INFINITY HOLD3

by Longyear, Barry B.

  I had heard tapping on my bars. I moved to the barred end of my cell, crouched next to the left wall and whispered, "What?"

  "Quick," a voice had answered. "Read this. It'll save your life."

  I had reached through the bars to my left and felt the end of a book. After I had it in my possession, I opened it. It had been Southey's Life of Nelson, but I quickly flipped past the front stuff and began reading.

  I had been well into Nelson's time on the Agamemnon before I rapped on the bars and asked the shark in the next pen his name.

  "Dave Cole. In the yard they call me Big Dave."

  "Big Dave, how is reading this thing going to save my life?"

  He had laughed. "You're still alive, aren't you?"

  "So?"

  "It's working just fine."

  True. That book got me out of my own head. It saved my life, and started me on a reading binge that had never ended. And now it looked as though the book was about to save my life a second time. I opened the book as Mano Leaf wrapped up his toast. Inside the cover was the sheet Big Dave had cemented in to repair where the front cover had split off. On the second blank page in the front, Big Dave's name and number were lightly penciled in above a pen-written inscription to a fellow named Harold Drewitt dated July 1889. Big Dave would never have let that book out of his sight. He was dead and I felt like I needed to kill something in return. There was something else, too. I had never been much of a mathematician, but no matter how I added up the numbers, the Razai was in big trouble.

  I looked around at the faces and thought back to the routine Pau Avanti had put on in his tent. Whatever their other claims to fame, the members of the Hand were certainly a slick bunch of con artists. The secret of the con is always to give the mark what he wants. We wanted the Hand to be a weak and careless bunch of halfwits, and that's just what they gave us. I blushed at how we had been taken in. I covered up by laughing with the others at a joke that made no sense to me at all. Somehow I had to warn the others.

  Mano Leaf seated himself on his cushion as I replaced the book on the carpet. Acting drunk, I struggled to my feet and said, "Good friends, I know it is your custom to dine without female companionship, but I am having such a good time, and the music outside is so inviting, I must share a dance with my wife."

  "Oh, a wife!" said Padra Amitis.

  "And a dance," added Yal Donat. "Perhaps we could all have a dance?"

  "Perhaps," I answered, "although she is very shy. "But, come along. She may want to dance the night away."

  The six commanders cheered. I glanced at Slicker, and his jaw seemed jammed in mid-glut. He got to his feet, however, and brought up the rear of our happy procession.

  ▫

  When we approached the banquet area, several of the men were dancing with each other to the clapping hands of their comrades. Nance and the Chopper were clapping along, and suddenly the music ended. There was much applause, and while it was at its height, I came up behind Nance, bent over, and whispered in her ear.

  "I told them we're married, so let's dance and don't give me any shit. We're in big trouble."

  She turned her head, kissed my cheek, and whispered into my ear. "You sure do smell pretty, Bando. I can't dance. Can you?"

  "How tough can it be?" I answered. "We just need something slow and huggy so we can cheek it up and I can fill your ear with sweet somethings."

  "You can't dance either?" She stood up, and never did her six foot something look so tall. She turned to the small band that had been plucking and blowing out the tunes.

  "Something slow and dreamy." She looked at me with the biggest brown eyes I had ever seen. "My man wants to dance." I glanced at the Chopper and Bloody Sarah to dare them to laugh, but they were looking elsewhere.

  A chorus of howls began and it ended with a round of applause and the band playing. The song was a slow folk melody of some kind that seemed very familiar to me. I put my right arm around Nance's waist, and was surprised to find her waist at waist height. Somehow she was squatting down, her bent knees hidden by her sheet, so that her head could rest on my shoulder.

  "What is it?" she asked.

  "The Hand must've hit at least one of the other gangs from our ship. Maybe more. I found something that belonged to a friend of mine. There's only one way he could have been separated from it, and that means he's dead. The Hand must've learned about the Razai from the others. I don't think the prince is here in the desert going after Kegel. I think he's after us—after the women."

  She wriggled around, put her arms around my neck, put her cheek against mine and snuggled her lips into my ear. I was beginning to get a little cranked up.

  "I don't get it," she whispered. "What about the guards, the sloppy discipline?"

  "Just pin a cow pie on my nose, querida. Like a couple of marks with hay in our ears, I think we've been sucked in here real good, is what I think."

  "O'Goomba? You think that mick wop red-haired Sicilian was doing a number?"

  "That's what I think."

  She was quiet for a moment. "Hombre, I would hate to think I believed he was that stupid because he was that smart."

  "That's how you set up the mark, Nance."

  Again she was quiet. I could feel her head shake slightly as she thought. "Bando, there's more to this. Have you seen any women in camp?"

  "A few. They use a bunch of angel cakes over in the Men's Hall for servants and—" I searched my failing memory for a term. "Bath attendants."

  "Did you get your whistle cleaned, Bando?" I searched for a response, but the heat from my face appeared to be response enough for Nance Damas. "Bando, at least pick your feet up and put 'em down. When you slide around like that you're digging yourself into a hole. If you get any shorter I'll have to dance on my damned knees."

  We shuffled around a bit more, and she whispered, "What about the column? Are they going after the column right now?"

  "My guess is no. I think they want to seduce us. It costs less. If they wanted to fight we would've heard something by now."

  We moved around a bit more and Nance whispered, "There's something more to this. We've got to get out of here. Keep alert."

  I whispered back, "What's the name of that song they're playing?"

  "La Paloma," she answered. "There's a lot of chili pepper in that goomba band."

  The tune came to an end, Nance leaned back, gave me a big kiss on the lips, and turned to the crowd as she held out her hands. "I am having a wonderful time!"

  The crowd cheered, and one of the men stood. "Then bring your whole gang in! We'll have a party!"

  Another cheer. Nance grinned at the two-faced little bastards, gave me another kiss, and held out her hands again. "Before we can do anything like that, we'll have to get Pau Avanti's permission."

  "I don't think there will be any problem with that," said Padra Amitis with a tiny bow. He held out his hand to Nance and spoke to me. "With your permission?"

  I held out my hands and said, "Of course."

  The all-Sicilian jug band started up with a rousing Italian ranchero titled "La Noche e Tu," Nance stood up to her full height, and whirled the amazed commander of the Loyal Reds off into the night.

  In turn, I danced with the D.C. Chopper and Bloody Sarah to let them know what was happening. Sarah couldn't dance any better than I could, but Seraphine knew some steps, and even taught some to me. It was hard to concentrate on dancing, though, with the threat of the Hand hovering over us, not to mention the ax the Chopper had hanging at her waist bumping into my leg.

  Minnie McDavies even popped out of nowhere and got in a dance. It was when I put my arm around her waist I found out that, beneath her sheet, she wore God-issue.

  As I removed my hand and placed it on top of her sheet, I said to her, "You know, Minnie, you are about the sexiest and scariest little bit I ever met."

  She grinned at me and said, "Exciting, isn't it?"

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  ▫

  Let's Party

  ▫

  Back in the palace tent, Marantha sat upon a cushion at Pau Avanti's feet. "A party is an excellent thought," said the prince. His eyebrows went up a notch as he looked at Nance.

  "Was there a question?"

  "Yes. I think more of our women would come to the party if there was some way they could freshen up. We've been in the desert a week—"

  "—and sugar and spice only make up for so much," completed the prince. "I understand completely." He placed a hand on Marantha's shoulder. "Please take one of our water sleds, with the compliments of the Hand."

  "We are very grateful."

  "Yes," said the prince. "Should those attending the party wish to continue on with the Hand, as your friend Maranta has done, this will not offend, will it? I understand that, according to your custom, the members of the Razai are free to join whatever gang they wish."

  I was gaping at Marantha, and Nance poked me in the arm, snapping me out of it. "How about it, lawman?"

  "Yeah," I answered. "Rule two says that each person is free to follow whatever leader he or she wants."

  "Excellent," said the prince with a broad grin. "I fear that your gang will be a good deal smaller when we part company, Nance Damas."

  "Perhaps some of your men will choose to join us?" she offered.

  The prince's face was devoid of any softness or humor as he slowly shook his head. "No. That is not allowed." He squeezed Marantha's shoulder.

  "Tell them, princess."

  "Once a member of the Hand," she said, "always a member of the Hand." She smiled at me. "Bando, when you return tomorrow for the party, could you bring my things?"

  She had to be working a con. "Sure," I answered. "I'll bring your stuff."

  Marantha looked at Bloody Sarah. "Sarah, ease army Rhome carefully home. Ease army steel, too."

  Sarah nodded and answered with downcast eyes. "Your ease, sunrise."

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  ▫

  Home and the Law

  ▫

  As we marched through the night to our own camp, leading the six lugh team water sled, I was glad I was me and not Nance Damas. The responsibility I toted by being a Razai Cop was nothing compared to her load. It wasn't just that the Hand was probably preparing to take us over. There were some other matters, as well. Not only would that takeover involve placing the women they decided to take into some kind of slavery, I guessed it would also involve killing off just about all of the men.

  Just so it would be thick enough to patch a fusion reactor, there was Razai rule number two: Each person is free to follow whatever leader he or she wants. In other words, in exchange for the food, drink, baths, fine clothes, and the rest of what the Hand could offer, it was just possible that some of the women might be willing to give up wandering in the desert, counting drops of water, and smelling like hell with the Razai. They just might be talked into selling their asses for money, food, and a little security.

  There were bits in the Razai who had been doing that all their lives. It was the way things were because it was the way things had always been. Any way you looked at it, we were going to get hit hard.

  That was Nance's problem, not mine. As soon as we were out of sight of the Hand's guard escort, Bloody Sarah pulled the sled team to a halt and said, "Minnie, Seraphine, Slicker, let's go."

  They vanished into the shadows, and I looked at Nance as she got the sled team moving again. "What's going on?"

  She looked from the lead critter to me. "Didn't you hear what Marantha said to Sarah?"

  "What? You mean that stuff about easing Rhome's Army on home?"

  A note of exasperation crept into her voice. "Obviously you haven't been attending your training classes."

  "No kidding, Sherlock! Maybe I've been a little busy with the job you stuck on me!"

  She touched her fingertips to my lips. "I was just joking." She removed her hand, clucked at the lugh team, and continued. "It's a real simple first letter code. She said 'Sarah, ease army Rhome carefully home."'

  "Search," I said. "And then there was something else. 'Ease army Steel, too'—East. Search east. And Sarah answered 'yes'."

  "I think he's got it," said Nance with a smile which quickly faded as she pulled on the lugh critter's harness. "Let's get this water back, and you be quiet for a bit, I'm trying to think."

  I shut up. There was plenty to think about. What do we tell our own people? How do we keep the majority of the gang from going over to the Hand? How do we get Marantha back? And just what was east of the Hand's camp?

  By the time we got back to the point camp, I figured whatever could be done about the military situation was in better hands than mine. The problem of getting back Marantha and of defending ourselves against the Hand concerned me very little because I had something else to occupy my attention.

  My problem was Victor Myerson and Jim Bennet. When Nance and I returned to the point camp, Stays and Cap Brady were waiting for us. I followed the pair back to the column as Martin Stays filled me in.

  "It's a rape case. Considering what our population contains, it's amazing it's taken this long for one to happen."

  "Oh, I don't know," I answered with a touch of rancor. "We do pretty well for a town of two thousand. In less than a week we've managed a war, a murder, an execution, an attempted murder, and a rape." I spat in the sand. "Let's have the rest of it."

  "Jim Bennet, a shark from Lewisburg Max, claims that Victor Myerson, also from Lewisburg, boybunged him against his will. Myerson says he didn't rape anyone. Between the number of rapists and rape victims we have in the column, it's a real tense situation."

  I nodded. "This is the nightmare I saw when Nance shoved this job at me. This is just the thing I never wanted to see. What are we supposed to do?"

  Stays handed me several sheets of folded paper. "Just like always, Chief: what isn't in the rules, we make up. Here's your own copy of The Law of the Razai."

  "That sounds real impressive."

  "I thought so."

  As we approached the walking column, I asked, "Is there any doubt about the facts? Did Myerson do it?"

  "Myerson did it. He admits they had sex, but he says it wasn't rape. He says it was sex between consenting adults."

  "Are there any witnesses?"

  He nodded. "There are plenty who are willing to scream at each other, but I don't know if they're willing to back it up according to rule thirty-two."

  I started opening the papers and Stays said, "Thirty-two is the rule that gives false witnesses the maximum penalty under consideration."

  "That's a thought," I said. "What's the max payback for rape? What's the penalty? Do we let the victim rape the rapist back?"

  "In this case," Stays answered, "I think this Myerson would regard that less like a penalty and more like a treat."

  "Maybe that depends on what we rape him with."

  "For rape," added Cap Brady, "Jim Bennet is talking the big payback: death. There's a lot of support for his position in the crowd. But there's something else." He glanced at Stays. "Tell him about the complication."

  "A complication?" I said as I came to a halt. "You mean what you've been telling me is the simple part?" I rubbed my eyes as the lack of sleep made my skin tingle. "Tell me about the complication."

  Stays rubbed the back of his neck. I got the impression that he hadn't been getting enough sleep either. "The complication is one of the rapists from the Crotch. His name is Abe Lyles. He was in one of those therapy groups, and I think he meets with that bunch that keeps borrowing your book."

  "CSA," I said.

  "Yeah. Well, the complication is this. He says even if Myerson did rape the kid, it's not his fault. He says that Myerson's got an illness that makes him do those things." He lowered his hand. "And there's something else."

  "There had to be." I rubbed my eyes again and took a deep breath. I guessed that just about on
e more thing piled on top of this crapheap would have me looking for a rubber room. "What is it? Is Pendril Myerson's cockroach?"

  "No. In fact, Pendril is working for Bennet. Myerson has found his own money threads. It's a roach named Lane Rossiter."

  "Two lawyers?"

  Stays tapped the folded papers in my hands. "And both of them have copies of the rules."

  "Anything else?"

  Stays grinned. "Yeah. Welcome home, Chief."

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  ▫

  Bennet v. Myerson: The Warm-up

  ▫

  The sky was beginning to lighten as I took in the scene. The crowd was divided between the facing sides of two large dunes. Since the column wasn't moving, and since it was an issue in which everyone had an interest, there were close to fifteen or sixteen hundred spectators. The only thing limiting attendance to that level was the fact that the organized guards had their troops elsewhere trying to prepare to meet the Hand.

  I stood between the dunes with Marietta covering my back and keeping order. Stays covered the crowd from on top of the left dune while Cap Brady took the right. I counted the number of spectators who were carrying guns, decided the Razai Cops were understaffed, and a brand new rule began to geminate within.

  Pendril and who I guessed was Jim Bennet were off to the left discussing things. To the right I couldn't pick out Victor Myerson or his cockroach through any obvious means. I looked at the sheets of paper and raced through the rules from what's mine is mine down to rule forty-five which said that one found guilty of attempted murder may be expelled from the Razai.

  It wasn't so much the rules. I could remember them. It was the implications of the rules and how they fit together, and it was how the cockroaches were trained to see those implications that had my stomach burning up.