Eros Descending: Book 3 of Tales of the Velvet Comet Page 14

  Once again the two faeries appeared, and this time Gold made sure to check the time every few seconds.

  He was eighty-five seconds into the footage when Simon knocked on the door.

  “What is it?” he snapped.

  “Are you all right, Father?”

  “Of course I'm all right! What do you want?”

  “I thought you were coming out in five minutes. It's been almost fifteen.”

  “Five, fifteen—what's the difference? I'm busy!”

  “Can't it wait?” asked Simon.

  “No, it can't!”

  “How much longer will you be?” persisted Simon.

  “As long as it takes. Now leave me alone!”

  There was no reply, and Gold walked back to the computer, which was still running the scene.

  “Start it again,” he commanded. “And put the running time above them.”

  The computer instantly complied, and Gold stared at the scene before him with renewed intensity. Finally it flickered out of existence.

  “All right,” he said grudgingly. “You were right. Deactivate.”

  He stood up, paused a moment until his breathing became more normal, and then left his office and walked to the living room, where his son, daughter, and grandson were waiting for him.

  “Christina!” he said, smiling. “How wonderful it is to see you again!” He looked down at Jeremy. “My goodness! You've grown another inch! Are you ready for a trip to the museum tomorrow?”

  Jeremy assured him that he was looking forward to it, then ran off to the dining room to help Corinne set the table.

  Christina surveyed her father critically. “You've been under quite a strain,” she remarked at last.

  “Why should you think so?” asked Gold defensively. “I was just working on a sermon.”

  “I wasn't talking about that,” she replied. “You've got to have lost fifteen pounds since the last time I was here.”

  “Maybe two or three,” he said. “But hardly fifteen.”

  “Have you seen a doctor?” she continued. “You really don't look well, Father.”

  'I appreciate your concern, but I feel fine,” he said.

  “Well, you don't look it.”

  “I trust you intend to spend an equal amount of time nagging your mother about the weight she's gained,” said Gold.

  “She looks healthy. You don't.”

  “I told you—I'm fine.”

  “Simon, do you think he's all right?” she asked her brother worriedly.

  “It's none of Simon's business,” interrupted Gold.

  “Besides, he's got more important things to do these days than spend his time playing nursemaid to a perfectly healthy man.”

  “You mean his book?”

  “That, too,” said Gold. “But I've been letting him handle a lot of the church's routine administrative duties for the past few weeks while I work on my sermons.” He paused. “I trust you heard the last two?”

  “Of course.”

  “Did they sound as if they were given by a doddering old man with one foot in the grave?”

  “No,” she admitted. “But you must have used a lot of makeup and some very careful camera angles. You couldn't have lost all this weight since your last broadcast.”

  “I told you—you're exaggerating.” He tried to change the subject again. “By the way, what did you think of them?”

  “Them?”

  “My sermons.”

  “They were fine,” said Christina, deciding that any further discussion of her father's health would simply result in an argument. “Robert and I noticed that you haven't mentioned the Andricans at all for the past two weeks. Did Vainmill release them from their contracts?”

  “No,” said Gold, suddenly uncomfortable. “I just thought I'd do better to focus on Fiona Bradley for a while. After all, the faeries are just the symptom; Bradley and Vainmill are the disease.”

  “I suppose you're right,” she said. “But after that video special last week about how the Comet has had to adapt to their needs, I was sure you'd be concentrating on them again.”

  “They've pretty much served their purpose,” said Gold. “We don't want the public getting tired of them.”

  “You make this sound more like a political campaign than a moral crusade,” remarked Christina.

  “To some extent it is precisely that,” interjected Simon. “If we get the Andricans released, Vainmill will still be in the business of doing evil. But if we can bring Vainmill down, the Andrican situation will be resolved simultaneously.”

  “I never thought I'd hear Simon Gold equating politics and religion,” she said with a smile.

  “I'm not,” said Simon stiffly. “But we're waging a battle to win men's souls, and it would be foolish not to use every weapon at our disposal.”

  “Mother mentioned one of those weapons,” said Christina. “A man named Kozinsky, from the Declan system.”

  “Then I trust she also mentioned that we had nothing to do with it,” answered Simon heatedly.

  “She didn't have to mention it,” she replied. “I know my father.” She looked directly into Simon's eyes. “But I'll bet you had him condemned to eternal damnation before he had drawn his last breath.”

  “He tried to take human lives,” said Simon.

  “I notice you didn't say innocent human lives,” she remarked, amused.

  “Innocent or guilty, it makes no difference. The Lord tells us that we must not kill.”

  “I think that under the right circumstances, you could wipe out a regiment without turning a hair,” she said.

  “Christina, you shouldn't say that about your brother,” said Gold. “He happens to be the most righteous man I've ever been privileged to know.”

  “That's just the kind of man who will commit any crime without compunction if he's convinced he's right,” said Christina.

  “I'm perfectly willing to be judged for my past and present sins,” said Simon irritably. “But if it's all the same to you, I don't feel like defending myself for sins as yet uncommitted and unconceived.”

  “I didn't say you would, Simon,” replied his sister. “Just that you could.”

  “Rubbish!”

  “Not necessarily,” commented Gold. “I suspect that anyone could commit any sin under the proper circumstances.”

  She shook her head. “Not you, Father,” she said firmly.

  “Even me.”

  “Thomas Gold? I doubt it.”

  “Then allow me to thank you for your vote of confidence, even while I disagree with it,” he said ironically. “By the way, where's Robert?”

  “He's arriving a few hours before your broadcast next Thursday evening.”

  Gold turned to Simon. “This animosity between you and your brother-in-law has got to stop. We're supposed to be a family, and I'm getting sick and tired of seeing each of you only when the other is absent. You're both mature adults; it seems to me that you ought to be able to get along with each other for an evening without arguing.”

  “I agree,” said Simon.

  “Then when are the two of you going to make an effort?” persisted Gold.

  “We already have,” replied Simon smugly. “In fact, I've been in contact with Robert twice within the past week.”

  “And you didn't fight?”

  “Certainly not.”

  “I'm delighted to hear it,” said Gold. “Surprised, but delighted.”

  “Robert's not totally unreasonable under the proper circumstances,” added Simon.

  “I've been trying to tell you that for years,” said Christina.

  “What's the cause of this new family harmony?” asked Gold.

  “Your next broadcast, as a matter of fact,” replied Simon.

  “I'm afraid I don't follow you.”

  “I've got a surprise for you, Father,” said Simon, looking inordinately pleased with himself.

  “Can you tell me now, or do I have to wait until Thursday evening?” asked Gold.
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  “The sooner you know, the better, since I have a feeling that you're going to want to change your sermon.”

  “Change it?” repeated Gold. “What do you mean?”

  “I assume you had planned to attack Fiona Bradley again?”

  Gold nodded. “I'll be discussing Vainmill's abuse of aliens in the Bellermaine system.”

  Simon smiled and shook his head. “No you won't.” He paused for dramatic effect. “You'll be talking about the Andricans.”

  “No,” said Gold firmly. “I made them the subject of four broadcasts in a row. It's time to move to other things.”

  “Not just yet,” said Simon, still smiling.

  “I won't talk about the faeries again. I made a promise.”

  “A promise?” asked Christina.

  “To myself,” answered Gold hastily.

  “Well, you're about to break it,” said Simon.

  “No, I'm not,” said Gold decisively. “The subject is closed.” He paused. “Now, what's this surprise you've cooked up?”

  “Robert is bringing two Andricans to Deluros with him,” said Simon.

  “What?”

  “I thought we ought to do something to counter any favorable impression that Constantine's documentary created. You know, bring the faeries out and let them stand on the stage with you, so people can see just how inoffensive and vulnerable they are, maybe even have them say a few words about how prostitution is unknown on their home planet and what a terrible fate has befallen the Andricans on the Velvet Comet.”

  “Robert's bringing faeries to Deluros?” said Gold, blinking rapidly and trying to assimilate what he had just heard.

  “He is an alien anthropologist, as well as an exobiologist,” answered Simon. “He's had contact with races all over the galaxy. So when I got the idea while watching the documentary, I contacted him to see if it was feasible. He had to contact their government to see if he could get two of them to agree to come to Deluros with him, which is why I didn't know that we could actually accomplish it until yesterday.” He paused. “I thought you'd figure it out when Christina showed up.”

  “Christina visits us every six or seven months,” said Gold distractedly.

  “But it's only been a month and a half since I was here,” Christina interjected.

  Gold stared at her, trying vainly to get his thoughts and emotions back into focus. “A month and a half?” he repeated disbelievingly.

  She studied his face with concerned eyes.

  “Are you all right, Father?” she asked. “You look quite pale.”

  “I'm fine,” he said, regaining his composure. “It's just that so much has happened in the last few weeks...”

  “Anyway, I thought you'd be pleased,” continued Simon doggedly. “It's the opportunity of a lifetime to show the people a real Andrican, not one of those obscene things that have been trained by the Steel Butterfly and told what to say to the camera by Richard Constantine.”

  “But I promised...” muttered Gold.

  “Well, obviously this isn't the surprise I had hoped it would be,” said Simon, making no attempt to hide his disappointment. “Still, I need a decision from you. If you think it's a bad idea, I'll have to get in touch with Robert immediately.”

  “Why?” demanded Gold, suddenly tense.

  “There's no sense bringing the Andricans here without a reason,” explained Simon. “If you really don't want to use them, I'll have Robert return them to their planet.”

  “Return them?” repeated Gold. “Return them?”

  Simon's face clouded with concern. “Would you like to sit down, Father? Christina's right—you don't look at all well.”

  “You're not returning anything!” said Gold.

  “Then you do want to use them?” said Simon, his enthusiasm returning.

  “Definitely!” said Gold, his face suddenly alive with an excitement that Simon and Christina both misinterpreted.

  “I'm sorry if I seemed unappreciative at first, but I've had a lot on my mind lately.” He laid a hand on Simon's shoulder. “It's an excellent idea; I should have thought of it myself. Now how about some dinner? I'm suddenly hungry!”

  They spent the next hour eating, and talking about Corinne's latest needlepoint, and Jeremy's schooling, and Robert's proposed fieldwork on the Outer Frontier, and then Gold excused himself, explaining that he had to work on his new sermon.

  “That's the happiest I've seen him in months,” remarked Simon.

  “I thought he needed a rest,” replied Christina. “I guess what he really needed was a new challenge.”

  She paused and shook her head wonderingly. “He's a truly remarkable man.”

  And, thirty feet away, locked in his office, Thomas Gold stared transfixed, as the two female faeries once again went through their sexual contortions with a sensual alien grace.

  Chapter 13

  The Steel Butterfly sat on a couch opposite her tabletop computer, a mixed drink in her hand.

  Attila approached her door, waited for his retina pattern to register, and then entered the office as the door slid back into the wall.

  “Good afternoon,” she said as the door closed behind him and he approached her. “Thank you for coming so promptly.”

  “Happy to,” he said. “And now that I'm here, maybe you'll tell me what's so important that you couldn't discuss it over the intercom.”

  “Richard Constantine is due to communicate with me in the next few minutes,” she replied. “I thought you might find it interesting.”

  “That's what this is all about?” demanded Attila. “He calls you all the time.”

  “But this time he's got a crisis on his hands,” she replied.

  “What kind of crisis?”

  “Thomas Gold's son-in-law is on his way to Deluros with a pair of faeries.” She smiled. “I'm not supposed to know it—but I am not without my sources inside Vainmill.”

  Attila shook his head. “He's really gone over the edge, hasn't he?” he remarked. “Imagine importing his own prostitutes!”

  She shook her head. “They're not prostitutes.”

  Attila frowned. “Then I don't understand.”

  “My guess is that he's going to use them on his next broadcast.”

  “So much for keeping his word.” He paused. “What does this have to do with me?”

  “You still haven't turned that disk over to Constantine. I thought you might like to see what he's like under pressure before you do.”

  “Why don't I just listen in from Security headquarters?” asked Attila. “He knows all your communications are monitored and logged.”

  “Because I'll want to discuss the conversation with you in private once it's over.”

  “Nothing that goes on in this place is ever in private,” said Attila. “That's how we got the material on Gold in the first place.”

  “But you and I are going to put this whole conversation in a Priority file—what we say to Constantine, and what we say to each other after it's over. I've already instructed Cupid to do so.”

  “Do you really think all this secrecy is necessary?” he asked dubiously.

  “Yes.”

  He stared at her. “You don't think a hell of a lot of Constantine, do you?”

  “On the contrary, I think he's a very accomplished troubleshooter. Fiona Bradley's been using him for years, and he hasn't let her down yet.”

  “But?”

  “But his loyalties are to Vainmill, and mine are to the Comet. There's no question in my mind that sooner or later he can destroy Thomas Gold with or without our help—on the assumption that Gold doesn't self-destruct before Constantine goes to work on him—but I have a feeling that once Gold is out of the way, he'll get rid of the Comet as quickly and efficiently as possible before it can become a source of further embarrassment to Vainmill. After all, we're a more visible target than anything else in Entertainment and Leisure.”

  “Do you mind if I fix myself a drink?” asked Attila.

  “
I think you'd better not,” she replied. “It doesn't bother me, but I have a feeling Constantine isn't going to want to see our Security chief with a drink in his hand.”

  “I notice that you're drinking,” said Attila, sitting on the opposite couch.

  “It goes with the image,” she replied. “Madams can drink. Security chiefs can't.”

  “I think I'll have to be a madam next time around,” Attila remarked wryly. “By the way, how soon are you expecting this call?”

  She checked her timepiece. “About three minutes.”

  “What did he do—have one of his secretaries tell you to be here waiting for it?”

  She nodded. “He's a fanatic for punctuality.”

  They spent the next couple of minutes discussing additions to the Proscribed List—those patrons who had behaved so badly, either by abusing the prostitutes or cheating in the casino, that their presence aboard the Comet would not be accepted in the future—and then Cupid's voice interrupted them.

  “Richard Constantine is attempting to make contact,” announced the computer.

  “Put him through,” said the Steel Butterfly, turning to face Constantine's image above her tabletop.

  “Good afternoon,” he said to her, then turned to face Attila. “I wasn't expecting you,” he added.

  “I can leave if you wish,” offered Attila.

  He shook his head briskly. “It doesn't make any difference.” His image turned back to the Steel Butterfly. “I have some interesting news for you.”

  “Oh?” she said noncommittally.

  He nodded. “It seems that our documentary on the faeries is having some very beneficial side effects. Not only was it the highest-rated video of the month, but one of the major networks has made us a substantial offer for the rights to set a fictional drama aboard the Comet.”

  She frowned. “You mean they want to make holos of their performers up here?”

  “No. They'll recreate portions of the Comet in a studio. But they'll be sending some scriptwriters and executives up in the next week to get a firsthand look at the ship. I'll have a list of their names sent up to you.” He paused. “I want them afforded every courtesy. Vainmill will pick up the tab for it. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Perfectly,” replied the Steel Butterfly. “What type of show will they be doing?”