by Mike Resnick
“All right,” said Kinoshita. “But someone just killed and maimed a bunch of Ibn ben Khalid's supporters on your behalf. If I were you, I'd run like hell.”
“You're not me.”
“I don't see how you're going to get close to him now.”
“By standing still,” said Nighthawk. He looked up and down the street. “His people will find me.”
14.
Nighthawk stood alone on the rubble, waiting patiently.
He didn't have long to wait. Within minutes he was surrounded by bruised and bloody men, all pointing weapons at him. Ambulances sped by, floating above the street, coming from and returning to the city's only hospital.
There were no police, but a pair of bounty hunters showed up, only to leave when they found out there was no price on his head. Finally the confusion and noise abated somewhat, and Nighthawk turned to face a middle-aged man, one he recognized from the tavern.
“Why am I being held?” he asked.
“Look around you.”
“I'm not responsible for that. I was in plain view every second. I defended myself from one man, that's all.”
“There's a red alien. We want him.”
“What is that to me?” asked Nighthawk.
“We know he's your friend.”
“I have no friends.”
“He set off the explosives, and he was overheard saying he did it to save you. That's enough.”
“What he did was his business. I didn't set off any bombs and I didn't kill any people. You have no right to keep me here.”
“We want to know where the alien is. We think you can tell us.” The man leaned forward. “I heard you in the tavern. I know you believe in Ibn ben Khalid's cause.”
“So what?”
“So the alien killed six of Khalid's men.”
“I'm sorry to hear that,” said Nighthawk. “I may kill him myself.”
“He works for you. Or with you. If we let you go, you'll just join him and leave Cellestra.”
“How wise of you to know what I will or won't do,” said Nighthawk. “If you're typical of the kind of men Ibn ben Khalid recruits, maybe I'd better reconsider who I support.”
“Let's just kill him and be done with it!” snapped one of the men.
“I'm a supporter of Ibn ben Khalid, and you know that I didn't set off the bombs, and you want to kill me anyway? I wonder what Ibn ben Khalid would say if he were here.”
“He'd probably say to kill you,” said another man.
“If he would, then Cassius Hill's got nothing to worry about,” said Nighthawk. “I've got more faith in his judgment than you do.”
“Then turn the alien over to us.”
“Not a chance.”
“Why the hell not, if you had nothing to do with the bombing?”
Say it right, now, and put some fire in your eyes.
“Because I know what you're going to do to him. It's the same thing Men have been doing to aliens since the first day we found out we aren't alone in the galaxy, and I don't plan to be a part of it.”
“But he's a killer!”
“Even a killer deserves a trial,” said Nighthawk. “But he only gets it if he's a man. If I tell you where the alien is hiding, you'll shoot him or string him up.”
“You bet your ass we will!” said the first man. “He killed six of us!”
“Okay, he over-reacted, and he deserves to go to jail for it. But I'm not going to turn him over to a bunch of human bigots who want to lynch him!”
“Who the hell are you calling a bigot?”
“Who's threatening to kill me if I don't turn over the alien?” shot back Nighthawk.
Are they actually buying this shit? I sure as hell can't tell by their faces—and I don't even know what Ibn ben Khalid feels about aliens. What if he's not a bleeding heart?
“Look, fella, whoever you are,” said the first man, “if we don't find him, all we have is you, and you're going to have to answer for the bombing.”
“Fine,” said Nighthawk. “String me up—but I'm not turning an alien over to you until I know he's going to be safe in his jail cell and get a fair trial.”
“We don't have a goddamned jail!” exploded the man. “And what's all this fair trial crap? You know he couldn't get a trial of any kind back in the Oligarchy.”
“That's one of the reasons why we came out to the Frontier, isn't it?” shot back Nighthawk. “To get away from a government that wouldn't give an alien an even shake.”
The man stared at him for a long moment.
“All right,” he said at last. “What was the alien doing here in the first place?”
“He was here on business.”
“What kind?”
“You'd have to ask him.”
“Damn it, I'm trying to be reasonable. Your companion just destroyed the better part of a city block and killed some of my friends.”
“I'm sorry, and I'm sure if he's had time to reflect on it, he's sorry. He thought he was saving my life.”
"Thought?" echoed another man. “You were two seconds away from getting blown to kingdom come.”
“If you say so.”
“You don't think so?” continued the man. “Hell, even the Widowmaker in his prime couldn't have gotten out of that spot alive.”
Nighthawk shrugged and made no reply.
“Let's get back to what happened,” said the first man. “You walked out of the tavern. Rigby followed you. Then what?”
“He asked me to apologize. I did.”
“He attacked you for that?”
Nighthawk looked at his antagonist's still-unconscious body. “I don't know why the hell he attacked me. Ask him when he wakes up.”
“Let's keep going. He attacked you. Why?”
“He didn't like my opinion of Cassius Hill,” answered Nighthawk. “Or maybe he didn't like what I think about Ibn ben Khalid. It comes to the same thing.”
“And you knocked him out?”
Nighthawk gestured to the unconscious Rigby. “There he is.”
“Then what?”
“Then three of his friends came up with their guns drawn. I don't think they were going to shoot me, I think we were on the verge of talking things out—but my friend saw them and assumed they were about to kill me, and he did what he felt he had to do to save me.”
“So you might say that the six men who were killed died because you were defending their leader?”
“It's a little simplistic, but if you want to say it, I won't disagree with you.”
“You present us with a problem,” continued the man. “You got into a fight defending a man we respect, that some of us all but worship. You refuse to turn the alien over to us for fear he won't get a fair trial.”
“Any trial,” Nighthawk corrected him.
“Any trial,” amended the man. “Those are both virtues that we should respect. Yet it won't bring the six men back.”
“Ibn ben Khalid's at war with Cassius Hill,” said Nighthawk. “Casualties happen in wartime.”
“I know. That's what we have to consider.”
“Consider it until hell freezes over, but I'm not turning the alien over to you. If I have to be a seventh casualty, so be it. If I told you where he is, I'd be no better than Cassius Hill.”
“We're going to have to talk this over,” said the man. He turned to a couple of the younger men in the crowd. “Harry, Jason, keep him covered while we decide what to do.”
The two men stepped forward, their guns trained on Nighthawk, while the rest of the men and women went into the tavern. Nighthawk stood motionless, seemingly oblivious to his two guards, for the better part of ten minutes. He still had three small concealed weapons, and felt confident that he could disable or kill the guards at any time, but it suited his purposes to wait for the judgment of the men and woman who were currently deciding his fate.
Finally they emerged from the tavern, and the middle-aged man who seemed to be their leader walked up to Nighthawk.
“All right,” he said. “You seem willing to die for your principles. We've decided that you deserve to live for them.”
“I don't understand,” said Nighthawk, who understood perfectly.
“We'd like you to join us, to fight for the cause.”
“What about the alien?”
“He killed, he dies—but we'll find him ourselves.”
“Fair enough,” said Nighthawk. “How and where do I enlist?”
“You already have,” said the man. “A statement of principle is as formal as it gets—and you've already made yours.” He paused. “There are hundreds of thousands, maybe millions, of us all across the Frontier, waiting for the word.”
“When will it come?”
“When Ibn ben Khalid decides we're ready.”
“And when will that be?”
The man shrugged. “You'd have to ask him.”
“I'd like to. Where is he?”
“Who knows?”
“Somebody must,” said Nighthawk.
“If I knew, his enemies could torture it out of me, or drug me and make me reveal it. Much better that I don't know.”
“I repeat: somebody must know.”
“There's a complex chain of command. You could follow it until you were a very old man and still never come to the end of it.”
“Sounds inefficient to me,” said Nighthawk. “If it takes that long to get to the top, it'll take as long for commands to come down.”
“He's been one of us for less than three minutes and already he's criticizing the operation,” said another man contemptuously.
“If I'm going to put my life on the line for Ibn ben Khalid, I'd like to meet him. If he's too busy to see me personally, and I can certainly understand that, I'd at least like to attend a speech or a rally. Everything I know about him is second hand.”
“Then why did you risk your life fighting Rigby?”
“First, I didn't risk my life, and second, everything I know about Cassius Hill is first hand. I'll support anyone who's against him.”
“Good answer,” said the middle-aged man approvingly.
“Thanks,” said Nighthawk. “Now will you tell me where I can find Ibn ben Khalid?”
“I don't know. None of us do.”
“When's the last time he stopped off at Cellestra?”
“Never,” said the man, surprised.
“Never?” repeated Nighthawk sharply.
The man shook his head. “Don't you think we'd know if he had? He's never been here.”
Nighthawk stood motionless for a moment. He could almost hear a distinct clink! as another piece of the puzzle fell into place.
15.
Nighthawk entered the ship and order the hatch to close behind him.
“We were getting worried,” said Blue Eyes, rising to greet him.
“Some of us were getting worried,” Kinoshita corrected him. “I kept telling him that you were the Widowmaker, that if he was going to worry about anyone, he should be worrying about the townspeople who thought you were their prisoner.”
“So what happened?” persisted Blue Eyes.
“I put on a performance,” said Nighthawk. “They bought it, hook, line and sinker.”
“What does that mean?” asked Friday.
“It's an old expression, from the time men were still Earthbound. In this instance, it means I've been welcomed into their organization, such as it is.”
“Such as it is?” repeated Kinoshita, frowning.
“Ibn ben Khalid's not here.”
“There is one other planet where I know he's been recently,” said Blue Eyes.
“Oh?”
“Yes,” continued the dragon. “A little world called Causeway. It's on the route from Jefferson II to Far London. The Oligarchy sent some agents in there, and from what I hear, he had them all tortured and killed.”
“A resourceful man,” remarked Nighthawk.
“Would an unresourceful man have survived this long?”
“Depends on the man and the situation,” said Nighthawk.
“Do you want me to lay in a course for Causeway?” asked Blue Eyes. “I think its official name is Beta Dante IV.”
“No, I'll do it,” said Nighthawk. He turned to Kinoshita. “Take charge of getting our clearance to leave. Be polite and accommodating, but no one boards us or scans us. If you have to, take off without permission and get us up to light speeds as fast as you can. I'd rather leave peacefully, but the main thing is to get the hell out of here. This world's a dead end.” He paused. “Once we're a couple of dozen light years out, let me know and I'll program the new destination.”
“Why not now?”
“I want us to seem to be heading back to Sylene now, just in case anyone has any idea of following us. Once we're out of tracer range, we'll turn and head off for Causeway.”
“I can do it.”
“I know you can,” said Nighthawk. “But if we make a mistake and allow someone to tail us, at least this way you won't bear the blame.”
“Right,” assented Kinoshita. “I can accept that.”
Nighthawk allowed himself the luxury of a small smile. “I thought perhaps you could.” He walked toward Melisande's cabin. “Is she in here?”
“Yes,” said Kinoshita. “She didn't like what I was thinking about Friday.”
“I can imagine,” said Nighthawk. He stood beside the door. “I'll be out in a couple of minutes. Don't disturb us.”
The door slid back, and he entered the cabin just before it closed again.
Melisande, who was sitting in the cabin's only chair, looked up from the book she was reading.
“What is it?” she asked.
“You tell me.”
She stared at him. “There is something!” she said at last. “You're excited!”
“What else?”
She concentrated for a moment. “I don't know. Just that you're transmitting very powerful emotional radiation.”
“But you don't know what it's about?”
“Not as an empath,” she replied. “But I'd be awfully surprised if it doesn't concern Ibn ben Khalid.”
“It does,” said Nighthawk. “I don't want you leaving the cabin until we land.”
“Why?”
“I don't want you to inadvertently reveal what you just discovered.”
“Still why?”
“I have my reasons.” Nighthawk paused. “Take your meals in here.”
“How long will this trip last?”
“A couple of days.”
“Who don't you trust?” asked Melisande. “Who am I not supposed to reveal this to?”
Nighthawk smiled. “Just stay in the cabin.” He turned to the door, waited for it to open, and stepped back out into the corridor that led to the galley. A moment later he was in the control room.
“That was quick, even for a human,” said Blue Eyes.
“That was vulgar, even for a dragon,” Nighthawk shot back.
“Of course. Vulgarity is my charm.”
Nighthawk walked over to Kinoshita, who was at the navigational computer.
“How's it going?”
“They're not happy about it, but they can't come up with a good reason to deny us permission to leave.” He looked up at Nighthawk. “They've already requested permission to search the ship. I denied it.”
“Have the sensors spotted any weaponry trained on us?”
Kinoshita shook his head. “No. They just haven't given us permission to take off.”
“Scan deep space.”
“Done.”
“When's the next incoming ship due to hit the atmosphere?”
Kinoshita studied the holographic screen. “About forty Standard minutes.”
“Okay, there's no likelihood of hitting it. Take off.”
“You're sure?”
“They're not going to shoot until they know Friday's on the ship. The longer we stay on the ground, the more likely they are to find out.”
Kinoshita gave the order to the computer, and a moment later the ship was streaking through the upper atmosphere of Cellestra. When it entered space, it jumped to light speeds.
“Any pursuit?” asked Nighthawk.
“Not that I can find.”
“We'll stay on this course for an hour or two, just in case they're tracking us. Then we'll head back to Causeway.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Kinoshita, finally looking up from the control panel.
Nighthawk turned to Friday. “I haven't had a chance to speak to you since you blew up those buildings.”
“I saved your life.”
“First of all, my life was in no danger. And second, even if it was, we both know that you did it because you enjoy killing men, not saving them.” Nighthawk paused and stared at the red-skinned alien. “If you ever set off an explosive again without my permission, all bonds are broken, all agreements forgotten, and I will hunt you down and kill you like an animal. Do you understand?”
“Yes. The next time your life is threatened, you wish me to take no action at all.”
“If that's the way you choose to interpret it.”
“You should not alienate me, Widowmaker,” said Friday. “I can be of enormous use to you.”
“You can also be an enormous handicap,” answered Nighthawk. “Actions have consequences. Yours came very close to getting me killed.”
Friday stared at him, then turned his back and stared at a viewscreen.
“I would have liked to have heard your line of bullshit,” said Blue Eyes. “You must have done some snappy talking to get those men to let you go.”
“I told them what they wanted to hear.”
“But you must have told them with sincerity,” said the dragon. “No one can lie like a Man.”
“You think not?” asked Nighthawk.
“Well, except maybe for blue dragons.”
Blue Eyes threw back his head and hooted, and Nighthawk joined him. Kinoshita suddenly realized that it was the first time he'd heard the Widowmaker laugh in any of his incarnations. It wasn't a comforting sound.
After an hour Nighthawk sat down at the navigational computer, fed in the coordinates of the ship's destination, and walked to the galley, where he ordered a sandwich and a beer. Kinoshita and Blue Eyes joined him a few minutes later, while Friday continued staring at the viewscreen, back turned to the three of them.