The Fallen Goddess of Alpene_A Goddess_A Pirate_Kidnap!
Page 3
He nodded. Simply by looking out a window, everyone in the Hole could see the goddess floating in a big ball of liquid.
"And I think I have finally solved her food problem, or I should say liquid problem, because she's been drinking only the thinnest pabulum. And I don't want even to begin to talk about the problems we had with her waste." She ignored the men's rising interest. "But now we really do have a problem. Somehow she's caught a cold, which is rapidly developing into pneumonia. All the antibodies I have given her only seem to make her condition worse."
"How could she have caught a cold?" Phil asked irritably. "We keep the temperature in here warm and constant."
"How do I know?" she snapped right back. "This girl is a phenomenon unlike anything I've ever seen. She doesn't talk. I don't know how old she is. All of her organs are mature, yet she acts like a child, almost infantile. I don't think she's ever had to do anything but eat, sleep, and dance. But one thing I do know, if we don't come up with something pretty soon, we're going to lose her."
Phil turned back to the men. "That does it. Like it or not, we're going to have to go out--now."
Jed shook his head. "I'd rather lose her than go out when we're so hot. The Cult knows the general direction we left after we grabbed you. It's just a matter of time before they search the belt."
"True, but I can't take a chance on losing her before I can get her sold. I've hocked everything I own, including The Flyer to steal this girl. Now I want a half a dozen volunteers. Jed, if you don't want to come, you don't have to."
Jed sat up bristling. "I don't have to take that. You think someone can do better than me, make them second-in-command."
They all watched Phil.
He regarded Jed with level eyes. “When I want to make someone else second-in-command, you’ll be the first to know.”
He stood. "Now get a crew together. We're going to Rupert."
"Rupert?" gasped Jed. "You can't be serious."
Now Phil lost his temper. "Yes, Rupert. I haven't got time to circle around the system before going to a trading planet. I've got to go to the nearest one, get in, contact the Cult, and get out. Now get the ship ready."
Swooping into Rupert's upper atmosphere, The Frisco Flyer slowed over the jungle side of the planet just enough to drop a land shuttle; then streaked for open space.
The man-made jungle existed only for the purpose of supplying oxygen for a megalopolis on the opposite side of the planet.
Phil steered the shuttle around and descended into the roof of haze that draped over Rupert. As far as the eye swept, huge skyscrapers rose into the gritty atmosphere, monoliths of corporate power.
Approaching one of the innumerable landing fields, Phil settled into an endless descending spiral of ships waiting to land. He complied with the orders of the sexless, computerized voice and dropped into a berth for private passenger ships. Then the crew hit the taxi stand and headed out to the areas of their personal debaucheries; their task: to glean information.
They dressed like miners: worn khakis, half boots, soft suede vests. Phil made sure that any garb that smacked of the pirate's personal flamboyance remained at the Hole.
Phil directed his taxi to the Holy City on the Hill, the planet's main Cult temple complex, and the slums servicing it.
He had not poked around the cheap dives and torture bars long, before learning what he wanted to know--the Cult was offering a 150,000 Cult-credit reward for information leading to the return of the Temple Goddess of Alpene.
Struggling to keep the glee from his face, he grabbed a passing cab and got out of the Divinity District.
The crew was slated to meet for dinner at the restaurant of a small hotel frequented by miners and prospectors. Arriving early, he rented a room and slept the afternoon away. Conditioned to the light gravity and pure air of the Hole, the heavy pull of Rupert with its muggy, jungle atmosphere made him logy.
The insistent feminine voice of the alarm woke him, and he showered, shaved and rode the elevator to the dining room. On the way in, he met Jed.
The big man's face shiny with the sweat of one or more inebriants, he clapped Phil on the shoulder and shouted, "Hey, ol' buddy, how they hanging? You figure out how much we goin' to get for the broad?"
Phil glanced quickly around the lobby. "Keep the noise down to a roar, jug-head. We'll talk about it when we get seated."
As they entered the dining room, they spied Dante, Ool Ling Two, and most of the rest of the crew in a back booth. After they had called in their orders, Dante quickly scanned the order phone and the rest of the booth with a short, electronic wand, then nodded that the booth was clean of monitoring devices.
Phil leaned forward over the table. "Okay, what have you got? I learned that the Cult is offering a hundred and fifty big ones for the girl. Anything else?"
Jed chuckled mushily. "I heard that you are more popular than ever. A couple of Guardians was sayin' that the Cult has upped your bounty to twenty-five grand."
Phil eyed him. "Guardians, huh. You must've been hanging out in one of those snuff joints down by the landing docks."
Jed's sagging face struggled for dignity. "This was strictly a high-class club. You know I don't go to those kind of joints."
"Not anymore, huh?" He looked around. Some of the crew eyed him with speculation. He cleared his throat. "Twenty-five thousand credits, huh? Cult or corporation money?"
Jed smirked, glee in his voice. "Strictly corp-cash, ol' buddy. You are getting to be worth more dead than alive."
Phil grinned ominously. "You wouldn't be getting greedy, would you, ‘ol' buddy’?"
"Are you kiddin', after all we been through?" His voice turned bitter. "Besides, it wouldn't bring back Jamey, now would it?"
"That's right, it wouldn't. Keep that in mind when you start thinking too much."
Their eyes held for a long, hard moment, then Dante spoke up. "I was down in the financial district this afternoon and heard some information that rather makes all this Cult business academic."
Phil pulled his attention to Dante. "What's that?"
"Well, it seems someone wants a Temple Goddess somewhat more than the Cult does."
Phil squinted irritably. "Who does? What are you talking about?"
"Rumor has it that Garve Slen is offering big credits for the goddess."
"Garve Slen? What's a Garve Slen?"
Jed leaned forward. "Who cares? What I want to know is, how much?"
"Garve Slen, is the C.E.O. of Dynamine Corp." Dante glanced at Jed. "C.E.O., that's Chief Executive Officer."
"Dammit," Jed snarled, "I don't care what he is. What will he pay?"
Dante continued unperturbed. "Offers vary, but some say up to a million."
Silently they stared at him. Finally Phil leaned forward. "Do you think these rumors are true?"
"Oh, I don't think there's any doubt about it. The market runs on rumors. A rumor is simply a fact before money changes hands."
Phil shook his head. "Never mind that. How do we confirm it?"
He shrugged. "Call him up. I'll do it if you like."
Phil was skeptical. "You're going to call the head of Dynamine?"
Jed leaned forward, barely able to contain his eagerness. "Yeah, do it."
Dante turned to the monitor at the end of their table. "Turn on, and get me the office of Garve Slen of Dynamine Corporation."
As the executive elevator soared up the side of the skyscraper, Phil, Dante, and Jed sat back in deep, leather chairs and stared out over the city dropping away below them. Ignoring Phil's look of disapproval, when a voice asked, Jed ordered a drink, the most expensive brandy he could think of, and it rose out of his side table.
The elevator opened onto a large, padded lobby. A beautiful blond sat behind a wide desk facing them. Her plasticized smile barely hovered on the respectable side of seduction.
"Gentlemen, you are carrying weapons. We must ask that they be left here at the desk. We guarantee that they won't be tampered with, a
nd will be locked up until your return." Her hand swept gracefully across her desk. "Please?"
Nearly a dozen large, bulky men stood around the edges of the lobby, their arms crossed, watching them. The three scanned the security corps, looked at each other, then began unloading hardware from hidden parts of their bodies. It took Jed somewhat longer. Finally dropping the long pin from his hair, he leered at her with a lascivious grin.
The woman smiled professionally. "And the plastic pistol on your ankle, please."
His smile faded to a sneer, and he tossed the little, flesh colored automatic on the desk.
The woman keyed one of her monitors. "Excuse me, Mr. Slen, but the three men are here to see you now."
In a moment, a smiling, ruddy-faced man strode into the lobby with his hand outstretched. "Good afternoon, Gentleman. I'm glad you could come. I hear you have a proposition for me. Please come this way."
Following a vigorous hand-shaking ceremony, the trio followed him down a hall of paneled doors to one near the end. He led the way into a boardroom, and when they were seated across from him at a long table, he said, "Now, about the proposition you spoke about on the phone, do you have the merchandise?"
Phil eyed the big, smiling face for a minute, then said, "Yeah, we have it. How much are you offering?"
"We realize that the object has no value to anyone but the Cult, still we're prepared to be generous. Say, a half a million? Corporation credits, of course."
Phil did not blink. "We heard you were offering more, say twice that much."
The man's smile became intimate. "Well, you know how rumors are. You just can't trust them. Let's say six hundred."
Phil watched the man thoughtfully, then checked his watch. Ignoring Jed's astonish look, he stood up. "Well, we have a couple of other places to go. It's been nice talking to you, Mr. Slen." He headed for the door.
After glancing at each other, Jed and Dante followed.
But when Phil opened the door, he found a giant of a man passively staring down at him. He wore the obligatory black suit.
Phil paused and turned slowly. "Mr. Slen, are we going to have trouble getting out of here?"
Dante and Jed slipped into position next to him.
The room became ominously quiet.
Suddenly a wheezing, augmented voice spoke up. "All right, Jeffrey, that'll do. Thank you."
The ruddy man's face went blank, and he walked past the men and out the door.
A slim, older man in a black satin vest appeared at the end of the conference room. "This way, please, if you don't mind."
Phil glanced at the unmoving giant, then at Dante. "What do you think? Do you mind?”
Dante shook his head. "No, I certainly don't mind."
The thin man ushered them into a dim chamber lit only by hidden, muted illumination, and left. At the far end stood a large tank filled with yellowish, bubbling liquid.
The wheezing voice echoed from the walls. "Come closer, if you like, and sit down."
The men walked over and sat in several of the chairs arranged in front of the tank. Inside bobbed a great, slimy, lump. Tubes ran from it out of the tank.
The rasping voice spoke slowly, fighting for breath. "I watched you, Mr. Dyak. It didn't take you long to perceive that Jeffrey, for all of his ability, wasn't me, did it?"
Phil fought to keep the revulsion from his voice. "Are you Slen or not?"
"I am. And you are Phil Dyak, and you and your men reside on S.A. Forty-one-dash-ninety-two, a former mining colony of mine."
Suddenly a high-pitched, slowly ascending wail burrowed into Phil's brain. The searing sound increased, burning intolerably.
Bile welled up in his throat, and he began shaking, and gripping the armrests of the chair to keep from hurling himself to the floor. The pain intensified, and the room disappeared in sooty unconsciousness.
Then he was lying on his pallet in the Cult's pleasure quarters. A priest loomed above him, a leer smeared across his drunken, painted face. He was opening his robe.
Phil woke slowly. Jed pinned his wrists to the chair's armrests, and Dante held his head back, holding down his chin.
Seeing Phil focusing on him, Dante released his mouth. "Are you all right?"
Shakily he nodded, and the men stepped aside and sat down, watching him closely.
As his panting slowed, Phil tried to focus on the figure in the liquid. His throat burned with thirst. He coughed and tried to speak naturally. "All right. What's the game?"
"It is nothing," came the breathy rattle. "Just a business device."
"I get it. Now you know what I hate."
"Not really. I don't know what you saw, but I do know what tone induces a seizure. More importantly, you know I know. So what about the goddess? I must have her. In observing your attacks against the Cult, I can only surmise that you must hate them. But I can assure you, Mr. Dyak, it is only the smallest fraction of my own hate. What you see before you, a freak, a creature in an glass bowl, is the result of my first confrontation with the Cult. Perhaps I shouldn't complain. Their maiming me and leaving me for dead, created a fire of hate that has fueled my drive to succeed. The Cult is big, my biggest competition, but we too are big, and getting bigger."
Slen paused, heaving for breath, then continued. "But I want a goddess. I have not lost my intimate feelings. With millions of nerve ends exposed, I am far more sensitive than the average man. The goddess will join me in my tank. Only she can bring me to ecstasy." The voice grew hard. "How much, Mr. Dyak?"
In the back of Phil's mind he thought he felt the sickening tone worming into his brain. He spoke harshly. "You know what the price is; one million credits. Either make a deal, or forget the whole thing and we'll get out of this aquarium."
A strange rattle pervaded the room, growing in volume, and it took the men a moment to realize Slen was laughing. The rattle ended in a fit of hacking.
"One million it is," he gasped. "I would have given you much more. Bring the goddess to me, and the money is yours."
Phil stood up. "Not so fast. Pay half now." In the corner of his eye he saw Jed start and stare at him in shock, then search the murky liquid for a reaction.
Slen paused. "Why should I?"
"We had to borrow from Agatha Caan to steal the goddess. If she doesn't get her money soon she'll be coming after me. If you know where I am, she can find out too."
"You borrowed from the Aga Khan? Foolish move, Mr. Dyak. I sometimes believe she is even more ruthless than I. All right, how do you want it delivered?"
"I'll get back to you and tell you what banks and under what names the money should be deposited," he said and stalked from the room.
As the three strode down the hall, Jed was barely able to contain himself. Finally, as the elevator doors closed behind them, he double his fists, raised his head, and crowed. "We did it. We got away with it."
Phil twisted around. "Sit down and shut up," he snapped.
Jed's grin did not diminish. "What's the matter, ol' buddy?" Then he nodded. "Oh, I know. You got the Cult after you, corporate cops, Aga Khan, and now, if anything happens to the broad, Garve Slen and Dynamine Corp. No wonder you're nervous." He laughed gleefully and did a little jig.
Phil, his face twisted with anger, reached for him.
Suddenly the vista of the city in the wide window behind them blurred and turned into Jeffrey's smiling visage. But the words he mouthed were rasping and familiar, and not smiling.
"That's true, Mr. Dyak, if you and your men don't deliver the goddess, you will wish you never thought about stealing a goddess. There will be nowhere to hide."
The face faded to be replaced by the cityscape.
Subdued, Jed slid into one of the chairs and avoided Phil's poisonous looks, and the three rode the remaining way down in silence.
CHAPTER 5
Dante pulled himself into the console chair next to Phil, and handed him a sandwich. "I meant to tell you, while on Rupert I gained access to the Cult's computer."
"No, I just wanted to check on the progress of that big ship I was telling you about."
"And?"
"It's still coming, and it's still the biggest thing this system will have ever seen."
Now Phil glanced at him. "Are you sure it's a ship? Is it still riding behind the comet?"
"I am, and it is."
"Has the Cult picked it up yet?"
"There's been no activity in their computers on the subject yet. My last request for a shot of that part of the quadrant was the last recorded."
"What do you think it is?"
He shrugged. "I think it is just what it looks like. A very large man-made, or something-made, ship."
"One that doesn't want to be seen entering our system."
"That's an inference, I'm afraid."
"Why else would it be hiding behind a comet? Drafting?"
Dante's eyebrows rose. "Drafting. I wonder," and he drifted out of the control room.
The first thing that Phil wanted to do as they landed in the Hole was to check the goddess. He noticed that the bubble in the center of the cavern had disappeared. He sped to Kim's house, landing on her balcony.
Without knocking, he slid the glass door aside and entered the darkened room. There was a cry, and he twisted around, trying to see through the gloom. The goddess, naked and cringing, her face twisted with fear, was ungainly trying to hop away in the fractional gravity. She stumbled against a low table and cried out with pain, fending herself off from the wall.
For the first time he observed that, other than her beautiful white mane and arching eyebrows, she had no body hair.
Kim bounced in and hurried to comfort the girl. She frowned at him. "What’re doing here?"
He didn’t like her tone. "What the hell does it look like? I'm trying to find out if she’s going to be saleable."
She took a suction bottle from her back pocket and put it in the girl's mouth. As the girl drank, she became quieter.
Kim lead her into the bedroom and lifted her into a sling lined with thick fur. The fur seemed to relax the girl and she drank quietly.