Eros Descending: Book 3 of Tales of the Velvet Comet Page 12

  “This is crazy!” protested Simon. “You've just come back from the Comet. He has no reason to assume that you have any intention of ever returning to it. If he was really going up there and didn't want you to follow him, the very last thing he would do would be to contact you in a manner that would arouse your suspicions.”

  “You think I'm wrong?” said Gold. “Fine. I think I'm right, and I'm going to act on my belief.”

  “You're getting to the point where you're spending more time up there than one of their customers,” complained Simon.

  Gold's entire body tensed, and for a moment Simon thought his father was about to take a swing at him.

  Then the moment passed, and Gold relaxed.

  “All right,” he said in clipped tones. “Arrange a shuttle for me, and —” He broke off in midsentence. “No, that won't do. Any shuttle that goes up to the Comet would probably forward a list of passengers so Security could run a financial check on them. Charter me a private ship; there's no sense letting Titania know I'm coming back up there.”

  “Titania?” said Simon, frowning.

  “Did I say Titania?” replied Gold, surprised. “I meant the Steel Butterfly, of course.” He fidgeted uneasily. “It's just that we had been talking about Titania...”

  His voice trailed off, and after an awkward silence he went off to shave, shower, and change his clothes.

  Simon walked to Gold's office and arranged for his father's transportation up to the Velvet Comet. On the way back to the living room an unusual sound came to his ears, and he stopped until he could identify it.

  It was Thomas Gold, absently humming a rhythmic alien melody as he stood before the bathroom mirror, combing his hair as meticulously as he ever did before appearing in front of a video camera.

  Chapter 10

  Gold stood at the Security station in the Velvet Comet's airlock. He had been standing there for almost five minutes.

  Finally a burly man of medium height, with a thick shock of unruly black hair and a beard which was starting to turn gray, approached.

  “All right,” he said, walking up to one of the guards. “What's the problem?”

  “It's Doctor Gold, sir,” replied the green-clad woman. “I checked with the reservation desk, and he's not expected—and he refuses to tell me the purpose of his visit.”

  The burly man turned to Gold and stared at him, hands on hips.

  “Twice in one day: this is a surprise,” he said at last. “However, if you've changed your mind about Kozinsky's body, I'm afraid you're too late. He's already been cremated.”

  “I'm not here for Kozinsky.”

  “Then to what do we owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit, Doctor Gold?”

  “I'm looking for Richard Constantine,” responded Gold.

  “Well, you're looking for him about four thousand miles too high up. He's in his office on Deluros VIII.”

  “I have reason to believe that he's aboard the Comet.”

  “You'll have to take my word for it that he's not here.”

  “And who are you?” demanded Gold.

  “You can call me Attila. I'm the Chief of Security.”

  “I've heard of you,” commented Gold. “At least, I remember your name.”

  “It was chosen to be remembered,” replied Attila with some satisfaction. He paused. “I'm sorry you've wasted a trip, Doctor Gold.”

  “I don't know that I have,” said Gold firmly. “I think he's up here.”

  “And I tell you he's not.”

  “I don't believe you.”

  “Well, there's no need to argue about it,” said Attila reasonably, walking over to a computer bank. “We can contact him in his office right now.”

  Gold shook his head. “Computers can be rigged.”

  “What will it take to convince you, Doctor Gold?” asked Attila. “I'm not at liberty to show you every suite on the Comet, and from what I know of the Jesus Pures you wouldn't agree to look anyway.”

  “He's not in any of the suites,” said Gold with conviction.

  “Where do you think he is?”

  “I'm not sure.”

  Attila scrutinized Gold's intense, ascetic face for a long minute. “If I didn't know that your religion forbids it, I'd say that you'd been drinking, Doctor Gold. Do you know just how little sense you're making?”

  “He's here,” repeated Gold stubbornly. “And I'm not leaving until I see him.”

  “Then we'll move a bed into the airlock,” said Attila. “Because I'm not letting you into the Comet.”

  “Tell the Steel Butterfly I'm here,” said Gold. “She'll let me in.”

  Attila nodded to another green-uniformed Security man. “Fair enough, Doctor Gold. If she agrees to see you, I'll have you escorted to her office.” He smiled. “Who knows? We might even find a companion for you.”

  “Keep a civil tongue in your head!” said Gold sharply.

  “When I have the audacity to enter your church without prior notice or authorization, you can tell me that,” replied Attila, the smile still on his lips but the amusement vanished from his eyes. “In the meantime, try to remember that you have no more business visiting me at my place of business than I have visiting you at yours. And I haven't been waging a campaign of hate and fear against you,” he concluded.

  The Security man, who had been speaking into tiny communicator in low tones, suddenly looked up.

  “She'll see him,” he announced. “She says to take him to her office and she'll get there as soon as she can.”

  “Tell her to bring Constantine with her,” said Gold.

  “He's not aboard the ship, sir,” replied the Security man.

  “Any word about whether the good doctor is still to be invisible?” asked Attila.

  “No, sir.”

  “Then I think we'll allow our patrons to see who has decided to pay us a visit.”

  “I'd prefer that you didn't,” said Gold.

  “I don't doubt. it,” replied Attila. “However, your stated ambition is to put Vainmill, and hence the Comet, out of business. That means you intend to put me out of business.” He paused. “Therefore, I hope you'll understand if I fight back in any way I can.”

  “How will allowing the patrons to see you escorting me to the Steel Butterfly's office help your cause?” asked Gold.

  “Oh, I'm not escorting you, Doctor Gold,” said Attila with a smile. “I have pressing business elsewhere aboard the Comet.”

  “Then who is?” asked Gold, suddenly apprehensive.

  “Titania, I think,” replied Attila. He turned to the Security woman. “Page her.”

  “What's the purpose of this?” demanded Gold.

  “The faeries have been the focus of your attacks on us,” explained Attila. “I think it will be more beneficial to my cause than to yours if our patrons see her leading you into the brothel.”

  Gold stared at the Security chief, an inscrutable expression on his gaunt, angular face.

  “Take it or leave it, Doctor Gold,” said Attila firmly. “You go with her, or you leave the ship. There's no third alternative.”

  “Let's get on with it,” said Gold.

  “I'm glad you've decided to be a reasonable man,” said Attila. He turned to the Security woman. “If she hasn't got her translator with her when she arrives, send her back for it. And make sure she knows she's taking him to the Steel Butterfly's office, and not to one of the suites.”

  The woman nodded, and Attila turned back to Gold.

  “Just out of curiosity, why do you think Constantine is up here?”

  “Assuaging your curiosity isn't my business,” said Gold coldly.

  Attila shrugged, started to say something, seemed to think better of it, and left the airlock.

  A moment later Titania showed up, this time with her translating device. She froze when she saw Gold, and gave him a wide berth as she approached the Security woman.

  “You paged me?” she said, and her translated voice, though definitely fem
inine, struck Gold as much too mature for her body.

  “This is Doctor Thomas Gold. You are to escort him to the Steel Butterfly's office, and remain there with him until she arrives.”

  Titania looked apprehensively at Gold.

  “How long will that be?” she asked.

  The Security woman shrugged. “Five or ten minutes, I suppose. Why?”

  “May we take the tram?”

  “Why not? We don't care who sees him this time.”

  Titania asked another half-dozen questions, eyeing Gold nervously the whole time. Finally, when the Security woman's irritation became apparent, the little Andrican sighed and walked to the door.

  “Please follow me, Doctor Gold,” she said.

  Gold fell into step behind her, walked out into the Mall, and soon reached the escalator that led down to the tramway. Titania, still noticeably frightened of him, timed her progress so that they were never alone, and they rode the tramcar to the brothel in total silence.

  A few moments later they were in the reception foyer, and Gold was suddenly aware of the curious glances that were being cast in his direction. He pulled himself up to his full height and glared back at each onlooker in turn. Most of them dropped their eyes; a few didn't, and one of them—a government official from distant Altair III—grinned at him with vast amusement.

  Titania, who had started off and then noticed that Gold wasn't following her, came back to him and took his hand. Once more he felt the electric thrill he had experienced earlier in the day, but this time he didn't jerk his hand back.

  “This way, Doctor Gold,” she said.

  He nodded, and allowed her to lead him through the foyer and down a crowded corridor that passed by a number of restaurants and bars. He saw what seemed to be a huge casino off to his right, but Titania led him away from it, into a corridor with a large RESTRICTED sign posted on it. She released his hand the instant they were no longer surrounded by prostitutes and patrons, and walked past four doors, stopping at the fifth. She then deactivated her translator just long enough to trill four melodic notes, and walked into the room as the door slid back.

  Gold followed her, barely clearing the doorway before the door closed again, and found himself in what was obviously the Steel Butterfly's office. Holographs of some two dozen women, the Steel Butterfly's predecessors, formed four neat rows on one of the walls. Human and alien artifacts were scattered carefully about the room, displayed on tables and wall shelves. To one side of the room, just opposite an artificial fireplace, were a pair of couches which faced each other across an ebony-and-chrome table, the surface of which was a computer screen. The far corner of the room had been given over to the Steel Butterfly's newest possession: a glowing electronic representation of the horserace, both animals sparkling and glowing as they lunged, sweating and straining, for the finish line. He noted with some amusement that in this particular rendition of the race, the big red colt that had so captivated her was the winner.

  “May I get you something to drink?” asked Titania.

  “A cup of tea, thank you,” said Gold.

  The faerie walked to the Steel Butterfly's wet bar, vanished behind it for a moment, and then reemerged.

  “She doesn't have any tea,” she said.

  “Water, then,” said Gold.

  She walked behind the bar once more, poured him a glass of water, and carried it across the room to him.

  “Thank you,” said Gold.

  “You're welcome.”

  He stared down at her.

  “How old are you?” he asked.

  “Thirty-four,” she replied.

  “Galactic Standard years?” he said incredulously.

  “Yes.”

  “I don't believe it!” He stared at her. “You look so young.”

  She seemed to find that amusing, though her translated voice remained impassive. “I am young.”

  “I mean that you look like a child.”

  “I will live for almost two hundred years.”

  “I know. I've read all about Andricans. But I'm still surprised that you don't look more mature.”

  “This is the way I will look until I die.” She paused. “I'm sorry that it displeases you.”

  “It doesn't displease me,” said Gold. He paused awkwardly. “In fact, I think you're quite lovely.”

  She smiled with childlike delight. “Do you really?”

  He stared at her intently. “Yes.”

  Suddenly the smile vanished. “Then why do you keep shouting at me?”

  He sighed. “I don't mean to shout at you, Titania. I'm just upset that circumstances have forced you to work here.”

  “But I like working here.”

  “That's because you don't know any better.”

  “There is no place I would rather be,” she said adamantly.

  “I realize that your surroundings are luxurious,” said Gold. “But surely you would prefer to do something other than spend every day copulating with lecherous, sinful men who pay for your favors.”

  “Why? I like meeting new people.”

  “But you don't have to like having sex with them!”

  “Why shouldn't I like it? Men are much better lovers than Andricans.” She smiled and made a quick, emphatic motion with her hands that he didn't understand.

  Gold closed his eyes for a moment, then looked at her again.

  “What do Andrican females do for a living?” he asked.

  Titania shrugged contemptuously, as if their jobs were too trivial even to mention. “They don't get to wear clothes like this.” She spread her arms to show off her translucent silver gown.

  “Don't do that,” said Gold, unable to tear his fascinated gaze from her nipples, which were clearly visible beneath the soft fabric.

  “I think it's pretty,” she said, turning around once with a sensual alien grace that belied her childlike face. “Don't you like it?”

  “Yes, I like it,” he said intently.

  “Then what's wrong with it?”

  “It's indecent!” he muttered.

  He was sure she would laugh at him, but she didn't.

  “It's supposed to be indecent,” she explained, the flat electronic tones of the translator mirroring her seriousness. “The Velvet Comet is a brothel.”

  “Don't you understand that God disapproves of what you're doing?” he demanded.

  “Your god might disapprove,” she replied, with a total lack of concern. “Mine doesn't.”

  “There is only one God,” he said sternly.

  “Oh, no,” she corrected him. “There's yours, and mine, and the Lodinites', and the Canphorites', and the Bolarians have three. And those are just the ones I know about.”

  “There is one God,” Gold repeated.

  “I would not say that to a Bolarian priest,” she replied.

  “There is one God, and He condemns the sinful to everlasting hell.”

  “How does he know who is sinful?”

  “He is watching us.”

  She threw back her head and laughed so loudly that he could hear the trilling of her real voice as well as the translated laughter.

  “He is very much like some of the Comet's patrons!” she said at last.

  “That's blasphemous!”

  She paused for a moment, then asked: “Do you fear your god?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then why do you devote your life to someone you fear?”

  “I fear His strength and power, but I love His compassion.”

  “If you can love someone you fear, then why do you think it is wrong for me to make love to people I don't fear?” she asked, genuinely puzzled.

  “This is ridiculous!” snapped Gold. “Why am I wasting my time arguing religion with you?”

  She backed away from him quickly. “You're angry again.”

  He watched her, fascinated by the movement of her breasts and hips.

  “I'm not angry, Titania,” said Gold, trying to control his voice. “I like you, truly
I do. More than you can possibly know,” he added in a strained voice. Then he shook his head. “But I don't understand you.”

  “I don't understand you either, but it doesn't make me shout at you.” She stared at him for a moment.

  “Everybody else wants to have sex with me. All you want to do is shout.”

  “That's not true.”

  “You do want to have sex with me?” she asked with a disarmingly innocent smile.

  “No!”

  “I'm very good,” she said, and even the translated voice sounded enticing. “Everyone says I'm better than a human woman.”

  "Don't say that!"

  “You see?” she said with a shrug. “Nothing makes you happy. I guess you must just be angry with everyone.”

  “I'm not angry!” Suddenly he took a deep breath and walked over to a chair. “I've got to calm myself,” he muttered.

  He sat down and pressed his fingers to his temples.

  “Does your head hurt?” asked Titania, staring at him with a catlike curiosity.

  “It will pass.”

  “Can I do anything to make you feel better?”

  He stared at her for a long moment. “You can deactivate your translator and sing a song,” he said slowly. “I would find that very restful.”

  “If you wish,” she said.

  “But you must never tell anyone that I requested it,” he added sharply.

  She nodded and trilled a brief answer, and Gold, with a growing sense of excitement, realized that the translating device was already off.

  A moment later the room was filled with her alien music, each melodic tone sounding like the chime of ice on the finest crystal. Gold leaned back as she crooned her song, waiting for the tension to drain from his throbbing head and finding to his consternation that it had spread throughout his body as he watched her swaying in time to the music.

  Suddenly the room became silent, and Titania activated her translator again.

  “Did you like it?” she asked.

  “Very much,” whispered Gold.

  “Shall I sing another song for you?”

  “I think you'd better not,” he said with an enormous effort of will.

  “You didn't like it.” Gold imagined that he could distinguish a sense of hurt in the translated voice.