The Devil's Eye (40 page)

She stood just inside the balcony curtains. Holding a blaster. I'd underestimated her. "Don't make any sudden moves," she said. "Kolpath, come out here, where I can see you better. Yes, that's good. Right there. "Benedict, get up, do it slowly, and go to the door." Alex pushed the tray aside and got to his feet. I was still standing. "This isn't a good idea," he said. "You're just getting yourself in deeper." "Do as I say. Just turn the knob so you release the catch. Don't try to open the door." Alex complied. "Now step back into the center of the room. With your little sex object." She spared me a brief smile. Alex came back in. The door opened, and Wexler entered. He was carrying a bottle. Hard liquor of some sort. "Alex," he said. "And Chase. It's so good to see you again." He pushed the door shut and took a scrambler from his pocket. "I was afraid for a while that you might not come back." "You're going to get caught," said Alex. "Why go through this?" "I'll get a measure of satisfaction seeing you pay the price." He looked at the sofa and the uneaten meal. "Please, both of you, sit. Finish what you were doing." We stood looking back at him.

We sat. Krestoff strolled in, leaving the balcony door ajar. She was grinning at me. "Kolpath," she said. "
You're
the one I've been looking for. Mikel, I'd like this one for myself. Can we arrange it?" She kept her eyes locked on me. "How about that, honey? Just you and me?" She put the blaster down on the seat of one of the chairs. "We'll put the toys away and settle things up close." Wexler shook his head. "Maria," he said, "don't get careless. You'll get your chance." She recovered her weapon and took a seat on the edge of the chair. Alex paid no attention to her. "What exactly do you want?" "You were out there when they were loading the
Quevalla
. You should have a sense by now of the pain you've caused." "Don't be absurd, Doctor. Some of those tears expressed relief. People getting their kids out of harm's way." "I didn't mean
them
, you imbecile. Those scenes are recorded. Broadcast all over the world. How many people do you think are watching whose kids
won't
be moved? Who are still going to be sitting in the cities when the Thunderbolt comes? They have three years of misery in front of them. All because you and your partner wanted to go hunting for glory. Damn you." His gaze now encompassed me as well. "Damn you both." "I think you're getting a little overwrought." "Two billion people will not get off-world no matter how big the fleet. Two
billion
, Alex. You've taken three years of normal living from each of them. Do the math." "Keeping this kind of secret was not your call." I could hear Wexler breathing. "Alex, are you really so stupid that you think I made that decision on my own?" "I know there were others. That's not the point." "It's a democratic government. Or
was
. I suspect it'll be coming apart now." Alex tried the toast. "You're implying Kilgore knew all along." "Am I really? Maybe you're not so slow-witted after all." He sighed. "Well, I suppose we should get on with it." Alex lowered his gaze to the scrambler. "You're not really going to use that thing in here, are you?" Wexler shook his head. "Of course not. Unless I'm forced to. But you're going to have an accident." "Oh? What did you have in mind?" "You're not aware of it at the moment, but you and the young lady here are having a party. At this very moment. Unfortunately, you're both drinking too much. And, as these things will happen, she's half out of her clothes." He turned to me. "Kolpath, take off your blouse." I hesitated.

"
Now
, honey," said Krestoff. I opened it. I had nothing beneath it. Wexler picked up two water glasses from a cabinet, opened the bottle, and filled them with a cocoa-colored liquid. He set them down on the coffee table. "This is
korala
. It's rather strong. A glass of it will leave you both a bit more accommodating than you are at the moment." He looked back at me. "Please, Kolpath, get out of that terrible-looking blouse." He stood back while Alex reached for the glasses and passed one to me. "What will happen here is that you two are enjoying yourselves, but unfortunately you will drink too much, and, regrettably, you'll both fall from the balcony." He shrugged. "It's a sad end for two who have done so much for Salud Afar, but you will have the consolation of dying in each other's arms. And, in addition, I think you will find the
korala
will ease the trauma." "We're not lovers," I said. "Really? Well, more's the shame. But nobody would believe that. Now, please, my dear, the blouse. I really must insist." The blouse was tucked into my slacks. "Do you mind if I get up? I can't get it off sitting here." He considered it. "Of course," he said. "But do please be careful." I wanted to clear my angle on Krestoff. I didn't want to have to climb over the coffee table to get to her. Alex also stood. Wexler signaled for him to sit back down, but Alex ignored him. "Whatever happened to the hero of the Revolution?" he said. "How did you become a cheap bureaucrat? How did you get bought off?" "That's enough," said Wexler. Alex crossed behind me, clearing his own angle on Wexler. "You've no compunctions about sacrificing anybody for your bosses, do you? Even Vicki Greene."
Vicki Greene
was the start button for the AI. Kilgore's voice broke in:
"Wexler, have you no decency at all? How dare you?"
The voice was calm, angry, disappointed. Not bad for an AI. It distracted them both for the moment we needed. I was across the room before Krestoff could turn her attention back to me. I knocked her off the chair. She tried to bring the blaster around as she hit the floor, but I grabbed the hand and simultaneously got in a punch to the gut. She doubled up, and the weapon blew out the ceiling. We traded punches, and I smashed the hand with the weapon against the wall. Above us, somebody yelled
hey
. And an alarm went off. The blaster came loose. We rolled around on the floor, each of us trying to get hold of it. Finally, she kicked it away. I grabbed the wine bottle and brought it down on her head. She hit me with a lamp. "Bitch," she said. Even under those circumstances, she kept her voice level. We got more or less to our feet and traded a few punches. Then she fell over a footstool, and I got to the blaster, scooped it up, and turned to see how Alex was doing. Not so well, it turned out. His fight had stumbled out onto the balcony. Although Wexler was the older and smaller of the two, he looked considerably more experienced in personal combat than Alex was. Meanwhile, Krestoff was getting to her feet again, making comments about my parentage. I leveled the weapon at her. "Stay put," I said. She glared at me. "Afraid to take me on?" she asked. "Hell," I said, "I'm tired of you." Wexler's scrambler had fallen to the floor. I kept her at a distance while I picked it up. I was trying to juggle the two weapons and change the setting on the scrambler to non-lethal. She saw her chance and jumped me. I whacked her with the blaster. She went to her knees, and I hit her again. It was a good clean shot.

Wexler had Alex bent over the balcony rail. Beyond them I could see the dome and the sky, with Callistra just about to set behind the planet. Somewhere music was playing. The alarm was still wailing, and someone began pounding on the door. I could hear voices in the corridor. Alex and Wexler banged against the rail, creating the possibility they might both go over. I got the setting

I wanted on the scrambler and leveled it at Wexler. "Back off," I said. "Let him go." The guy had a suicide impulse. He made an effort to throw Alex over. I didn't want to fire because I couldn't be sure which one I'd hit. So instead I went after him, reversed the weapon, and hit him in the head with it. Anybody who's used a scrambler knows it's light, and hitting somebody with it doesn't do much more than make the target angry. Wexler slammed me with an elbow and sent me reeling. Then he turned back to Alex. The guy was a nut. But Alex got a punch in and threw him momentarily off-balance. Meantime, I guess I'd had enough. I charged full tilt into Wexler. I'm not sure whether I intended to push him over the side. I was in a rage by then, and I remember thinking there was a chance he'd land on somebody. Whatever really caused it, he crashed back against the rail and grabbed Alex. I banged into him again and apparently caught him off-balance. Either that or I was stronger than I realized. He went over the top, flailed wildly, grabbed me, and very nearly took me with him. He had my arm. Clung to it, the whole time screaming at me. I was hanging on to the railing, halfway over, when Alex came to my rescue. He pulled me back. Hung on while Wexler began to slip away. Ignored him when he screamed for help. Then he was gone, one last dying shriek, suddenly cut off. I stood there for a few seconds, not saying anything. I looked to see whether Wexler had done any damage below. A crowd was gathering, but nobody else was down. Somebody was still banging on the door. I went back inside and opened it.

The security people came. Then the CSS. They took Krestoff away, finally subdued. They collected Wexler's body. Asked some questions. Took notes. Moved Alex to a different room. Set a guard, just in case. An hour or so after they'd gone away, we got a call from one of Kilgore's staffers.
"We heard about what happened,"
she said.
"We wanted you to know we appreciate the strain you've been under. And we're glad the danger is past."

"Thank you," said Alex.

"When an opportunity presents itself, we'll find an appropriate way to express our gratitude. Meantime, if there's anything we can do for you, don't hesitate to get in touch."
She gave us a private code that would allow us to reach her. We never did eat dinner that night. Alex's meal had gotten as cold as his appetite. We went down instead and sat in the Pilots' Club. It was empty. "They're all out running refugees to Sanctum," said the host. We had a couple of drinks. Two or three people came in. Then, after about an hour, my link sounded.

"Yes."

"You've already done that once."

"I wish you wouldn't."

"I understand completely. In any case, we have no discretion in the matter. We'll be making some improvements in the ship, and we'd like you to remain as the captain, and help in the evacuation effort. Can we count on you to assist us?"
Alex shook his head. "I wonder what happens to people who
don't
have friends in high places." "Sure," I said. "I'll help."

"Tonight?"

Alex was signaling me that he'd call Kilgore's people. Get it killed. "Sure," I said. "Can you give me an hour?"

That finished the drinking, at least for me. We sat in desultory silence, contemplating a bleak future. Three years hauling refugees for me, and God knew what for Alex. While the world slowly tumbled toward oblivion. When the time came, we said good-bye. I left him alone in the Pilots' Club, the guy who'd figured it out and warned the world, who'd made the rescue effort possible. He wouldn't be allowed back in without me to escort him. I went back to my room and got my gear, much of which, fortunately, I hadn't unpacked. I sent it down to the loading dock and checked out of the hotel. Then I headed for the operations center. If I was going to be taking people to Sanctum, it seemed like a good idea to find out where the place was. Fourteen thousand light-years, in the general direction of the galactic rim. It was one of eleven worlds in the system, and its sun was a yellow dwarf. Of course, at that range, it was invisible to the naked eye. I got my vectoring data and headed for the ship, which was waiting at the dock when I arrived. A technician assured me the
Belle-Marie
was all set to go, that they'd made some adjustments inside, and stored food and water for the flight. Each boarding area was designed to service two ships. A second vehicle was also preparing for departure. It was small, smaller even than the
Belle-Marie
, but it bore Ashiyyurean markings. I stood for a minute, watching while four kids were separated from a small group of adults and led on board by a young woman. A female Mute stood off to one side. The captain, I suspected. The last of the five passengers disappeared into the tube, and the Mute hesitated. She and the remaining adults regarded one another with caution. And uncertainty. Then she raised one long arm in farewell. Or good luck. Or God bless. The humans waved back. A scene like that, a few months earlier, would have been unthinkable. We boarded the
Belle-Marie
, and the technician showed me six additional acceleration couches, doubling
Belle
's carrying capacity. And they'd upgraded life support. "When you get back," he said, "we'll put in an extra washroom. In the meantime, you'll have to get by as best you can. Let us know"-he didn't crack a smile-"if we can do anything else." He checked something in his notebook, said
Okay, that's good
to no one in particular, and started for the hatch. He put one foot into the tube, stopped, and turned. "By the way, your AI will have the names of your passengers, and the time of their arrival, which I think will be just a few minutes now. It'll also have contact information for when you reach Sanctum." He left and I sat down and said hello to Belle.
"Hi, Chase,"
she said.

I was expecting another load of children. I was relieved when a group of technicians and engineers showed up. I know that sounds hard-hearted, but the prospect of riding all the way to Sanctum with kids in a state of near hysteria was just more than I wanted to deal with. I wondered how the Mute in the other ship, who'd be even more tuned in to it than I would, could handle it. It occurred to me for the first time that maybe they had an off switch. My passengers piled in, and I introduced myself. We could all see that privacy would be at a minimum and we'd have to live with make-do accommodations. Within a few minutes we were on our way. And I discovered this flight would be as painful, in its way, as the shipload of kids I'd anticipated. My passengers were all leaving behind families, lovers, friends, for whom there was no room on the
Belle-Marie
, or probably on any other ship during the next three years. The kids, and the adults who cared for them, were getting all the priority. Nobody could argue with that, but that didn't alleviate the pain. So my passengers would go out to Sanctum and do their assignments. Afterward, they'd have a choice: They could stay, and be clear of the Thunderbolt. Or they could go back to Salud Afar with next to no hope of being evacuated later, and take their chances. They were, understandably, being encouraged to stay at Sanctum. It was a long flight. We had to establish a sleeping schedule to provide accommodations for everyone. Despite the supplementary life-support setup, the air became oppressive. There were always two people sitting on the bridge. The rest-other than those logging sack time-were spread around the common room, a few relegated to using the deck because there wasn't enough seating. The electronic game systems didn't work too well under crowded conditions, and I made a mental note to bring some cards next time. They took it in stride. Everybody understood that the stakes were high, but the narrow bulkheads pressed on us all. We scheduled the entertainment, one show in the afternoon, one in the evening. We ran musicals, comedies, and thrillers. Nothing heavy. Strictly lightweight stuff. We even resurrected bingo, which, Alex tells me, was invented by the Dellacondans more than two thousand years ago. And might even be older than that. (In fact, Rainbow Enterprises had recently sold a bingo set from that era for a small fortune.) And we talked. Before we were finished, everybody's life story came out and got put on the table. One woman had been abandoned by her parents, one of the guys had lost a son in an accident at sea. One of the structural foundations techs started having breathing problems halfway across. It was a scary business, but fortunately extra oxygen tanks had been put on board, and we were able to bring him out of it. But he was a concern the rest of the way. When, on the thirteenth day, we jumped out into Sanctum space, everybody cheered. I could have arranged to have a patrol vehicle pick up the foundations tech, but he insisted he was okay, and he wanted to stay with the
Belle-Marie
. I went along with it, and he had another spell the next day. We got him into the hands of the medics okay, but it threw a scare into everybody. While I was in orbit around Sanctum, we picked up a transmission from Number 17 Parkway, in which Kilgore thanked his friends in the Confederacy for the support they'd been sending. He included the fleet, but he was really talking about the private citizens who had swarmed to his aid. I wondered if he'd been smart enough to send a similar message to the Assemblage. Sanctum was, of course, a work in progress. Even the space station was still under construction. The world didn't have a moon, so it was unlikely to become a permanent habitat. But it had oceans and open plains and forests. The only look I got at groundside was from orbit, though, so I didn't see much. Lights were visible on the dark side. And they downloaded a tour of the place for me. Although I never did anything more than take a cursory glance. You've seen one forest, you've seen them all. I'd have liked to stay a couple of days. Get out of the ship for a while. But I had become part of the official schedule, and there were passengers waiting for me back at Samuels. So they serviced
Belle
while I stretched out for a couple of hours on a real bed. Then I was on my way back to Salud Afar. For the people hauling refugees out to Sanctum, it would be an endless stream. For three years, I expected there would be nothing else in my life, two weeks in a jammed ship, two weeks in an empty one, hauling people who were leaving behind everything, and often every
one
, they loved.