Authors: Margaret Weis
The captain
swayed, nearly fell. She caught herself, held fast to the nightstand
with hands that shook with the effort. Her breathing came fast and
shallow, sweat glistened on the brown skin.
"I've been
trying to make her lie down. I'm afraid she'll hurt herself, my
lady," said Brother Daniel.
"If she
does, she does," said Maigrey. "Come with me, Brother."
Turning on her heel, she walked out the door.
Brother Daniel,
with a sigh, folded his hands together and started to follow.
The captain
shouted after them, "Aren't you afraid your meat'll get damaged,
bitch?" and then pitched forward onto her face on the bed.
Daniel, when he
joined her in the corridor, was extremely pale. Maigrey shut the
door.
The trio was
waiting for them outside. Raoul looked aggrieved, wounded, unusual
emotions for a Loti, but then he was obviously taking this failure as
a personal affront to his skills. The Little One had his gaze fixed
on Daniel, as did—perhaps—Sparafucile. One never knew for
certain exactly what the misaligned eyes were looking at.
"According
to Brother Daniel," Maigrey began, "he gave the woman the
correct dosage of the drug—"
"And he is
telling the truth," interrupted Raoul with a smile and bow for
Brother Daniel. "According to the Little One."
"Thank
you," said Maigrey. "When I want the Little One's opinion,
I'll ask for it. The question is, what do we do now? And your other
'solution' is not an option. When, we reach Corasia—safely we
all hope—and have no further need of this ship, we will turn it
back over to its captain, who will then join up with His Majesty's
armada and fly it and the passengers safely back to our galaxy.
Therefore, we need the captain alive and well.
"You saw
her." Maigrey gestured at the closed door. "I admit she
doesn't look dangerous in that condition, but anyone with that much
guts and determination could do about anything. Well?"
Raoul's
eyelashes fluttered. "My lady, I cannot possibly give her any
additional injections of the drug until it begins to wear off, which
will be, tf she continues to struggle against it, in about
seventy-two hours."
"A sedative
along with it?"
"That is,
of course, a possibility, but it might prove extremely toxic, my
lady. If it is imperative that we keep this woman alive, I would not
advise risking it."
Maigrey heard
Brother Daniel, standing beside her, exhale softly, saw his taut face
relax, some color return to his cheeks. It never occurred to him, of
course, that this increased her problems, doubled their danger,
imperiled the success of the mission.
You won't be so
pleased, Brother, when you hear what I'm about to propose, she
promised him silently, bitterly. Let's see what happens when the
devil takes
you
to the top of the mountain!
"Very well,
then," said Maigrey. "She'll have to be restrained, for her
own protection. And someone will have to stay with her, perform the
duties of nurse and guard. Fortunately, we have with us someone who
can handle both."
Brother Daniel
realized what she was asking—stay with the woman, guard her day
and night. The color in his face deepened, then fled altogether. He
stared at Maigrey wildly, his lips trembled.
"My lady—"
"Brother
Daniel, you are the only one I can spare for this duty. I need Xris
and his men to run the ship, maintain security. Agis and Sparafucile
and I will man the bridge, share the watch, spell each other as pilot
and co-pilot.
"Raoul and
what's-its-name here will be able to give you a break, now and then.
But Raoul has to monitor the other passengers and he will be required
to manufacture and administer additional injections of the drug in
order to keep them from coming out of the hibernation prematurely.
"If you
refuse, Brother Daniel," Maigrey continued relentlessly, "I
will have to give the woman a sedative and risk the consequences. She
is far too dangerous to leave unattended."
Brother Daniel
had regained his composure. "I will do what is required of me,
my lady."
"Satisfactory,"
she said, softening her severe tone. "I have every confidence in
you, Brother."
"Thank you,
my lady," he said quietly, but his eyes were cast down, the
hands—clasped together—were clenched tightly.
Maigrey was, it
seemed, the only one who had confidence in him. He certainly didn't
have it in himself. Or in God.
That makes two
of us, she told him silently. She knew she should feel something,
remorse that she had been vengefully pleased to inflict this
suffering on him, sympathy for him, even human curiosity to see
whether or not he broke his vows. But she didn't. She felt nothing
except irritation that this stupid problem should have been foisted
upon her.
She felt nothing
for Dion either. Be careful what you wish for. . . . His wish had
come true, he'd made it come true. It wasn't exactly what he'd
wanted, what he dreamed it would be. The shining silver ball had
spikes.
They were all
standing there, staring at her expectantly.
Maigrey realized
she'd wandered off again on some inner excursion. She wrenched
herself back, prodded her weary mind to continue plodding along.
"Sparafucile,
rig up some type of restraints for the woman. Make them comfortable,
but make them effective."
"I already
think such a thing might be wanted, lady-mine," said the
half-breed and reached a hand into the bundle of rags that passed for
clothing. He removed a metal box, opened it, displayed its contents.
"Sometimes
I paid not to kill a person but to keep a person very much alive. I
am paid to have pleasant conversation with a person. But sometimes a
person does not want to have pleasant conversation with Sparafucile."
"Paralyzers,"
said Maigrey. "Satisfactory."
"They won't
hurt her, will they?" asked the priest, staring at the four
objects lined up in a neat row in the metal case.
"Not at
all. Here." Maigrey reached in, lifted out what appeared to be a
thick metal bracelet. "Hold out your hand."
Brother Daniel
did as he was told, eyeing the mechanical device dubiously. He
flinched when Maigrey locked the contraption around his left wrist,
stared at it curiously when it was in place. It was lightweight, fit
loosely, slid easily up and down his slender arm. He might truly have
been wearing nothing more than a bracelet. Maigrey, smiling slightly,
reached out and activated a switch.
The bracelet
began to hum faintly, a row of lights flickered. Daniel stared at the
contraption, eyes wide, mouth gaping wide.
"I ... I
can't move my fingers!" he said, voice squeezed in panic. "I
can't feel my hand!"
Maigrey
deactivated the device. The hum faded, the lights went dark. Daniel
flexed his hand, curled the fingers in on the palm, uncurled them. He
examined them in perplexity, looked up. "What?"
"It's all
in your mind," explained Maigrey. "The paralyzers simply
block the nerve impulses from the brain to the hand and, when you put
them on the ankles, the feet. They don't disrupt the blood flow,
don't injure the body in any way. But it's quite an effective
restraint. Sparafucile, put them on the woman—"
"No,"
said Brother Daniel firmly, taking the box, casting a grim glance at
the half-breed. "Show me how to operate them. I will put them on
her."
Sparafucile
chuckled low in his throat, a sound that was much like an animal
growling and chortling over a fresh kill.
Maigrey
hesitated, then decided wearily that it didn't matter. The half-breed
had his listening device. He would be able to warn her if . . . But
who would spy on the half-breed?
Maigrey was
suddenly sick and tired of the whole lot of them, sick and tired of
herself. "I'll be on the bridge," she said. "Report to
me there."
Brother Daniel
paid close attention to the half-breed's tutelage, though it took an
effort of will on the young priest's part to stand that close to the
assassin, who seemed to Daniel to smell of blood and death.
"I
understand," said the priest, voice level, even. "This
activates it. This shuts it off."
"These two
fit over ankles, these over wrists. You can increase size, if you
want. But I think that will not he necessary. The lady have very long
legs, very fine ankles. A man could put his hand around them—"
"I am
certain that they will fit properly," interrupted Brother
Daniel. Grasping the box awkwardly under one arm, he walked to the
door, activated it.
Tomi lay on the
bed. She did not stir. He hoped she was asleep. That would make his
heinous task easier. He took a step into the room, realized that the
assassin was silently following right behind him.
Daniel turned,
blocked the door with his body.
"What do
you want?"
He tried to
remain calm. If once the half-breed caught the scent of fear, he'd go
for the throat, rip him to shreds.
"I watch,
check to see that you put them on right." The assassin took a
step nearer.
"I'll put
them on right."
Daniel did not
move. A swift glance showed him Raoul and the Little One, standing
across the corridor. They would be of no help, however. One was
watching with amused curiosity. God knew what the other was doing or
thinking beneath that hat, behind the turned-up collar of the
raincoat.
Sparafucile came
a step nearer. The deformed face was horrible, close up. He was
grinning, which had the effect of nearly shutting the lowest of the
two eyes. Daniel couldn't help but involuntarily turn his own face
away. The assassin's foul breath was hot upon his cheek.
"You ask
what I want. I tell you, priest. I want only to have a little fun.
The Starlady, she not care. I not hurt woman. Maybe woman enjoy it,
eh? Maybe you enjoy it, priest? We not that much different, you and
I. We both want same thing, eh?"
Brother Daniel
looked back at him in horror, looked into the misaligned eyes of the
half-breed, and shuddered. He saw the lust, die desire, and it was
like looking into a mirror, held up by his soul. He saw, in those
eyes, what he feared the half-breed must be seeing in his. They were
alike. Too much alike.
"Get away
from this door," said Brother Daniel.
The half-breed's
eyes squinted, narrowed. The leer changed to an ugly snarl that
showed rows of white, sharp-edged teeth. "How you stop me,
priest? You have no weapon." He shoved Daniel with his body that
was hard-muscled, strong, and powerful.
The priest
staggered, caught himself, stood firm, held his ground. "Get
away from the door."
Sparafucile's
body tensed. Daniel braced himself, for the knife, the hands,
whatever . . . He started to pray. The words stuck in his throat.
Unworthy.
The assassin's
hands moved with lightning-swift speed, but not to attack. He clapped
Daniel soundly on both shoulders, eyed the priest with approval.
"You brave.
You stand up to Sparafucile. This God you serve, the God of my lord,
He gives you such courage?"
"Yes,"
said Brother Daniel faintly, not at all certain he understood what
was going on, not at all certain danger had passed.
The half-breed
nodded once, abruptly, shaking a quantity of dirty hair over his
face. "Lady-mine choose wisely when she bring you. I wonder, at
first. Now I know, eh? We be good friends, now, you and Sparafucile."
The half-breed held out his hand, grinned. "Like brothers."
Like brothers,
Daniel thought in silent misery. Once I would have scorned to touch
that hand. Once I would have refused to dirty myself. But now, I no
longer have that right. He clasped the assassin's hand in his,
pressed it tightly.
"And maybe
you tell me something of this God of my lord's."
Daniel replied
with a nod. He had lost the power of speech. Sparafucile grinned,
flashed a swift look past the priest to the woman, lying on the bed.
Turning with a shrug, he ambled away, his shuffling step and hunched
shoulders a deceit, a sham.
Raoul, across
the corridor, sparkled and bowed. "Most impressive," he
said with a toss of his head, as if he'd just come from watching a
particularly entertaining bit of theater.
He and the
Little One, whose eyes beneath the fedora glinted wickedly, minced
daintily along down the corridor after the assassin.
Brother Daniel
shut the door, sealed it, started to move, found he couldn't. He
leaned weakly against the wall, shivering, sweat chilling on his
body.
"You're not
like . . . those others," came a slurred, soft voice behind him.
"Why are you doing this?"
Daniel jerked
around. "I thought you were asleep," he said, eyes on the
bedspread. "I'm sorry you heard."
Step firm, he
crossed over to the nightstand, put down the metal box, opened it.
"You . . .
stood up to him. No weapon. You knew what he meant to do to me. ..."
"It was
only some sort of test,' said Daniel, removing one of the bracelets
from the box. His gaze focused on the woman's arm, brown-skinned,
smooth. "He didn't mean it."
"Like
hell," said Tomi.
She yawned,
drowsy. Her eyes were liquid, black as the night, warm as the dreams
that sometimes tormented his nights. She propped herself up on one
elbow, watched him position the bracelet on her arm with only faint
interest, as if the arm didn't really belong to her, but to someone
else in the next bed.
"I've never
met . . . man like you." She ran her fingers over the hand that
was clasping the paralyzer around her wrist. "Gentle hands. A
touch . . . like a woman's. No weapon, he said. No weapon. And you
stood there. That killer. Never seen . . so brave." Her eyes
shut. Her head lolled back on the pillow.