Soothsayer Page 13

  “We'll get her out of this in one piece,” said the Forever Kid confidently. “We may not be in the hero business, but we're sure as hell in the rescue business.”

  “First things first,” replied the Iceman. “We're in the punishing business.”

  “But you don't mind if we rescue her somewhere along the way?” asked the Kid, amused.

  “I'm not even sure who she most needs rescuing from,” said the Iceman grimly.

  They fell silent then—the Iceman immersed in his own thoughts and memories, the Forever Kid simply tired of talking—as the ship continued to speed through the Inner Frontier.

  15.

  Suddenly Penelope sat up in her bunk

  “He's coming!” she whispered, frightened.

  “Who's coming?” asked the Mouse apprehensively, staring at the locked door to their quarters.

  “The Iceman.”

  “He's here on this ship?”

  Penelope shook her head. “But he's coming.”

  “You must be mistaken,” said the Mouse. “He never leaves Last Chance.”

  “He's coming to kill King Tout and the Golden Duke,” said Penelope with absolute conviction. “And maybe me.”

  “You think the Iceman will kill you?”

  “He thinks I'm a bad person,” said Penelope. She turned to the Mouse. “Why does he hate me?”

  The Mouse climbed down from the upper bunk, sat down next to the little girl, and put a reassuring arm around around her. “He doesn't love or hate anyone,” she explained. “He's too detached to feel anything for anybody.”

  “The Forever Kid is with him,” said Penelope. “Maybe he'll save us from the Iceman.”

  “You've got it all wrong, Penelope,” said the Mouse. “If they're together, they're coming to save us from King Tout and his friends.”

  Penelope saw the Iceman's cold, remote face in her mind's eye, and shuddered. “I'd rather stay with King Tout.”

  “The Iceman won't hurt you,” said the Mouse soothingly. “I promise you.”

  “You're wrong,” said the little girl. “Of all the man who are hunting me, he's the one who can hurt me.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I just know.” Suddenly a tear rolled down her face. “I miss Jennifer. I wish we hadn't left her behind.”

  “We didn't have any choice,” said the Mouse.

  “But she's all alone there, back at the hotel.”

  “If she was with us, she'd be a prisoner,” the Mouse pointed out. “She's better off where she is.”

  “But she was my first friend, and now I'll never see her again.”

  “She'll never really be gone as long as you remember her,” said the Mouse.

  “I want her to be with me, though,” said Penelope.

  “Sometimes you have to say good-bye to someone you love,” answered the Mouse. “It's part of growing up.”

  “Does everybody leave someone they love behind when they grow up?” asked the little girl.

  “Almost everybody.” She paused. “Sometimes they get left behind themselves. I suppose it comes to the same thing in the end.”

  “But Jennifer likes to be talked to,” persisted Penelope. “What if the maids just put her in a closet?”

  “I'm sure they'll give Jennifer to some lonely little girl who needs a first friend,” said the Mouse.

  “Really?” asked Penelope, brightening somewhat.

  “I'm sure of it.”

  “I hope so.”

  Suddenly the Mouse smiled. “How would you like to sleep in the upper bunk?”

  “Do you mean it?” asked Penelope.

  “Sure.”

  “I'd like it very much.”

  The Mouse hugged the little girl, then lifted her to the higher bunk, and began examining her surroundings for the hundredth time. The walls, ceiling and floor of their small cabin were composed of a titanium alloy and were a dull battleship gray. The two bunks were bolted to the bulkhead. The cabin's computer lock had been disabled, and the door was now bolted from the outside. The tiny lavatory consisted of a Dryshower, a chemical toilet, and a Drysink. The ventilation shafts were far too small for any human, even the Mouse, to crawl through. There was no viewport, no vidscreen, no intercom.

  The Mouse paced the floor for a few moments, looking for a weak spot, but to no avail. If there was a means of escape, even a remote possibility of escape, she was sure she'd have spotted it by now. Still, she went over every inch of the cabin methodically, pretending she hadn't already done so two dozen times already, and finally she returned to the lower bunk.

  A few minutes later she heard the bolt move, and then September Morn entered their cabin with two trays.

  “Dinner,” said the alien, handing a tray to each of her prisoners.

  “How much longer before we arrive?” asked the Mouse.

  The alien's face contorted in its grotesque parody of a human smile. “If I tell you that, you might guess where we're going.”

  “What difference does it make?” said the Mouse. “Who do you think we're going to tell?”

  “You? No one.” She glanced at Penelope. “Her? Who knows?”

  “She's not a telepath.”

  “You say she reads the future. I say she reads our minds. What's the difference?”

  “The difference is that she can't communicate telepathically with anyone, so you might as well tell us where we're going.”

  September Morn smiled again. “If I don't tell you, there's no difference. If I do tell you and she is a telepath, there might be a very big difference.”

  “But I can't read minds or send messages,” protested Penelope.

  “You would say that regardless,” replied September Morn.

  And with that, she walked out of the room, and bolted the door again as it slid shut behind her.

  “I don't like the sound of that,” said the Mouse.

  “Of what?” asked Penelope.

  “If they think you're a telepath, they might demand that you read a mind or send a thought for them, and if you explain that you can't do it and they don't believe you, we could be in for a lot of trouble.”

  “We're already in a lot of trouble,” said Penelope, picking unenthusiastically at her food.

  “As jails go, I've seen worse,” said the Mouse, inspecting her own tray and starting to eat an exotic salad made of vegetables from half a dozen different alien worlds.

  “What was the alien one like?” asked Penelope. “The one where the Iceman deserted you?”

  “Not very pleasant.”

  “Was it cold and dark and damp?” asked Penelope with a child's innocent enthusiasm.

  The Mouse paused, as if remembering.

  “It was dark,” she said, “but not cold. Actually, it felt more like an oven. Msalli IV is a very warm world.”

  “Did they torture you?”

  The Mouse shook her head. “Not so you'd notice it. They just threw me in a cell and left me there. Sometimes they remembered to feed me, sometimes they didn't.”

  “How long were you sentenced for?”

  The Mouse smiled wryly. “The Klai—that's the race that lives there—don't operate like that. When you're found guilty of something, they toss you into jail, and when you die, they bury you.” She paused. “I almost died from their water a couple of times. Diseases aren't supposed to be cross-species, but I guess enough filth will make anyone sick—and that was the filthiest water I ever saw.”

  “Did they give you a doctor to make you well?”

  “Eventually. That was how I escaped.”

  “Tell me about it!” said Penelope eagerly. “Did you kill the doctor with one of his surgical instruments?”

  The Mouse smiled. “You've never seen a Klai, have you? They're about eight feet tall, and perhaps 600 pounds, with skin like armor. Stabbing or shooting one of them would just make him angry.”

  “Then what did you do?” persisted the girl.

  “I pretended to be sicker and weaker than I
was, and after a couple of days, when I felt strong enough and they weren't watching as closely as they should have, I sneaked out of my room and found an air shaft leading to the sub-basement. I spent three days hiding there, following various passages, until I found a sewage tunnel the led to a drainage ditch almost half a mile beyond the prison.”

  “How did you get off the planet?”

  “Two days after I escaped the Democracy invaded it, and I just presented myself to one of our military units. They transferred me to the flagship, questioned me until they were convinced that I was who I said I was, and then transported me to the nearest human world.”

  Penelope shifted her position on her bunk so that she could see the Mouse better. “Why didn't the Iceman try to rescue you?”

  “I used to wonder a lot about that,” admitted the Mouse. “I couldn't figure out why he cared more about his orders than he cared about me.” She shrugged. “Then one day I realized that he would never send someone he cared for into that situation, and finally it made sense.”

  Penelope's eyes narrowed. “I don't like him.”

  “Well, there are people I'm more fond of, myself,” agreed the Mouse dryly.

  “Why is he coming after us?” asked Penelope, deciding she didn't like her meal and pushing her tray aside. “He doesn't like you, and he hates me.”

  “He has a reason for everything he does,” answered the Mouse. “My guess is that he's going to let the Forever Kid kill King Tout and his friends, just to prove that no one can get away with disobeying his orders on Last Chance.” She paused. “Can the Kid beat all three of them?”

  Penelope shrugged. “I don't know.”

  “He was about to try at our hotel. What did you see then?”

  “In some futures he won, in some he didn't—but in all of them you were killed.”

  “The Golden Duke must be pretty good at his trade.”

  “Oh, he always killed the Golden Duke,” said Penelope. “But in some futures September Morn killed him.”

  “I didn't even notice her carrying a weapon,” said the Mouse. “What does she use, and where does she hide it?”

  “There were so many futures, and everything happened so fast,” said Penelope helplessly. “I can't remember.”

  “But she's the dangerous one?”

  “I don't know. Maybe it was because the Forever Kid was concentrating on the Golden Duke.”

  “Oh, well,” sighed the Mouse. “We'll just have to hope that the Kid is up to it.”

  “What if he isn't?”

  “Then Carlos will find another way to kill them.”

  “Can he?”

  “He was one of the best in his day, but that's not the way he operates any more. Still,” she concluded, “once he sets his mind on something, he usually gets what he wants.”

  “What if he wants me dead?” asked Penelope.

  “Then he'll have to kill me first,” promised the Mouse. “And he won't do that.”

  “Why not, if he doesn't care about you?”

  “Because I know how his mind works. He hates waste, and killing me would serve no purpose.”

  “It would if you were protecting me.”

  “He'd try to find a way around me,” said the Mouse. “Take my word for it.”

  “How would he do that?”

  “I don't know.” The Mouse noted the genuine fear on Penelope's face, and reached up to hold the child's hand. “Don't worry. It's a moot point. He's coming to rescue us, not harm us.”

  “I hope you're right.”

  “Don't you know?”

  Penelope shook her head. “Not yet. It's too far off.”

  “Well, believe me: I'm not going to let anyone harm you.”

  Penelope suddenly climbed down from her own bunk to the Mouse's, and threw her arms around her.

  “You're my best friend. My only friend,” she amended. “I want us to be together always.”

  “You're my best friend, too,” said the Mouse.

  Suddenly Penelope straightened up.

  “What is it?” asked the Mouse.

  “We just changed course.”

  “I didn't feel anything. How can you tell?”

  “I just know.”

  “Do you know where we're heading?”

  Penelope squinted and peered into space, as if trying to read a sign within her mind.

  “The Starboat,” she said at last.

  “The Starboat?” repeated the Mouse. “What is it?”

  “It's a huge ship that's orbiting a red world.”

  “How huge?”

  “It's got lots of cabins, and big rooms like the one the Iceman owned.”

  “You mean taverns?”

  “Those too.”

  “Casinos?”

  Penelope nodded. “Rooms where they play cards and games like that.”

  “Do you know the name of the red world?”

  “No.” Suddenly Penelope smiled. “But I know something else.”

  “What?”

  “I know that there's a man on the Starboat who can help us.”

  “Who?”

  “I don't know his name, but he's dressed in very bright colors, and he's very tall, and he had a beard.”

  “Is he a killer?” asked the Mouse. “A bounty hunter?”

  “I don't think so.”

  “How will he help us?”

  “I don't know yet,” said Penelope. “But once we're at the Starboat, I'll know how.”

  “If he figures out you're helping to cheat him, he might kill us all.”

  Penelope shook her head firmly. “No. I don't know what he'll do, but I know he won't hurt us.”

  “He'll help both of us, not just you?”

  “Yes.”

  “You're absolutely sure?”

  “I would never leave without you,” Penelope assured her.

  “Can Carlos catch up with us before we reach the Starboat?”

  “No.”

  “Then we've got a decision to make,” said the Mouse.

  “This man will help us,” insisted Penelope.

  “Will he kill King Tout or the others?”

  “I don't know.”

  “Can you see if King Tout will come after us again?”

  “No.”

  “No he won't, or no you can't see?”

  “I can't see that far.”

  The Mouse sighed deeply. “I just don't know,” she said. “At least if Carlos and the Kid catch up with us, we know they won't leave until King Tout and his friends are dead.”

  “I don't want the Iceman to catch up with us,” said Penelope, her fear reflected on her face once again.

  The Mouse studied the little girl's face intently. “And you're sure this man will help us?” she asked at last. “Not just try, but succeed?”

  “I think so.”

  “But you're not sure?”

  “I will be, before I let him know that we need his help.”

  “Once he knows, he'd better act fast,” said the Mouse, “or you're going to be minus a best friend.”

  “King Tout will only hurt you if I disobey him,” said Penelope with absolute conviction. “Once I find someone to help me, he'll be much more worried about his own skin.”

  “You can see that, too?”

  Penelope smiled. “Not in the future. I know it, because King Tout is so simple to understand.”

  “He is?”

  The little girl nodded. “He's no smarter than Jennifer was,” she said, and the Mouse noted a certain contempt in her voice that had never been there previously.

  “He was smart enough to capture us,” replied the Mouse, watching Penelope closely for a reaction.

  “I couldn't see far enough ahead. Next week or next month I'll be able to.” She hugged the Mouse again. “They think they can hurt you, but I won't let them.” She paused thoughtfully, then added, “They're very foolish men, King Tout and the Golden Duke.” Suddenly a look of childish fury crossed her face. “And they'll be sorry they m
ade me leave Jennifer behind.”

  The Mouse looked at her for a moment, startled—and then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the almost alien expression of rage vanished from Penelope's face.

  “I love you, Mouse,” she said.

  The Mouse embraced her. “And I love you too, Penelope.”

  “And if they try to hurt you,” she continued, “something bad will happen to them.”

  “Like what?” asked the Mouse.

  “Oh, I don't know,” said Penelope with a shrug. “Just something.”

  16.

  The Starboat was the most impressive and elegant space station on the Inner Frontier.

  Hundreds of ships, some small, some incredibly large, were docked along its sleek, shining hull. In fact, the hull itself was the first thing to capture a visitor's attention, for it proclaimed the station's name in 200-foot-high letters that blazed like a million tiny suns, and it was visible to approaching ships that were still thousands of miles away.

  The interior lived up to the hull's glittering promise. There were restaurants, bars, nightclubs, and a dozen immense public gambling rooms, as well as some very private rooms for high-stakes games, games that even King Tout couldn't afford. Men in formal dress, women in very little dress at all, aliens in exotic attire, all moved discreetly from table to table, from game to game, offering drinks, drugs, an assortment of alien tobaccos, and gaming chips.

  The tables themselves were divided almost evenly between human and alien games, and, not surprisingly, the jaded human customers clustered around of the more popular alien games, losing tens of thousands of credits at a time at games such as jabob, so complex that it took years to learn, while the score or more of alien races—Canphorites, Domarians, Lodinites, even a pair of methane-breathing Atrians in their frigid protective suits—lost just as heavily at poker, blackjack and roulette.

  There was no form of wager one couldn't make aboard the Starboat. One huge room, housing hundreds of computer and video screens, offered up-to-the-minute news and odds on sporting events all across the Democracy, while another posted odds and results of the tens of thousands of elections that occurred daily for major and minor political offices on the Democracy's fifty thousand worlds. A third room was devoted to an endless series of trivia games, which were making their hundredth or so reappearance in a galaxy where Man had grown out of touch with his origins and constantly sought to relearn them.