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pray.
That, at least, they can not take from me.
The God was a loving, forgiving God.
There was a sound by his side. A rustling like that of the technicians sterile
suit. He remembered the man's smooth dark face through the face-plate of the
headgear, sweating slightly, his dark bronze eyes fearful. Fearful of the
threat Amos represented if the suit should in any way be punctured.
If I had that probe, you pirate swine, I would puncture more than your suit!
The sound came again, closer now. Then Amos sensed something huge looming over
him and cold sweat broke out on his forehead; he tried desperately to open his
eyes. Feeling, at last, only the barest quiver, so slight it might have been
imaginary.
After a terribly long wait that scraped away at the last remaining shreds of
Amos's self-control, a cold voice said quietly:
"I have news, scumvermin."
The sweat beading his brow slid down his face and into his hair.
Belazir watched the evidence of his enemy's distress disappear slowly into
Amos's thick dark hair.
He smiled, sighing sensuously.
Of such little pleasures are the best memories made, he thought.
He glanced around the sterile box of a room, his eyes resting for a moment on
the kneeling, shivering med-tech. He wondered if it would be best to have the
creature spaced after handling the scumvermin
Amos.
No, he thought, that would express doubts about the efficacy of these suits.
And here am I, wearing one.
It was unwise to put such ideas into the heads of ambitious subordinates.
"Leave us," he said to the med-tech, and waited till the creature had scurried
from the room.
"Once," he said, leaning over Amos's unmoving form, "We had no need of such
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rooms as these. It does not please me that am responsible for making them
necessary. Or perhaps I should say
I
we.
Such rooms as these are common among the scumvermin races," Belazir continued.
"But they are probably rare on Bethel."
He watched Amos with a downward quirk of his lips. For all his enemy's
responsiveness, the Benisur could have been asleep. This grew tedious. Still,
there was no reason to discard his plan.
He leaned close and whispered in Amos's ear.
"The little blond girl, she has rescued the Captain and has fled the ship. I
knew you would wish to be informed," he said in mock sympathy. "There is no
telling what might befall her, a young woman all alone with only the pathetic
remnant of Captain Sung. Tsk, tsk, tsk." He watched Amos, hoping for some sign
that he heard, but there was no response. Save . . . yes, the scumvermin's
heart was accelerating slightly. "I considered pursuit, of course, but then I
realized that it would be unconscionably rude to force hospitality on an
unwilling guest. I do hope she will be all right."
Belazir straightened and began to walk heavily around the table, one hand
trailing lightly along its edge.
"In any event, we must discuss our immediate plans for you. Soon, you will be
placed in an escape pod I thought that a particularly nice touch," Belazir
said with satisfaction. "Then you will be taken aboard a ship that we have
arranged to take you home. By the way, interestingly, the captain of this ship
is named Joat Simeon-Hap. Ironic, is it not?"
This was useless. Belazir contemplated the paralyzed body of his enemy in
disgust.
Why did I not think of this before I had him prepared?
He sighed. It would have been good to watch his enemy try to hide his
feelings. These untrained scumvermin were so blatant in their emotions. Ah,
well, it would have to be enough that he knew the Benisur had heard him, and
that every word had left teeth-marks in the scumvermin's heart.
"Enjoy your journey," Belazir said softly, "I have been pleased to be your
host."
Soamosa's escaped!
Amos's heart leapt, for a moment. Then, But with the Captain, she'll be
infected.
He visualized her vibrant young face slack and drooling. The effort of will
needed to control the tears was as terrible as anything he had ever done.
And Joat is here. If I needed proof that this is a nightmare and not truly
happening that would be it.
For how could things possibly go so smoothly for this devil outside of his own
mad dreams?
Amos felt his body being lifted and dropped unceremoniously into what felt
like a coffin. It was cold, and his flesh wanted to shrink from the clammy
surface, but could not.
Jet this is no nightmare, he thought, his mouth dry with fear.
It is happening. And I must find a way to warn my people.
Mustering all of his concentration, he began to work at getting his eyes to
open.
The
Wyal dropped into the sidereal universe. Alarms began to ping.
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