Eros Descending: Book 3 of Tales of the Velvet Comet Read online

  Gold continued speaking with the faeries for another three minutes, then ushered them offstage and returned to face his audience.

  He stared at them, his eyes unfocused, for a long minute. Then he drew himself up to his full height, cleared his throat, and began speaking.

  “It is said that the meek will inherit the Earth. Certainly no race can be said to be meeker ... more meek ... than the Andricans, and they have no desire to inherit the Earth. All they want is to live in peace and freedom on their own planet. And yet two among them...”

  He spoke on and on, and suddenly, after another lengthy pause, he seemed to pull his thoughts together. The last five minutes of his sermon constituted a harsh and well-reasoned attack on the Velvet Comet. There were only ten Commandments, he pointed out, ten moral laws from which all human jurisprudence and social custom had derived.

  One by one he went through them, pointing out in outraged detail how the Comet had either broken them or led its misguided clientele into breaking them. He concluded with a righteous demand that Vainmill release the Andricans immediately.

  “Well?” asked Robert, turning to Christina.

  “He's not himself,” she said.

  “I just don't know,” answered Robert. “I would have agreed with you right up to the point when the Andricans left the stage, but those last few minutes were like the Thomas Gold of old. His voice was strong, his gestures were right, he had the audience eating out of the palm of his hand. If he can think on his feet like that, maybe he's not as sick as I thought. Maybe he just had an off night.”

  There was a momentary silence, and they became uncomfortably aware of thousands of voices whispering the very same doubts about Gold's physical condition.

  “He didn't think on his feet,” Simon said finally, expression puzzled. “He remembered on his feet.”

  “I don't think I understand you,” said Robert.

  “That discourse on the Ten Commandments,” answered Simon. “He gave the same sermon, word for word about six years ago. It wasn't directed at the Comet, of course—he was attacking the Quantrell Conglomerate just after they had broken the miners’ strike on Brazos II—but except for that, it was identical.”

  “If he wandered aimlessly for the first twenty-five minutes, and pulled the final five minutes out of an old sermon, then what was he working on all week long?” asked Robert, puzzled.

  “I don't know,” answered Simon, his voice troubled. “I really don't know.”

  “What difference does it make?” said Christina. “Both of you are missing the point. He's overworked to the point of exhaustion. Make any excuse you want, Simon, but he's never sounded like this before.”

  “He didn't sound overworked at the end,” said Simon stubbornly. “He sounded just like he always does.”

  “You're deluding yourself, Simon,” she said, her voice heavy with concern. “Haven't you looked at him? He's lost almost twenty pounds, the color is gone from his face, and his hands never stop shaking. And don't tell me he was just nervous or upset tonight, because we've both been with him all week. Haven't you noticed how he'll start to say something and then just stare off into space with a strange look on his face? He's sick, Simon, and he needs help!”

  Robert became uncomfortably aware of the attention they had been attracting.

  “This is neither the time nor the place to discuss it,” he said firmly. “Let's get him and take him back home.”

  “I agree,” said Simon, staring back at the closest group of onlookers until they uncomfortably began averting their eyes.

  “Wait until the crowd finishes filing out,” said Christina. “The last thing he needs now is to have some of them come up and ask him what went wrong tonight.”

  Robert nodded, and the three of them waited in silence for another ten minutes until the last few stragglers, convinced that they wouldn't get a chance to see Gold again, were walking up the long aisles toward the exits. Then they got up and walked to the NO ENTRANCE sign. When the guard recognized Simon he stepped aside and allowed them to pass.

  Simon led them down a corridor, took a right turn, and stopped in front of a door.

  “Father, are you ready to leave?” he said.

  There was no answer.

  “Father?” said Simon, knocking loudly on the door.

  There was still no response from within, and finally Simon pressed his thumb against a small computer.

  It took about three seconds to register his thumbprint, and then the door slid open.

  “It's empty,” said Robert, stepping inside and looking around.

  “How about the bathroom?” asked Christina.

  Robert walked across the room and looked into small lavatory, then turned to her and shook his head.

  “He's not here.”

  “Then where can he be?” asked Simon.

  “Let's check the Andricans’ room,” suggested Robert. “Maybe he's with them.”

  “Where is it?” asked Simon.

  “Follow me,” said Robert, leading them out into the hall.

  He retraced his steps to the point where they had turned, and then followed the original corridor about fifty feet. The sound of staccato, atonal trilling came to their ears.

  “What's that?” asked Simon.

  Robert frowned. “An Andrican.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Christina. “Father said they sounded melodic.”

  “Usually they do,” said Robert, allowing the computer to read his thumbprint.

  The door slid open, and they saw Gold, his cheek and forehead red with blood, struggling with one of the Andricans.

  “Father!” exclaimed Simon.

  Gold looked at the door with wild eyes and shouted something unintelligible. Robert instantly commanded the door to close.

  “What are you doing?” demanded Simon.

  “They're attacking him!” Robert turned to Christina, who had an expression of dawning horror on her face. “Take your brother home,” he ordered her. “I'll bring your father along later.”

  “Open the door!” screamed Simon. “They're killing my father!”

  “Nobody's killing anyone,” said Robert. “I want you to go home with Christina. I'll take care of this.”

  They suddenly heard more frantic trilling and another yell from Gold. Simon tried to push Robert away from the door.

  “Let me in, damn you!” he raged.

  “Aliens are my business,” said Robert firmly. “Now go away and let me handle them.”

  “That's my father in there!”

  “Simon, I'm bigger that you and stronger than you, and I'm not going to open this door until you leave.” He stared levelly at his brother-in-law. “And if you're still standing here in five seconds I'm going to break your jaw.”

  Something in the tone of Robert's voice convinced Simon that he was in earnest, and he stared at him unbelievingly.

  “Come, Simon,” said Christina. “It's all right. Father's not in any danger, truly he's not. Robert will take care of everything.”

  “But —”

  “Simon!” she said urgently, pulling at his arm.

  Simon made a rush for the door, and Robert drove a fist into his stomach. He groaned and doubled over, gasping for breath.

  “Now get him out of here!” ordered Robert.

  Christina nodded, and Simon, still gasping, struggled weakly but finally allowed himself to be led away.

  Robert waited until they were out of the corridor, then opened the door again and took in the scene at a glance. His assistant was sprawled out on the floor, semiconscious from a blow to the head that Gold had evidently delivered with a heavy makeup jar that lay a few inches away from him. One of the Andricans, the female, crouched terrified in a corner, while Gold was struggling to rip the clothing from the male.

  “Go away!” screamed Gold when he saw Robert.

  “Let him go,” said Robert gently, as he approached Gold carefully.

  “Leave us alone!”

  Gold t
ook a swing at Robert when he came within reach. Robert ducked, and the faerie twisted loose and raced across the room. Gold began chasing him, but Robert, younger and faster, managed to position himself between them.

  “I'm not going to let you touch him again,” said Robert calmly. “Now, I want you to go to the other side of the room and try to compose yourself.”

  Gold uttered a guttural snarl and launched himself at Robert, who sidestepped his charge and encircled him with his arms, amazed at how light and feeble the older man felt. He half-carried, half-dragged him to a chair and forced him to sit down.

  “Can you understand me?” asked Robert, still holding Gold's arms to his sides.

  “Behold, thou art fair, my love,” intoned Gold in a cracking voice. “Thou hast dove's eyes within thy locks; thy hair is as a flock of goats that appear from Mount Gilead.”

  “Thomas!” said Robert harshly, shaking him. “Do you know who I am?”

  “Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet,” continued Gold, never taking his eyes off the faerie, “and thy speech is comely. Thy temples are like a piece of pomegranate within thy locks.”

  Robert walked in front of Gold and slapped his face.

  “Come out of it!” he snapped. “You've practically brained my friend! I've got to get a doctor in here!”

  Gold turned to face the female faerie.

  “Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins, which feed among the lilies.”

  “Damn it, Thomas!”

  Another slap.

  “Thou art all fair, my love. There is no spot in thee.”

  “Snap out of it! I've got to get you back home before the doctor arrives!”

  Gold blinked furiously. “Home?” he mumbled.

  “Yes, home! I've sent Simon and Christina ahead, but I've got to get you out of here. Try to get hold of yourself.”

  “Simon?” repeated Gold, sanity briefly returning to his eyes, followed by an expression of terror. He looked wildly around the room. “Where is he?”

  “I just told you. He's on his way home.”

  Gold relaxed, his lean body sagging onto the chair. Robert stared at him for a moment. “Will you be all right now? Can I turn my back on you for a minute?”

  Gold nodded weakly.

  Robert walked to a vidphone, covered the camera so that no one could see the room, and placed an emergency call for a Jesus Pure doctor.

  Then he walked over to the two faeries. Gold had ripped the translator off the male, but the female's was working, and he told her, as succinctly and apologetically as he could, that his father-in-law was a desperately sick man, that he was not responsible for his actions, and that someone would be coming by in a moment to take them back to the ship. The Church of the Purity of Jesus Christ, he added, would accept full responsibility for what had happened, and would agree to any reasonable reparations that were demanded.

  He returned to Gold.

  “Can you walk?” he asked.

  “I don't know,” mumbled Gold.

  “Try.”

  Gold got shakily to his feet.

  “I have to get you out of here before anyone arrives,” said Robert. “Do you think you can make it to your dressing room?”

  Gold nodded.

  “Then let's go.”

  Robert supported the older man as they walked out into the corridor and back to Gold's room, then helped him to lie down on a couch.

  “I'm going to leave you for a few minutes now,” said Robert, speaking as if to a small child. “I'll be right down the hallway. Just try to relax.”

  Gold, his eyes closed, nodded absently, and Robert left the room, locking the door behind him.

  He put in a quick call to his staff aboard the ship, then approached the faeries and told them to follow him out into the corridor. He took them to an empty room he had passed earlier, told them to remain there, and reassured them once again that someone would arrive shortly to take them back to the ship. He then returned to his assistant, who was still groggy but slowly regaining his senses.

  “How are you doing?” he asked.

  The man muttered something unintelligible.

  “Do you know who hit you?”

  “Gold or the faeries, one or the other,” came the mumbled answer.

  “But you're not sure which?”

  The roan shook his head, then moaned in pain.

  “No.”

  “I've sent for a doctor,” said Robert. “He'll be here in a couple of minutes. He's going to ask you the same question.”

  “Maybe I'll remember by then.”

  “And maybe you won't,” said Robert. “I think you'd be better off telling him just what you told me—that you don't know who hit you. We don't want to cause a political or racial incident if you're not one hundred percent sure.”

  “All right,” said the man, closing his eyes and placing his hands to his head. “Whatever you say.”

  “I'm going to leave you alone now,” said Robert. “But the doctor will be here very soon. Tell him I'll check with him later and pick up the bill. All right?”

  “Fine,” muttered the man.

  Robert then returned to Gold's room. He waited until the corridor was empty, commanded the door to open, and gingerly entered the room, fully prepared to ward off another attack—but Gold was still on the couch, exactly as Robert had left him.

  “How are you feeling now?” asked Robert, approaching him. “Any better?”

  “The joints of thy thighs are like jewels,” intoned Gold, staring aimlessly into space. “Thy naval is like a round goblet, which wanteth not liquor.”

  Robert looked down at the pale, tortured, emaciated man. “Come on,” he said gently, helping Gold to his feet. “It's time to go home.”

  “Make haste, my beloved, and be thou like to a roe upon the mountains of spices.”

  Chapter 15

  “Finally!” exclaimed Simon, getting to his feet as Robert and Gold appeared in the doorway of the apartment. He noticed the scratches on Gold's face. “Are you all right, Father?”

  Gold nodded his head.

  Christina remained seated, but Corinne approached him solicitously, and he leaned even more heavily on Robert's shoulder.

  “I'm fine,” he said weakly. “Leave me alone.”

  “You!” said Simon furiously, pointing at Robert. “If you ever try to hit me again, I'm going to make you sorry you were ever born!”

  “Fine,” said Robert, obviously unimpressed with the threat. “In the meantime, help me get your father to his bedroom.”

  “I'll help you,” said Corinne, wrapping Gold's free arm around her shoulders.

  “You've been with him for almost an hour,” said Simon, so enraged that he didn't notice that he was blocking their way. “Didn't you ever think of putting some medication on those scratches?”

  “They're superficial,” answered Robert. “It was more important to get him home.”

  “Well, now that he's here, he doesn't need you anymore!” said Simon, taking Robert's place at his father's side.

  “I want to lie down,” murmured Gold.

  “Of course, Father,” said Simon. “Let me help you.”

  He and Corinne led Gold through the living room to the doorway of the bedroom, where Gold paused and shrugged his shoulders until they both released him.

  “Can you make it the rest of the way yourself, Father?” asked Simon.

  “I'll help him get out of his clothes and put him to bed,” said Corinne.

  Gold looked down at his wife with an unmistakable expression of revulsion, then stepped inside the bedroom alone and locked the door behind him. Corinne stood facing the door, her shoulders sagging, while Simon turned back into the living room.

  Robert sat down next to Christina and put an arm around her. She remained motionless, her face mirroring her dismay.

  “What took you so long?” demanded Simon.

  “I had to be very careful bringing him home,” replied Robert. “We don't want
any publicity over this.”

  “Well, there's going to be publicity, and plenty of it!” snapped Simon. “I intend to register an official complaint against the Andricans the first thing in the morning.”

  “I don't think that would be a very wise thing to do, Simon,” said Robert.

  “Well, I'm just not gifted with your wisdom,” said Simon nastily. “For example, I would have thought hitting a man who was trying to save his father wasn't a very wise thing either!”

  “Oh, shut up, Simon!” snapped Christina. “He didn't do you any damage, and you know it!”

  “Why did he make me leave?” demanded Simon. “I could have helped!”

  “I doubt it,” said Robert.

  Simon stared contemptuously at him. “Maybe I'm not a specialist in street brawling, like some members of this family, but my father was trying to fend off an attack by a crazed alien—and you wouldn't even come to his aid until you were alone and could claim all the credit for it!”

  “Is that why you think I made you leave?” asked Robert unbelievingly.

  “What other possible reason could you have?” demanded Simon.

  Robert snorted disgustedly. “You're a fool.”

  “Mother,” said Christina, suddenly noticing Corinne was still standing before the bedroom door. “Please sit down.”

  Corinne sighed and rejoined them. “He's been behaving so strangely these last few weeks,” she said.

  “That's because he's not a well man,” responded Christina. She turned and looked directly at Simon. “He's sick, Simon—sicker than you think.”

  “He'll be fine in a few days,” said Simon defensively. “He just needs a little rest.”

  She shook her head. “He needs more than rest, Simon. He needs help.” She paused. “You don't have any idea what I'm talking about, do you?”

  “He's very tired,” offered Corinne. “Sometimes he behaves oddly when he's been working too hard.”

  “Please, Mother!” said Simon irritably. “He's more than tired.”

  “That's what I've been trying to tell you,” said Christina.

  “I don't know what you've been trying to tell me, except that it's all right for Robert to hit me when he feels like it!”