch the tipped-up gray eyes with kohl. It smiled down at her.
Darkness crashed over Tachyon like a wave.
Chapter Ten
“SHIT, WHAT THE FUCK’S wrong now?” were the dulcet words Tachyon heard when she regained consciousness.
Mark was patting first her hands, then her cheek, then going back to her hands. Her head was propped in Jay’s lap. She knew because the smell of cheap aftershave was overwhelming.
“I always have this devastating effect on women,” drawled a new, yet horribly familiar voice.
The accent was light, lilting, rather like a Rumanian crossed with a Swede. Tachyon talked the same way—when she remembered to affect the accent. Only one other race would speak English with that particular cadence. Tach opened one eye, risked another glance. No, nothing had changed. It was still a Takisian. It was still her wicked cousin Zabb.
“JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP,” Turtle growled.
Zabb turned his attention to the looming bulk of the Turtle shell. It was a long three seconds as he carefully scanned the armored surface. “Don’t tell me you built another one of these ugly horrors? And I gave you such a perfect opportunity for a redesign.”
Five years before, a ship from House Ilkazam had rather belatedly returned to Earth to evaluate the results of its botched experiment. Of lesser priority was to determine the fate and the whereabouts of the heir to the House. Zabb had captained that ship, and he’d been searching for Tachyon in order to kill him. In that effort he was foiled by Tom Tudbury, but he had managed to jettison Tommy’s shell during the fracas. Tommy obviously hadn’t forgotten. He lifted a few feet off the ground, and Tach shrilled out, “Get me up! And Turtle, calm down.”
“Yes, mushroom, sit!” Zabb ordered, and then laughed.
With Mark’s supporting hand beneath her elbow, she started to struggle to her feet, only to have a pair of finely manicured hands close about her waist, swing her up, and set her lightly on her feet.
The touch of his telepathy was glass sharp, as cold as icicles. Tachyon looked up into the beautiful, laughing face of her cousin.
My, how you’ve changed, purred her tormentor.
Tachyon slammed up her primitive shields, more to shut off the sound of his mental laughter than any desire to protect her mind’s secrets. Zabb lifted her hand, dropped gracefully to one knee before her, and lifted his face expectantly. Angrily she snatched back her hand.
No!
Because I’ve been such a bad boy? Zabb asked blandly, as he climbed to his feet.
Because you dishonor me. Greet me properly.
I take reality as I find it. You can’t really expect me to salute you man to man?
You know what I am.
I know who you are. What you are is rather evident for the stars to see.
He lifted her hand again and this time spoke audibly. “Tis, what a fascinating predicament you’ve gotten yourself into this time.”
“I take it you’re acquainted,” Jay said, then added, “Here I was waiting for E.T., and I get another comic-opera Takisian. Swell, just great.”
Arching one brow, Zabb jerked his head at the fulminating human. “Who is this … person?”
“One of my protectors.” The shrillness of her voice betrayed her nerves, and Tach angrily bit at her lower lip.
“Since when?” Jay whispered, and she could have slapped him.
Zabb turned his attention to Meadows, and despite his every effort a frown sank the arrogantly upraised eyebrow.
“Peace, man.” The ace made the gesture, but his tone and the set of his shoulders made a mockery of the sentiment. “Like, it’s really good to see you again.”
“What is this? Is the whole fucking universe the size of New Jersey?” said Jay. “Does everybody know everybody?”
“Mark got a particularly edifying view of Zabb’s tail as he turned it and ran from me and my ship a few years back.”
“Don’t get too cocky, Tis.” Zabb jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “That’s my ship. It’s only by my say-so that anyone flies on her. You need me.…” His eyes dropped, and he stared insolently at the bulge of her belly. “Obviously.”
Jay cut through the round of escalating pleasantries. “Could we get on with this? I have to catch a plane in El Paso at eight-forty.”
Zabb pulled out a pocket computer and began entering data. “The message said you wanted passage to Takis.”
“If you please,” said Tachyon.
“For just you?”
“And two others.” She indicated Mark and Tom with a nod of the head.
Zabb favored her with a limpid, humorous glance. “You always did inspire such loyalty … in dogs and servants.”
“Probably because I can be trusted,” Tach said.
“Why do you want to return home?” the Takisian asked.
“That is none of your affair.”
Zabb snapped shut the computer. “All right, I’ll take you.”
“What’s the price?”
“You remain silent about my activities during our reconnaissance of Earth.”
“Kib’r Benaf’saj is dead, Hali is dead, your ship lost, and you are on a Network vessel. I think the family will draw their own conclusions.”
“Not if you give them the true story.”
“Which is?” asked Tach with growing weariness.
“About how the Swarm attacked, but I valiantly fought them off at enormous cost to ship and crew. The ship, much of her sentience destroyed in the battle, fled into deep space. Where I was discovered by the Network. And…” He shrugged. “What could I do? The bloodsucking bastards insisted I pay for my rescue.”
Confused, Tach shook her head as if the action would organize her mind better. “Why, Zabb? You can never return home. What does it matter what they t
hink of you?”
His expression clouded. “I will die under unfamiliar stars, but if I leave my ancestors at peace, I will be satisfied.”
Tach made a moue, drew the end of her long braid over one shoulder, and began idly plucking off split ends while she regarded her cousin. The expression was noble, the tone sincere, pain lurked in the corners of those gray eyes—and she didn’t believe him for a minute. He read the thought and flashed her an ironic smile.
“I’ll have time to convince you during the voyage.” The cold gray eyes studied Turtle speculatively. “And you, little man, are you willing to crawl out of your shell?”
“WHAT?” Tom asked.
“This is a scout ship. Virtually no hold space. What we do have is taken. I’ll carry the flesh, but no more.”
Silence seemed to wrap the shell. It had become a darker hole in the darkness. Tach felt her stomach take a fall of several stories. After all her proud words about not requiring help, it was very comforting to have that help. And Tach sensed her support was wavering. She wanted to say something to Tom, find some way to starch his backbone.
“Uh … Doc, could I talk to you for a minute?” asked Trips. “Privately.”
Zabb crossed his arms over his chest. Laughter seemed to be lurking about the corners of that mobile mouth, hiding in the drooping brush of his full mustache.
“What’s so goddamn funny?” Jay demanded.
“You … all of you. I can read minds.”
Tach smiled, a slow, teeth-baring expression. Slipped a hand into her pocket and closed her fingers gratefully around the device that Jube had given her. Pulled it out, unfolded her fingers like a flower blossoming. Fury crashed across Zabb’s face.
Tach beckoned to Trips and Jay. They stepped away a few feet. Turtle continued to squat on the sand. Mark looked questioningly back at him.
“Turtle?” the gangly ace said. The shell seemed to shiver as it flew the few feet to join them.
Tach flicked her nail beneath the edge of the jewel. The device began to hum, and St. Elmo’s fire ran chuckling through the wires. Instantly a headache slammed like a vise around her temples.
“What in the hell is that thing?” asked Jay.
The crystal was pulsing, throwing a putrid green light in a three-foot circle around them. Most of the shell was outside the protective glow. Just another reminder of how useless that encasing pod of steel was proving to be. Why did I ever think he could come with us, or that he could be any help? Tach wondered. Then forced herself to answer Jay’s question.
“A mentat barrier. Periodically the Network tries to annex Takis by dealing with the mind blind. Rather recently, as we measure time, there was a little spat that we won because Takisians can fight like cornered ferrets when we need to, and to a Master Trader a Pyrrhic victory is bad business. But we also won because we’re telepaths. The Ly’bahr developed this little toy to block our powers.” Tach squeezed her eyes shut and sucked in a deep breath. “They’re reasonably effective because they hurt like hell, but enough sufficiently determined telepaths can punch through it.”
“Can this Zabb guy?” asked Jay.
“No.”
That assurance acted on Trips like a starting gun. Words poured urgently out, and he stuttered in his haste and concern.
“This is c-crazy, Doc. Five years ago this guy tried to kill you. His whole purpose in life is to kill you. You can’t get on a ship with him for a couple of weeks and expect to arrive on Takis with your parts intact.”
“However sincere or insincere the emotion, Zabb wants to be vindicated in the eyes of the Ajayiz. He won’t kill me until I’ve met my part of this bargain.”
“And on Takis?” Mark asked.
“He won’t be on Takis. He’s signed a service contract with the Network. They take their contracts very seriously. Breach one, and they will hunt you to death and beyond. Zabb will deliver us and resume his duties.”
“Forgive me, Doc, but I think you’re being naive.”
“What other choice do I have!” Anger and desperation edged her words like razors.
“Wait for another ship.”
“Don’t you understand anything I’ve been saying? This is the Network. Everything costs. Everything is extra. If I reject this transport, we’ll have to renegotiate, and the price will only go up. And I suspect I have already sold my soul.”
“What was the price?” asked Trips.
“Open contract, payment to be tendered later.”
“Dumb,” was Jay’s only comment.
“What else was I supposed to do?” She clutched at her temples. “Damn this thing. It hurts.” And she turned away and vomited the contents of her stomach across the powdery white sands.
Trips flipped off the barrier, put his arm supportively around Tach’s shoulders. Jay offered a handkerchief, and she gratefully wiped her mouth.
“Okay, we gotta do it.” Trips shook his head. “We’ve just gotta be awful careful.”
Serious glances all around. Tach gave a sharp nod and started back to Zabb.
“TACHY!” Tom’s voice was stressed as if it had been scored with sandpaper. “I CAN’T.… NOT WITHOUT MY SHELL.” Tears blurred the final word.
There was an ache in her throat. Tach crossed to him and pressed her cheek to the cold iron. “Tommy,” she managed.
Mark joined her. He stroked the metal with gentle fingertips as if handling a hurt animal. In some ways he was. “Oh, come on, man. You want it so bad. This is it, Burroughs and Clarke, ‘Doc’ Smith, remember like we talked that night … The Lensmen?”
“I HAVE A SHELL, AND I DON’T … CAN’T TRAVEL WITHOUT IT.”
“Terrific, another cherished illusion blown to hell … the Great and Powerful Turtle is a weenie,” Jay grunted.
“Don’t pay any attention to him, Tommy,” Tach said quickly.
“IT’S NOT THAT I’M AFRAID,” Tommy flared. “MY POWERS DON’T WORK WHEN I’M OUTSIDE MY SHELL. I CAN MOVE PENCILS AROUND—IF I CONCENTRATE REAL HARD, MAYBE A SMALL ROCK—BUT HOW THE HELL IS THAT GOING TO HELP?” To Tachyon he added softly. “I’D JUST BE OF NO USE TO YOU, TACHY.”
“I understand, Tommy, it’s all right.”
There was a long moment of silence, then Turtle blurted, “I WANTED TO GO SO BAD.” The shell rose and flew a few feet away. Suddenly a tall dune flattened beneath the force of Turtle’s grief.
Mark looked seriously down at Tachyon. “We’ve got problems. I gotta sleep sometime. There’s gotta be two of us.”
The thought hit both of them simultaneously. They pivoted slowly to face Jay.
“No, oh no,” said the detective, holding out his hands as if to ward them off and retreating backward a few steps.
“It makes perfect sense,” Mark argued.
“Bullshit it does. You’re asking me to climb on board that spaceship and go to another planet, where you can display me like a prize trout to a bunch of his … her relatives who may all want to kill her, except that I’m supposed to stop them.”
“Yes,” Tach said succinctly. “That sums it up.”
“You’re nuts,” said Jay Ackroyd equally succinctly.
“You can let him down—lots of people have—but the Doc’s always been there for us. He’s going to a dangerous place, and she’s in a tough condition to deal with violence and killing. So, I’m asking you for her. Will you help?” Trips asked.
“Hell, if the crazy Takisians don’t kill me, the fucking pronouns will.” Jay unlimbered a hip flask and took a swig. Jay slapped the cap back onto the flask and thrust it back into his coat pocket. Sauntered over to Tachyon. “Okay, but I get time-and-a-half for other planets.”
Tach couldn’t find a phrase, a word, or an entire army of words crushing enough for the detective. Instead she spun on her heel and returned to Turtle. Laying her cheek against the cold metal shell, she whispered softly, “Good-bye, Tommy.”
“COME BACK.” Even through the distortion of the speakers she could hear his pain. Her throat ached
in sympathy.
“I’ll try.” Whirling she half ran, half staggered through the deep sand until she stood face-to-face with Zabb. “I accept your terms, Trader Captain,” she said with great formality. It served to remind Zabb of his current status. The point was not lost upon the Takisian, but he merely indicated the ramp with his usual graceful courtesy.
“Then let us be off.”
At the foot of the ramp there was a paranoid little quadrille as Zabb tried to get Tachyon and the humans to precede him into the ship.
Tach glowered up at him. “I think not. I want you where I can see you.”
Zabb bowed. “My motivation exactly. You have a most alarmingly attractive derriere.” He shrugged and chuckled at Tach’s smoldering expression. “But pleasure postponed is pleasure savored.”
The quick rap of boot heels, and he was consumed in the brilliant light pouring through the open hatch. Tach drew a breath, squared her shoulders. Mark suddenly turned and waved cheerfully back at Turtle like a happy vacationer about to set sail on a cruise ship. Jay dropped his head briefly into his hand.
Then flanked by her two incongruous paladins, Tachyon entered the enemy ship.
Chapter Eleven
THEY SAY THE MORAKH lack all mentatic skills, but there is a humming in the brain, a shivering along all the nerves, which tells a Morakh that dying is about to start. Durg was feeling it now. He signaled Blaise. There was a widening of the pupils, no more, to indicate he understood. Durg allowed himself a brief moment to hope that Blaise was finally learning subtlety.
Their current danger existed because of Blaise’s phenomenal oratorical skills. The boy had presented his plan for the domination of House Ilkazam. He had spoken as if addressing an auditorium of the Tarhiji, and even the psi lords had been affected. Now Blaise was a danger, and the time for betrayal had come.
L’gura was once more behind his desk. There were three other of the Zal’hma at’ Irg, and Malika, with him. Blaise was seated, facing L’gura. Kelly was on one side, Durg on the other.
“Your groundling ways have some interest, but I think we prefer to handle our affairs in the Takisian manner,” L’gura said.
Wild Cards X: Double Solitaire Page 8
