by Allan Cole
Vlad sighed. “It’s possible, father,” he said. “The Amers are past masters of the Big Lie.”
“But in this case,” Onphim pressed, “you don’t think so.”
“No I don’t, father,” Vlad replied. “If I could slay a hundred men, so could Kells. We were the first holy assassins. I killed George W. Bush. He killed Vladimir Putin. And we’ve had a thousand years to perfect our craft since that day.
“No other man or woman in either the Odysseus Corps or the Church Of The Sword can even come close to making that claim.”
Vlad felt a terrible bitterness coming over him. He was so tired, so soul weary, that he wished he could die and end this never-ending killing spree that love of Mother Country had condemned him to.
He also wished Father Onphim would come to the point. Vlad knew very well the priest hadn’t summoned him to praise his bloody record.
As if reading his thoughts, Onphim said, “You are quite correct, my son. The Amers are not lying. Exactly one hundred of our best generals and combat wizards have been assassinated by that rabid dog, Davyd Kells.”
A small part of Vlad’s back brain murmured that if Davyd could be called a rabid dog for what he’d done, that what did that make Vlad?
Then his mind hurled him back to that moment in the warm waters of the grotto when he and Davyd had watched the beautiful Tanya Lawson floating in the pool. And then their eyes had moved from her lush figure to meet. A spark of friendship leaping from one man to the other. Momentarily arcing over their shared hatred.
Recalling that scene, Vlad felt a sudden sense of loss. And then a chilling thought struck him.
“Is Davyd Kells the reason you sent for me father?” he asked.
“Yes, my son,” Onphim replied.
And Vlad thought, God, help me. I’ve lost Tanya forever!
* * *
“Godblessamerica!” the motor sprite said. “We’re gonna kick those Rooskie butts from here to Betelgeuse. They’ll be sorry they ever messed with us.”
Davyd turned away from the little chatterbox, wishing mightily that he could pray. But what self-respecting deity would ever listen to the pleas of a sinner like Davyd Kells?
Behind him, the huge elephant shaped rock that hid the Odysseus Corps headquarters was swiftly receding. Ahead of him, military barges hooted and honked as they maneuvered out of the path of the beetlecraft.
The Rio Grande throughway was practically the personal property of Davyd Kells that day. He had top priority clearance all the way to the El Paso Spaceport— and beyond.
As he traveled, urgent, coded messages were being beamed out for all military or civilian personnel and vehicles to either give Kells every possible assistance without question, or to get the Hell out of his way.
Moments before, as Davyd had prepared to leave Odysseus Corps headquarters, Father Zorza had made certain that his orders were quite clear:
“My son, you are to expend every effort, spare no expense and dare any odds, until you can return to me with Vlad Projogin’s head on a serving dish.”
Davyd’s reply had been to snap his most crisp salute, saying, “Yessir!” And doing his damnedest to mean it from the bottom of his spit-shined boots to the flat crown of his black beret.
But at the same time he’d felt lost. What the hell were they doing to him? Didn’t he have enough black marks on his soul without adding a man who could have been a friend?
And what of Tanya? What would she say when she heard Davyd had ripped Vlad apart with explosive bullets?
Thinking of Tanya, Davyd’s heart raced out of control, trip-hammering against his chest. In all his long life, Davyd had never known what it was like to love a woman. But now that he did, he was being denied this most human of necessities.
And then he thought, What does it matter, Kells? Who the hell said you were human, anyway?
Davyd reached deep into himself and pulled up the comforting cloak of hate he’d worn for over a thousand years. Bitter juices boiled up and over. Nerves crackled with arcing fires. A red haze colored his view.
And by damn, he felt good! He was gonna kill that Rooskie son of a bitch! Blow his goddamned heart out of his chest! Put his teeth right through the back of his skull!
Pumped up with positive energy, Davyd reviewed his mission.
As bewildering as Father Zorza’s words had first seemed, they were beginning to make sense. What was it the Jesuit had said? Oh, yes. Now he remembered. He replayed the scene in his head. Once again Father Zorza was sitting across from him, his face solemn …
“… In ancient days, my son,” the priest was saying, “warring kingdoms sometimes chose champions to represent them in battle. And as those heroes advanced on the field to fight hand-to-hand, they carried the hopes and dreams of all their people upon their shoulders.
“And whichever gladiator won the contest, also won the war.”
“Are you saying that when I kill Projogin the war will be over?” Davyd asked. “And America will have won?”
Father Zorza smiled gently. “Not exactly, Davyd,” he said. “But you will have gone a long way to winning the war. Think of how the newscasters will portray this duel, my son.
“It will be painted as a contest between the two greatest warriors on either side. And whichever one wins will prove, once and for all, who is right— and who is wrong.”
“I assume the Rooskies will do the same thing with Vlad,” Davyd said.
“They already have, my son,” Zorza said, much to Davyd’s surprise.
He gestured and a vidsprite rushed to bring the latest newsfeed to life. It played out against the chapel wall in living color.
Davyd saw a red-headed Rooskie newswoman interviewing a high Soviet official.
“We are throwing down the gauntlet,” the general was saying in Russian. “We challenge the Amers to send their very best soldier to fight our nation’s greatest hero, Vlad Projogin.”
A picture of Vlad appeared in the background. It was a helluva pose, Davyd thought as he saw Vlad standing there in his Brown Bear’s uniform. Looking like a Thirtieth Century knight.
“What if the Amer dogs refuse the challenge?” the Russian newswoman asked the general.
“Then they will prove what cowards they truly are,” the general replied, slamming his fist against the desk.
Then the general turned to look straight into the camera, saying, “Come out and fight, Davyd Kells. The whole galaxy is waiting for you to show what kind of a man you are!”
Zorza made another gesture and the picture vanished.
He turned to look at a stunned Davyd. “You see how it is, my son,” he said. “They have already issued the challenge.
“Now, the question is, do you accept?”
There was nothing else Davyd could do but say yes …
Kells shook off the stern image of Father Zorza and settled back into his seat.
Up ahead a troop transport was frantically trying to maneuver out of Davyd’s way. As his beetlecraft passed, he looked out the window and saw hundreds of young men lined up against the transport’s rails.
They were cheering him.
Damn, Davyd thought. The news of my acceptance must already be out.
Damn, damn, damn!
* * *
“Now listen to me, lad,” Father Onphim was saying. “You must find this Amer dog, Davyd Kells. And you must kill him.”
Vlad kept his features expressionless. But inside he was burning up. Part of him thought Davyd was… well, something more than just a cursed enemy. While another part recalled that Davyd was the only person he’d ever failed to best in single combat. And Tanya … Yes, Tanya!
Vlad was rocked by a sudden burst of anger. Yes, yes, yes! We must settle this, Davyd and I. And if I must lose Tanya, well, it would be good to know that his enemy, Davyd Kells, would lose her as well.
But what about their interrupted investigation? Oh yes, that really hurt. To solve that great mystery would have been better than fame or wealt
h. For the true warrior pleads for mysteries to test his strength.
Except now Father Onphim had given him something beyond personal aims and delights to defend. His country was at war. The enemy was mighty. Now he, Major Vlad Projogin, must earn his pay.
“Yes, Father,” he said, accepting the mission.
“A simple yes is not enough,” Onphim said sternly. “You must know something else, Vlad. Those Amer dogs have already announced that their greatest hero, Davyd Kells, has challenged you to a duel. This very duel we are discussing.”
“Announced?” Vlad said, stunned anew.
“Yes, my son. Announced. Advertised. Propaganda bulletins issued without cease. Do you realize how serious this is?”
Vlad nodded. He understood all right. And he burned with renewed anger, feeling— unreasonably perhaps— that Davyd had betrayed him.
“Excellent,” Father Onphim said. “Now we’ll make an announcement of our own, accepting the challenge.
“This duel will be like the great warriors of old, Peresvet and Chelubei at the battle of Kulikovski. And remember well, my son, how we won that battle!”
Again, Vlad nodded. But he couldn’t help thinking that both of those ancient warriors had been killed.
Father Onphim smiled, reading Vlad’s thoughts. “The Tatar Chelubei was a trained swordsman and spearman. But Peresvet was but a lay brother. Remember that, my son, before dwelling on their mutual doom.”
“I will, Father,” Vlad promised.
Then he asked, “Where can I find Kells? Do we have any intelligence reports?”
“Not yet,” Onphim replied. “Most of our wizards are now corking that damned Carvaserin’s hole. You must act yourself.
“But keep in mind that Kells will also seek you. The men of the Odysseus Corps are hardly stupid. They know everything about you, Vlad. And I’m sure they’ll expect your appearance. So be ready.”
Vlad saluted smartly. “The next time you see me, Father,” he said, “I swear by all that is holy I’ll have the corpse of Davyd Kells hanging from my shield.”
* * *
Just before he reached the El Paso Spaceport, Davyd got the lead he needed.
A news bulletin playing on the beetlecraft’s system, announced that Major Vlad Projogin, of the Russian SpetzNaz Commandos, had just increased his score by one.
He’d assassinated an American general on a frontier world outpost.
The Russians were boasting that their ace now had one hundred and one kills to his credit, whereas Davyd had only one hundred even.
Again, they made a mocking challenge for Davyd to come out and fight Vlad.
Immediately, the screen dissolved and fiery letters spelled out the words “Special War Bulletin.” A woman with a big voice, backed by a brass band, started singing the “Star Spangled Banner.”
Then the President of the United Galactic States appeared on the screen. Davyd’s jaw dropped as he heard the President declare that America had taken up the challenge and at this moment the great UGS hero, David Kells, was hunting down Vlad Projogin.
Davyd shook his head. He’d only left Father Zorza’s side an hour ago and already the President was announcing Davyd’s mission.
Man, they work fast, he thought.
He sighed. So be it. Come out, come out, Vlad Projogin wherever you are. Little Davyd Kells wants to play.
An idea suddenly jumped up to present itself. A simple, but elegant trap he could lure Vlad into.
All I have to do, he thought, is prime the pump with a few more kills. And then he’ll know where to look for me. But I’ll be waiting when gets there.
Before considering who and where those new targets might be, Davyd thought he’d better visit the Odysseus Corps armory. There were many secret weapons rooms scattered all over the galaxy.
Some were better than others, but after a thousand years of killing for the corps, Davyd knew which were the best.
Also, for this mission he’d need some very special gear. Davyd ran a wish list of deadly things through his mind, then decided which armory he ought to visit.
Time’s a wasting, he thought. Then he plucked the com unit from his jacket pocket and ordered up a ship. As an afterthought he told his contact to be sure to stock some thick steaks and a case of cold beer.
Then he swallowed two pills from his stym-pack and kicked his killer’s system into overdrive.
Godblessamerica, he thought. Godblessamerica, indeed!
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Harry was talking but Tanya didn’t hear a word he was saying. Her total concentration had been kidnapped by the glowing magecube sitting on the desk in front of him.
Although it was quite small, the magecube muscled all other sensations to the side. Its color was active— a slow-throbbing green. The scent was palpable— the faint ozone stink of sorcery. The cube’s presence was commanding— a wizardly contract that would bind her forevermore.
On top of the cube there was a slight depression in the shape of a thumb. Tanya’s own thumb tingled.
She felt oddly compelled to press it into the depression, but at the same time was repelled by the thought.
Harry raised his voice, breaking through. “I don’t think you realize, Tanya,” he said, “it’s my ass that’s at risk, here! I’ve got generals, admirals, diplomats— you name it— all lined up to plant their size 12’s into my lily white.
“And you come running in here with some wild, unrelated tale about a UWP officer who went bananas and tried to kill you!”
Tanya tore her gaze away from the magecube. “It isn’t a wild tale, Harry,” Tanya said, biting back anger. Jesus, her boss was thick.
“And what happened isn’t unrelated. Kriegworm was trying to stop me from getting to the bottom of this mess.”
“Now, why would a UWP officer do a thing like that?” Harry demanded. “You must have done something to offend him. Everyone knows you don’t get along with Spiritworld folk.”
He shook his head. “Tell the truth, sometimes I don’t blame you. They can be a prickly lot. But the point is, you obviously did something that drove him over the edge. Only someone insane would risk what your are accusing Kriegworm of doing.”
Harry toyed with the cube “I mean, he’d lose his pension and everything!”
Once again, Tanya’s attention was snared by the magecube. She knew damned well what Harry was after, but she kept fighting it. Tanya curled her fingers into a fist, nails biting into her palm. Pain loosening the cube’s sorcerous grip.
“I don’t think he was worrying about his pension, Harry,” she said dryly. “We’re talking about a pretty elaborate conspiracy, here. Somehow Kriegworm got to Katya and poisoned her mind against me. Then he ran her like she was a double agent. Compelling her to desert the Borodino.
“For Christ’s sake, Harry, desertion during war time is a death penalty offense in the Russian army. Hell, it’s a death penalty offense in every army!
“And then somehow he managed to position her so she’d be outside the ‘Three Hanged Monks’ waiting for me when I exited with my prisoners.”
Tanya sighed. “That’s certainly not the description of a guy— fiend or otherwise— who’s counting his future benefits! And he sure as hell isn’t helpless.”
“Okay, okay,” Harry said. “I guess I see your point. Besides, I’ve put out a Galaxy-wide APB for him. He’ll be picked up by and by.”
“I doubt it,” Tanya said. “Where he’s gone, they don’t give a damn about APB’s.”
Harry’s eyebrows shot up. “Where would that be?” he asked.
Tanya told him.
Harry whistled in surprise. “How sure are you?” he asked.
“Sure enough,” Tanya said, “to put my own lily white, as you so colorfully described that area of the human anatomy, in harm’s way.”
“And you really think you’ll find evidence that will stop this war?” Harry asked.
“If I didn’t,” Tanya said, “I wouldn’t waste my time. K
riegworm’s conspiracy is obviously related. Otherwise, why would he try to stop me?
“Also obviously, whoever is running him— call him, Mr. Big— will continue to try to block me. Mr. Big knows where I have to go next. And that’s where Kriegworm will be.”
Harry tapped the cube. “I suppose you want my help on this,” he said. Then he grinned. “If so, you’re going to have to do something for me in return.”
Tanya grimaced. “Conditions! Jesus!” She shook her head. “What’s the matter, Harry,” she asked, “don’t you want to save the world too?”
Harry’s grin widened. “Never mind that,” he said. Then he pushed the cube forward. “If you want my help, Master Investigator Lawson,” he said, “You’re going to have to finally make a commitment to the magical wing of the UWP.”
The cube glowed brighter, the ozone stink thickened. Instinctively, Tanya drew back.
“What’s the big deal, Tanya?” Harry said. “All you have to do is put your thumb into the depression and you’ll be able to add Wizard First Class to your rank? Hells, bells, you’ll even get a raise.”
“I don’t want to do this, Harry!” Tanya said.
“Do it!” Harry growled, “Or you’ll get no help from me!”
Tanya’s shoulders sagged. The son of a bitch had her. Only Harry Cooper would hold a whole galaxy hostage to get his way.
She pushed her thumb into the depression. There was a slight stinging sensation, a flash of green light, then the cube went dead.
“Congratulations, Wizard First Class Tanya Lawson,” Harry said with a sneer of victory.
Tanya shook off the defeat. “Screw you, Harry,” she said. “Now you’ll do what I say, or I’ll go right to the top and make sure you never get those stars you’ve been longing for all these years.”
“Oh, come on, Tanya,” Harry said. “It was all in fun.”
Tanya just stared at him.
After a long uncomfortable moment, Harry shrugged. “Okay, what do you need?” he asked.
Then, trying to make a weak joke. “Besides six or seven UWP Marines, that is?”