Double Solitaire

  "No, dear cousin, someone must return home to lead our family."

  "Then you know," Bazzakra said.

  "Know what?" Tach demanded.

  But the officer's mind had jumped to a new consideration. Plucking at his lower lip, he frowned off into space. "I must consult Taj. If it truly is you, Tis, you haven't lost your flare for a dramatic entrance at the final hour."

  Tach beat the palms of her hands on the desk. "What is happening to my home and House?"

  "Not over a public link," warned Zabb. "You have been among the mudcrawlers too long."

  A second later another figure flickered to life on the holostage. He was dressed in the more elaborate finery that the two humans associated with Tachyon at his flamboyant best. His face was heavily lined, gray streaked his temples, and one long brush of silver ran from a pronounced widow's peak back over the top of his head.

  "Finally, an old geezer," Jay said. "Too bad he looks like a geriatric skunk." Mark gave the detective an urgent nudge with his elbow.

  Taj studied Zabb's handsome and arrogant face, the thin lips curved in a slight, scornful smile, and ran a hand wearily over his face. "I know from long experience, Zabb brant Sabina sek Shaza sek Risala, that wherever you are, there dwells trouble. What is it this time?"

  "Is this link secure?" asked the younger man.

  "Yes. World Link is no doubt raving, but by the time they realize the scramble was deliberate, not technical failure, we will have concluded our business. Whatever that business might be."

  "Tisianne and her two servants require a shuttle."

  "Fascinating." It was a gift to be able to fill a single word with so much disdain. Zabb flushed. "Are you drunk or insane?"

  It was time Tach took a hand. She dreaded it -- the look and then either shock or amusement. Sucking in a deep breath, she said, "No, uncle. I am Tisianne. And I need your help. Worse than I did the night I'd been out whoring in the city over the absolute prohibition by father, and he force-locked the entire compound just to catch me. You overrode and slipped me back into the palace."

  The old man seemed to shrink. "Ancestors! It can't be."

  Tach leaned forward intently. "It is. I can tell you more. The day your sister -- my mother -- died. I had crawled under her arm, but she was so cold --"

  "Stop! Baz, get these... travelers down here. Now."

  "Yes, sir."

  "And make inquiries. You understand?"

  "Yes."

  "So he believes you?" Mark asked.

  "He doesn't know what to believe," Tachyon replied. They were waiting outside one of the docking bays. "Any good telepath could have pulled those memories from the real Tachyon's mind."

  "Zabb did vouch for you."

  "Given our family history, that could end up damning me more than helping me. After my father was... injured, Taj has served as regent to the House. Protecting my throne until my return. Protecting it most notably against Zabb." She sighed. Her back was aching abominably, and indigestion set her stomach to roiling. "And it won't take Baz long to discover that Zabb is captaining that Network ship."

  "So we're really in a 'have you stopped beating your wife yet?' situation," Jay said.

  "Not that hopeless. Once me meets me, our bona fides will be established."

  "Yeah?" Jay asked aggressively. Tach simply tapped her temple. "Oh... yeah." The ace walked a tight, nervous turn. Jay jammed his hands into his pockets. "Some kind of Takisian ordure is hitting whatever passes for the fan on this planet."

  "What makes you think that?"

  Jay simply tapped his temple. Zabb, Nesfa, and several Viand arrived.

  "I came to say farewell," said Zabb as if in answer to a question Tachyon hadn't posed.

  "It can't be soon enough."

  "And I to tell you... goodbye," Nesfa twinkled at Jay.

  Jay's eyes widened in alarm, his Adam's apple worked convulsively, and finally a single word emerged. "Great." He took up a position safely behind Mark Meadows.

  Tach returned to a contemplation of the amber lights running in complex patterns over the lintel of the air lock. A voice warned them softly in Takisian that a ship was arriving, and it was unsafe to open the inner door until docking was complete. There was a soft ringing like the chime of a glockenspiel, and the lights went blue.

  The lock cycled open, and Bazzakra, flanked by five soldiers, stepped through. The guards quickly fanned out. Their weapons were still holstered, but tension vibrated in the silence. A couple of the Takisians eyed Zabb respectfully, and Tach realized that her rival had been gone only five years. Her absence spanned over forty. Who would remember Tisianne?

  Baz was staring at her, mostly at her most obvious physical feature. Feeling as awkward and ungainly as a blimp, she stepped forward and made a quick, sweeping gesture across her forehead.

  "Read."

  She felt the delicate probe like the brush of a feather across a fingertip. It fell away at the same moment Bazzakra took a step backward.

  "Burning Sky! It is you."

  For an instant he seemed bereft of words. Here in the presence of so many powerful telepaths, Tach was discovering that her feeble skills seemed augmented. She could catch whispers, shadows of the thoughts around her. Bazzakra's were of total confusion, a man trying to make sense out of too many horrifying factors.

  Finally he shook his head and limited himself to a fervent, "The blood is well and truly flowing now."

  "Take me home, Baz. We'll sort it out later.'

  "If it can be," Zabb offered cheerfully.

  Baz's face closed down. There was regret in the blue eyes, but also contempt. He turned to Zabb. "You understand, my lord --"

  "That I'm an impotent bastard without a pedigree, and I can never, ever, ever go home. Yes, I know" He crossed to Tachyon and lifted her hand. "Goodbye, Tis. I hope you have a safe delivery. Whether back into your own form, or into the exalted ranks of motherhood."

  He leaned in and gave her the kiss between relatives, first on the forehead, then the lips. She was too clumsy to elude the embrace, and the contact left her shivering, her stomach reduced to a tight knot. Tach dragged the back of her hand across her mouth.

  The soldiers closed ranks around Baz and the three travelers, and they moved swiftly through the lock. Tach noticed the guards never turned their backs on the Viand. She was certainly home. It was depressing.

  The ship was a small, quick passenger shuttle. Bred for boring, repetitive work, it lacked the wit and sparkle of a ship like Tachyon's stolen Baby. But its thoughts were welcoming, and it extruded more benches to accommodate the newcomers.

  They began the uncoupling procedure. Tach sagged on a bench and tried not to fall asleep. Tried to plan. Tried to shut out Illyana. Tried to stop wondering what color her child's eyes would be.

  It was an alien emotion, but as the lock cycled shut, Zabb felt a fist close around his chest. He forced aside the homesickness, the sense of abandonment, and counted down the seconds. Far enough, but not too far. What he was about to try was utterly, totally, completely insane, but it would be a death to be sung, and whether he succeeded or failed, he would be out of the hands of the Network. He was going home.

  Zabb drew in three panting breaths through his mouth, sucked in a lungful of air, and, drawing his weapon, blew out the lock. Alarms began sounding, the edges of the rift secreting material as the station fought to heal itself and stop the hemorrhage. None of this really registered with Zabb. He kicked off hard, like a runner at the start of a race. Across the floor of the docking bay. The mad sprint was burning air, but it couldn't be helped. He needed the inertia. The outer hull lock was slowly shuttering closed.

  Zabb hit the edge of the bay and jumped. The abrupt loss of gravity set his stomach rolling. He focused on the gray, rough hull of the Takisian shuttle to ease the nausea. He measured his progress toward that surface against his remaining air. The calculations were not encouraging.

  Tachyon was jerked awake by the ship.

 
Master, an explosion has breached the integrity of the platform. Should I recouple?

  No! On visual.

  The ship obligingly offered them a view of the slowly retreating docking bay. Where the lock had been, there was a ragged hole. Tachyon lurched to her feet as she spotted the small figure in Network mufti diving slowly after the departing ship.

  "Jesus Christ," Jay breathed. "He'll never make it."

  "No," Mark said. "Inertia will carry him. If he can hold his breath long enough."

  The Viand were firing now, using their newly purchased weapons. They were lousy shots. High energy beams pulsing through the bay, light claws scratching at the fabric of space. Nothing came even close to Zabb.

  "Motherless mudcrawlers! Fire on my ship! On a Takisian! Return fire!" Baz ordered.

  Lasers lashed from the ship, and one of the Viand went down. Its pouch convulsed wildly, and the worm crawled free. There was an audible thump as Zabb hit the side of the ship.

  Tach clutched Baz's arm. "Don't let him in."

  She "heard" Zabb's preemptory command to the ship. Its acquiescence. Admiration for Zabb and a desire to obey Tachyon warred on Baz's face. His hesitation made the decision for him. There was no time to countermand the order to the ship. The inner door flowered open, and Zabb tottered through. Collapsed.

  Baz issued a telepathic command, and the ship leapt like a startled cat. Front heavy and awkward, Tach teetered, staggered backward. The bench caught her in the back of the knees, and she sprawled.

  "Remember all that blood that was going to start flowing?" she said bitterly. "Well, it certainly will now. And it's all going to be mine."

  Baz ignored her. In fact they all ignored her. Mark dropped to his knees beside the prone man and rolled him onto his back. Baz moved for a first-aid kit while Jay watched with bemused fascination. It was as piping female tones had no power to penetrate, the words held no meaning.

  Regaining her feet, Tach walked over and stared down at the unconscious man. Zabb's face was a brilliant red from burst capillaries. Blood flowed sluggishly from nose and ears. An array of complex emotions clawed at her -- hate, fear, love, the memory of a childhood hero worship... admiration. She was still a Takisian, and not even four decades on an alien world could blunt her acceptance of that quintessential Takisian attitude known as virtu. To try to succeed brilliantly and flamboyantly. To try to fail brilliantly and flamboyantly. It was all the same to a psi lord, so long as his actions had an effect. This exploit would ring through the halls of the House Ilkazam. And all Tach had managed to do was get kidnapped and knocked up. She returned home a victim. Zabb a hero.

  Baz administered an injection designed for just such mishaps -- though normally such accidents occurred because of spacesuit failure. The compound was designed to carry oxygen more efficiently through the bloodstream. Seconds later the drug kicked in. Zabb shivered and began dragging in great, gasping lungfuls of air.

  A moment later his eyes snapped open. He seemed confused, disoriented. Loudly he announced, "Consider the business relationship between the Network and myself to have been terminated."

  "A simple 'I quit' wouldn't do?" muttered Jay. "Little drastic, I'd say."

  "How else do you renege on a lifetime contract except by running?" whispered Trips.

  Baz assisted Zabb onto a bench. Tach leaned in, gathered the front of his Network uniform in both hands, and yanked him up until they were almost nose to nose.

  "My sin was bringing the Network here in the first place." She enunciated each word with exaggerated care, biting off the consonants as if they were enemies to be crushed between her teeth. "But you have compounded the transgression by ensuring that they shall never ever leave until we deliver your lifeless body to them."

  Zabb twisted his hand into her hair and pulled her even closer. "You're welcome to try, cousin."

  Chapter Eighteen

  Meadows kept talking. It was like listening to Carl Sagan on ludes. Relative mass, elliptical orbits, low density, probably metal poor, tossed and bumped like rudderless boats in the sea of technobabble pouring from the old hippie's mouth. It didn't mean jack shit to Jay. All he wanted was to look out the window (or whatever the hell it was on this low-flying ship critter) and watch the scenery flash by.

  It was better than the observation cars on the old Broadway Limited of Jay's youth. He'd loved to ride the trains, especially when his dad had taken a sleeper car. Lying in the upper bunk, swaying to the rhythm of the train as it raced down the track. The monotonous clicking of the wheels on the rails. The sudden flash of lights across the black glass of the window as they whipped through some small town. Jay always wondered who lived in those towns. How their lives differed from his. Well, that curiosity had carried him a shit load farther than the old Broadway Limited Chicago to visit Grandma.

  And there weren't going to be any ice-cream sundaes when they arrived, either. All he had was Mark Meadows aggressively proving that eggheads really were incredibly stupid, and Tachyon staring out the window with that blind, lost expression that made Jay crazy, and two male models who were twittering to each other like a pair of baritone pigeons on a phone line.

  Turning back to Tachyon, Jay studied that delicate and very beautiful profile. Wondered if Tachyon had any plan past the obvious imperative to get home. Her dear old chum Baz had sure transferred his loyalty to Zabb once he saw the condition his prince was in. Maybe this Taj guy would be some help. Jay had liked the look of the older man.

  "The tectonic stresses and activity must have been incredible to have pushed the plates into such vertical positions."

  Jay swiveled his head and stared at Meadows. "If you mean they've got really high mountains here, yeah, you're right. They've got really high mountains here."

  The pale blue eyes behind their thick lenses blinked rapidly several times. Jay felt as if he'd kicked a puppy.

  "I'm just trying to understand the planetary development, and how it might have affected the culture,' Meadows said.

  "And I just want to admire the view. And it's a lot more fun when you have someone to share it with. For example, I'd say, Wow, look at that mountain. And you'd say, Yeah, it's really high, and look at those amazing glaciers! And I'd say, The sun on the ice makes rainbows. Boy, that's really beautiful."

  "I see your point." Mark cleared his throat, his prominent Adam's apple jerking like a bobbin on a fishing line. "Boy, those mountains are really lovely."

  Jay sighed, returned his attention to the view. National Geographic would love to get a chance to do the first photo layout of Takis, combining as it did the best of the Swiss Alps and the Himalayas. Snow-tipped peaks thrust through the opalescent clouds like jagged talons reaching for the belly of the tiny ship. Then the clouds would suddenly part and reveal deep valleys verdant with vegetation. In other valleys the mountains fell away to lakes of an eye-aching blue. The great peaks drowned their feet in the still, deep waters, the reflections forming double visions of mountains and sky.

  There began to be signs of civilization. Houses perched dizzily on rocky outcroppings, tile-roofed farmhouses, cable cars connecting peaks and valleys. The ship flashed over a final peak, and they were flying across a bowl surrounded on all sides by mountains.

  Mark leaned forward eagerly. "A caldera. Probably the site of an ancient volcanic erup --" He broke off guiltily and rolled an eye toward Jay. "Sorry."

  Jay wasn't interested in geology. A city nestled like a starling in the circle of mountains. The predominant impression was of towers. Towers of all types and descriptions. Round towers, pointed towers, bell-like cupolas, some of them actually twisted like blown glass. And the colors. Jay couldn't tell if they'd been painted or if the stone actually came in these bewilderingly brilliant shades. There was a clear delineation where the older section ended and modern architecture began. The styles remained the same, but there was more glass in the newer buildings.

  Finally there was some reaction from Tachyon. She let out a funny little hiccuping cry,
but whether of grief or joy Jay couldn't tell. "The music center. It's gone." She spoke English. Jay knew it was unconscious. Knew it would drive her crazy if she knew.

  Zabb had that smile that Jay had learned to distrust. It meant something really unpleasant was about to emerge from between his teeth, and it was always directed at Tachyon.

  In his heavily accented English he said. "I'm afraid it was one of the casualties of the Vayawand assault."

  "They attacked the city?" The concept seemed to completely shock Tachyon. Jay didn't know why. Wasn't that what war was all about?

  "Unfortunately a number of House were attending a concert. Fortunately I wasn't. After your father turned himself into a vegetating hulk, someone had to lead the defense. Fifteen families arrayed against us."

  Only you could have defeated those odds," Bazzakra said in Takisian.

  Ass kisser, thought Jay, and Why is asshole number two speaking English? The ace then looked at Tachyon, her eyes drowned in misery, and he understood. Zabb wanted the humans to know he was tormenting his cousin, wanted to see if they would react. Was daring them to react. As Jay watched, a spark of fury burned away grief in the girl's gray eyes. "I will not be burdened with this guilt."

  'Bout time, thought Jay.

  "I wasn't here. Perhaps I should have been, but my presence wasn't going to lessen the damage done to Ilkala." She indicated the city with a wave of a hand.

  "The damage was foredestined when we initiated the ill-conceived experiment."

  "If you'd allowed us to test the virus properly --"

  "It wouldn't have made any difference!"

  "That's excusatory crap!" Zabb shouted. "The meta-Takisian powers that the virus would have provided us, coupled with our psionic gifts, would have made us the undisputed rulers of Takis."

  "No, she's right," said Mark softly. "On Earth we've had the wild card for almost fifty years, and guns and bombs are a match for any ace. It's like John Lennon said, man, we've just gotta give peace a chance."

  "Taj and my father should have seen this attack coming," Tachyon argued. "Our culture is poised on a knife's edge of malice, rivalry, and self-interest. You threaten to upset the balance of power that completely, and of course the other families are going to attack."