Requiem for Anthi: Anthi - Book Two (18 page)

He let the words die out. It was too hard to keep stripping away layers of himself. If he didn’t stop talking now he’d be babbling out the whole long stupid story.

Whatever he expected—disgust perhaps—she didn’t exhibit it. Instead she walked up slowly to him and placed her fingertips upon his chest. She frowned, grimacing with concentration, and he felt the tiniest, briefest contact with his rings.

She staggered back, looking as though she might fall. He reached out involuntarily as though to steady her, but she evaded his grasp.

“That,” she said breathlessly, “is why the great Asan has not acted in the manner expected of a legend. That is why there is kindness and courtesy. That is why we are not enemies in spite of all that said we must be. Lli take me, but I am amazed.”

She sank down upon one of the chairs at the game table and stared at him. He sat down across from her, feeling winded, and stared back.

Then his gaze fell from hers and he stared at the hands that were his and yet not his. No matter what he did, he remained a shadow. The old bitterness came back, and he caught himself rubbing his jaw where his number had been on his old body. But even BLZ-80-4163 did not exist. That essential core of his being had been eliminated too when he found out that he was human born, not vat grown. So he did not even have knowledge of his true origins now.

Who was my mother?
he wondered as he had too many times in the dark, cold nights of season when he shivered alone in fear of his nightmares.
Who was my father? Why was I raised in Laboratory 80? Why the deception?

“There are no answers,” he told himself, then realized with a start that he had spoken aloud.

“Leiil, what will happen from these
n’kai
?”

“You don’t have to address me formally now…now that you know,” he said, frowning. “It is permitted to say you when speaking to me.” Then he grinned, remembering an odd scrap of his scanty education. “Did you know, Zaula, that in the old days of human history they considered ‘thou’ a familiar usage and ‘you’ the formal one? Just the reverse of the Tlar way.”

“Does it hurt so much, that a joke must be made of it?” she asked softly. “I am honored by thy gracious permission, noble leiil. You took the title with the body, did you not? You called it a mask. Have there been others?”

“Yes.” He rubbed his face wearily. “Too many. I used to be proud of my disguises. I used to boast that I could assimilate anywhere among anyone. But this is my last disguise. Martok was my boss for a while. I owed him something which I failed to pay. He is planning on my execution.” Asan laughed bitterly. “I thought I wouldn’t be recognized as a Tlar. I was wrong.”

“The
n’kai
are very clever with their machines. But I do not understand. Why do you hide yourself? Why did you begin?”

He shook his head, then caught himself and turned his palm down instead. “The reasons are old ones. The story is too long.”

She lifted her brows. “Is there not time? I would like to hear it.”

“I’m not an entertainer!”

“And I am not a bored child.”

They glared at each other for a long moment, then Asan sighed.

“Very well,” he said, and began.

Martok’s base was an ancient space lab of immense size, built by an alien species and abandoned long before any human ventured into the Cyngus Minor quadrant. It had a cylindrical center with long docking arms spiraling out from the top and bottom, making it look like two spiders back to back. Beyond it hung the planet Ghirdana, vast at this close range, intensely blue and green beneath her white cloak of atmosphere.

Released from tow by Enster’s ship, the
Dorian Grey
was tractored into the vast docking hangar. When she next emerged, her GSI hull configuration would be a different color and slightly different shape, her number would probably be private license or merchant, her engines would bear illegal modifications, and she would have a false hold. Her name would be struck, and she would be rechristened something exotic and alien, like
Ramsetahtek
or
Vzzkxy Nt
.

Asan stood at the observation port of Enster’s ship, one hand pressed against the tempered glas-tel. His tall figure, still clad in its tattered jen uniform, was silhouetted against the starry glitter of space. Then the ship turned about, and the planet filled the port with a beauty that made his throat ache. Ghirdana had one satellite; it hung between the base and the planet like a small, barren ball.

Zaula, fascinated by her first sight of a base congested with ingoing and outgoing traffic, kept coming up beside him, giving faint moans and turning pale, then stepping back. Asan turned his head and smiled at her. The port was designed to give a view on three sides, so that if he glanced down he could see space black and empty and infinite below his boots as well. That’s what kept getting to Zaula.

As soon as the ship came out of changeover, Hux had come to their cabin with an officer to escort them to the port if they wanted to watch docking. He stood on guard now at the door, a .28 max jambolt long-range cradled loosely in his arms, his eyes heavy-lidded but alert, his stance a slouch that would permit him to move quickly if necessary.

Asan felt a faint twinge of amusement. Enster was overestimating his sense of desperation. He wasn’t going to try anything.

He drank in the sight before him as ships of all sizes and configurations maneuvered with precision. Most were square-bottomed contraband runners coming in to unload cargo that would be repackaged and relabeled and reloaded onto legitimate freighters for delivery to legal markets. A beautiful sloop with rakish lines that made him gasp with admiration passed them on her way out. He turned to keep her in sight as long as possible. She probably belonged to one of Martok’s executives who’d come in for personal orders.

He’d served on a ship like that once as a steward. Martok’s friends were giving an in-flight party, and it was Martok’s way of testing him to see if he could be trusted away from Udge Enster’s eye. Asan smiled to himself, remembering the plush decor and gold fittings, the sultry-eyed beauties—male, female, and neuters—who lounged about to be sampled along with buffet tables of delicate bin-fish strips, caviar,
piree
, froths, san-san, and other delicacies he couldn’t even identify.

Traffic was heavy today. There was even a GSI patroller orbiting at maximum range, ignored and ineffectual. Martok allowed them to come by occasionally to look at what they could not have. This system with its three inhabitable planets, sophisticated spaceport, famous interplanetary genetics research facility, University of Ghirdana, and Martok’s HQ was located in Commonwealth territory and was legally outside the jurisdiction of the Institute.

It was their ship’s turn to dock. Asan pressed his whole body against the glas-tel, making Zaula gasp, in order to see the angle of entry. Remembering his own days as a ship’s navigator, he watched critically a flawless example of precision handling. Wild they might be, but free raiders could fly.

A tone chimed overhead as they were engulfed in the dark maw of the hangar. The interior lights came on, bathing them in a muted glow designed not to interfere with the panorama of space. But now, however, the view was limited to glimpses of the hangar filled to capacity with ships moored in freefall berths. The interior lights blinked twice as ship’s power switched off and base came on. Asan could feel a slight drift beneath him in the gravity support. The tone chimed a second time.

“Are our bodies going to fly into the air again?” asked Zaula in alarm.

“No.”

Asan turned and stepped down from the port. Its shields closed behind him. Hux straightened from his slouch, no longer looking sleepy.

“Flake down,” he said.

Asan glanced at Zaula, who was frowning in bewilderment. “We have to wait,” he said.

“His speech does not translate,” she said, tapping her arm.

“It’s not supposed to,” said Asan.

She looked even more puzzled, but before he could explain thief lingo Udge Enster came in.

Udge had exchanged his drab coverall and vest with the bulging pockets for a scarlet costume with tight legs and flared sleeves. It looked expensive and was probably the latest style. On him, with his bald head, weatherbeaten face, and bulging cheeks, it looked ridiculous. He had abandoned the strifer always worn on his hip. Its absence made him seem naked.

He grinned at Asan as though he knew exactly what Asan was thinking, and shoved up one wide sleeve to show a wicked-looking dart fitted to his forearm.

“Cute, ain’t it? Takes a precise muscle flex to fire it. I had to practice a long time.”

“Is it the latest style in personal weapons?”

“Sure. Imported from Negus V. They’re always assassinating diplomats there. This is great in a crowd. I’d teach you how to use it sometime, Tobei, but—”

He broke off with another grin and spat.

“You and the little dandy ready? Martok’s waiting.”

Asan blinked in surprise. “He’s here?”

“Naw. Tobei, you know better than that. Martok never comes here. We’re going all the way in.” Udge looked suddenly serious. “And you ain’t gettin’ away, see? You ain’t pulling any scramble-dodge on me.”

Asan pretended to look innocent. “Would I do something like that, Udge?”

“Sure you would. I know you, Tobei. You’ve been gone a long time. Ever since you first began to run on Martok’s leash, you’ve been forgettin’ how well I know you. So you’re thinking right now that as soon as we pop ship, you’ll break and catch one going out. Only that won’t happen.”

“Even if I vanish into thin air?” asked Asan. He snapped his fingers. “Just like that.”

Udge gripped his arm. “Where’s your heart now, Tobei?”

Asan pointed at the middle of his chest.

“I got a straight line to it as long as I hold your arm at this angle. Don’t forget the darts, Tobei. They’re powered. They’re faster than you.”

Asan couldn’t hold back his smile. “I don’t think so.”

“And what about the little dandy? Can she vanish too?”

Asan’s smile faded. He’d forgotten. For a moment he was angry at her.

But he shrugged. “You’re forgetting something with all these careful preparations, Udge.”

“What?”

“I should be flattered. You think more of my abilities than you used to.”

“Can that. What have I forgotten?”

“That I want to see Martok just as much as he wants to see me. I was on my way to him when you picked me up.”

Udge bellowed with laughter, shaking so that Asan was afraid he might accidentally trigger a dart.

“Oh, Tobei, you bloatwit,” he said at last, wiping his eyes. “You never could lie.”

“It’s true. I have a deal to offer him—”

“
Flin!
You were a GSI prisoner on your way to detention. A deal? Demos! Right now you’re squirming in your skull while you try to think up some way to get loose. I could always see you squirm, Tobei. It’s in your eyes. Even in those weird alien eyes. Martok ain’t gonna deal with you. If you’d come straight in when Security first got on your tail, then maybe. But not now.”

Asan gave it up. Udge wasn’t going to believe anything he said.

They disembarked into an airlock, passed through an alarming soft tunnel that billowed and shifted and made Asan nervous. He was always afraid the thing would puncture while he was in it, and he’d die eating space.

Udge kept a tight grasp on his left arm, walking close. Asan’s wrist had been treated for the break, but it still ached. Tlar cellular structure was different enough from human to alter the length of treatment time necessary for complete healing. But no one was much interested in his health. After all, he was scheduled for execution soon.

Behind him, Hux brought Zaula along. Kor was not in sight. Asan was relieved to be spared the Vyarian.

At the end of the soft tunnel, they passed through a second airlock directly into another ship. Udge really was taking no chances.

Asan took the seat assigned him and strapped in. It was a narrow shuttle, the kind used for short flights and planet hopping. He was beginning to feel depressed. Udge tuned out everything he said. Martok was likely to be even less reasonable. He might never get the chance to offer his deal. He might be going straight to Kor’s dinner table.

Frowning, he braced himself for the whiplash takeoff customary with shuttles. Zaula and then Udge spoke to him, but both times he remained deep in thought and did not answer.

“He’s gettin’ nervous,” said Udge to Zaula. “Tobei always was nervy when the game was on. It gave him an edge. It gave him a mouth too. Martok’s gonna like to see him this way. Martok likes ’em scared when they die.”

Zaula gave him a cold look. “It is not permitted for a
n’ka
to spread the blood of a Tlar leiil.”

“Sure, babe. Sure.” Laughing, Udge patted her knee. “Whatever you say.”

The short run took fourteen hours. Asan slept in his seat and awoke with a jerk to find his neck stiff and his body cramped. He rubbed his gritty eyes and unsnapped to get up.

Udge’s hand hit his chest and shoved him back. “You crazy? We’re about to land.”

Sighing, Asan settled back in the uncomfortable seat that was not designed for someone of his size. The pilot was the casual type who preferred to show off his skills rather than remember he was carrying passengers. They swooped down so fast Zaula was sick upon the carpet.

“Aw, hell,” said Udge in disgust. He frowned at Zaula, who was looking distinctly yellow. “You want to end up on the auction block, little dandy? Get yourself prettied up now.”

She stiffened in outrage, but before she spoke Asan caught her eye and turned down his palm. For a moment she looked like she would explode anyway, but instead she managed to remain silent.

They landed with a flair that wasted fuel, the engines screaming in reverse rev. The hatch opened. Udge sprang to his feet and stood where Asan could not jump him.

“Don’t worry,” Asan assured him. “I’m not going to try to take the shuttle. You’re getting nervous in your old age.”

“I’d rather be old and nervous than dead,” Udge muttered.