Prophet (23 page)

"Not quite,” replied the Iceman. “He's on a little errand for me.” He paused. “Tell me about the Anointed One. Who is he, and why does he want me dead?"

"He's a religious fanatic,” answered Lomax. “His organization is established on more than three thousand worlds, and he's got a couple of hundred million wild-eyed zealots believing he's got a direct line to God. They're willing to go up against the Democracy itself if he tells them to."

"What's that got to do with me?"

"Somewhere along the way, he found or manufactured an enemy that he thinks is even more powerful than the Democracy, or at least poses more of a threat. She goes by the name of the Prophet.” Lomax paused. “She's some kind of bandit or killer out here on the Frontier, and evidently you've gone up against her before. More to the point, you survived your encounter, which leads him to believe that you're now in league with her."

"A logical conclusion,” said the Iceman. “Wrong, but logical.” He paused. “All right, you can drop your hands now."

"Logical?” repeated Lomax, frowning. “Are you saying that this woman is so powerful that if you lived, there has to be a reason for it other than your own abilities?"

"I can see where he might think so,” answered the Iceman.

"Why has she kept her identity such a secret?” asked Lomax. “I mean, hell, I've heard the Prophet mentioned maybe three times in the past four or five years."

"You've heard of her before,” said the Iceman with the trace of a smile. “She's had other names in the past."

"Such as?"

"The Soothsayer and the Oracle."

"You're telling me the Oracle and the Prophet are the same person?"

"That's right."

"How much danger are you in from her?” asked Lomax.

"Probably no more than you are,” responded the Iceman. “Which is not to say I'm not in danger. We all are."

"I don't think I understand."

"What I mean is, I doubt that she has singled me out for termination,” said the Iceman. “That would be imbuing her with human emotions and human responses that I don't think she possesses any longer, if indeed she ever did.” He paused. “But that doesn't mean the entire race isn't in danger. This is a woman capable of destroying entire planets. I don't know what her eventual goals are, but I can't imagine that humanity as a whole is going to be well-served by them."

"She really can destroy whole worlds?” asked Lomax dubiously.

"Absolutely. I've seen the results."

"Then old Moses is probably right about her being behind the fires."

"Who's Moses, and what fires are you talking about?"

"Moses is Moses Mohammed Christ, which is what he calls himself when he's not busy being the Anointed One."

"And the fires?"

"A couple of hundred of his temples on worlds all the hell over the galaxy erupted in flames almost simultaneously. The police on the various worlds haven't turned up any clues, but they're sure it's not arson, and the military agrees. As for Moses, he's dead certain it was the Prophet's doing.” Lomax looked across the table at the Iceman. “I thought he was crazy—until now."

"She did it, all right,” said the Iceman. “She's the only person who
could
have done it."

Lomax finished his beer and signaled for a refill, which arrived almost instantly. “Am I correct in assuming that the Kid's assignment has something to do with the Prophet?"

The Iceman nodded. “I sent him to the world she's living on."

"Then he's probably dead already."

"I doubt it,” said the Iceman. “First, I told him just to gather information, and if she can't see a future in which he kills her, she won't feel it necessary to terminate him. Also,” added the Iceman with a smile, “that young man's as transparent as glass. Five'll get you ten he's already sold out and joined up with her."

"What use would she have for him?” asked Lomax.

"He's a connection to you and me, and she probably would like to see us both dead: me on general principles, you because you're working for her enemy."

"I thought you were too insignificant for her to bother with,” noted Lomax wryly.

"I'm too insignificant for her to waste her time hunting the galaxy for me,” answered the Iceman. “But if the Kid can deliver me to her ... well, that's a different matter."

"Has it occurred to you,” suggested Lomax, “that the smartest thing you and I can do is take a vacation to Deluros VIII, or some other world at the center of the Democracy, and just wait there in comfort until the Anointed One and the Prophet kill each other off?"

"He's no match for her."

"No match?” repeated Lomax. “I told you: he's got close to three hundred million followers."

"Three hundred, three hundred million, three billion, it makes no difference,” said the Iceman. “If he goes up against her, he's going to lose."

"Just what kind of power does she possess?"

"She's precognitive."

"Then she'll know how to hide where he can't find her,” said Lomax. “I'd hardly call that winning."

"You don't understand,” continued the Iceman. “She can see every possible permutation, every conceivable future—and when she sees the one she wants, she figures out how to manipulate events so that it comes to pass.” He paused and, finally remembering his drink, took a sip from it. “Take those fires the other night. You don't think she had agents on two hundred worlds set them, do you?"

"There was no sign of arson,” admitted Lomax.

"Of course there wasn't."

"Then how did she do it?"

"She sat down and stared into the future—into hundreds, maybe millions of futures—and saw that in one of them, someone dropped a lit cigarette, and in another, a meteor made a dead hit on a temple, and in a third, someone left some oil-soaked rags in one of the storerooms, and so on."

"Okay, she saw all that. How did she make it happen?"

"I don't know,” said the Iceman. “I wasn't there. But I've seen her do it before. She'll flinch, or strike a pose, or move to a different spot, or—"

"How does that effect events thousands of light years away?” interrupted Lomax.

"I don't know,” repeated the Iceman. “Hell, I doubt if
she
understands how it works. But she knows
that
it works."

"And what if she can't manipulate her way out of a jam?"

"Then she'll wait until she can,” answered the Iceman. “She's been captured before—but she's never
stayed
captured. And,” he added grimly, “things have not gone very well for those who did the capturing."

"Okay, so no one wants to get near her,” said Lomax. “What's to stop the Anointed One from encircling her planet with warships and obliterating it?"

"I don't know,” said the Iceman. “Maybe a meteor swarm would wipe them out, maybe every member of the crew would contract some virus, maybe the weapons would malfunction. Or maybe the bombs would explode, and every living thing on the planet would die—except her."

"So how do you defeat someone like that?"

"I've spent a lot of time thinking about it this past week,” answered the Iceman.

"And?"

"There might be a way. I'm not sure."

"I think with someone like her, you'd want to be sure."

The Iceman shook his head grimly. “With someone like her, you can
never
be sure. All you can do is hope."

Suddenly there was a shrill yell from the casino, where a miner had just hit his number at the roulette wheel. The man did a little jig, cashed in his chips, and offered to buy drinks for everyone in the house, a relatively inexpensive proposition as there were only six people in the casino and another four in the bar.

"Where was I?” asked the Iceman, turning back to Lomax.

"You were saying you thought you knew how to beat her,” replied Lomax.

"Well, it's a possibility, anyway,” said the Iceman.

"Care to tell me about it?"

"I'm going to do more than that,” said the Iceman. “I'm going to enlist your aid."

"Oh? How?"

"You came here to do a job, right?"

"I came here to tell you what I had learned,” Lomax corrected him.

"You came here to kill me for the Anointed One,” said the Iceman.

"Well, that's what
he
thinks, anyway."

"I need his help to accomplish my plan,” continued the Iceman. “He's not going to give it to
me
, of course, but there's every likelihood that he'll give it to you."

"Why the hell should he?” replied Lomax. “I'm going to have to report that you were gone by the time I got to Last Chance.” He paused, then smiled wryly. “Even if he buys it, he's not going to have much use for me.” He considered the prospects. “Maybe I'll just keep clear of him and live on the down payment I got for killing you."

"No,” said the Iceman. “You're not going to tell him an obvious lie about not finding me, and you're not going to go into hiding. I told you: I need his help."

"So what
am
I going to do?” asked Lomax.

"You're going to earn his trust, and maybe even move up a couple of notches in his organization, to where you can do me even more good."

"And how do you think I'm going to do that?” demanded Lomax.

The Iceman smiled. “You're going to kill me, of course."

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They were in the Iceman's office, and Lomax, sitting in a corner beneath a number of plaques and awards that had been given to Carlos Mendoza for his fifteen-year period of government service, was examining various hand weapons. Finally he looked up.

"I think it would be easiest with a projectile pistol,” he said. “We could just fill it with blanks. They make a hell of a bang, and you could stick some phony blood beneath your tunic in a plastic bag. Just grab your chest when you hear the shots and cut the bag open."

"True,” said the Iceman. “But you don't use a projectile weapon. Your trademark is a laser pistol."

"Hard to fake a laser burn, though,” answered Lomax. “I can set it for a precise distance, but if you're a foot father away everyone will see that it didn't reach you, and if you're three inches too close you're going to have a roasted heart."

"How about a sonic gun?” asked the Iceman.

Lomax shook his head. “If I'm going to use a gun that's not my own, the projectile pistol makes more sense."

The Iceman considered that for a moment, then sighed. “Okay,” he said. “I suppose we'll just have to go with it."

Lomax got up, walked to a bar opposite the Iceman's desk, and poured himself a drink from the Iceman's private stock. “You really think this will fool her?” he asked after he had downed the drink and poured himself another.

"It was never intended to fool
her
,” replied the Iceman, swiveling on his chair to look at Lomax. “If she looks at enough futures, she'll find me in some of them."

"Then why...?"

"To fool
him
,” answered the Iceman.

"Why bother?"

"Two reasons. First, I don't want the Anointed One wasting his time or his resources hunting me down,” said the Iceman. “And second, I want a nice, spectacular killing to help you win his trust.” He paused. “Two killings, actually."

"Two?” asked Lomax.

"Unless I miss my guess, our friend Neil Cayman has taken a look at Penelope Bailey and a look at us, and decided that he'll live a lot longer if he joins forces with her."

"It's possible,” admitted Lomax.

"And since the one thing she doesn't need is a personal bodyguard, the likelihood is that she'll send him out to kill either me or the Anointed One. The Kid isn't exactly a genius, but he's not suicidal, either. If she sends him after me, he'll desert; he knows I can't be touched on Last Chance. But if she sends him after the Anointed One, you can score even more points with your boss by killing him."

"
Can
I kill him?” asked Lomax. “You mentioned that he's got another implant."

"You do this for a living,” said the Iceman. “He's just a kid with quick reflexes and delusions of grandeur. I trust you to find a way."

Lomax grimaced. “I have a feeling it won't be quite as easy as you make it sound."

"I'm about to face Penelope Bailey herself,” said the Iceman with a wry smile. “You'll forgive me if my heart doesn't bleed for a professional killer who has to face a hot-headed kid who's feeling his hormones."

"Point taken,” said Lomax, returning his smile. Suddenly the smile vanished. “Do you know yet how you're going to take her out?"

The Iceman put his feet up on his desk. “I'm working on it,” he replied.

"Well, you've gone up against her twice before. Probably you learned something from it."

"Not much,” came the answer. “The first time I just tried to stop her from killing someone I cared for. The second time I tried to prevent her from escaping from a prison cell on Hades. I've never actually tried to harm her before."

"Can it be done?"

"I don't know,” said the Iceman honestly. “I think I might have been able to do it when she was eight years old. But now?” He shrugged. “I just know that I have to try."

"Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead."

"
Why
do you have to try?” asked Lomax. “I mean, with the Anointed One, we've got a legitimate fanatic who's sworn to overthrow the Democracy and has a couple of hundred million followers who will shoot at anything he tells them to shoot at. But the Prophet—she's never actually caused any harm, and she's hardly got an army at her beck and call. So why not leave her alone?"

"She doesn't need an army,” answered the Iceman, lighting a small, thin Antarrean cigar. “All by herself she's more than a match for the Anointed One.” The Iceman puffed on his cigar. “I still don't think you realize just what she is: her motivations aren't human, her thought processes aren't human, her powers certainly aren't human, and her goals aren't human."

"What
are
her goals?"

"Whatever they are, they're contrary to ours."

"How can you be sure of that?"

"Someday, if you live through this, fly out to the Alpha Crepello system,” said the Iceman.

"And then what?"