"So there was an argument?" I prompted.
"I had a gun. I hit Mackenzie in the leg, I think-but they got clear, found a car and beat me to the Site. There were two Bolos. What chance did I have against them?" Mallon grinned craftily. "But Banner was a fool. He died for it." The grin dropped like a stripper's bra. "But when I went to claim my spoils, I discovered how the jackals had set the trap for me."
"That was downright unfriendly of them, Mallon. Oddly enough, it doesn't make me want to stay and hold your hand."
"Don't you understand yet!" Mallon's voice was a dry screech. "Even if you got clear of the palace, used the Bolo to set yourself up as Baron-you'd never be safe! Not as long as one man was still alive aboard the ship. You'd never have a night's rest, wondering when one of them would walk out to challenge your rule…"
"Uneasy lies the head, eh, Toby? You remind me of a queen bee. The first one out of the chrysalis dismembers all her rivals."
"I don't mean to kill them. That would be a waste; I mean to give them useful work to do."
"I don't think they'd like being your slaves, Toby. And neither would I." I looked at Renada. "I'll be leaving you now," I said. "Whichever way you decide, good luck."
"Wait." She stood. "I'm going with you."
I looked at her. "I'll be traveling fast, honey. And that gun in my back may throw off my timing."
She stepped to me, reversed the pistol, and laid it in my hand.
"Don't kill him, Mr. Jackson. He was always kind to me."
"Why change sides now? According to Toby, my chances look not too good."
"I never knew before how Commander Banner died," she said. "He was my great-grandfather."
7
Renada came back bundled in a gray fur as I finished buckling on my holster.
"So long, Toby," I said. "I ought to shoot you in the belly just for Don, but-"
I saw Renada's eyes widen at the same instant that I heard the click.
I dropped flat and rolled behind Mallon's chair-and a gout of blue flame yammered into the spot where I'd been standing. I whipped the gun up and fired a round into the peach-colored upholstery an inch from Toby's ear.
"The next one nails you to the chair," I yelled. "Call 'em off!" There was a moment of dead silence. Toby sat frozen. I couldn't see who'd been doing the shooting. Then I heard a moan. Renada.
"Let the girl alone or I'll kill him," I called.
Toby sat rigid, his eyes rolled toward me.
"You can't kill me, Jackson! I'm all that's keeping you alive."
"You can't kill me either, Toby. You need my magic touch, remember? Maybe you'd better give me a safe-conduct out of here. I'll take the freeze off your Bolo-after I've seen to my business."
Toby licked his lips. I heard Renada again. She was trying not to moan-but moaning anyway.
"You tried, Jackson. It didn't work out," Toby said through gritted teeth. "Throw out your gun and stand up. I won't kill you-you know that. You do as you're told and you may still live to a ripe old age-and the girl, too."
She screamed then-a mindless ululation of pure agony.
"Hurry up, you fool, before they tear her arm off," Mallon grated. "Or shoot. You'll get to watch her for twenty-four hours under the knife. Then you'll have your turn."
I fired again-closer this time. Mallon jerked his head and cursed.
"If they touch her again, you get it, Toby," I said. "Send her over here. Move!"
"Let her go!" Mallon snarled. Renada stumbled into sight, moved around the chair, then crumpled suddenly to the rug beside me.
"Stand up, Toby," I ordered. He rose slowly. Sweat glistened on his face now. "Stand over here." He moved like a sleepwalker. I got to my feet. There were two men standing across the room beside a small open door. A sliding panel. Both of them held power rifles leveled-but aimed offside, away from the Baron.
"Drop 'em!" I said. They looked at me, then lowered the guns, tossed them aside.
I opened my mouth to tell Mallon to move ahead, but my tongue felt thick and heavy. The room was suddenly full of smoke. In front of me, Mallon was wavering like a mirage. I started to tell him to stand still, but with my thick tongue, it was too much trouble. I raised the gun, but somehow it was falling to the floor-slowly, like a leaf-and then I was floating, too, on waves that broke on a dark sea…
"Do you think you're the first idiot who thought he could kill me?" Mallon raised a contemptuous lip. "This room's rigged ten different ways."
I shook my head, trying to ignore the film before my eyes and the nausea in my body. "No, I imagine lots of people would like a crack at you, Toby. One day one of them's going to make it."
"Get him on his feet," Mallon snapped. Hard hands clamped on my arms, hauled me off the cot. I worked my legs, but they were like yesterday's celery; I sagged against somebody who smelled like uncured hides.
"You seem drowsy," Mallon said. "We'll see if we can't wake you up."
A thumb dug into my neck. I jerked away, and a jab under the ribs doubled me over.
"I have to keep you alive-for the moment," Mallon said. "But you won't get a lot of pleasure out of it."
I blinked hard. It was dark in the room. One of my handlers had a ring of beard around his mouth-I could see that much. Mallon was standing before me, hands on hips. I aimed a kick at him, just for fun. It didn't work out; my foot seemed to be wearing a lead boat. The unshaven man hit me in the mouth and Toby chuckled.
"Have your fun, Dunger," he said, "but I'll want him alive and on his feet for the night's work. Take him out and walk him in the fresh air. Report to me at the Pavilion of the Troll in an hour." He turned to something and gave orders about lights and gun emplacements, and I heard Renada's name mentioned.
Then he was gone and I was being dragged through the door and along the corridor.
The exercise helped. By the time the hour had passed, I was feeling weak but normal-except for an aching head and a feeling that there was a strand of spiderweb interfering with my vision. Toby had given me a good meal. Maybe before the night was over he'd regret that mistake…
Across the dark grounds, an engine started up, spluttered, then settled down to a steady hum.
"It's time," the one with the whiskers said. He had a voice like soft cheese to match his smell. He took another half-twist in the arm he was holding.
"Don't break it," I grunted. "It belongs to the Baron, remember?"
Whiskers stopped dead. "You talk too much-and too smart." He let my arm go and stepped back. "Hold him, Pig Eye." The other man whipped a forearm across my throat and levered my head back; then Whiskers unlimbered the two-foot club from his belt and hit me hard in the side, just under the ribs. Pig Eye let go and I folded over and waited while the pain swelled up and burst inside me.
Then they hauled me back to my feet. I couldn't feel any bone ends grating, so there probably weren't any broken ribs-if that was any consolation.
There were lights glaring now across the lawn. Moving figures cast long shadows against the trees lining the drive-and on the side of the Bolo Combat Unit parked under its canopy by the sealed gate.