Eros Descending: Book 3 of Tales of the Velvet Comet Page 19

  And, as the Steel Butterfly and Attila went about their business aboard the Velvet Comet, four thousand miles beneath them Simon the Eradicator put his Bible down and began plotting the final step in his campaign to make certain that the orbiting brothel that had destroyed his father was permanently decommissioned.

  Chapter 18

  “Red Alert!”

  Attila sat up in his bed.

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Red Alert, Attila,” repeated Cupid.

  “Come on!” he said irritably. “There hasn't been a Red Alert since the Comet was activated.”

  “That is true, Attila. Nonetheless, there is currently a condition of Red Alert.”

  Attila rubbed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair.

  “All right,” he said, starting to get dressed. “What's the situation?”

  “Simon the Eradicator, whom I believe you know as Simon Gold, has docked his ship at the Velvet Comet and threatens to destroy the Comet—and himself with it—if his demands are not met.”

  “Can you get me a visual?” asked Attila, suddenly wide awake.

  “Certainly,” replied Cupid, creating a hologram of a private ship at Dock H.

  “That's him?”

  “Yes, Attila.”

  “Does he actually have any explosives aboard his ship?”

  “If he didn't, I would not have signaled a Red Alert.”

  “What kind and how powerful?” demanded Attila, stepping into his pants.

  “He has a single thermonuclear fission device. The detonator has been activated, and my scanners tell me that it is connected to his ship's control panel, enabling him to explode it whenever he wishes.”

  “Can you deactivate it?”

  “Not without Simon the Eradicator's consent,” answered Cupid.

  Attila studied the holograph more closely.

  “Give me the worst-possible scenario,” he ordered.

  “He detonates the bomb and the Velvet Comet is literally ripped apart.”

  “Now give me a best-possible scenario that includes detonation.”

  “He detonates the bomb, the Velvet Comet suffers minimal structural damage, and the radiation within the Comet falls to a minimally acceptable level in thirteen years.”

  Attila muttered a curse. “All right—so we can't have him detonating his bomb under any circumstances. What are his demands?”

  “That the Velvet Comet be permanently shut down.”

  “What kind of time frame are we talking about?” asked Attila.

  “He has given Vainmill eight hours to accede to his demands, which were made seven minutes ago.”

  “Has he got a communications channel to Richard Constantine or Fiona Bradley?”

  “He does not.”

  “Then he wants us to deliver the message?”

  “He has not said so, but it seems the logical conclusion.”

  “Does the Steel Butterfly know what's going on?”

  “When I declare a condition of Red Alert, I am compelled to inform all crew members and patrons.”

  “You mean the patrons know too?” demanded Attila.

  “I think it is a bad idea,” commented Cupid. “It is very likely to cause a panic among them. But I am unable to bypass that portion of my programming.”

  “Wonderful,” muttered Attila. He paused in thought for a moment. “Patch me through to Cordero.”

  The image of a man in a green uniform appeared.

  “Have we got ourselves a full-scale panic yet?” asked Attila.

  The Security man shook his head. “They're nervous and they're scared, but the situation's not out of control yet.”

  “It'll get worse,” said Attila. “I'm putting you in charge of them. I'm going to stay here and see what I can do about Simon Gold.”

  “Right.”

  “How many ships and shuttlecraft are docked here?”

  “Nineteen shuttles, forty-six private craft, two small cruise ships, and a food cargo ship.”

  “Enough to evacuate all the patrons and staff if we have to?”

  “More than enough, counting the cargo ship.”

  “Then keep him here. Cupid, get me the Steel Butterfly.” Instantly her holograph appeared over his computer terminal. “Who gets to tell Constantine and Bradley?” he asked. “You or me?”

  “I've put an emergency call through to Constantine,” she said. “That means that I might actually receive a reply within an hour or two.”

  “Has anyone spoken directly to Simon Gold yet?”

  She shook her head. “Not to my knowledge.

  Cupid tells me that he received the message, checked its accuracy with his scanners, and immediately declared a Red Alert.”

  “Well, I suppose somebody had better talk to him before he starts getting nervous.” He sighed. “I always knew there was a good reason not to be Chief of Security.”

  “Good luck,” she said.

  “I have a feeling I'll need it.”

  He broke the connection, then instructed Cupid to connect him to Simon Gold. A moment later Simon's face and torso blinked into existence.

  “You're Simon the Eradicator?” said Attila.

  “And you must be the one called Attila,” said Simon, staring unblinkingly into his eyes.

  “You don't look much like your father,” remarked the Security chief.

  “I looked a lot more like him before his association with the Velvet Comet,” answered Simon coldly.

  “By the way, do you mind if I see the nuclear device for myself?” asked Attila.

  “Not at all,” replied Simon, directing his ship's computer to send an image of it to the Comet.

  “Impressive,” said Attila.

  “Are you satisfied that I'm in earnest?”

  “I don't know. Are you?”

  Simon nodded. “In deadly earnest.”

  “And if we don't agree to your terms?”

  “Then I am quite prepared to die to ensure that the Velvet Comet never again corrupts a single soul.” He stared at the camera. “I assure you that I'm not bluffing.”

  “No,” admitted Attila. “I don't think you are.”

  “Then, we have nothing further to say to each other, have we?” said Simon. “I presume that the decision will be made at a higher level.”

  “I presume so,” agreed Attila. “In the meantime, may I make a request?”

  “What is it?” asked Simon.

  “Your argument is with Vainmill and with the crew of the Comet. Will you at least allow our patrons to leave?”

  “Ask me again in two hours.”

  “Will you let them leave then?” persisted Attila.

  “We'll see,” responded Simon with a grim smile.

  “In the meantime, I shall allow them this time to reflect upon their sins.”

  Attila broke the connection, then raised the Steel Butterfly on the intercom.

  “Well?” she said.

  “He means business,” he replied. “Any word from Constantine yet?”

  She shook her head. “The staff is doing a good job of keeping the patrons calm, but it can't last forever.”

  “I've checked the docks, and there are enough ships there to evacuate everyone—if we can do it before Simon Gold pushes the button.”

  “Is Simon Gold really prepared to blow himself up to destroy the Comet?” she asked.

  “I don't think the thought of death frightens him in the least. He's sure he's going straight to heaven.”

  “Thomas Gold was always opposed to violence, and yet his son is planning to destroy hundreds of people,” she said unbelievingly. “This is madness!”

  “Is there any possibility that we can get Thomas Gold to talk his son out of this?” suggested Attila.

  The Steel Butterfly sighed deeply. “I already thought of that.”

  “And?”

  “He hasn't said a word since they put him away, except to quote the Song of Solomon—which I gather he does endlessly
,” she replied. “The man's a raving lunatic. He can't talk anyone into or out of anything.”

  Suddenly she tensed. “Just a minute. I think Constantine is trying to get through to me. Keep monitoring my office.”

  A moment later Richard Constantine's image appeared.

  “This is getting to be a habit,” he said severely. “You'd better have a damned good reason for interrupting me.”

  “Of course I do.”

  “What is it?”

  “You remember we were discussing Simon Gold the other day? Well, his ship is currently docked at the Comet. It's armed with a thermonuclear device, and he says that he'll detonate it if Vainmill doesn't agree to decommission the Comet within the next seven hours.”

  The color left Constantine's face.

  “Do the patrons know he's there?”

  “Cupid told them,” put in Attila.

  “Our own computer told them?” he repeated unbelievingly.

  “It's programmed to inform everyone on the ship of a Red Alert.”

  “That's great!” snapped Constantine. “Just great!”

  He paused. “Did Simon Gold say whether he wants the ship closed down in seven hours, or whether he simply wants a decision in seven hours? Maybe we can buy a little time here.”

  “He wants the ship closed down,” replied Attila.

  “Damn!” muttered Constant. “How much do you think he wants?”

  “You're dealing with a religious fanatic who thinks he's avenging his father,” said the Steel Butterfly. “All he wants is to decommission the ship. Money doesn't mean a thing to him. He thinks God has sent him on a holy mission of destruction.”

  “Let me talk to him,” said Constantine, and Cupid immediately patched him through to Simon's ship.

  “Simon Gold, this is Richard Constantine,” he announced.

  “I know who you are,” answered Simon.

  “Why are you threatening the lives of the Comet's crew and patrons?”

  “Because the Velvet Comet is a blight upon humanity, and must be eradicated.”

  “Even if it means killing hundreds of innocent people?”

  Simon stared coldly at Constantine's image. “If they are aboard the Velvet Comet, they are not innocent people.”

  “That's an awful lot of blood to have on your hands.”

  “I have large hands,” replied Simon gravely.

  “May I ask you a question?” continued Constantine.

  “Go ahead.”

  “What will you do if we give in to your demands?”

  “I don't think I understand you.”

  “You've got a thermonuclear device, and you'll have seen that this kind of terrorist blackmail can be highly effective against people who cherish human life more than principle,” said Constantine. “So my question is: what Vainmill property will you threaten to destroy next?”

  “I'd suggest that you worry about this one,” replied Simon.

  “This one's already lost,” said Constantine calmly. “Either we'll close it down or you'll blow it up. Either way there will be no Velvet Comet tomorrow. What I want to know is why I should yield to your demands. After all, if I don't, at least you and your device won't be a problem tomorrow—but if I give in, what assurance do I have that this conversation won't be repeated at a new Vainmill target every week?”

  “You have my word,” said Simon.

  “What is your word worth?” continued Constantine.

  “You'll have to decide for yourself.”

  “Well, in the meantime, let me tell you what my word is worth,” said Constantine. “If you will give up your demands right now, I am sure we can work out some method of recompensing you for your time. Do you understand what I'm saying?”

  “Of course,” replied Simon. “You're saying that you think I'm for sale.”

  “I think we could further agree not to press criminal charges against you, in exchange for your promise never to use terrorist methods against Vainmill again.”

  “I have no fear of prison.”

  “We would also promise to destroy all holographic records of your unfortunate father's rather embarrassing trips to the Comet.”

  “My father is in no condition to care what you do with those records.”

  “He may not be, but we control a number of news media that would love to get their hands on those disks.” He paused. “Releasing them certainly couldn't do your church's reputation any good.”

  “The mere fact that you can make such a threat convinces me that I have chosen the only viable course of action,” said Simon.

  “'There's nothing viable about it. Let's search for some other way to resolve our differences.”

  “Mr. Constantine, you have seven hours and thirteen minutes left,” said Simon, reaching out and breaking connection.

  Constantine looked at the images of Attila and the Steel Butterfly.

  “Opinions?” he said.

  He's fully prepared to die,” said Attila. “Eager, even.”

  “I concur,” said the Steel Butterfly.

  “Is there any way to defuse the device?” asked Constantine.

  “Cupid says no,” replied Attila.

  “What would happen if a military ship made a direct hit on Simon Gold's ship?”

  “Cupid says that he's got the detonator tied into his ship's life-support system,” answered Attila. “The second the system goes, the device explodes.”

  “I see,” said Constantine. “What are the chances that we can get everyone off the Comet in the next few hours?”

  “I don't know,” answered the Security chief.

  “What's your opinion?” he asked the Steel Butterfly.

  She shrugged. “I think he'll trigger the device before he lets a single member of the crew off the Comet.”

  Constantine frowned. “I'll get back to you,” he said, and suddenly his image vanished.

  When the deadline was six hours away. Attila contacted Simon again.

  “Have you decided to allow our patrons to leave?” he asked.

  “All but ten,” replied Simon.

  “Which ten?”

  “It makes no difference to me,” said Simon. “You choose them.”

  “If you don't care who they are, why not let them all go?” demanded Attila.

  “Because I want every one of your customers to know that it could just as easily have been him or her—and I want the ten to know that they are still in jeopardy as a result of your choice, not mine.” He paused. “I happen to know that you currently have seven hundred and twenty-six customers aboard the Comet. Before I will permit them to leave, I want to tie my computer into the terminal at your airlock. If more than seven hundred and sixteen people pass through, I'll detonate the device immediately. I've made my peace with God; it makes no difference to me whether I die now or in six more hours.”

  Attila broke the connection.

  “Cupid?”

  “Yes, Attila.”

  “Are there any patrons currently in the hospital?”

  “Yes, Attila. There are two.”

  “Are either of them ambulatory?”

  “Not at present.”

  “All right. Get me Cordero.”

  “Yes, sir?” said the green-clad Security man a moment later.

  Attila explained Simon's terms for the evacuation to him. “Have Cupid pick eight names at random,” he concluded, “and detain them. Then have the staff oversee the evacuation, and keep it as orderly as possible.”

  He then contacted the Steel Butterfly and told her what was happening.

  “I've heard from Constantine twice more,” she informed him. “He couldn't keep the details from the Navy, and now the news media have got their hands on it too.”

  “Wonderful,” muttered Attila. “I wonder how many psychotics are flying up here to help him.”

  “The Navy's cordoned off the area, but they've agreed not to move in as long as we're trying to negotiate with him.”

  “Which means until he pu
shes the button, at which time the negotiations are over.”

  He broke the connection, poured himself a cup of coffee, checked periodically on the evacuation, had three more futile conversations with Constantine and two with his subordinates, and waited.

  When there were only two hours remaining, Constantine put through yet another call.

  “Any change in the situation?” he asked. “None.”

  “He's playing his cards awfully well, I'll give him that,” said Constantine.

  “Has anyone at Vainmill decided what we're going to do about him?”

  “We're working on it,” replied Constantine. “Sit tight a little longer. The Navy is still studying his position.”

  “You want to know his position?” said Attila. “I'll tell you his position. He's positioned in the goddamned control chair with his thumb about two inches away from the detonation button!”

  “Keep calm.”

  “If you think I'm nervous now, try me again in an hour and a half!” snapped Attila.

  “I'm going to have one last talk with him, and then I'll make a decision,” said Constantine. “Have the computer patch me through again.”

  His image instantly appeared above Simon's computer.

  “This is Richard Constantine again.”

  “You've got less than two hours,” Simon announced.

  “Will you consider a counterproposal?”

  “No,” said Simon serenely. He broke the connection.

  “He's crazy, you know that?” complained Constantine. “He's gone farther over the edge than his father!”

  A light flashed on his desk, and he activated another computer screen, read a message, and looked up at Attila. “The Navy says that there's no possibility of boarding his ship before he can detonate the device.”

  “I could have told you that six hours ago,” said Attila.

  “Keep the communication open,” said Constantine, getting to his feet. “I'll be back in a couple of minutes.”

  He walked out of camera range, and Attila spent the next five minutes staring at his empty office. Then he returned and sat back down at his desk.

  “I'm told that we have a number of escape pods aboard the ship in case of severe meteor damage,” said Constantine. “How may people could they hold if we were to jettison them during a last minute military attack?”

  Attila checked with Cupid.

  “Six hundred,” he replied.