He was an ugly old man. Not that his features were particularly repulsive; they weren't. But the aura of evil he carried about him was as perceptible as rotting wet vegetation. Some folk felt nice, some felt ugly. This one felt ugly.
"Hello, my dear," he said. The voice was high, almost girlish, but there was little hint of age in it-no quaver, and certainly no weakness. It wasn't even a tiny bit grandfatherly, although that was apparently the impression the man was trying to give. "Glad to see you're awake. Permit me to introduce myself."
"Not until you release me and my friend from these ludicrous contraptions!" she said, putting as much ice info her words as possible. The oldster didn't appear chilled. "And until you explain yourself. Then perhaps I may forgive you enough to make your acquaintance. This is a strange way you have of doing business."
"I suspect, my dear, that your concern with my business is not from the point of view of a purchaser. Meanwhile you should know-whether you `forgive' or not-that my name is Dominic Rose, my title Lord, and that you are presently ensconced, however indelicately, in my own residence some several hundreds off kilometers from Repler City. As for releasing you, I have two pilots currently undergoing treatment in my private dispensary. One has a broken kneecap, the other six parallel wounds in his belly that your not-so-stuffy companion put there."
"I do apologize for that," broke in Porsupah. "I was aiming for his eyes, but he slipped. I will have the peasant's head and my Uncle his ears whey word of this outrage is revealed!"
"You will have nothing but a short existence if you persist in upsetting my liver, Tolian. Your `Uncle's' reality is suspect. Now then," he continued, turning back to Kitten, "if you will simply tell me who you and your friend are, we might avoid any messy unpleasantness. I should also like to know which of several governments or competitors of mine you are working for."
"I don't see that my identity should be in question," she replied venomously. "Surely you've gone through our private effects by now!" Inside she was beginning to shake a little. This fellow was too direct. Such men survived by a habit of discarding semantic chaff and going straight to the point. Cold men disdained word-play.
"Oh yes," Rose said. "They declare you, quite thoroughly, to be one Pilar van Heublen. A young lady of respectable means and impeccable pedigree here on a pleasure trip from Myla IV. Should I request confirming detail, I am sure you could embroider these facile evasions elegantly."
"Why should you doubt them?"
"There are several reasons, my dear," he sighed. "At least one of which, I am informed, you are already aware of. I wish you wouldn't try to bandy words with me. You openly brandish a forbidden import Terran tobacco, in full view of several police. Not only do they not take you into custody, they studiously ignore you! This brands you as something other than what you claim to be. You might still be the same person your Ident claims, but I doubt it. In any case, I doubt your avowed purpose in coming here completely, wholly, instinctively.
"A false identity, influence of a high order with the police, coupled with interest in a truly rare drug only recently available again on the market, add up to more than a wealthy flit out for a new thrill. Your Ident and credit slip appear to be perfectly legitimate, and I assure you they have been gone over by experts. This makes you doubly suspect; such things are obscenely difficult to forge. Work of such a high order few organizations can afford. Governments are among these. A very few of my competitors too. But they are not usually so subtle in their method. When they seek information they are more apt to send a dozen inquirers with persuasions of explosive mien. This leaves us where? Back with governments again. Now, I dislike bureaucrats on principle. If so, I dislike you. Anyone who interferes in the business affairs of ,a simple old man I dislike!
"I especially dislike pretty tourists who can throw a side-kick capable of breaking a man's leg, from a sitting position, no less. I think if you weren't tied down you might even try to break mine. Being an old man, I'd crack very easily. My bones are brittle, I'm afraid. Everywhere but my head. Perhaps you represent even more than our local police, umm? The Commonwealth, mayhap? Or even the Church?"
Kitten feigned a long sigh. "Old man, you have a maniac imagination. Or possibly it's simple senility."
Rose's expression did not change. "You're as feisty as you are lovely. I'd rather not ruin one to modify the other. And you may be right about my imagination. I'm using it right now. I'll keep on using it until you tell me what I have to know. The same will apply to your short friend." He gestured in Porsupah's direction.
"Perhaps you, Tolian, are more inclined to answer a few questions?"
"I vow vengeance!" Porsupah shouted. "Vengeance, when my family learns of this!- You will wish we were merely government puppets! My great Uncle is the second most powerful metals manufacturer on-!"
Rose was shaking his head slowly. "Such fine acting! Still, there is always the long, long chance that you are who you claim to be. That your ease with tobacco was due merely to ignorance all around, or some fantastic bribes in the proper places. In that case, I will later apologize profusely for what I am about to have done. For now, I would rather proceed."
He pressed a button or switch below Kitten's line of sight. There was the sound of a door opening. Kitten looked up and to the left to see an opening appear in the side of the room. A tall male figure entered. It was well muscled and nude to the waist. A black hood pierced with three slots for eyes and mouth covered the man's head down to the shoulders.
Kitten laughed-not easy, under the circumstances. "Oh ... oh now, really! How terribly, terribly melodramatic!"
"Isn't it?" said Rose rather fondly. "Please forgive me, my dear. I'm something of a traditionalist."
The figure walked to a small wheeled cart and pushed it over next to Kitten's bench. He stopped it close by her head. A large metal case sat on the cart. The man uncoupled four metallic latches and swung the two halves of the case open. The contents gleamed in the soft fluorescent light like faceted gems. They comprised a complete portable surgery.
"Physical torture!" she said contemptuously. "How unutterably crude! If you would persist in this idiocy, I would at least expect a modicum of sophistication!"
Rose smiled for the first time. There was no humor in it.
"The allegation has been made before, my dear. As I've indicated, I'm pretty nostalgic about some things. Despite the great advances in human technology, certain basics remain essentially unchanged. Only the methodology is improved. Also, I confess cheerfully that my motives are not wholly practical. The procedure involved provides me with a certain amount of pleasure. I like hearing pretty girls scream. We all have our little affectations. Mine is neither new nor unique. It's a time-honored human pastime. At least you must give me credit for my choice of tools. You're looking at a complete portable laboratory for organic repair-a very expensive toy, I assure you. Not the slightest danger of infection."
"How considerate you are!" Kitten rasped. She tried the bonds at one ankle this time, puling upwards as well as back.
"You won't break those strappings, my dear. Now, this particular surgery was made by the best thranx technicians on Humus. For different purposes, of course. Cost me a pretty credit, not to mention faking hospital credentials for the purchaser and a host of other details! But I have few hobbies and can indulge. If you look closely, you can make out the imprint of the noted Elvor laboratories on each instrument. See how they catch the light!"
Kitten was trying to look anywhere but at the objects of Rose's adoration. One glance had been more than sufficient. Where Rose saw beauty, she saw only a nightmare of piercing points and fine-honed edges. Things for gripping, things for slicing, things for scraping.
She shuddered for the first time. Even the most experienced operatives had only so much control.
"I understand," she continued drily, "that the sublimation of normal desires through the use of such devices is positive proof of the wielder's impotence."
"Such w
ell-honed insults! Such delicately practiced invective!" Rose clapped his hands boyishly. "I've read formal psychology, my dear. That is true in a few cases. Only a few. Anyway, as you can see, I've turned the actual operation -pardon the pun- over to this fine young friend of mine. It is him you should he trying to dissuade. He requested most firmly that he be permitted to perform as my surrogate. I agreed, because of my persistent problem in such things. I have a regrettable lack of patience and tend to get carried away early. That spoils things much too soon. Very unprofessional, too. My youthful compatriot, however, brings not only the necessary patience to the task, but also a certain young enthusiasm. And he's received expert instruction, even if he remains less skillful than I"
The mention of the semi-naked young man reminded Kitten of his unspeaking presence. She turned, with difficulty, to stare curiously at him. On impulse, she gave him her best helpless-young-maiden look. It must have had some effect, because the young man finally spoke.
"I've always had a suppressed desire to play at lower abdominal surgery without bothersome encumbrances like anesthetics," he said smoothly. He was toying with a long thin pair of finely-crafted forceps with razor-sharp tips. They made a squeaky sound whenever the two blades snicked together. A hand came up and lifted back the black hood.
It was Russell Kingsley.
"Relax, Maijib," Hammurabi said to his First Mate. The hoveraft sped over the slick waters. "Rose won't try anything silly or unprofitable. He's old, but he's not stupid. Our best insurance is thousands of kilometers skyward. There's no way he can get to the dust aboard the Umbra."
"Even so," said the diminutive Takaharu, "I'd feel a lot better about the whole business if you'd talk with him via comm and forget this needless appearance in person."
"No good Maj. He wouldn't believe a word I said from the comfort of the Umbra's forecabin. He might consent to come aboard, but he's a tricky old devil. I'd rather not let him on ship. He needs something in the way of concrete proof of my seriousness. I'm it."
The hoveraft slowed as Takaharu slid the rented craft slowly around the rocky circumference of the island, searching for the landing. Hammurabi noted idly that the large quasi-evergreens grew down almost to the water's edge, where the green stalks of water plants took over from the land-dwellers. It had been the same on all the islands they'd passed thus far. It was the same on Will's Landing, the island on which Repler City was located. It was more intense at the equator and less so nearer the poles.
The docking area sat at the head of a natural inlet. Several other vessels, one a transport of fair size, were tied up or beached at the landing. As they rounded the last point the comet buzzed and Takaharu leaned to flip the channel open. The small vidscreen lit but no picture appeared.
"You in the blue raft-identify yourself and state your business."
Mal leaned forward into the pickup eye of the raft's vidcast unit and spoke towards the omni-directional mike.
"Malcolm Hammurabi, Captain-Owner of the free freighter Umbra. To see Lord Dominic Rose. Business. As was earlier agreed, my pilot and I are unarmed."
They sat quietly while someone on shore dutifully relayed this information to someone equipped to deal with it. The raft's fans droned like an idle beehive beneath the floor.
The screen flickered briefly, then cleared. An unremarkable middle-aged man appeared on the screen glass. He was trying hard not to look bored.
"You're early, Captain. His Lordship has just entered conference. I am instructed to direct you to land. His Lordship cannot meet you there, but there will be someone suitable to greet you dockside and conduct you to the residence. Take the third slip, please."
The light faded, taking the face with it.
"Efficient S.O.B.," Takaharu said mildly. "A lot like his boss, I suspect."
"You're familiar with Rose's reputation?" Mal said, slightly surprised. "You didn't mention it before."
"Before what? I didn't expect you'd have personal dealing with him. No, friend of mine once bought an impale off thryacin from one of `his Lordship's' dealers. For a pet doggish that had the gout. Turned out to be colored ink." The mate revved the engine, coasted around a small moored boat. "The doggish died," he added.
"Um." Mal flipped off their own tridee. "Haven't seen him myself in some time. Doubt if he's changed much. He's a funny character. As they get older, most crooks become more fearful of death. Not Rose. He just becomes a little less moral, if that's possible."
Takaharu turned a sardonic face to his captain. "I wouldn't think so, judging from all I've heard of him."
"All things are possible. But if he's still degenerating he must be down to fractions by now. Your question would amuse him."
"And you think you can deal with a thing like that?"
Mal shrugged. "For what I want to do, I'll have to. According to the Holy Books, to quote, `the percentage of master in the universe that is composed of intelligent organic matter is comparable to a typical human's casual expectoration in any two of Terra's oceans.' It's not too difficult to put such people in proper perspective, depersonalize them. Try to think of a rock with rabies. Here's the slip."
Throwing more power to the rear-right fan Takaharu eased the raft around and edged up onto the dull plastic mat tacked down over the sand. A tall young man waited by the side of a telescoping ramp. Although far slimmer, almost gaunt, he was taller than Mal. Nearly two meters, he would have towered over the Mate. Dark complexion, red hair, and boyishly good-looking, Mal noticed. The youth extended a long arm to help Mal up from the cabin port, realized his error and flushed.
"Apologies, sir. I'm afraid I'm not used to this."
"Skip it, kid."
"I am to conduct you to his Lordship's residence."
"Fine. As agreed, my pilot will remain on board until my return." He waved back to a watching Takaharu, who promptly cut the engines on the raft. The craft settled gently to the landing mat as air was expelled from its cushion.
Mal turned back to his guide and with a start noticed that the ornament curled about the lad's right shoulder was more than simply well-crafted. It was alive.
Pleated wings unfolded to reveal a long neck topped by a flat triangular head. Wide yellow eyes stared down at him quizzically. The Captain took a step backwards and groped for the blaster that wasn't there. The youth noticed the flinching movement and hastened to explain.
"It's all right, sir. He won't harm you. He's harmless. Well, tame, anyway." He reached up and began scratching the reptile on the back of the slightly ridged neck. The snake closed its eyes and relaxed, the wings refolding. "He's just wary of strangers, that's all." The youngster gestured up a slight incline. "The residence is just ahead. If you'll come..."
Mal matched strides with his guide-carefully staying on his left. He continued to keep a wary eye on the somnolent minidrag.
"That is a flying snake, isn't it? From Alaspin?"
"Yes sir. I'm surprised you recognized him. They're not often found off their native world, I understand."
"First time I've ever seen one off it. Gave me quite a turn. I believe the poison they throw is almost always fatal."
"Yes," replied the youth without breaking stride. "If the poison hits an open wound or the eyes, death usually occurs within a minute or so. If it hits bare skin or organic clothing it takes longer. It's highly corrosive, too. There is an antidote, but the chances of a victim receiving it before death occurs is slight. The speed it kills with doesn't permit much time for turning some up."
"Not hardly," Mal replied. "I've never heard tell of a tame one."
"A fact which has been pointed out to me often, sir. It's a childhood pet. I can't remember a time when it wasn't close by me."
They were walking among a scattered complex of structures. Done in neo-landscape style, they provided excellent dispersal and natural air-cover, making good use of island vegetation. The irregular shapes were all brown and green, blending easily into the forest. Few windows could be seen. The only well-expos
ed structure was a single, needle-thin observation tower which poked its disc shaped crown above the top of the tallest tree. The upper surface of the disc exploded in all directions in a wild electronic hairdo. No question but that their approaching hoveraft had been visually spotted long before commtact had been made.
"For a quiet, peaceable trader his Lordship takes rather extreme precautions," Mal ventured, hoping to draw some useful information from the lad.
"I cannot judge such things, sir. I have been in his Lordship's employ for yet a very brief time. By the way, my name is Philip. I am aware that his Lordship has many acquaintances who would not be displeased to see him expire in violence. So he takes care. An interesting personage."
Mal peered more closely at the youth's bland expression. "You're a perceptive young man. Yet you don't strike me as the type Rose would hire. What is your job? I might add that your off-planet accent sticks out like a solar flare."
"As to that, sir, I know it well. I've been on Repler the same short time ..."
"Damned if I can place your accent. Yet. ..."
"... but one seeks employment where one can. I did not know for whom I was to work when I took the job. One of his Lordship's subalterns hired me. I am good at my work."
"Which is?" Mal prompted.
"Well ... watch out for that branch, sir ... currently my title is `apprentice sanitation engineer.' I work with the less popular by-products of existence. Keep finer sensibilities from contact with them. At least, that's what it says in the manual." He grinned, added by way of apology, "I'm afraid his Lordship's selecting me to greet you was a calculated offense."
Mal grinned back. "Don't let it bother you. Seeing that damned thing play arm-jewel on your shoulder makes up for it, plus some." He gestured at the deadly reptile.
They arrived by a building so well camouflaged it seemed a part of the hillside. Not the largest of the complex, it was clearly designed even from the outside as a place for living rather than for business.
The guide pressed a palm to one side of the green brown wall. A wide double panel separated with a slight hiss, offering entrance. A long alcove was revealed within. It was completely walled with bronze-inlay mirrors and carpeted in synthetic furs. They entered.
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