Under the Eye of God

by David Gerrold

  “You actually believe it will happen?” Sawyer asked.

  “What will happen, will happen,” the TimeBinder replied. “Lee and the other people that you see here—this tiny group of rebels—they may succeed. More likely, they probably will not. But the underlying philosophy will transform the relationships of everyone who accepts it.”

  Sawyer shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. I’ve seen too much of Vampires and Dragons and humans to have much faith in the inherent goodness of any of them.”

  “I promise you,” the TimeBinder remarked, “I have probably seen much more and much worse than you can even imagine. And it hasn’t dissuaded my convictions at all. If anything, it has only strengthened them.”

  “Yeah, well—you have to see things differently. You have immortality. We don’t.”

  “Sawyer, Finn—” William Three-Dollar stopped at the tunnel mouth and put one huge hand on each of their shoulders. The oppressive red light of the swollen star enveloped them all. “You’ve both seen how the Alliance can work. You’ve experienced how different species can work together. You couldn’t have escaped from the labor camp without that cooperation.”

  The brothers looked at each other uncomfortably. Finn said reluctantly, “We just did what we had to do, not what we wanted to do.”

  “I see,” said the TimeBinder. He looked disappointed. “So you don’t feel any loyalty toward those who helped you . . . ?”

  “What we feel has nothing to do with it. We work for money.”

  Three-Dollar didn’t answer that directly. Instead, he focused on something in the distance past and remarked, “It bothers me that Lee has placed so much trust in the two of you. I don’t see a corresponding loyalty.”

  Neither Sawyer nor Finn responded immediately to that, so the TimeBinder tried another tack. “Forget the Alliance for the moment. What if I offered you a job? What if I asked you to come and work directly for me? Could I buy your loyalty?”

  “Under ordinary circumstances, Father, you probably could,” Sawyer said. “Unfortunately, we already have a job.”

  “What kind of job?”

  “This kind,” said Sawyer. He rolled up the sleeve of his jacket to reveal a beeper-bracelet on his arm. He activated the device.

  “Father, forgive us,” gasped Finn as he collapsed weakly to the ground.

  -- A sudden terrifying noise filled the air—it rose like a siren—Lee whirled around alarmed—

  And then it hit them.

  The slop field enveloped the men with a hideous whine. The sudden nausea toppled them like reeds before the wind—even the TimeBinder. William Three-Dollar grunted involuntarily and sank gracefully down to his knees, his hands clutching his stomach.

  Sawyer gasped and dropped as the pain spiked through his abdomen and his testicles. He grabbed himself and screamed. He rolled back and forth in agonized seizures. Lee-1169 and the others also fell writhing to the ground, jerking and shrieking. Finn had already passed out from the shock; he sprawled limply, his body twitching in sympathetic spasms.

  The hideous warble of the disablement field increased—until one by one each of the humans lost control. Every nerve cell in their bodies discharged. Their bodies twisted and stiffened in terrible seizures. Consciousness disintegrated. Frenzied hallucinatory flashes dissolved into madness and darkness beyond.

  William Three-Dollar held on longest, and then he too went limp.

  The Trap

  Consciousness returned with a shock—the memory of the incredible pain still racked their bodies. They came awake gasping, screaming. They looked to each other in horror, their faces pale.

  They had soiled themselves. Their bladders had let go and their sphincters had released. Some of them had coughed up blood or injured themselves in their seizures. Sawyer’s arm felt stiff; he couldn’t tell if he had broken it or not. Finn remained unconscious. William Three-Dollar looked shaken. Lee could barely move. The other men still lay in their misery and groaned.

  For a long while, nobody spoke. None of them had the strength or the coordination for it. They just lay there like broken dolls. Sawyer became aware of the vibration first. Somehow he managed to work his mouth well enough to say, “Truck. They’ve put us on a truck.” He opened his eyes. The dim red light hurt. Everything hurt. He could see a dark roof pressing close. He could feel the rumbling of the vehicle’s heavy treads.

  Eventually, he tried to sit up. He couldn’t. He could barely manage to raise his head, but strong hands pulled at him and helped him into a sitting position. He found himself looking into William Three-Dollar’s compassionate eyes.

  “The headband gives me some protection,” the TimeBinder said, tapping the bright halo he wore. “My body might hurt, but my mind has the power to disengage from the pain and move the muscles regardless.”

  “You could have escaped—?”

  “Not quite. The band does have its limits. But I don’t have to suffer as intensely as you.” He smiled wryly. “I find it ironic.”

  “What?”

  “Your job hurts you and your brother much more than it hurts me.” And then he added softly, “Spiritually as well as physically.”

  Sawyer turned his head away. “Spare me.”

  William Three-Dollar placed a hand on Sawyer’s feverish brow. “You don’t have to hate me to justify what you did. You accepted your job willingly. You tracked me down. You turned me in. You don’t need to justify it. You had a contract, you fulfilled it.”

  Sawyer stared in disbelief. “How can you say that?”

  “Easily. I open my mouth, the words fall out. TimeBinders don’t hate. TimeBinders experience. Out of experience comes understanding. You haven’t hurt me, so I bear you no ill will. You don’t need to hate me either.”

  “I don’t hate you,” Sawyer replied slowly. With Three-Dollar’s help, he eased himself up into a sitting position against the side of the truck. He looked around at the others. Lee glared weakly at him from the other side of the cabin. Finn lay unconscious between them. “I had to do it,” he said. “We didn’t have a choice. Kernel d’Vashti—”

  He couldn’t meet their eyes. He looked down at his hands in embarrassment.

  “Go on,” said Three-Dollar gently.

  Sawyer got the words out painfully. “d’Vashti offered us something we couldn’t refuse . . . our lives.”

  Lee spat in disgust. “You cowardly traitors.”

  William Three-Dollar shook his head. “No, Lee. He speaks the truth. They had no choice.”

  “I did it for Finn,” Sawyer said.

  Lee remained unconvinced. “Everything they did, from the very beginning—I should have known we couldn’t trust trackers. Now I know why you tried to stop the Dragon from throwing me in the water, and why you helped me escape from the labor camp, and why you stayed so close to me. You knew the sluice tube had to have an access—and maybe you even knew about the Vampire camp as well—because d’Vashti told you, didn’t he? You did it all to win my trust, because you needed me to lead you back to the TimeBinder.”

  Sawyer acknowledged Lee’s accusations with a reluctant nod. “We just want to get off this miserable planet. We should never have come here.”

  “I’ll give you agreement on that, you lousy traitor!”

  “No,” said Sawyer, looking up for the first time and meeting Lee’s eyes. “You don’t understand. You never did. My brother and I could not have betrayed you—for the simple reason that neither of us ever swore allegiance to your cause. You assumed what you had no right to assume—our agreement. My brother and I have no allegiance to anyone except each other.”

  “And look what that loyalty bought you! Your brother lies dying at your feet.”

  “You idiot,” Sawyer said. “The Regency poisoned Finn. What did you think causes these goddamn spells? The blood-burn doesn’t work like that. Finn suffers from the Vampire’s bite—look at him, damn you! The Phaestor poison flows in his veins. Did you ever wonder what happens inside those cocoons? Look a
t Finn and see! Every hour he gets weaker—and the antidote carries a very high price. Only the capture of the TimeBinder buys the cure!” Sawyer’s anger rose to the surface; he let it. “You want me to feel guilty? Okay, I feel guilty. But I’d do it again to save my brother. Wouldn’t you?”

  “I’ve lost a thousand brothers,” Lee said. “Every single one of them chose death rather than serve the Vampire’s greed. So will I when the time comes. I won’t do less than my brothers.”

  Sawyer opened his mouth to reply, but a hand on his knee stopped him—Finn’s. The big man looked like a wraith, all ashen and gray. “Sawyer,” he said weakly, “Please don’t argue with them.”

  Sawyer—almost as weak as Finn from the effects of the slop field—rolled over on his side so he could face his brother directly. “We didn’t know,” he said. “We’ve always looked out for each other, no one else—”

  “Shh,” said Finn, reaching a hand out to Sawyer. “Don’t talk. Don’t argue. Don’t waste your strength. They have honor. We have . . . life.”

  Sawyer didn’t want his brother to see his dismay, so he just smiled and nodded and took his brother’s hand in his own. “Right,” he said. “But no more government jobs. Never again. Okay?”

  “Okay,” agreed Finn, and then he lapsed back into unconsciousness.

  Liftoff

  Noon came and went. The locator signal did not go off.

  Star-Captain Campbell swore in frustration. She paced the short length of the shuttleboat like a caged animal. Lee-1169 had not shown up, and she had lost valuable time. “I never should have trusted that red-faced little weasel. Rebels! Pfah! They always think their cause has more importance than any contract. They never keep their word.”

  “The Dragon Guard might have captured them.”

  “I doubt that. The Dragons couldn’t hit the broad side of a hanger, firing from the inside.”

  “Shall we wait longer?” asked Ota.

  “No. We’ve waited long enough.”

  “I do feel some obligation to them—”

  “And I feel some obligation to thirty-three metric tons of pfingle eggs—a deep financial obligation.” Campbell spoke to the computer, “EDNA? Download the latest launch and intercept course. We lift in fifteen minutes. Scan for local patrols and high-altitude interference. If necessary, I’ll hedge-hob halfway around this damn rock, but I’d just as soon stand her on her tail and climb straight for the sky.”

  “Working,” EDNA said politely, and then almost immediately after, “Done. I have also downloaded six alternate courses and evasion routines.”

  Captain Campbell muttered something unintelligible in acknowledgment and flung herself into the pilot’s chair to examine the courses on her screen. “Gito! Robin! Jen! Cycle up the main batteries. Check your weaponry. Heat the thrusters. Eject all bystanders and non-paying customers. Seal the hatches. Check for atmospheric integrity. Fasten your seatbelts and stand by for liftoff.”

  In the aft of the shuttlecraft, Robin glanced over at Gito. “She loves doing that.”

  “She acts like a martinet,” Gito grumbled as he sealed the hatch.

  “But we chose to work for this martinet,” Robin replied, glancing down a row of green lights on her work station. “So we might as well enjoy her.”

  The Captain of The Lady MacBeth came stamping back to the passenger’s cabin, with a glowering expression on her face. She looked at Harry, Kask, Ibaka, and Arl-N, all that remained of the original band of escapees. “Well?” she demanded. “Without Lee-1169, how do you plan to pay for your escape?”

  Ibaka crawled into Kask’s lap and huddled there. The big Dragon glanced over at Arl-N, the spindly man. “Should we get off and wait? Without Lee-1169, who will take us to the Alliance of Life?”

  Arl-N grinned at the Dragon. “Wherever we go, we bring the Alliance with us, Kask. It works that way.” He looked up at Captain Campbell. “We need to leave this planet before it kills us. The Justice has already paid his fare with an arbitration—”

  “He did not!”

  “Would you like to arbitrate that?” Arl-N smiled blandly. “In any case, I would like to suggest the same arrangement. Perhaps the Dragon and I have some skill or service that we can offer you in exchange for our passage.”

  “I have all the crew I need, thank you.”

  “Do you have contacts with the Freebooters’ Circuit on Burihatin?”

  Campbell hesitated. “Can you provide that service?”

  Arl-N nodded. “My skill as a negotiator almost equals my fame as a poet.”

  “That news doesn’t fill me with confidence. I’ve never heard of you before.”

  Arl-N spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “Then you will have to take my word for it—or throw us off. The Dragon, by the way, works as my bodyguard. I don’t think he’d allow it.”

  “I hate negotiations like this,” Captain Campbell said. “We need to get out of here, not waste time arguing.” But she allowed herself an appreciative nod. “On the other hand, I like your style of negotiation. I’d rather have you on my side of the table than opposite. I’ll take you as far as Burihatin. After that, we’ll see—”

  “Thank you, my lady. I will strive not to disappoint you.”

  Campbell grunted and went back to the front of the boat. “All right,” she called. “Lock and lift!” She waited until the last light on her board turned green, then eased the boat gently forward and up into the air. The tiny seed-shaped craft nosed up out of the canyon, slewed around to point eastward, and began accelerating across the broken hills to the desert beyond.

  The shuttleboat raced hard across the desert floor, staying low and building up speed, until at last it swung its nose upward and sliced straight out into the hard red sky.

  The Taste of Blood

  Despite her victory, the gloom of day filled the Lady Zillabar’s chambers. Only a faint pink glow seeped up from around the edges of the floor. It did nothing to dispel the darkness. The ornate panels and screenwork remained hidden in shadow, and the pale silk draperies that framed the alcoves hung motionless and looked like empty shrouds. Above, the tiny animated gargoyles and imps that prowled the upper cornices had fallen silent and still; they curled up inconspicuously into their metal shells and waited patiently for the celebrations of night to return.

  Four figures stood at the dark end of the hall—two Vampires, two humans.

  Lady Zillabar towered taller than the others. She wore a black velvet cloak that enveloped her completely; its hood almost completely shielded her face. Her smoldering eyes seemed to glow in the air with only blackness around them.

  Across from her stood Kernel d’Vashti, resplendent in his armor and medals and jewelled ornamentation. He wore his blood-red cape slung back over his shoulders so the sculpted and polished beauty of his breastplate could gleam brightly in the gloom.

  Between them stood two humans. Sawyer, the thin blond; and Finn, the heavier dark one. Both the men held themselves stiff and emotionless before the Vampires. Tension edged the air.

  Zillabar looked across the space at d’Vashti. “This day has brought nothing but bad news. What do you bring me?” She looked at the two men with ill-concealed distaste.

  “I bring you what you ask for. As I have always done.”

  Lady Zillabar waited impassively.

  d’Vashti explained. “You asked for the TimeBinder of Thoska-Roole? I have him in custody.”

  Zillabar inclined her head curiously at Sawyer and Finn. “And these two men?”

  “These two men performed the difficult part of that service for us,” d’Vashti explained. “You said you wanted to meet everyone responsible. Sawyer and Finn Markham tracked the enemies of the Regency—your enemies, my lady—and brought them back to Phaestor justice. Let them taste your gratitude.”

  Zillabar’s glance flickered briefly over the two humans, then returned to focus steadily on the ambitious d’Vashti. “My gratitude?” she asked in a voice like stone. “Do you kno
w what your little escapade has cost me?” Zillabar’s eyes pierced out of the darkness. “A band of armed escapees travelled south from the labor camp. They attacked and overpowered the guests at my private nest.”

  “Yes,” acknowledged d’Vashti, unembarrassed. “I had heard of the difficulties.” He added blandly, “If you had let me build that nest or provide the protection, it would not have happened.” He allowed himself an outward smile. “I offer my sympathies—and I share your shock and outrage at the unfortunate discovery of the late Prince Drydel’s unworthy behavior. On the other hand, perhaps you may take some condolence that you discovered his discourtesies now instead of later, when they would have caused even greater embarrassment.”

  Lady Zillabar stared across at d’Vashti, astonished at the boldness of his manner. Of course, she had known of Drydel’s personal tastes; she’d never told him that she knew, but she’d made her nest available to him specifically so he could pursue his boyish pleasures in a safe and secluded location and avoid the possibility of bringing shame down on his name and a reflected taint on hers.

  Obviously, by saying these hateful things in the presence of their human prisoners, d’Vashti intended his remarks as a ploy to embarrass her now. He referred to the matter as a deliberate show of strength, as well as test to see what she had known and when she had known it. She didn’t dare let him win this conversational battle. Only the most devastating of rebukes would do.

  She let the anger flood up from her inner face and she vented it on the pompous fool before her. “You engineered the escape, didn’t you? You planned the entire operation. You pointed the criminals southward. You told them of the location of the nest. And you kept away the Dragon Guards who would have intercepted them. You sacrificed Lord Drydel to your ambition, didn’t you?”

  d’Vashti bowed in supplication, but not low enough. “My Lady,” he said. “I wish I had the cunning that you believe. Did I have a plan for the prisoners’ escape? Yes? Did they follow it? No, they did not. They found their own way of breaking the control of the slave-bands and overpowering the guards. The death of Lord Drydel has sorrowed us all. I myself must admit to some attraction to your Lord, and remain deeply grieved at his loss.”