Eros Descending: Book 3 of Tales of the Velvet Comet (12 page)

“Are you trying to tell me my duty?” demanded Gold hotly.

“I am simply pointing out, as I did before the horserace, that any time a man of your stature visits the
Comet
for any reason at all, you tend to legitimize it.”

“Before I go I'll make sure that Constantine understands that this is a private act of mercy,” replied Gold. “'There will be no cameras and no publicity.”

“You can't accept the word of a man like that,” said Simon. “His loyalty is to Vainmill.”

“It's in his best interest to keep this thing quiet,” answered Gold. “If the press get their hands on this story, it's only a matter of time before some other madman tries to emulate Kozinsky. Constantine's no fool; he can see that as clearly as I can.”

“Then send someone else,” said Simon. “Constantine's reasons for keeping it quiet will remain just as valid, and you won't have to subject yourself to that environment again. It's an evil, sinful place.”

“Then how can I send someone else up there?” asked Gold.

“Men of God have no business aboard the
Comet
.” replied Simon adamantly.

“By the same token, Daniel shouldn't have entered the lion's den.”

“He only did it once,” said Simon doggedly. “If he'd entered it a second time, they might have torn him to shreds.” He paused. “By your own admission, the one time you were there you made a wager on a horserace. Who knows what might happen if you go again?”

“If he'd listened to you, Jesus wouldn't have walked among the lepers or laid his hands on the sick,” answered Gold irritably.

“He was Jesus,” said Simon. “You're just a man.”

“What do you think I'm going to do?” snapped Gold. “Ravish the madam?”

“The
Velvet Comet
is a house of sin and degradation, and it corrupts everything it touches. Why subject yourself to it if it's not necessary?”

“It
is
necessary—and I'm getting a little sick of having you impugn my integrity!” He glared at his son. “I'm Thomas Gold! Nothing is going to tempt me from the path of righteousness!”

“I'm not questioning your motives, Father.”

“Good.”

'But I
am
questioning your judgment,” continued Simon. “I can see no valid reason for your going up to the
Comet
, and I can see numerous reasons for staying here.”

“No valid reason?” repeated Gold. “What about giving spiritual comfort to a member of my church?”

“Kozinsky's going straight to hell no matter who gives him the Final Blessing,” said Simon coldly. “You know it and I know it. He tried to kill the entire crew of the ship.”

“I thought you approved,” said Gold sardonically.

“Certainly not, although I understand why he tried to do it. If he had succeeded, it would have meant that God approved of his methods. The fact that he failed simply means that God prefers your method of fighting the
Comet
—and
that
in turn means that Kozinsky was trying to commit murder and will burn for all eternity.”

“That's one of the more farfetched rationalizations I've ever heard,” said Gold.

“Just because he's a member of the Church of the Purity of Jesus Christ doesn't make his behavior acceptable,” answered Simon.

“And just because his behavior is unacceptable doesn't mean that we have to turn our backs on him. He's a dying man, and he needs spiritual comfort.”

“Father, may I speak frankly?” said Simon.

“That's what I thought you were doing,” replied Gold with more than a trace of irony.

“You've not been yourself since you returned from the
Comet
,” said Simon, ignoring Gold's comment. “You lapse into silences at odd times, you've lost weight, Mother tells me you have trouble sleeping more than a few hours at a stretch, you have nightmares, you —”

“Your mother talks too much,” said Gold.

“She's worried about you,” said Simon. “So am I.”

“You wouldn't even know about my weight loss or my nightmares if she hadn't told you.”

“But I'd know you had accepted stolen goods into your house, and had not condemned the people who committed the robbery,” continued Simon.

“I thought we'd been over that before,” said Gold.

“We have,” said Simon. He stared directly into his father's eyes. “I'm simply trying to point out that before you went to the
Velvet Comet
you had no trouble sleeping, and that you would never consider condoning the theft of anyone's property, even your enemy's. Even your work habits have changed—you lock yourself in your room, you spend hours with your computer without producing anything, you don't answer your messages. Furthermore, you've become positively single-minded about the Andricans. You've spoken about them to the exclusion of all else during your last three sermons.” He paused for breath, then continued: “I don't know what you saw aboard the
Comet
, but obviously it has had a detrimental effect on you.”

“I appreciate your concern,” said Gold, “but you're reading too much into the natural infirmities of late middle age. Most men my age have some trouble with their sleep and their digestion. It's nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, for a man of my years, I would say that I'm in remarkably good health. As for the faeries, they're a very weak link in Vainmill's defenses; I'd be crazy
not
to keep talking about them.” He stared at his son. “Despite what you may think, my five hours aboard the
Velvet Comet
really haven't turned me into a mental and physical wreck.”

“Perhaps,” said Simon. “But I still think you should stay here.” He paused uneasily.

“Yes?” said Gold.

“It means so much to me that I will volunteer to go in your place.”

"No!"
exploded Gold.

“But —”

“Nobody's keeping me away from them!” snapped Gold furiously. “Not you, not your mother, not anyone!”

“
Them
?” repeated Simon, puzzled. “What are you talking about?”

Gold blinked his eyes very rapidly for a moment, as if he were as confused as his son.

“Them?” he repeated. “I meant
him
, of course. Nobody is keeping me away from Kozinsky,” he concluded lamely.

Simon stared at him. “It's the faeries, isn't it?” he said suddenly.

“I don't know what you mean,” said Gold uneasily. “We're talking about Vladimir Kozinsky.”

“No,” said Simon decisively. “We're talking about the faeries.”

“
You
may be,” said Gold, trying to hide the sudden panic that gripped him. “
I'm
not.”
Not my son, Lord
, he prayed silently;
Dear God, please don't let my son find out!

“You're planning to smuggle them off the
Comet
!” exclaimed Simon. “You're just using Kozinsky as a subterfuge!”

“I'm going up there to give the Final Blessing to a dying man,” said Gold.

“I'm not the enemy,” said Simon in pained tones. “You can confide in me.”

“All right,” said Gold, grasping at the straw Simon had unwittingly offered him. “The thought of taking the faeries off the ship has crossed my mind.”

“I should have guessed!” said Simon. “What other reason could you possibly have for wanting to go up there?”

“None,” agreed Gold. He noticed that his hands were starting to shake, and he thrust them into his pockets.
Let him believe it, Lord!

“You'll never get away with it,” said Simon.

“I think I will,” said Gold. He tried to force a confident smile to his lips, found that he couldn't manage it, and settled for staring defiantly at his son.

Simon shook his head. “You've already described their security system to me. You certainly can't sneak them off without anyone knowing.”

“There are other ways,” said Gold, his mind racing to create a believable plan of action.

“You don't even know for a fact that they'll be willing to come with you,” continued Simon. “After all, you'll look like just another customer to them.”

Gold stared at his son, unable to come up with even a mildly acceptable answer.

“And even if they did,” persisted Simon, “you've still got to get them through the airlock, and onto a ship or a shuttle.” He sighed heavily. “I don't think you've got the ghost of a chance. I've got a feeling that their Security team will be watching every move you make.”

Simon continued analyzing the situation, coming up with more and more reasons why his father's nonexistent plan was doomed to failure, and Gold began to relax as Simon moved further and further from his real reason for going up the
Comet
.

Thank you, God. I'm a moral man, and I have the strength to subdue this evil within me—but not if I had to face the condemnation in his eyes.

“The odds are a thousand to one against it,” concluded Simon some five minutes later. “And even if you could succeed in removing them from the ship, they might be of more use to us right where they are, where we can keep their plight in the public eye.”

“You're right,” said Gold, with an sense of infinite relief. “It was a bad idea.”

“Then whom shall we send to the
Comet
?”

“I'll go. I may have been wrong about helping the Andricans to escape, but there's one thing I was right about: I can't in good conscience send anyone else up there.”

“You're sure?” asked Simon.

“I am.” He looked directly at his son. “Unless you'd like to continue arguing the point?”

“No,” said Simon with a sigh of resignation.

“'Good.”

Gold stared at his son for a moment, then ordered his computer to contact Richard Constantine. An hour later he was en route to the
Velvet Comet
, his mind dwelling upon his own personal demons rather than those that might be lusting for Vladimir Kozinsky's confused and darkened soul.

“Where are we?” asked Gold, surveying the wide, dimly lit corridor that seemed to stretch to infinity in both directions.

“In the service area beneath the Mall,” replied the Steel Butterfly. “This is where the
Comet
's supplies are delivered. In fact, they kept the racehorses down here.”

“It must have been a different area,” said Gold. “This doesn't look at all familiar.” He paused. “What's that noise I hear overhead?”

“The tramway.”

“I don't remember any tramway,” said Gold. “Did you remove it for the race?”

“It's on a different level.” She smiled. “Besides, you were on public display. We had orders to walk you everywhere.”

“Then why aren't we riding it now?”

“Because this time I have instructions not to let
anyone
see you. Patrons occasionally take the tramway from the Resort to the airlock; they never come down here.”

“By the way,” said Gold stiffly as they walked past rows of neatly stacked, unopened cargo crates, “I hope you will believe me when I tell you that I have never met Vladimir Kozinsky, was completely unaware of his intentions, and would have done everything in my power to prevent him had I known of them.”

“Of course I believe you,” said the Steel Butterfly.

“We may be on opposite sides of the fence, but I've never thought of you as a man who would condone murder.”

He frowned. “I wish Vladimir Kozinsky had held that same opinion,” he said grimly.

“I don't think he really intended to kill anyone,” she replied.

“I was told that he tried to smuggle a bomb onto the ship.” He looked sharply at her. “Did he or didn't he?”

“Oh, there's no question that he tried to bring the bomb aboard the
Comet
,” said the Steel Butterfly “I can show it to you later, if you like. But I don't think he planned to detonate it.”

“Why would someone bring a bomb up here and
not
detonate it?” asked Gold.

“Attila—our Chief of Security—believes that he merely planned to
threaten
to blow it up unless we gave him what he wanted.”

“What did he want?”

“Didn't Richard Constantine tell you?” she asked, surprised.

“No one has told me very much of anything. All I know is that he tried to smuggle a bomb aboard the ship, and that he was mortally wounded in the ensuing struggle. And that he has been asking for me, of course,” he added as an afterthought.

“He wanted us to release the faeries from their contract and send them home.” She turned to him. “I know that you didn't mean to encourage this sort of action, but I must point out that he wouldn't even have known the faeries existed if it hadn't been for your sermons.”

“Vainmill doesn't have a monopoly on stupidity or madness,” replied Gold. “There are a lot of Vladimir Kozinskys in the universe.” He paused. “But that doesn't mean I must stop confronting evil when I see it.”

“Perhaps not—but if you hadn't confronted it so vigorously in this instance, Vladimir Kozinsky would be contentedly designing tools on Declan IV right at this minute. And as for Titania and Oberon,” she continued, “they can't understand why anyone would think they aren't having the time of their lives up here.”

“They know they were the reason he came up here?”

“Of course,” replied the Steel Butterfly, walking forward once again. “If someone had tried to kidnap
me, I'd
want to know about it.”

“What Kozinsky was trying to do was wrong, but I'd hardly call it kidnapping,” said Gold.

“If you can think of a better word, I'll be happy to use it.”

“How about
liberating
?”

“Why don't you ask the faeries if forcing them to leave here against their will qualifies as liberation?” she suggested.

“Perhaps I will,” he replied, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice. “Where are they?”

“They'll be stopping by the hospital a little later,” said the Steel Butterfly. “They want to see you.”

“They do?” he said, startled. “Why?”

“Before your broadcast they were just curiosities, albeit very popular ones. Now they're celebrities. I have the distinct impression that they'd like to thank you.”

“To
thank
me?”

She nodded. “They're very human in many respects—and everybody likes being famous. Even you, Doctor Gold.”

He stared at her but made no comment.

They reached the hospital's storage areas, and took the freight elevator to the main level. As they emerged Gold found himself in a luxurious reception foyer, filled with chairs and couches that would have seemed more appropriate in the brothel. The floors and walls were spotless, the metal chairs were polished and shining, and the reception desk brilliantly reflected the overhead lighting. A holographic map that was suspended in the air just to the left of the desk gave directions to the handful of private rooms, the low-gravity ward for heart patients, and the physical therapy rooms. There were certain areas on the map that were merely marked as being off limits to visitors, and he assumed that these were the operating theater and drug storage rooms.