The Iron Maiden (37 page)

She concluded that it was true. She decided to tell Khukov, to be fair to him. She suspected it wouldn't matter to him, but it was a qualification to her side of the relationship.

The week went swiftly, and then she took the return shuttle to the Saturn ship. She broached the matter as soon as she was alone with Khukov: “In fairness, I must say--”

“If my essential likeness to your brother inspires your return passion, I welcome it.”

So he had known. “Still, that is an illicit association. My licit ones--”

“One is dead, the other jailed.”

Her jaw dropped. “You know?”

“He is a fine man, and now also a widower. When you return to Jupiter, you will marry him, and raise many eyebrows. But for the moment you are mine.”

“For the moment,” she agreed, bemused.

Their association was less intense than before, but as meaningful. “I still find it hard to appreciate why you should wish to have me instead of a fresher face and body,” she said after a satisfying bout.

“Aside from whatever else, you have a wealth of experience that is similar to my own. You are not merely a pretty face.” He stroked the scars on her countenance. “If pirates came after me, would you burn yourself to stop them?”

“Yes.”

“Because you fear what else would come to power in my absence!” he said, laughing as he read her.

“We agreed: no love,” she reminded him.

“But there could have been, in other circumstance.”

“In other circumstance.”

Meanwhile the Saturn Navy maneuvered seemingly routinely, coincidentally drawing nearer to Jupiter. If the Tyrant asked, it would answer.

“It is a lot of trust you extend, to one who could make real mischief for you if he did not serve your interest,” she remarked.

“It is my business to know whom to trust. If Hope Hubris recovers Jupiter he will no longer serve me, but will still serve the Dream.”

“That is true.” She glanced at him. “May I initiate?”

He read her with that uncanny accuracy. “You are twelve.”

She nodded, embarrassed. She had in the course of their more candid dialogues told him details of her other men, and he had understood more than she told.

“A privilege.” He feigned sleep. “Helse!” he said, dreaming. “Don't go!” He caught hold of her. She struggled weakly to free herself, then let him draw her in. He tried to kiss her. She turned her face aside, then turned it back and met him squarely. “But I killed you!”

“Do it,” she said.

“I love you.”

“And I love you.” Fifty years, and it remained so clear.

He brought her in close to him, and she felt his hard member. She could draw away, even now, for he would not force her. Instead she found his hand and carried it to her breast. She was Helse, giving him comfort. He kissed her breast, and she arched, responding. Then he mounted her, and she spread her legs, lifting her knees. His member found the place, and nudged inside, slowly, distending the tightness, like a ship docking in a bubble tube. “Helse!” and his pulsing joy erupted.

“Oh Hope, my love!” she breathed, her joy enclosing his, her pulses extending his. The rapture seemed to continue for a brief forever.

Then they fell apart, and she left him sleeping, to clean up by herself. He remained for a time in his dream.

Later, he commented. “How can love be wrong?”

“I fear it can be.”

“Speaking for myself: I think I have never had a more fulfilling experience.”

“I think Hope and Helse loved with a love that was more than love,” she agreed.

“They did what we can not: they spoke of love.”

“What we can not.”

“Nevertheless, I think I have had of you what you have given no other man.”

“Except the first.”

He shook his head. “You truly are the Iron Maiden.”

“We agreed,” she reminded him again.

“Yet if our circumstances should ever change--”

“Then, perhaps,” she agreed. It was an oblique, conditional betrothal.

The following week Spirit met with Emerald. Here, too there were fond memories. “That time you flashed your cleft at my husband,” Spirit said, laughing.

“Black magic,” Emerald agreed.

They kissed each other. Then they got down to business. They knew that no overt moves could be made, but there were some useful covert ones. They devised a system of bottlenecks that would inhibit or prevent certain commands from being carried out efficiently, and the blame would fall on Tocsin's appointees. Only when Hope assumed power, and restored Emerald to command, would full efficiency return. This ploy would work for only a few hours, but that might be sufficient.

Then things went wrong on Planet Mercury. Suddenly Hope Hubris was on the Interplanetary News. He was, it seemed, in a South Mercury prison cell, naked and in bad condition. Somehow someone had bootlegged the holo tape out from under the nose of the controlled press.

Then the face of Spirit came on: Forta, emulating her with uncanny precision. “Oh, Hope!” she exclaimed.

“I knew it! They've humiliated you! They've stripped you naked!”

How had this happened? Later Spirit learned that Forta had been abducted, but that Hope had managed to exchange places with her, emulating her while she emulated him and escaped. Then she had become Spirit and made a scene calculated to blow the lid off the tight little dictatorship that was the South Mercury government. They had reversed the ploy with a vengeance.

“And they've tortured you!” Forta-Spirit cried with horror. “Your legs--all scarred and bandaged!”

The scars were from prior loop-sites, and the bandage concealed the present loop. But who would believe that at this moment, when Hope's kidney ailment was not even known? “Beautiful,” real-Spirit murmured.

The face of a higher government official appeared, evidently overriding the prior transmissions. “We are being framed!” he exclaimed in English. “We never touched the Tyrant!”

Spirit's visage reappeared. “Then how is my brother locked in your cell, naked and scarred?” she demanded half hysterically. And without giving him a chance to formulate a reply, she continued: “I demand you free him instantly!”

“But we never--” the official protested, obviously at a loss in this abrupt and astonishing turn of events.

“So you refuse!” she said indignantly. “Well, my brother is here as the representative of the Union of Saturnine Republics, and we consider this to be an act of war.” Her head turned as she addressed an off-screen party. “Saturn Commander, what is your authority?”

Now the head of a Saturn Navy marshal appeared. “My fleet is at the disposal of the Tyrant, Hope Hubris.” Evidently he had been properly briefed, and knew the nature of this ploy, and enjoyed it. “Sir, what are your orders?”

“I seem to have no choice,” Hope said with staged regret. "I must assume power in South Mercury.

Orient on the major cities, and destroy them if I die."

“Understood, Tyrant,” the marshal said with ill-concealed relish.

In this manner Hope came to be the Tyrant of Mercury, in the name of the Triton Project. That was the official reason the Saturn Navy supported him. Forta had performed beautifully, fooling almost everybody.

“I wonder whether your proficient mime emulated you for him, as I emulated him for you?” Khukov inquired innocently.

She bashed him with a soft pillow. “Only in his sleep.”

“He has such marvelous dreams.”

She put him in a head scissors and threatened to bite off his penis. But he tickled her cleft with his tongue until she had to let him go. They dissolved into ferocious sex, then discussed the ramifications of Hope's Mercury ploy. They both knew that Jupiter was next. But it would take more than the Saturn Navy to handle that.

“Incidentally,” she said as a crafted afterthought, “thank you for lending Navy support to my brother.”

“You have forgotten that we are allies now?”

“And I thought it was just sex!”

“No, I have no sexual desire for him.”

In due course Hope traveled to Ganymede, Saturn's Jupiter satellite. He did it via the light drive, so the Jupiter Navy could not intercept him if it wanted to. Spirit had quietly visited the Premier of Ganymede, preparing the way.

But Tocsin was not passive. He quietly put Hopie Hubris under house arrest. Juana returned with that news, which she had gleaned from Megan. Megan had been uncertain whether she could approve the return of the Tyrancy, but when Hopie was touched, that changed. Megan would not oppose Hope.

But Hope would do nothing if it put Hopie in real danger. He loved her like his own, and Spirit had always known and appreciated that. Hopie had to be rescued. That was the tricky part.

They decided not to tell Hope about Hopie; he had too much else to do. They would get Hopie clear their own way, and with luck Hope would not know until after she was safe.

“Now is your time,” Spirit told Roulette. “You must substitute for Forta, so that she can infiltrate the White Bubble and rescue Hopie. I think it is best that Hope not know.”

“I must emulate Forta emulating me,” Rue said, licking her lips. “I can do that in costume, as it were, but I don't know how to dialyze him.”

“You will remain in costume throughout,” Spirit said. “You will refuse to step out of character, being typically willful. The Ganymede facilities can dialyze him; the Premier knows what we are up to. Keep him occupied while we do what we have to.”

Rue nodded. “That I will do, gladly. And thank you, Spirit.”

“Remember, his talent does not work well when his emotions are involved. You should be able to fool him because he does love you in his fashion. If he catches on, he may get chivalrous about Forta, for he prefers to be true to his current woman.”

“I know. He was true to me, when I was his. I will do my best.”

“I will distract my brother. You must take Forta aside and explain about Hopie. She knows you; she will understand. You will exchange places with her, and remain with Hope while Forta departs with me in your guise. If we can fool Hope, we can fool anyone else.”

“I will fool him.”

Spirit assumed her Sancho guise, and Roulette donned the uniform of a Jupiter Navy enlisted person.

They went to Ganymede, and met Hope, Forta, and a third person: Doppie, on loan from Earth to emulate Spirit when Forta was not available. Spirit updated Hope on her activities for the past months and told him about the network of interference points that would paralyze Tocsin's directives. She gave him the names for elevation to power in the Jupiter Navy, so that he could declare an immediate and loyal slate. That was vital; he could not prevail without the firm support of the Navy. The Saturn Navy was also near, but its support had to be tacit. Meanwhile Roulette took Forta aside, to acquaint her with relevant details. Few knew just how relevant.

Hope's acuity was less than it had been, because of his illness, but he made sure to understand the necessary. At last it was time for them to leave, and for him to undergo dialysis. Spirit knew that when he came out of that, he would not be particularly alert; it would be a break-in period for Roulette.

Spirit left with Forta, each in her prior guise. Roulette remained behind. Hope was bound to have a remarkable time, in the next few days.

They went to Jupiter. Juana acquainted them with connections supporting Hope, even among the service personnel of the White Bubble. Forta assumed the identity of a female guard who was to be in charge of a very special prisoner: Hopie. She could not rescue Hopie, or even tell her what was up; they needed to act only when Tocsin did. So she learned the ways of the White Bubble staff, and served competently in her trusted capacity. Everything hinged on her performance when the crisis came.

Spirit retreated to a private bubble. Now all she could do was observe, hoping that no serious glitch occurred. It was up to Hope, and Forta, and the Jupiter and Saturn Navies.

The ships of the Jupiter Navy moved into place about Ganymede--and warships of Saturn appeared in Jupiter space. Abruptly there was a planetary crisis, for both these maneuvers were technically acts of war. Spirit knew that Hope had to act, without knowing whether Spirit had completed her preparations.

Tocsin made a public broadcast, declaring a blockade. Then a new signal overrode it: Hope Hubris on a pirate broadcast. “Hello, people of Jupiter,” he said in English. “I am Hope Hubris, your former Tyrant. I was exiled five years ago, but now I have returned to resume the government of Jupiter.” He paused, glancing back. Roulette's face was there.

There was a delay of several seconds, because Ganymede was three light seconds out from Jupiter. He was waiting for the public reaction. Then Hope spoke again, smiling. “I see you remember me.” Music played as a background to his voice. "You also know that your current government has descended rapidly into corruption and incompetence. Industrial efficiency has declined. The planetary debt is rising.

Freedom of the press has been curtailed. In fact, the leading critic of my day, Thorley, is now in prison."

This time he paused for a full ten seconds to let the reaction come.

Rue was watching Hope, sending out signals of wonder and joy. The monitor of the number of sets tuned in to Hope's broadcast was rising rapidly; he had started on a preemptive basis, but now they were seeking him.

Spirit knew that Tocsin would be barking orders between curses. Hope had only a few more minutes before he got cut off; he had to make them count.

“I was deposed by my wife, Megan. I have known many women, and some have been beautiful.” He glanced across at Rue. The rest of her was now being picked up, and she was bare breasted. In six seconds the response would go crazy! Hope had always been a good showman. “But the one I most truly respect is my wife, and she is the one I still heed.” He peered into the holo as if searching for a particular person, while the sound did indeed go crazy, on its delayed response to Roulette. “Megan! Are you on?”

The seconds passed, and abruptly the sound abated, as if every watcher were holding his breath. Then Hope's wife did indeed appear, hardly even seeming surprised. She was now past seventy, but still a handsome woman. “Megan,” Hope said to her. “Do you still oppose--”