Eros at Zenith: Book 2 of Tales of the Velvet Comet

by Mike Resnick

  “Are you saying that you consider a whorehouse to be more important than me?” he demanded.

  “Precisely.”

  “I suppose I should be grateful,” he said coldly, “but that's the most ridiculous statement I've ever heard.”

  “Then settle for being grateful,” replied the Black Pearl.

  “I made the most important decision of my life after assessing which actions would serve the greatest number of human beings. You've made yours by judging the fate of a man against a whorehouse!”

  “Don't flatter yourself. This was really a very small, simple decision.”

  “I don't know what's become of our values when a whorehouse is considered more important than a man.”

  “The Comet's not just any whorehouse,” she said, “and you're not just any man.”

  “A whorehouse is a whorehouse!” he snapped. “It's symptomatic of the lack of character of our government that it's allowed to exist at all!”

  “Do you oppose all things erotic, or merely those that cost money?”

  “No matter what you think, I am a moral man,” said Bello. “And I believe that uncontrolled passions cloud men's judgment.”

  “Was it passion that clouded your judgment when you were on New Sumatra?” she asked calmly.

  “Nothing clouded my judgment!” he yelled. “I did the right thing!” He glared at her. “I suppose it's my own fault for thinking that a whore could understand something like that. It's totally beyond your realm of experience.”

  “It certainly is,” she agreed. “I have never been called upon to kill anyone.”

  “I served the Republic to the best of my ability,” he continued doggedly. “The situation arose and I had to face it.”

  “Well, I serve Eros to the best of my ability,” relied the Black Pearl.

  “I hope you're not comparing the two!”

  “No, I'm not. Eros is far more important.”

  “That's just what I'd expect someone like you to say!”

  “The job of a madam is to bring pleasure into people's lives. The job of a governor is to bring order. Which do you suppose is more important?”

  “Without order there is nothing!”

  “Don't be silly,” she said. “People have frequently lived without order, and as long as their needs were fulfilled they got by. But try taking their pleasures away and see how long they'll tolerate your order, Mr. Bello.”

  “To think that I owe my safety to someone who thinks a whorehouse is more important than a man's life!” he muttered.

  “May I point out that in this instance I think it's more important than a man's death?” said the Black Pearl with a smile.

  “This instance?” he repeated.

  She nodded. “If I felt that arresting or even killing you was in the best interests of the Comet, I wouldn't hesitate to do so.”

  “Then you admit that there are circumstances under which every person in authority has the right to kill.”

  “I never denied it,” she replied. “I just don't think the circumstances arose on New Sumatra. You jumped the gun.”

  “All you've ever done is jump into bed with anyone who could afford you!” he snapped. “What gives you the right to judge my actions?”

  “You've asked for sanctuary aboard my ship,” said the Black Pearl. “That gives me the right.”

  “Your ship!” he said contemptuously. “You mean your whorehouse!”

  “You keep saying whorehouse as if it's a derogatory word. I assure you that it's not. Vulgar, perhaps, but not derogatory.”

  “Then it should be.”

  “What do you know about whorehouses, Mr. Bello?” she said. “Have you ever frequented one?”

  “Certainly not.”

  “If you survive this episode in your life, perhaps you should. You might gain an education.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “I don't. The Velvet Comet is considerably more than a mere whorehouse, Mr. Bello. We have the finest gourmet chefs, the most elegant casino, the most unique fantasy rooms, the most luxurious decor, the most opulent shopping center, the most complete library of booktapes and cinemas, of any place in the Republic. We cater to both sexes in almost equal quantities. We present our patrons with a total experience, not just a sexual one.”

  “What are you driving at?”

  “Your orderly society requires people to work. We are what they're working for.”

  “The Velvet Comet is an exclusive playground for the decadent rich, nothing more,” he said resolutely.

  “I totally agree, except for the word decadent. Since the Comet represents an almost unattainable goal, it's only natural that only a relative handful of people can obtain what it has to offer. And,” she added with finality, “since it is the closest thing to a perfect refuge from the banal and mundane yet created, I won't permit you to be the cause of its destruction.”

  Bello stared at her across the table, an expression of utter contempt on his stern face. “You are perhaps the most immoral person I have ever encountered,” he said.

  “That's interesting, coming from the murderer of 11,000 innocent men, women and children.”

  “It is nevertheless true.”

  “And when was the last time you looked into a mirror, Mr. Bello?”

  “I can live with what I've done.”

  “Bully for you,” said the Black Pearl. “Too bad the same can't be said for your victims.”

  “You are an evil woman,” he continued. “At least Crane and the New Sumatran are acting for what they consider moral reasons.”

  “Let's be perfectly frank, Mr. Bello,” said the Black Pearl. “Do you really care whether I'm serving Eros or Order, as long as I save your ass?”

  “I certainly do.”

  She smiled in amusement. “You're only saying that because you know I'll protect you regardless of what you feel.”

  “I am speaking the absolute truth.”

  “Really?”

  He glared at her severely. “I don't lie, not even to whores.”

  “Well,” she said, “as long as you don't want the protection of a whore, there might be a way out of this yet. I can't let Mr. Crane and Pagliacci take you back to Deluros, not with the ensuing publicity—but if I offer to turn you over to Pagliacci on the condition that he kills you aboard the Comet and promises never to tell what he's done...” She let her voice trail off for a moment and watched him shift uncomfortably.

  “You can't!” he rasped harshly.

  “Oh? Why not?”

  “It would be tantamount to murder!”

  “Not murder—execution. After all, you're wanted dead or alive.”

  “You wouldn't know whether you could believe him!” said Bello, starting to fidget in earnest.

  “What possible difference can that make to you?” she asked. “If he talked, it would be detrimental to the Comet—and you disapprove of the Comet.”

  She watched him squirm for another minute and then laughed aloud.

  “Relax, Mr. Bello. I'm not going to give you to Pagliacci. You don't know it, of course, but nothing could keep Mr. Crane quiet. He's not quite the moral paragon you seem to think; in point of fact, he views you as nothing more than a job opportunity. At any rate, you simply aren't worth the trouble he can cause my ship.”

  “Then why did you say all that?” he demanded.

  “I just thought you might like to admit that there are worse things than being under the protection of a whore—such as not being under her protection.”

  “You are a despicable woman!” he snapped, rising to his feet.

  “Aren't you staying for dessert?” she asked sweetly.

  He left the room without uttering another word.

  The Black Pearl finished her meal, cleaned off the table, had the computer check on Crane's and Pagliacci's whereabouts, and spent the next half hour tending to her Night Crystals, all the while wondering why, of the billions upon billions of humans in the galaxy, Quintus Bello had become the
one she found herself forced to defend against all enemies.

  Chapter 15

  “Cupid?” said Crane.

  YES?

  “Put a call through to the Black Pearl.”

  SHE HAS EXPLICITLY STATED THAT SHE DOES NOT WISH TO RECEIVE ANY COMMUNICATIONS FROM YOU OR PAGLIACCI.

  “Do it anyway.”

  I HAVE BEEN INSTRUCTED NOT TO.

  “Tell her it's an emergency.”

  It took almost a full minute before the Black Pearl's image appeared.

  “What is the emergency, Mr. Crane?”

  “Where's Lover Boy?” he asked, his eyes scanning the office.

  “In the next room.”

  “Sleeping?”

  “Pouting,” she answered. “We don't get along very well.”

  “That's not exactly surprising, considering who he is and what he's done,” remarked Crane. “You really ought to turn him over to me.”

  “Nothing's changed, Mr. Crane. I can't do it.”

  “Something has changed,” he corrected her. “It's almost 2100 hours, ship's time.”

  “I know what time it is,” she replied.

  “But what you don't know is that if you haven't released Bello into my custody by midnight, Pagliacci is coming in after him.”

  “Alone?”

  Crane shook his head. “If I can't stop him, I'll have to join him.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if somebody is going to capture Quintus Bello, it's going to be me.” He paused. “This thing is getting out of hand. That's why we have to talk.”

  “We just finished talking Mr. Crane,” said the Black Pearl. “And now that you've told me what to expect, I'll have the Dragon Lady order Security to confine Pagliacci to his quarters.”

  “It's not that simple,” said Crane with a grimace. “I don't know where he is.”

  “I'll ask Cupid.”

  “Cupid doesn't know either. I've already asked.”

  She stared at him for a moment, then put the question to the computer and received a negative answer. “He must be in the tunnel,” she concluded.

  “I don't know,” said Crane dubiously. “He has to figure that's the first place you'd look for him. He's been aboard the ship for a few months; probably he's found half a dozen places to hide where Cupid can't find him.”

  “Then we'll simply have to ferret him out with search parties.”

  “I wouldn't do that if I were you,” said Crane.

  “Why not?”

  “Because Infante wasn't the first man he's killed. This guy knows his stuff. Send a Security team after him and I guarantee most of them won't live through the night.”

  “Then what do you suggest?”

  “I don't know,” said Crane. “But I think we'd better get together and talk about it sometime in the next half hour.”

  “You can't come here,” she said adamantly. “I don't trust you with Bello in the apartment.”

  “Then come to my suite.”

  “Pagliacci might be watching.”

  “Okay,” he said. “You name a place.”

  “The hunting lodge.”

  “You mean the fantasy room?”

  She nodded. “It's not currently in use, and we won't be overheard.”

  “Ten minutes?” suggested Crane.

  “Make it twenty,” she replied. “And I trust you won't mind if I bring the Dragon Lady.”

  “Be my guest.”

  He broke the connection, then had Cupid throw a floorplan of the fantasy levels onto the screen and pinpoint the hunting lodge's location. Then, with a few minutes to kill, he had the computer bring up the holograph of the Black Pearl's erotic dance, watched it for the better part of ten minutes, and then began making his way to the appointed meeting place.

  He walked down the long corridor, took an elevator to the top level of the Resort, got off, turned to his left, stopped at the fifth door, and ordered it to open.

  He stepped through into a splendidly-appointed hunting lodge. The floor was made of some polished hardwood and was covered by half a dozen animal skins, while the walls housed the mounted heads of some twenty animals: there were Baffledivers from Pinnipes II, Devilowls from Alimond, a tiger from Earth itself, even a representation of the supposedly mythical Dreamwish Beast.

  The furniture was all made of tufted leather, the bar possessed a matching leather trim, and there was a floor-to-ceiling free-standing stone fireplace in the middle of the room. An oversized wooden bed dominated one corner, and off to one side was a circular whirlpool bath with a cloud of steam rising from the surface.

  The back wall of the lodge was composed entirely of interlocking glass doors which led to a sturdy wooden balcony. He slid one of the doors open, and suddenly his ears and nostrils were assailed by an array of strange and exotic sounds and scents. The terrain seemed to extend for miles, the flat grasslands leading to a series of foothills off in the distance. Herds of elephantine herbivores grazed within 50 yards of him, while somewhat farther away he could see a pride of red-tinted catlike carnivores gathered around a kill. He looked up, shading his eyes from the bright yellow sun, and saw a trio of hawklike creatures circling lazily over the carnivores, waiting for their opportunity to swoop down and scavenge the leftovers.

  Despite the fact that he knew the fantasy room was no more than 30 by 40 feet, he had to fight the urge to believe utterly in the reality of his surroundings.

  He could even feel the lodge shake when a group of the herbivores trotted past.

  Suddenly he heard the door to the corridor slide open, and he walked back into the lodge. The Black Pearl and the Dragon Lady entered the room and walked over to the grouping of chairs by the roaring but heatless fire.

  “This is some room,” said Crane, joining them.

  “Actually, it's one of our less popular ones,” replied the Black Pearl. “Not romantic enough.”

  “How much of it is real?”

  “Everything from the bed to the wet bar. The rest of it comes from about 50 holographic projectors.”

  He maneuvered an oversized leather chair until it faced both of theirs and then sat down.

  “It seems pretty romantic to me,” he noted.

  “There are too many things to see through the window,” answered the Black Pearl. “It tends to take the attention away from where it belongs. However,” she added, “we didn't come here to talk about romance.”

  “No, we didn't,” he agreed.

  “In fact, we came to talk about a situation that is largely of your own devising,” she continued.

  “What are you talking about? I'm not the one who's planning on breaking into your apartment at midnight.”

  “But you're the one who lured Quintus Bello here in the first place,” said the Black Pearl.

  “I think we're getting away from the point,” interjected the Dragon Lady. “We have a potentially explosive situation here, and we want to come up with some method of defusing it.”

  “Simple,” said Crane firmly. “Turn Bello over to me and let us leave the Comet before midnight.”

  “That's out of the question,” said the Black Pearl.

  “It's no longer a case of letting him walk,” persisted Crane. “You've really just got two choices: either I take him peacefully, or else Pagliacci takes him forcibly and a bunch of people die in the process. There's no third way.”

  “There are always alternatives,” said the Dragon Lady.

  “For instance?”

  “That's what we're here to discuss,” she said.

  “For example, does Pagliacci plan to enlist your aid at midnight?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “Then he'll make contact with you before he starts to apply force?”

  “Probably.”

  “Well, there's one alternative,” said the Dragon Lady. “Arrest him when he shows up.”

  “For how long?” asked Crane. “Sooner or later you've got to release him or turn him over to the authorities, and you can be
t that the first two words out of his mouth are going to be ‘Quintus Bello'.”

  “First things first,” said the Dragon Lady. “Once we've got him, we'll worry about what to do with him.”

  “And what do I get out of it?”

  “I don't understand the question,” said the Security Chief. “You will be helping us to make sure no blood is shed.”

  He shook his head. “Not enough. If I'm going to put my life on the line—and make no mistake about it, that's exactly what you're asking me to do—then I need something more in remuneration than the satisfaction of a job well done.”

  “You're referring to Bello, of course?” said the Dragon Lady.

  “Of course.”

  “No deal,” said the Black Pearl.

  “You don't even like him,” noted Crane.

  “Liking him has nothing to do with it,” she replied.

  “I've explained over and over again: I won't have him apprehended aboard the Comet.”

  “And I've explained over and over again that you can't keep this thing quiet,” replied Crane in frustration. “If you arrest Bello, he's going to talk; and if you let him go, Pagliacci is going to talk.” Suddenly he jumped up. “Shit!”

  “What's the matter?” asked the Dragon Lady.

  “Cupid?” he yelled.

  A screen behind the bar flickered to life.

  YES?

  “Have I been monitored since I arrived here?”

  NO.

  “Open the Priority File, and make it retroactive to the moment I opened the door to this room.”

  WORKING ... DONE.

  He turned back to the two women.

  “Even if Bello and Pagliacci both turned into saints, gave themselves up, and never said a word about the Comet, you'd still have to remember never to mention them again. That's twice I've almost blown it in two days—and you're up here full time.”

  “That is the least of our problems,” said the Dragon Lady.

  “Right,” agreed the Black Pearl. She paused, then said thoughtfully: “Would Pagliacci be open to a deal?”

  “Not the one you offered me,” said Crane harshly.

  “Don't be crude, Mr. Crane,” she replied.

  “What kind of deal?”

  “What if we agreed to drop the murder charge against him, in exchange for his allowing Bello to leave?”