A Covenant of Justice (19 page)

Sawyer barely heard him. “Stop trying to cheer me up,” he said. “I don't think I want to hear any more.”

But M'bele's eyes flashed with insight and sudden enthusiasm at this news. “I understand why you told me this,” he said perceptively. “Humans deliberately created the Vampires. From our own flesh, correct? That suggests to me that we can also duplicate their immunity to the paralyzing enzyme.”

Three-Dollar acknowledged this with a nod. “But do you understand that this knowledge would also represent a significant threat to the stability of the Regency? I swore an oath of loyalty when I put on the TimeBand; so did nearly three hundred others before me who wore this same TimeBand. This could bring down the Vampires and the Regency, because it would allow . . . humans to create a vaccine that would make it impossible for the Vampires to feed.”

M'bele considered that fact. “My heart fills with sorrow at the prospect,” he admitted. He allowed himself another two seconds of intense heartfelt sorrow, then headed for the door. “Now let's get that bitch in here and get a sample of her blood!”

Lee and M'bele brought a blindfolded Zillabar down to the laboratory and secured her to a scanning table. The Vampire Queen cursed them with every step. M'bele ignored her. Lee glanced to Sawyer, “May I slap her?”

Despite himself, Sawyer shook his head. “Not unless she gives you a reason. Unnecessary cruelty serves no purpose here.”

Lee grinned. “We'll make a believer out of you yet.”

M'bele had already begun working feverishly. Three-Dollar offered to help, but the dark man shook his head. “No thanks—I've got my own system here. I appreciate your assistance, but you'd only get in the way.”

M'bele's fingers danced across the keyboards in front of him. He shouted commands at the computer. He peered anxiously at the readouts and at one point, he even leapt into the air, shouting in delight. “Gotcha! You little bastard!” He came down laughing. “Okay, now let's see if I can take you apart. Let's see what makes you click—”

A moment later, he called Three-Dollar over. “Look,” he pointed. “See these cells here? They look like T-cells, but these structures have no relevant counterpart in the human genome. Let's see what happens if we construct a model of its effects.” He added, “We've suspected for a long time that Vampire blood has antibodies in it which neutralize the effects of the blood-burn. The disease doesn't affect the Phaestor, but the aristocracy has never let any medical organization explore that anomaly. Now, perhaps—” He stopped, studied a pattern on a display, altered it, studied it again, performed other esoteric calculations and watched as the display reformed itself again. The process seemed agonizingly slow to Sawyer who stood apart and watched.

M'bele's focus darted here and there across his work space. He danced through the images like a man possessed. “I don't know how long this will take,” he called over his shoulder. “The whole problem could crack apart like an egg; it might resist like an anvil.” Abruptly he turned and explained. “Look—if the Phaestor have a true symbiosis with the phage, I don't think I can save Finn. He'd need a Vampire's metabolism to survive the infection.

“On the other hand . . . if these modified T-cells can actually neutralize the microorganism, then maybe . . . just maybe I can find a way to duplicate that process in Finn's body. If that doesn't work—we'll look to see what we can do to disable the paralyzing enzyme so that the effects of the phage become irrelevant. And if that doesn't work, we can always try linking their blood systems in a shared circulatory system and let Zillabar's liver clean Finn's blood. Hm. We'd have to run multiple cleansings in both directions, but maybe we can temporarily transmute Finn into a pseudo-Vampire. I have the A.I. engine processing the possibilities now. All three avenues have promise.”

“You can't do this,” Zillabar said abruptly. She had such venom in her voice that all four of the men stopped to look at her. “You may not take my blood without my permission. That violates my rights under the Charter of the Regency.”

M'bele considered her objection for half a second. “Lawyers, Vampires—they only complain when someone else does the bloodsucking. The hell with you. Sue me.”

“I claim my rights—under the Regency or under the Alliance of Life, whichever you serve.”

Sawyer retorted quickly. “She has no rights. She took Finn's blood without permission—”

“You had a fair contract,” said Zillabar from the scanning table. “You did not fulfill it.”

“Yes, we did!”

“When you killed Drydel, you forfeited your claim!”

“We didn't kill Drydel. One of your own Dragons did that!”

“The Dragon traveled under your jurisdiction.”

“Nobody controls a Dragon.”

“I demand an arbiter!”

This brought silence to the room. The men looked at each other uncomfortably. None of them could imagine refusing her request. Even though the Vampire aristocracy had already betrayed Regency justice so many times as to turn the phrase into a hated mockery of itself, the respect for tradition still held true for those who remembered their own ideals.

M'bele turned to Three-Dollar. “You must assume the responsibility of arbitration here. Anything else would prove fatal to Finn Markham. A TimeBinder has the legal authority under the Regency, and presumably also under the Alliance.”

Three-Dollar nodded. “You may have your arbitration,” he said to Zillabar. For a moment, his eyes glazed over as he consulted his memories and the hundreds of thousands of precedents stored within. Then he focused again. “After giving this matter considerable thought,” he said, “I find in favor of Sawyer and Finn Markham. I have logged my decision and will register it with the Authority at the earliest opportunity.” To M'bele, he said, “You may proceed.”

M'bele looked at Three-Dollar, visibly surprised. “You mean that? We can do this?”

“I can cite precedents extending as far back as . . .
Shadow v. Kiki
. Drawing blood has many meanings under the law, but the antecedents of this case remain clear. Additionally, the benefit that may occur as a result of discovering a cure for the blood-burn justifies the discomfort given to an agency that may in fact serve as part of the cause of the disease. I can cite several relevant precedents for that decision as well, but it would please me just as much to establish a new one here which restricts the rights of the aristocracy in matters of public health. Go ahead, doctor.”

M'bele grinned and turned to his work. Once the process had begun, he turned quickly to Sawyer Markham, grasping him by the shoulders. “Listen, old friend. Many researchers even better than I have done a lot of research on the problem of the blood-burn; most of that research proved fatal to the patient. I can't promise that this will turn out any different, but at least I have access to information that no one else has ever had, and I have the engines here that can use that information wisely. I promise you, I'll do my best. Now, leave me to my work. This will take time.”

Sawyer nodded. He broke away from M'bele and stepped over to Finn's still form. He touched his brother's arm and stood there for a moment, just looking at the ashen skin and sunken features of the dying man. Sawyer lowered his face to Finn's ear. “Listen to me, you son of a bitch,” he whispered. “I need you. Don't you dare die on me. You promised me you would always stand by me. Don't you break your promise now—not now when we have a chance of making some
real
money.”

Three-Dollar took Sawyer by the arm and led him a ways up the tunnel. “Lee will guard your interests, I promise, but leave the man alone to work. You've gotten what you came for. I broke my oath, three times over, to repay your debt. Now you need to get some rest—”

Realization came to Sawyer suddenly. “Wait a minute,” he interrupted. “You didn't tell us everything. You left something out. You would not have broken your oath as easily as you did unless you had some larger reason. Don't for a minute think you fooled me.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Three-Dollar said blandly.

“Yes, you do.” Sawyer straightened and looked the TimeBinder directly in the eye.

“I think your emotions have carried you a little far afield, tracker-man.”

Sawyer shook off the accusation by acknowledging the truth of it. “All right, yes, I admit it. My emotions have carried me to some pretty wild extremes in the past few days. But my intelligence didn't go on vacation. I heard what you said—
and I heard what you didn't say
. I might not know everything about your Alliance and your oath and your history, but I do know when I hear a lie.”

“I didn't lie to you.”

“No, you didn't lie directly. But you lied by leaving something out. What did you leave out, you son of a bitch? Tell me the larger reason why you betrayed the Vampires? It has to do with the missing TimeBands, doesn't it?”

Three-Dollar's eyes looked suddenly old and weary. “We have no contract, Sawyer. You have fulfilled your responsibility. I have fulfilled mine to the best of my ability. You have no right to demand anything more than you've already received. I may have to destroy myself and this TimeBand—”

“Oh, no, you don't. You don't get away that easily. You'll need my help getting to the Gathering. That'll cost you the truth. So we do have a contract after all. This time, you pay first. Tell me! What did you leave out?”

“If I tell you,” the TimeBinder asked, “then will you commit to serve the Alliance until the completion of the Gathering? Will you help me find out what happened to the missing TimeBand? And your brother too, if he lives?”

“That contract doesn't have balance. What else do I get out of it if I help you?”

“You'll have the opportunity to fulfill the rest of your vow. You'll get to help bring down the Regency.”

Sawyer considered the offer. “I like that,” he admitted. “I don't usually make deals without Finn's advice and consent, but considering the circumstances . . . I guess I'll have to make an exception this time. Done.” He held out a hand.

Three-Dollar shook it solemnly. “All right. I'll tell you what you want to know. But it won't make you happy. It certainly won't give you any peace of mind.”

“Go on—”

“I wish I didn't have to reveal this to you. No TimeBinder should ever have to reveal this information to anyone, I find it that appalling, but this will tell you exactly why we
must
call a new Gathering.”

William Three-Dollar cleared his throat and spoke with great reluctance. “I carry in my TimeBand one part of the knowing how to construct a Predator seed. Every TimeBand carries a separate piece of the puzzle, holographically encoded. Seven TimeBinders represent the critical mass necessary to restore the complete hologram. That means, Sawyer, that any seven out of thirteen TimeBinders could decode the knowledge of how to create a Predator.”

Sawyer's eyes widened. He took a step back in horror. The fear crept up his spine. “My god. That explains why Zillabar wants to capture TimeBinders. She wants to build new predators. But why—?” He held up a hand. “Wait a minute. I've got it. She wants to renew the mandate of the Phaestor to protect the Regency, doesn't she?”

“Yes,” agreed Three-Dollar. “I believe that you have accurately assessed the situation. Somehow Zillabar has discovered the secret of the TimeBands.” He smiled gently. “Most people believe that we function only as a cultural memory, a curious, but otherwise unnecessary access to past ages. We allow that fiction to maintain because the truth would not serve anyone. But our real purpose has a much darker flavor. We serve as custodians of the most dangerous knowledge humanity has ever possessed. We've deliberately kept ourselves to different worlds to make it difficult for anyone to reassemble the knowledge, even ourselves. But now . . .” He spread his hands widely in regret. “. . . This Gathering will give us the opportunity to destroy this knowledge once and for all—or to destroy the Regency instead.”

“I vote for the latter,” said Sawyer glibly.

“You don't get a vote,” Three-Dollar reprimanded him. “Only the TimeBinders do. We will probably decide to destroy the TimeBands altogether. At least, I see no
other
solution.”

The TimeBinder strode away from Sawyer, looking like a man facing a death sentence. For the first time, Sawyer found himself feeling
sorry
for him.

The pinpoint glare of Burihatin's primary cast an actinic light sideways across the harsh terrain of Dupa's rocky flats. The landscape looked like a desert with scattered patches of tundra. The eastern half of the sky blazed. Later in the day, the whole dome of the firmament would ache with the pinpoint glare of the sun. Dupa had too many faces, too many seasons, and too damn many kinds of weather to suit Star-Captain Neena Linn-Campbell's tastes.

Clad in her crisp black uniform and looking like the Angel of Death, she came striding out of the glare of dawn and into the offices of the StarPort Adjutant, wearing an expression of determination that served as its own warning. Following in her wake came Ota,
The Lady MacBeth
's bioform First Officer, carrying a thick sheaf of customs and security documents. Following behind Ota came the starship's Chief Engineer, Gito, the high-gravity dwarf. And behind him at a leisurely pace, came the (recently retired) Arbiter of Thoska-Roole, Justice Godfrey Daniels Harry Mertz.

The Assistant Executive Aide to the Office of the Senior Secretary to the Vice-Adjutant of the Burihatin-14 StarPort wore a nondescript gray suit and a matching expression. He sat behind a high desk on a high dais and looked down his long nose at the petite form of Neena Linn-Campbell. He had his multicolored hair brushed back and then up so that it curled forward over the crown of his head. A bright gold chain hung from one gaudy earring, wrapped itself several times around his neck, then reached back up to connect to the other gaudy earring. All in all, he presented himself as a startling apparition.