"Then why do you get nervous when I find his lighter on your table? There could be ten perfectly harmless explanations."
"I don't make explanations," Mallon said flatly.
"That attitude is hardly the basis for a lasting partnership, Toby. I have an unhappy feeling there's something you're not telling me."
Mallon pulled himself up in the chair. "Look here, Jackson. We've no reason to fall out. There's plenty for both of us-and one day I'll be needing a successor. It was too bad about Banner, but that's ancient history now. Forget it. I want you with me, Jackson! Together we can rule the Atlantic seaboard-or even more!"
I drew on my cigar, looking at the gun in Renada's hand. "You hold the aces, Toby. Shooting me would be no trick at all."
"There's no trick involved, Jackson!" Mallon snapped. "After all," he went on, almost wheedling now, "we're old friends. I want to give you a break, share with you-"
"I don't think I'd trust him if I were you, Mr. Jackson," Renada's quiet voice cut in. I looked at her. She looked back calmly. "You're more important to him than you think."
"That's enough, Renada," Mallon barked. "Go to your room at once."
"Not just yet, Toby," she said. "I'm also curious about how Commander Banner died." I looked at the gun in her hand.
It wasn't pointed at me now. It was aimed at Mallon's chest.
Mallon sat sunk deep in his chair, looking at me with eyes like a python with a bellyache. "You're fools, both of you," he grated. "I gave you everything, Renada. I raised you like my own daughter. And you, Jackson. You could have shared with me-all of it."
"I don't need a share of your delusions, Toby. I've got a set of my own. But before we go any farther, let's clear up a few points. Why haven't you been getting any mileage out of your tame Bolo? And what makes me important in the picture?"
"He's afraid of the Bolo machine," Renada said. "There's a spell on it which prevents men from approaching-even the Baron."
"Shut your mouth, you fool!" Mallon choked on his fury. I tossed the lighter in my hand and felt a smile twitching at my mouth.
"So Don was too smart for you after all. He must have been the one who had control of the Bolo. I suppose you called for a truce, and then shot him out from under the white flag. But he fooled you. He plugged a command into the Bolo's circuits to fire on anyone who came close-unless he was Banner."
"You're crazy!"
"It's close enough. You can't get near the Bolo. Right? And after twenty years, the bluff you've been running on the other Barons with your private troll must be getting a little thin. Any day now one of them may decide to try you."
Mallon twisted his face in what may have been an attempt at a placating smile. "I won't argue with you, Jackson. You're right about the command circuit. Banner set it up to fire an antipersonnel blast at anyone coming within fifty yards. He did it to keep the mob from tampering with the machine. But there's a loophole. It wasn't only Banner who could get close. He set it up to accept any of the Prometheus crew-except me. He hated me. It was a trick to try to get me killed."
"So you're figuring I'll step in and de-fuse her for you, eh, Toby? Well, I'm sorry as hell to disappoint you, but somehow in the confusion I left my electropass behind."
Mallon leaned toward me. "I told you we need each other, Jackson: I've got your pass. Yours and all the others. Renada, hand me my black box." She rose and moved across to the desk, holding the gun on Mallon-and on me, too, for that matter.
"Where'd you get my pass, Mallon?"
"Where do you think? They're the duplicates from the vault in the old command block. I knew one day one of you would come out. I'll tell you, Jackson, it's been hell, waiting all these years-and hoping. I gave orders that any time the Great Troll bellowed, the mob was to form up and stop anybody who came out. I don't know how you got through them…"
"I was too slippery for them. Besides," I added, "I met a friend."
"A friend? Who's that?"
"An old man who thought I was Prince Charming, come to wake everybody up. He was nuts. But he got me through."
Renada came back, handed me a square steel box. "Let's have the key, Mallon," I said. He handed it over. I opened the box, sorted through half a dozen silver-dollar-sized ovals of clear plastic, lifted one out.
"Is it a magical charm?" Renada asked, sounding awed. She didn't seem so sophisticated now-but I liked her better human.
"Just a synthetic crystalline plastic, designed to resonate to a pattern peculiar to my EEG," I said. "It amplifies the signal and gives off a characteristic emission that the psychotronic circuit in the Bolo picks up."
"That's what I thought. Magic."
"Call it magic, then, kid." I dropped the electropass in my pocket, stood and looked at Renada. "I don't doubt that you know how to use that gun, honey, but I'm leaving now. Try not to shoot me."
"You're a fool if you try it," Mallon barked. "If Renada doesn't shoot you, my guards will. And even if you made it, you'd still need me!"
"I'm touched by your concern, Toby. Just why do I need you?"
"You wouldn't get past the first sentry post without help, Jackson. These people know me as the Trollmaster. They're in awe of me-of my mana. But together-we can get to the controls of the Bolo, then use it to knock out the sentry machine at the Site-"
"Then what? With an operating Bolo I don't need anything else. Better improve the picture, Toby. I'm not impressed."
He wet his lips.
"It's Prometheus, do you understand? She's stocked with everything from Browning needlers to Norge stunners. Tools, weapons, instruments. And the power plants alone."
"I don't need needlers if I own a Bolo, Toby."
Mallon used some profanity. "You'll leave your liver and lights on the palace altar, Jackson. I promise you that!"
"Tell him what he wants to know, Toby," Renada said. Mallon narrowed his eyes at her. "You'll live to regret this, Renada."
"Maybe I will, Toby. But you taught me how to handle a gun-and to play cards for keeps."
The flush faded out of his face and left it pale. "All right, Jackson," he said, almost in a whisper. "It's not only the equipment. It's… the men."
I heard a clock ticking somewhere.
"What men, Toby?" I said softly.
"The crew. Day, Macy, the others. They're still in there, Jackson-aboard the ship, in stasis. We were trying to get the ship off when the attack came. There was forty minutes' warning. Everything was ready to go. You were on a test run; there wasn't time to cycle you out…"
"Keep talking," I rapped.
"You know how the system was set up; it was to be a ten-year run out, with an automatic turnaround at the end of that time if Alpha Centauri wasn't within a milliparsec." He snorted. "It wasn't. After twenty years, the instruments checked. They were satisfied. There was a planetary mass within the acceptable range. So they brought me out." He snorted again. "The longest dry run in history. I unstrapped and came out to see what was going on. It took me a little while to realize what had happened. I went back in and cycled Banner and Mackenzie out. We went into the town; you know what we found. I saw what we had to do, but Banner and Mac argued. The fools wanted to reseal Prometheus and proceed with the launch. For what? So we could spend the rest of our lives squatting in the ruins, when by stripping the ship we could make ourselves kings?"