Under the Eye of God

by David Gerrold

  The sounds of the sleds grew louder, warbling unevenly as the sleds maneuvered their way through the narrow twisting canyon. The sound rose and fell; it splashed and broke in a torrent confusing echoes that dopplered and reflected and ultimately rolled out of the gullet as a river of electronic noise. The whine of the sleds grew louder and louder. Suddenly, they appeared at the far end of the canyon—both of them, very close together.

  The Dragon Lord frowned.

  The sleds looked harnessed together. They moved in unison, bobbing and swerving like two stallions caught in a trap and racing to break free. They roared down the canyon toward the waiting cannons. Something big hung between them, like an angry side of beef.

  Abruptly, the Regency override signal cut in and the power to both sleds failed. The hum of their engines warbled downward and they began slowing and lowering to their skids. They came sliding the rest of the way out of the canyon, stopping only meters in front of the Dragon Lord.

  Murdock lay stretched between the two sleds, tied by her own chains. Dirt and rage streaked her face. A heavy tag hung around her neck. The Dragon Lord approached cautiously. He lifted the tag with one talon and read it with growing rage.

  The Markham brothers had attached their bill.

  Posted Criminal Warrant #M21-S filled. Contract completed. Bonding agency notified. Please credit Markham trust account 131-534 at First Interstellar Bank. Reimbursement fees for lost and damaged equipment included in total; expense report filed. Also note additional charges for ancillary terminations of Murdock’s employers, as per contract. Details on request, only to authorized parties.

  Employers—?

  The Dragon Lord ripped the tag from Murdock’s neck and threw it to one side. Lax-Varney rushed to pick it up.

  The Dragon Lord growled, a deep disturbing rumble of frustration. The audacity of the Markham brothers’ stunt only annoyed him. On one level, he could even admire their style. But the tag around Murdock’s neck—the bill for services—represented a much more serious matter. Not for what it said, but for what it implied. The potential for real disaster here troubled him much more than he dared show. And the Markhams had to know that too. He hated the humans for pushing him into this situation. If the knowledge of Murdock’s crimes became public, that she had supplied bioforms and slaves for secret Vampire feasts, riots would break out in every city on Thoska-Roole. The Vampires wouldn’t suffer. They had the means to escape. No, the Dragons would bear the brunt of the attacks.

  He dared not oppose the Vampires, but he dared not release Murdock either. The damned Markham brothers had filed their damned claim through an interstellar bonding agency. Investigations would follow, no matter what. Investigations, revelations, riots—and massacres. The Dragons would lose much honor.

  The Dragon Lord felt frustrated. No matter what he did, the action would prove disastrous for Dragons, unless—yes. That could work. The matter would end here if Murdock died while trying to escape. Indeed.

  The Dragon Lord turned to study the criminal. She glared up at him, impatient for her release. Her flesh had a strong and muscular look to it. Juicy, even. Yes. Her great size decided the issue in the Dragon Lord’s mind. For once, he would sate his intolerable hunger. He began to salivate.

  Lax-Varney approached his master cautiously. “Sir?” he asked. He held up the bill. “What about this? What should I do with it?”

  The Dragon Lord grinned, revealing a cavernous mouth filled with glittering teeth. “Pay it, of course.”

  No Such Thing as a Free Launch

  The shuttleboat rested in a dark shadowy canyon.

  Ota tended to the minor wounds and scrapes of her rescuers, while Shariba-Jen passed out food and water. Kask ate hungrily, ignoring Gito’s unhappy glare. Ibaka had fallen asleep in the Dragon’s lap only after long hours of inconsolable tears. Every so often, Kask would pat the tiny brown ball of fur gently with his great scaly claw.

  Captain Campbell sat in the pilot’s seat and glowered unhappily. EDNA had moved The Lady MacBeth into a deep elliptical orbit, where it would remain out of easy range for the Regency’s Marauders. Unfortunately, the new orbit would also make an eventual rendezvous much trickier. The Regency didn’t have to search for them on Thoska-Roole. They could wait until The Lady MacBeth made its closest approach and intercept them then. She would have to figure out an unlikely, but still cost-effective way of returning the shuttleboat to the vessel.

  Perhaps—she had an idea—if she put the shuttle into a complementary orbit, she could elude the Marauders. Suppose they lifted into an elliptical orbit that extended away from the planet opposite the orbit of The Lady MacBeth. And suppose the only place where the shuttleboat orbit came parallel to that of the starship remained out of range?

  It might work. She’d have to talk it over with EDNA. The mechanics of such an operation would prove tricky—

  And then she had another idea. What if they launched the shuttleboat outward on a maximum acceleration course? One that guaranteed that they would expend all of their fuel? The Marauders could eventually outrun them, but only at the risk of exhausting their own fuel and hurtling themselves irretrievably into deep space. An interesting idea that. The Marauders could not depend on The Lady MacBeth to intercept their course and rescue them. She could.

  All right. Those plans worked. Now, she needed only one more.

  “Ahem, Captain?”

  She looked up, she swiveled around. Gito and Robin stood politely waiting. “Captain?” Robin repeated. “We need to discuss something.”

  “I know that tone of voice,” she said with resignation. “It always means bad news. Go ahead.”

  “You’ve resigned from the Guild, correct?” Robin asked.

  Campbell nodded. “Yes.”

  “Well, that makes all of our contracts null and void. As the union representative aboard this ship, I have the responsibility of protecting the jobs and the rights of the crew—”

  “I know the speech, Robin,” the Captain sighed. “No one will lose their job. Conditions aboard The Lady MacBeth will remain exactly the same.”

  “No, ma’am, they can’t. Freebooters operate without Regency guarantees. So even if you personally make a guarantee, no larger legal authority stands behind it. We have no way to compel behavior or compliance with a negotiated contract. In such a case, the union requires additional bonding per voyage to guarantee the wages of the crew.”

  Campbell didn’t reply immediately. She stared off into space, considering her options. It took her a moment to step past her feelings of anger and betrayal. After all, hadn’t she just demonstrated her commitment to her crew—her family? Hadn’t she just resigned in protest from the Guild so she could rescue Ota without sanctions? Didn’t that count for something?

  Apparently not.

  But then, after she put her feelings aside, she recognized that Robin and Gito had a point. And in fact, as union members, they had a specific responsibility to keep their shipmasters honest. She would have done the same.

  Star-Captain Campbell nodded reluctantly. She studied her fingernails with a thoughtful expression. Finally, she looked up at them both. “You know the financial situation of the Shakespeare Corporation. Robin, you and Ota handle most of the bookkeeping. We can’t afford the extra bonding.”

  “You should have thought of that before you resigned from the Guild,” grumbled Gito.

  “And leave Ota to the Vampires?”

  “You didn’t have to resign!”

  “We couldn’t have afforded the Guild penalties, if I didn’t!”

  “We worked hard for that insignia!”

  “Yes, we did. I didn’t say I liked what I did; but I did what I had to do. And you would have too. So let it lie, Gito.”

  Gito opened his mouth to reply, but Robin placed a hand gently on his arm. He shut up with a scowl.

  “All right,” Captain Campbell said. “What do you want?”

  Robin looked apologetic. “We know about the financial situa
tion of the corporation. And we stand prepared to shoulder our share of the burden.”

  “Would you translate that into my language, please?”

  “If we have to share the dangers of freebooting,” interrupted Gito rudely, “we want to share in the profits too.”

  “What profits?” Campbell asked blandly.

  “Whatever profits we earn in the future,” Robin said.

  “I see. . . . I go freebooter to rescue the crew, and the crew votes itself shares in the corporation. What a lovely plan.”

  “You can’t run the ship without us!” Gito insisted.

  “You have a contract,” Campbell replied quietly. “Regardless of Guild membership, the corporation will honor all of its current contracts. I expect the crew to honor its commitments too.”

  “Without a Guild insignia, you have no way to compel enforcement.”

  “True, but you gave me your personal guarantee. Doesn’t that count for something?”

  “But you can’t give us a corresponding guarantee, Captain. Don’t take this personally, but we now have absolutely no protection against possible abuses by the corporation.”

  “How can I not take that personally? I own all the shares.”

  “If you make us shareholders, then we have protection. We become your partners.”

  “I don’t want any partners. I like it this way.”

  “Captain, we don’t feel comfortable working without an enforceable contract. This would give us fair representation. We’d have more real input.”

  “Shares of stock reflect ownership, bought and paid for with real value. What have you invested in the Shakespeare Corporation?”

  “Our labor, for one thing.”

  Captain Campbell didn’t answer that directly. “I can’t deny the value of your labor,” she admitted. “But your idea, Gito, doesn’t have a lot of appeal for me. The way you tell it, I get to carry the financial burden—you share the profits.”

  “What profits? We’ve all seen the books.”

  “My point exactly.” Captain Campbell grinned. “I can’t afford your plan.”

  Gito looked flustered. He sputtered for a moment in helpless anger. He looked to Robin. The android spoke quietly. “This plan protects you as well. It guarantees against labor stoppages—”

  “I don’t pay protection. You know that.”

  “If you agree to this, we all stay in business.”

  “At a loss, yes!” Campbell laughed. “What will we do? Make it up in volume?”

  “Captain. We all need each other. We ask only an acknowledgment of that.”

  “Acknowledgement, I can give you. All you want. But shares in the corporation—? Well . . . I’ll gladly sell a proportional share to any of you, but I can’t give shares away. We’ve all worked too hard for that.”

  “We need a lawyer—” Gito said in frustration.

  “It seems to me that you’ve already had too much exposure to lawyers for one voyage.”

  “We have an arbiter aboard—” Gito pulled Harry to the front of the vessel. “Ask him.”

  Harry held up his hands in protest. “I don’t barge into arguments uninvited. And besides, I charge for my services.”

  “Oh great,” said Campbell. “Something else to pay for.”

  “We’ll trade you safe passage in return for your legal advice,” Gito said.

  “I make the deals here—” Campbell interrupted.

  “Without a deal, nobody goes anywhere,” Gito snapped right back.

  Campbell studied Harry with little regard. “I’ve shoved lawyers out the airlock before. I won’t hesitate to do it again.”

  “Hm,” said Harry. He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “This case has some interesting complications. It may take me some time to make a ruling. I’ll have to study the situation at length. I would advise in the meantime . . .” He glanced around the cabin, meeting the eyes of each of his listeners. “. . . that all complainants maintain their duties until such time as I can determine an equitable resolution.”

  Gito stared up at him. “What does that mean?” He looked to Robin. “Can he do that? Does that have legality?”

  “Ahh, you need a little application of Latin, do you?” Harry said wisely. “Try this: Illegitimi non carborundum.”

  “Eh?” Gito frowned in confusion. Captain Campbell concealed her smile by biting her lip and turning to the plotting screen.

  “I’ll translate,” Harry said. “Let’s get out of here as fast as we can. We’ll figure out the details later.”

  The Corridors of Night

  MesaPort only pretended solidity. Within the towering rock lay a hidden network of caves and tunnels. Generations of dwellers had spent their summers and winters expanding their warrens like worms tunnelling through soft cheese.

  Here, inside the mountain, a whole other civilization thrived—a civilization unknown to the Vampires and the Dragons and all the various pretenders and idle worshippers who served them in their glittering halls. Secret passages led down to the roots of the broken canyons, wove their way even deeper than that, tunnelling down to huge underground reservoirs and the rivers that fed them. Here, hidden from the Eye of God, and hidden from the Regency as well, churned the machineries of human survival.

  Using only a single red lamp for illumination, Lee-1169 brought Sawyer and Finn up through a series of narrow passages. The journey took several hours. They had to stop several times, once while Finn suffered another of his crippling spells, another time for rest and a meal break, a third time they rested at the edge of a vast black reservoir and filled their canteens. The inky water echoed with distant voices. The stillness of the chamber enveloped them with dark echoes.

  They pushed on. Lee explained the necessity of this roundabout route. It would protect all of them if they did not know their destination or how they had reached it. They climbed up a seemingly endless ladder that paralleled a huge vertical tube. The tube throbbed with energy; it thrummed with mechanical life. Both Finn and Sawyer stared with awe and wondered about the energies it focused. They also wondered what would happen to MesaPort if a saboteur could wrap a section of the tube with explosives? They made a mental note to ask Lee about this later. Purely as a hypothetical exercise, of course.

  At last, they arrived at a long room carved out of the naked rock, with a ceiling so low, they could not fully stretch their hands up over their heads. It gave them a very claustrophobic feeling. At one end of the room, narrow windows opened out onto a view of Death Canyon. They could see the lights of the labor camp glimmering far below. Already, a new crew of prisoners toiled under the slave bands. Sawyer shuddered at the memory. Had they really escaped from that terrible place only two days previously?

  He turned around to see a group of four men entering the chamber after Lee. One of them stood so tall and spindly that he couldn’t completely straighten up in this room. The man wore a red cloth wrapped around his head and carried a rod that looked like a walking stick. He entered the room at a crouch and moved directly to a stone bench, where he settled himself comfortably. The others arranged themselves around him. Even in repose, he loomed taller than anyone else in the room. The tall man grinned down at the much-shorter Lee, his expression an acknowledgment of the difference in their sizes. “Your apartment hasn’t gotten any taller, my friend.”

  “I don’t need the extra height,” Lee retorted. “It would just take that much longer for the blood to reach my brain.”

  The tall man laughed, a large good-natured sound. “Tell me about your escape.”

  Lee pointed to Sawyer and Finn. “These two trackers, Justice Mertz, a Dragon, a dog-child, and others—we discovered the Alliance of Life lives everywhere, all the time. You spoke the truth, sir.”

  “No,” corrected the tall man. “I spoke words. You discovered the truth of them.”

  Lee allowed himself a sheepish look at the correction. “I still have much to learn,” he acknowledged.

  “You will continue to do well,” sa
id the tall man.

  Sawyer and Finn approached and joined the circle. Sawyer couldn’t decide if the other men in the group acted as guards or worshipped as acolytes. He decided that they served both functions and kept himself wary. Despite his obviously weakened condition, Finn nodded courteously and said, “You have the advantage of us, sir.”

  The tall man opened his hands in the universal gesture of peace. “I wear the name of William Three-Dollar.” He unwrapped the red cloth from his head to reveal a shimmering band of blue-white light. It sat like a halo on the crown of his skull; it gleamed across his forehead and around his temples, disappearing finally under his long jet-black hair. The brightness of the band made a stark contrast with his dark red skin. His piercing eyes shone almost as bright. Sawyer had the eeriest feeling as he looked into the man’s face—as if somehow he stared directly into one of the many faces of God.

  William Three-Dollar spoke in a voice like the wind. “I serve as the TimeBinder of Thoska-Roole,” he said.

  Tellings

  Sawyer and Finn exchanged a glance. For a moment, they neither of them knew how to react. Finally, Finn—holding on to his brother for support—inclined went down on one knee in a bow. “Father, I beg your forgiveness, for all of our crimes—those in our past as well as in our future.”

  The TimeBinder blinked in surprise. He stretched out one long arm and laid a huge hand on Finn’s head. As he did so, a grave look of concern came over his face. “Unease rides within you, my son. And something else—” His eyes narrowed. “I cannot cure what troubles you. But the medicine does exist.”

  “I have searched for years, Father—I have never found it.”

  “You have to look in the right place, my son. Keep looking.”

  “I beg your forgiveness, Father.”

  “If you can forgive yourself, Finn, you won’t need mine.”

  Finn nodded his acceptance. “I have heard it said that a TimeBinder never gives you anything, except what you haven’t asked for.”