The Dark Lady (17 page)

“I think Leonardo could use a glucose solution,” remarked Heath, turning to me. “I've never seen you so pale. You must be dehydrated.”

My hue reflected my fear, of course, but I did not dare say so. “I will be fine as soon as I recover from the heat,” I replied. “I would like a glass of water, please.”

“Water it is,” said Heath, looking down at the tabletop computer and frowning. “I see the buttons for brandy and beer, but I can't find water listed here.”

“It doesn't work anyway,” said Peres. “Not all that much on Acheron does. I'll take care of it.”

He walked to the bar and returned a moment later, carrying our various drinks on a tray, which he set on the table in front of Heath, and slightly beyond my reach. Heath, seeming more amused than offended by his attitude toward non-humans, simply passed the water over to me.

“So tell me, Mr. Peres,” said Heath, drinking half of his beer in a single swallow, “how did Sergio Mallachi die?”

“He was killed right here in this tavern.”

“By some killer he was hunting down?”

“I suppose you could say so,” replied Peres.

“That sounds like a very ambiguous answer,” noted Heath.

“He was a killer, all right— but that's not why Mallachi came after him.” Peres sipped his brandy. “It was over the woman. She had left Mallachi a few months ago and hooked up with this youngster, and Mallachi came here looking to kill him. Called him out right there in the middle of the floor, and the Kid killed him.”

“Well,” said Heath, “nobody ever said being a bounty hunter made him a good insurance risk.”

“True enough,” agreed Peres.

“And you say he was killed by a young man?”

“Right. Everyone just calls him the Kid.” Peres smiled a knowing smile. “Not many men use their real names out here on the Frontier— especially if they're wanted by the law.”

“And the woman?” asked Heath intently. “What happened to her?”

“She's right here,” replied Peres calmly.

“Here?” repeated Heath, startled. “In this building?”

Peres shook his head. “No. Here on Acheron. She's down the street, locked away in the jail.”

“What did she do?”

“Not a damned thing,” said Peres.

“Then I don't understand... ”

“The Kid's still on Acheron,” explained Peres. “He's out in the desert somewhere.”

“You're sure?”

Peres nodded. “As long as his ship's here, we know he hasn't left the planet.”

Heath nodded toward the three men. “Then what are these bounty hunters doing here? They should be out looking for him.”

“The Kid has used Acheron as his headquarters for close to five years, and he knows those mine tunnels better than anyone. A man would have to be crazy to go in there and try to dig him out, especially when we've got better ways to bring him back.”

“You're using the woman as bait?”

“That's right.”

“How do you know he won't leave without her?”

“There's two more bounty hunters out by his ship.”

“If his hideout is well equipped, he could stay out there for years,” said Heath.

Peres shook his head. “He'll show up either today or tomorrow,” he said confidently.

“What makes you think so?”

“Because we transmitted a message over all our radio bands that she's being executed tomorrow night.”

“Why should he believe you?” asked Heath.

“No reason,” admitted Peres. “But
I
didn't send it.
She
did.” He paused. “In fact, the whole thing was her idea.”

“She
wants
him to walk into a trap?”

“Evidently,” said Peres. He couldn't hide a look of bewilderment. “Doesn't make much sense, does it?”

“Not unless she thinks he can live through it,” agreed Heath.

“Not a chance,” said Peres. “There must be a dozen bounty hunters stationed around the town. Word about Mallachi's killing went out, and they swarmed down on Acheron like locusts.” He sighed. “There's still ore to be mined here. I've got a feeling it's going to be a little harder to interest investors in Acheron after a couple of killings— the one we've had, and the one we're going to have.”

“Perhaps you should try selling it as a tourist attraction, with monuments on the spots where Mallachi and his killer died,” suggested Heath. “In fact,” he added thoughtfully, “it's not inconceivable that the Kid will take a couple of bounty hunters with him and give you a couple of more monuments.”

“Would
you
come all the way out here to see where a bunch of killers died?” asked Peres skeptically.

“No,” admitted Heath. “But... ”

“But what?”

“But I abhor all forms of crime and violence. People without my scruples might very well be fascinated.”

“Maybe,” said Peres without much conviction.

There was a momentary silence, as each man finished his drink.

“What will happen to the woman after this young man is killed?” asked Heath at last.

“We'll let her go.”

“I wonder if I might see her before we leave,” said Heath.

“Why?” asked Peres suspiciously.

“She lived with him,” replied Heath. “She might be able to tell me if he's got any heirs, and where I can find them. Also,” he added confidentially, “I'm curious to meet a woman who is so intent on summoning her lover to his death.”

“How do I know the Kid didn't send you to help her escape?”

“You can check my ship's flight log,” said Heath. “We've been in space for three weeks, and you tell me Mallachi was killed two weeks ago.”

“I just don't know... ” said Peres meaningfully.

“I'd be
very
grateful,” said Heath.

“
How
grateful?”

Heath pulled out a billfold and counted out three hundred credits.

“Is the alien coming too?” asked Peres.

“Yes,” said Heath, adding two more fifty-credit notes to the pile of bills on the table.

Peres stared at the money for a moment, then took it and stuffed it into a pocket.

“Let's go,” he said, getting to his feet.

I joined them as they walked to the door and up the ramp onto the hot, dusty street.

“This way,” said Peres, turning to his left.

We walked about fifty feet and stopped.

“That's it,” he said, indicating a low light-colored structure. “It used to be an office building, but we haven't had any businesses here in close to twenty years, and we needed a jail, so we appropriated the place and rigged the doors and windows with an electronic force field.”

I looked where he was pointing, and suddenly I saw
her.
Her features were in such exquisite proportion that she appeared beautiful even to a member of a different race. She was clad totally in black, her dark eyes seemed sad and brooding, her hair looked exactly as it had been portrayed in all the paintings and holograms. She stood motionless before a window, staring beyond us to the far end of the street.

“I
knew
she existed!” exclaimed Heath.

“Whoever said she didn't?” asked Peres, puzzled.

“Oh, some art dealer who should have known better,” replied Heath with a smile.

“By the way,” said Peres, pausing to light a small cigar, “I ought to warn you that she's not much of a talker. Any conversation you might have with her is likely to be pretty one-sided.”

“That's quite all right,” said Heath, staring at her intently.

“Well,” said Peres, stepping forward again. “We might as well get this over with.”

Suddenly a door opened a few feet ahead of us, and a tall, burly, dark-skinned man emerged.

“You'd better get off the street,” he said softly, his gaze fixed on a spot somewhere behind us.

“What's the matter?” asked Heath.

“Just do what the man says!” snapped Peres urgently, pulling Heath by an arm into an empty building while I scurried down the ramp after them.

“What happened?” demanded Heath. “What's going on?”

Peres led us to a window and pointed to the slim figure of a young blond man who stood, motionless, at the far end of the street.

“He's come for her,” he said.

The kid stood still, surveying the situation. From time to time his gaze would freeze on a rooftop or the interior of a building, and I knew he had pinpointed yet another of the bounty hunters who lay in wait for him.

He was dressed in a faded, nondescript brown outfit. A laser pistol rested in a holster at his side, no longer connected to its battery pack, ready for instant use. A sonic pistol was tucked into his belt, a rifle was slung over his shoulder, and the handle of yet another pistol could be seen peeking out from the top of his left boot. He wore no hat, and the hot wind whipped through his golden hair so that it framed his face much as the halos in religious paintings framed the faces of human saints.

Evidently the man who had told us to go inside was out of range, for the Kid paid no attention to him, but concentrated instead on studying the nearer buildings. There were perspiration stains beneath his armpits, and the back of his shirt clung moistly to him, but he seemed in no hurry to move either into town or back out into the desert.

“It's suicide!” said Heath, staring out the window at him. “Doesn't he know it's a trap?”

“He knows,” said Peres.

“Does he think he can take them all?”

Peres shrugged noncommittally.

I turned to look at the jail. The Dark Lady stood in the window, staring intently at the Kid, her face serene. I wondered what he had done to make her betray him in this manner.

“Here it comes!” whispered Peres excitedly, for the Kid had withdrawn his laser pistol and begun slowly walking down the street toward the jail.

There was a brief motion on the roof, the laser blinked, and an instant later a bounty hunter rolled down the gentle slope and fell heavily to the ground.

The man who had told us to get off the street drew a projectile weapon and fired it. Evidently he missed, for the Kid whirled and activated his own weapon as the man dove for cover. An instant later the man lay dead just outside our door, his face burnt black. I stared at him in horrified fascination, appalled that any race should consider such an end either heroic or romantic.

We heard another gunshot. The Kid spun around, his pistol flying some forty feet through the air, and I realized that he had been shot in the arm. He immediately grabbed the projectile weapon from his boot and fired back, then turned as he saw another figure in the store to his right. I do not know what kind of weapon was trained on him, but he fell to the ground and rolled over twice, blood pouring from the gaping hole where his left ear had been, fury masking the pain in his face. Then, kneeling, he fired into the store.

Two more laser pistols blinked, one from a rooftop and one from the tavern, and a number of bullets tore up the ground around him. The Kid fell backward as if hit in the chest by a heavy object. Then, as his body was rapidly covered by smoking scorchmarks of burning flesh and his vision was obscured by his own blood, he feebly removed his sonic pistol and aimed it at yet another bounty hunter.

I wanted to close my eyes, but I found that I could not do so. Instead I stared at him, transfixed, as he tried again and again to kill as many of his antagonists as he could before he died. It was so contrary to anything I had ever experienced that, even though the grim pageant was enacted right in front of me, I was totally unable to comprehend why he would keep fighting when he had already incurred perhaps ten mortal wounds, why he didn't just give up and accept the inevitable.

The air continued to be filled with the explosions of projectile pistols and the constant blinking of laser beams, while the Kid, his body jerking and spurting blood and ganglia as each bullet and beam found its mark, one eye hanging out of its socket by the thinnest shred of tissue, clawed feebly at his pocket with the only two fingers that remained on his hand, vainly reaching for one last weapon. Finally I could stand to watch the slaughter no longer and I turned my head away.

Perhaps by chance, perhaps by design, I found myself looking once more at the Dark Lady. Her hands were stretched out to the Kid, as if beckoning him to rise from where he had fallen and come to her, and her face, which had been so pale and emotionless, suddenly seemed flushed with excitement. She must truly have thought him capable of fighting his way past all the bounty hunters and rescuing her, for a moment later the hauntingly sad expression had returned, and I knew instinctively that he had finally died.

And then, suddenly, she was staring directly at
me,
an unfathomable expression on her face. I found this so disconcerting that I immediately averted my eyes.

“Well, that's that,” remarked Peres with a sigh of relief.

“What a waste,” commented Heath. “How many did he take with him? Four?”

“Three, I think,” said Peres. “We'll have to check ‘em out and see who's still twitching.”

“It was horrible!” I said.

Peres turned to me. “I would have thought you'd like the sight of human blood.”

“Surely no one could enjoy the sight of such butchery! It is immoral to take another being's life, no matter what the justification!”

Peres looked amused. “If you think
that's
immoral, wait until you watch them fight over who fired the fatal shot. We're likely to have two or three more killings before it's settled.”

“What happens to the woman now?” asked Heath.

Peres shrugged. “I suppose we'll let her go.” Suddenly he grinned in amusement. “She's going to need a good travel agent. I plan to confiscate the Kid's ship as payment for the damage he did during the shootout.”

“But to release her with no means of leaving the planet is unconscionable!” I exclaimed, surprising myself by my boldness.

Peres turned to look at me as if I were some insect that he would sooner swat than converse with.

“Well, I sure as hell don't plan to keep feeding her for free,” he said at last.

“Where will she go?” I asked.

“How the hell should I know?” he replied. “She'll probably hook up with one of the bounty hunters.”