Lallia

VIII

Lallia said, "I'm sorry, Earl. I had no choice. There was nothing else to do but get you back to the Moray."

Dumarest looked at her from where he lay on the bunk. She was wearing the iridescent dress and the thick coils of her midnight hair hung loose about her shoulders. The light gleamed from the naked flesh of her arms, the long curves of her thighs.

"You had a choice," he said quietly. "You could have taken me to a local doctor."

"Yes," she admitted. "I could but I didn't think of it. You were in a hell of a mess, passing out with weakness and pain, and Yalung seemed to know just what to do. He washed you down and shot you full of dope and antibiotics. At first I thought of moving you before it was too late but Sheyan left early. The rest you know."

A time of pain interspersed with gulps of basic, the sting of antiseptics, the discomfort of changed dressings. Of drug-induced sleep and the sparing magic of slowtime. Dumarest sat upright and looked at his naked body, seeing the thin lines of scar tissue on his sides. There would be more on his back and shoulders: newly healed wounds which would eventually harden.

"A local doctor could have got me fit within two days," he said. "Using slowtime and intravenous feeding. But it would have cost money. Did you think of that?"

Lallia met his eyes. "At first, no, but I did later. All right, Earl, so I begrudged the cost. It would have taken all we had and I didn't fancy us being stranded on Joy. And what's the difference? So we didn't quit the Moray, but there will be another chance later."

Dumarest rose and looked down at the woman. He saw the pallor of fatigue, the lines of weariness marring her beauty. She could have left him. She could have let him die. Instead she had sat beside him in constant attendance.

"You're tired," he said. "Lie down and get some rest"

"I'm all right, Earl."

"Do it." He stooped and lifted her from the chair. "I don't want you losing your beauty."

"As long as you want me, Earl." She clung to him. "Any way you want," she whispered. "But just keep wanting."

He smiled and pressed her to the bunk. Turning he opened the lockers. His uniform had been ruined and he had the choice of wearing the protective clothing or those he had worn before joining the ship. He chose his own, slipping into the gray plastic, the material comforting in its protec shy;tion. Had he worn it on Joy the claws of the beast would never have penetrated the wire mesh buried in the material. The knife fell as he adjusted the tunic and he thrust it into his boot.

That's better." Lallia looked at him as he stood beside the bunk. "You never did look quite at home in that han shy;dler's uniform."

"Go to sleep," he said, closing the lockers. Turning off the light he stepped from the cabin.

Yalung looked up from the table as Dumarest entered the salon, watching as he drew a cup of basic, refilling it twice more before setting it down.

"You were hungry," said the dealer. "A healthy sign. You are fully recovered?"

"Yes." Dumarest looked at the yellow face, the enigmatic eyes. "I must thank you for coming to my aid with that spear. And again for looking after me."

"The woman did that." A scatter of gems lay on the sur shy;face of the table, tiny lights winking from their facets. "She tended you as if you were her child. My own part was small. If I could offer advice I would suggest that you conserve your strength. The wounds were stubborn to heal. The claws of the beast must have carried a mutated infection. Once I despaired for your life." His hand touched the gems. "I gathered from the woman that you intended to leave us at Joy."

"I'd thought of it."

"A man needs money in the Web. It may help if I bought your ring. A thousand as offered."

Dumarest shook his head.

"Of course," mused Yalung, "if it has an interesting history I could offer more. The value of such things is enhanced by an attendant story. If you would care to tell me of its origins, how you obtained it, details like that I could, per shy;haps, offer fifteen hundred."

"The ring is not for sale," said Dumarest shortly. "Again I give you my thanks for your attentions."

Yalung bowed. "Perhaps you will accommodate me in a hand of cards?"

"Later," said Dumarest, and left the salon.

Outside, in the passage, he hesitated, then made his way towards Nimino's cabin. The navigator smiled as he entered.

"Earl, my friend, you are fit and well. Truly my appeals have been answered. Laugh if you wish but the beliefs of millions cannot be ignored. I have burned sweet scents to Shume, the goddess of healing, on your behalf and she has answered my pleas."

"This?" Dumarest glanced to where a metal bowl held a smoldering substance and painted symbols lay in careful ar shy;rangement around a globe of crystal in which drifted colored motes.

Nimino shook his head, abruptly solemn. "No, my friend, this is not for you. For many hours now I have been trou shy;bled by a sense of impending doom. It is as if, somewhere, a storm was pending but I do not know where or when it will break. I am disturbed and ill at ease. You sense noth shy;ing?"

"No," said Dumarest.

"Nor Lallia?"

"She is asleep."

"Then I am alone." Nimino shivered, a sudden convulsion of his nerves. "I hope it is nothing, but once, when I felt like this, a city was lost in an unexpected eruption. The Kharma Ball warned that I should leave."

Dumarest knelt and looked at the crystal ball, his hands resting on the floor to either side. The colored motes were, he guessed, fragments of organic life drifting in a supporting medium. Their purpose he couldn't imagine but he assumed they would be affected by vibration or sonic impulses.

Vibration?

He tensed, concentrating on the tips of his fingers. Rising he placed them against the metal bulkhead. The faint quiver of the Erhaft field was easily felt.

"Nimino," he said quietly. "Check the field." He waited until the navigator had placed his slender fingers on the metal and then said, "Can you feel it?"

"Yes, Earl." Nimino's eyes grew wide, pools of glistening brilliance in the darkness of his face. "So this is what I sensed!"

The quivering pulse of the heart of the ship. The tiny vibration which was the only discernible sign of its correct working.

A vibration which was not as it should be.

Dumarest heard Lin's voice as they ran towards the engine room.

"Claude! I tell you the dials are showing red! You've got to do something!"

"Shut your mouth!" The engineer's voice was a raging bellow. "Are you trying to tell me my job? You, a snotty-nosed lad still wet behind the ears?"

"But, Claude!" The steward was desperate. "The manual says that when the panel looks like that the generators are getting out of phase. For God's sake, put down that bottle and do something. Do you want to wreck the ship?"

Dumarest heard a shout, the crash of something shatter shy;ing, the fall of something heavy. Claude glared from behind his console as he and the navigator burst into the room.

"Get out!" he said. "The pair of you. I don't want anyone in my engine room."

Quietly Nimino said, "Earl, he's drunk. Look at his eyes."

Claude was more than drunk. The devil inside had broken loose in a gust of savage violence. Dumarest looked at the limp body lying on the floor. Lin lay in a puddle of liquid, the smashed remnants of a bottle lying beside his head. A trickle of blood ran from beneath his hair. It ceased as he watched. The steward would never now realize his ambition. He would never join the big ships and see the worlds out shy;side the Web. His friend, his father-surrogate, had seen to that.

Dumarest took three steps towards where the engineer stood by his console.

"You killed him," he said coldly. "You killed the boy."

"Stay away from me!" Metal shone as Claude lifted his hand. A wrench was gripped in the big fingers. "Come any closer and I'll crack your skull."

"Like you did to Lin?" Dumarest stooped, anger a cold fire in his brain, his fingers reaching for the knife in his boot.

Nimino caught his arm. "No, Earl. He's our engineer. We need him."

"We don't need him," said Dumarest. "He's a drunken, useless fool. He must have seen that the generators were getting out of phase but couldn't do anything about it. So he started to drink in order to forget. He kept on drinking. Now he's crazy."

"You-"

The wrench swept up and forward, light glinting on the spinning metal as it left the big hand, the heavy thing aimed directly at Dumarest's head. He ducked, straightening as the engineer sprang towards him, tasting blood as a big fist slammed into his mouth. The blow rocked him backwards and, before he could recover, Claude had gripped him by the throat.

"Crazy, am I? A drunken, stupid fool. Well, handler, this is where it ends. I'm going to kill you."

His hands tightened, constricting clamps of flesh and bone. Above the twin ridges of his arms Dumarest could see his face, the broad, mottled surface contorted with insane rage. That rage gave the engineer immense strength. He picked up Dumarest and slammed him back against the edge of the console, the metal rim digging cruelly into his spine, sending waves of agony from the barely healed wounds.

"Claude!" Nimino sprang forward, tugging at the engi shy;neer's arms. "Don't! Let him go, he-"

A vicious jerk of an elbow sent the navigator staggering to one side. Dumarest lifted both his hands and thrust them between the rigid forearms. He pressed, forcing his own arms between those of the engineer, thumbs reaching for the eyes. Claude snarled and jerked back his head.

Dumarest snatched back his hands and lifted them to the fingers clamped around his throat. He couldn't breathe and lacked strength, but his brain worked with icy calm. Trapped as he was against the edge of the console he could neither reach his knife or use his feet or knees. Maniacal rage had turned the engineer's arms into rods of steel and it was impossible to reach his eyes. But he could reach the fingers.

He gripped each of the smallest and pulled. It was like pulling at a steel restraint. Darkness began to edge his vision and a raw agony grew within his lungs. He pulled again, ignoring the pain of his back and sides as the new scar tissue yielded beneath the strain. The little fingers lifted and he wrapped his hands around them jerking with the last of his strength.

Bone snapped. Claude cried out, an animal sound of hurt and pain, snatching free his hands and stepping backwards. Nimino rose like a shadow behind him, the wrench a flashing arc in his hand. The sound of its impact was that of a squash shy;ing melon.

"Earl, are you all right?"

Dumarest nodded, massaging his throat. Another ten sec shy;onds and he would have used feet and hands to smash down the engineer but Nimino hadn't given him the time. Now he stood, looking at the wrench, the slumped figure lying in a pool of blood.

"He's dead," he said dully. "I killed him. Earl, I killed him!"

"He was insane. You had no choice."

"There is always a choice." The wrench fell from the navigator's hand. "I have taken a life," he said. "That means I have to return to the beginning and commence again the long and painful climb towards the Ultimate. It would have been better for me had I allowed you to use your knife."

"He would still have been dead," said Dumarest. He was impatient with the navigator's brooding introspection, his concern with a problematical afterlife. "The only difference is that I would have intended to kill him. You did not. He must have had a thin skull."

"Fate," said Nimino thoughtfully. "Who can fight against it? It was my destiny to kill a man." He looked at the console, at the mass of signal lights brightly red. "As it is our destiny to die. Claude has, perhaps, cheated us. He had an easy ending."

Dumarest was curt. "Explain."

"The generators are out of phase, my friend. The error is increasing. When it reaches a certain point the forces we have utilized to move us at supralight speeds will tear us apart."

"Couldn't we land before that happens?" asked Dumarest. "Turn off the generators to conserve their effective life?"

"Can we fight against our destiny?"

"We can fight." Dumarest looked down at his hands, they were clenched, the knuckles showing white. "We have to fight. The alternative is to die." He looked at the navigator. "It's up to you," he said. "You and the captain. There's nothing I can do."

"You can pray," said Nimino softly. "You can always do that."

Lallia stirred as Dumarest entered the cabin, lifting her arms as he turned on the light. "Earl, my darling. How did you know I wanted you?"

He made no comment, standing watching her, cups of basic in his hands. Sleep had washed the lines of fatigue from her face, lessened the heavy pallor, so that lying in the aureole of her hair she looked very young and very helpless. He stooped and set down the cups, feeling her arms close around him, the warm scent of her breath against his cheek.

"Come to me, lover. Come to me now."

"You'd better drink this," he said. "I want you to swallow as much basic as you can hold."

"Aren't I fat enough for you, lover?" She lost her smile as she saw his face. "Earl! Something's wrong! What is it?"

"We're going to crash," he said flatly. "And I think it will be soon."

"Crash?"

"The generators are failing. Sheyan did all he could but it wasn't enough. Now he's trying to get us down all in one piece."

He looked at the woman and thought of the captain, of Sheyan's innate fear as he had been woken from the com shy;fort of his symbiote, his steely acceptance of what had to be done. The generators had defeated him, now he was in the control room, slumped in his big chair, doing what the mechanisms around him could no longer do.

For they worked by rigid patterns governed by the steady progress of the ship. That progress was no longer steady, random forces increasing the velocity by multiplying factors, the gravity fields of close-set suns affecting the vessel in un shy;expected ways. Like a blind man threading a needle through a mass of electrified wire Sheyan was guiding the Moray through destructive energies. Their lives depended on his skill.

"I've spoken to Yalung," said Dumarest. "He knows what to do. Now I want you to do it. Eat as much as you can- food may be hard to find after we land. Wear as much as you can; the landing may be rough and we may have to leave the ship fast. Stay in this cabin and fasten the re shy;straints. And pray," he added, remembering Nimino's advice. "For all we know it could help."

"Paraphysical forces working on an unaccepted plane of energy," she said evenly. "But, if we don't accept it, how can it affect us?"

"An apple may not accept the concept of gravity," he said. "But it falls just the same."

Lallia took a cup of basic, drank and looked thought shy;fully into the empty container. "Prayer," she said. "I've done enough of it in the past. When I was a girl I prayed all the time for someone to take me away from the farm. Do you know what it's like working on a farm? We had no machines so I had to be up well before dawn and didn't get to bed until long after dark. The best I could hope for was for some man to marry me and take me back to his place and there work me to death. Well, that didn't happen. A young aristo saw me while out hunting and liked the way

I was built. I played up to him and he enjoyed his new toy. By the time he had tired of me I was safe off the farm." She looked at Dumarest. "Safe but in trouble. Rochis isn't a gentle world and an unprotected woman is anyone's sport. Do I have to tell you what happened then?"

Dumarest took the empty cup from her hand. "You don't have to tell me anything. The past doesn't matter."

"No," she said, and drew a deep breath. "Let's just say that I've knocked around. Anyway, I moved on the first ship I could get. I guess I've been moving ever since. Mov shy;ing and looking for a thing called happiness. It isn't easy to find."

Dumarest handed her another cup of basic. "Drink this."

"I'll drink it." Her eyes were bright as she searched his face. "Earl! Do you know what I'm trying to say?"

"Drink your basic."

"To hell with it!" She slammed the cup down and circled him with her arms. "I'm telling you that I love you. That I've never known what love was before. That I can die hap shy;py knowing that we are together."

Dumarest lifted his hand and stroked the rich mass of her hair. He knew what she wanted him to say. "I love you, Lallia."

"You mean that?" Her arms tightened, pressed him close. "You really mean it?"

"I mean it."

"Then I've found it," she said. "Happiness, I mean. Earl, you'll never regret it. I'll be all the woman you could ever want. I'll-" She broke off as the ship gave a sudden lurch. "Earl?"

"It's nothing," he said quickly. "Opposed energies, per shy;haps, or the touch of atmosphere. Hurry now, do as I told you."

He left the cabin as the ship jerked again, the fabric shrilling as if the Moray was in actual, physical pain.