The Sex Life of the Gods

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Lors finished dressing himself, buckling the black belt about his waist;then he looked down at the still form of Zark's daughter, Jela, goldenin the light of the overhead bulb. She slept like a baby. He blew a kissto her and let his breath out in a rush.

  "If everything goes right," he whispered, "I'll be back before you knowI'm gone. If not..." He let it hang there and checked the loads in theauto-pistol.

  Then he went out into the bright light of the corridor.

  * * * * *

  The guard merely accepted his auto-pistol when he stopped at the door toDanson's prison. Lors gave it to him and the spacer opened the door.Nick Danson rubbed the beard on his face and grinned at him.

  "Forget something, Firstspacer?" He asked.

  When the door closed, Lors said: "Shut up."

  Danson blinked.

  "Sit down."

  Danson sat.

  "How badly do you want to get off this ship, Danson?"

  "How badly do you want to make Commander?" Danson countered and lit acigarette.

  "You willing to risk your life?"

  "Why not? It isn't worth a hell of a lot anyhow."

  Lors reached into Danson's shirt pocket, found the pack of cigarettesand filched one. Nick touched a match to it and Lors dragged the smokeinto his lungs. He could see the Terran regarding him suspiciously.

  "What's the play, Firstspacer?" Danson asked.

  "You're dead, Nick," Lors said softly, "if you stay on this ship. Thatcan be either literally, or figuratively speaking, I don't know. It alldepends on Zark's plans for you."

  Nick snorted, "Hell, Lors, it can't be any worse than whatever Imry hadcooked up for me."

  "It'll be better. That I can assure you. Zark is a just man, but hehasn't much feeling for Terrans..."

  "Yeah, I know. The "god" theory."

  Lors nodded.

  "Well, look, Firstspacer," Danson said, snubbing out his cigarette."Your concern for my welfare touches me deeply, but I don't get it. Howcome?"

  Lors grinned. "I've been asking myself that same question, and while Ican get answers that make sense to me, I sincerely doubt if they'd makesense to you.

  "Why don't we just say I like you."

  "That's rich, but I'll buy it. All I've got to lose is my chains..."

  "And your memory."

  "Come again?"

  Lors sucked on the cigarette. "You can't talk about this thing to anyoneexcept your wife."

  "Who'd believe me anyhow?"

  "It's bigger than that, Danson. If you talk to anyone, I'll kill you."

  "You don't make sense. Why not kill me now?"

  Lors sighed. "Look, Commander Imry made a booboo, to use one of yourterms, and I got caught in the middle. This whole operation is fouled upbecause of what he did. If we don't try to put things back, it's goingto be in a real tough light.

  "For the first time in history, Terra is in possession of a scout shipeven though it is wrecked. Not only that, but they know it. They're hoton the trail of us. And if enough Terrans get wise to us, we'll be introuble. You've read my diaries and journals. You know what it's like uphere. My planet needs Earth as a trade base, and if you people ever wakeup as a race, we'll be able to help each other a hell of a lot. Maybethat's why I want to take you back to your wife. Is that good enough foryou?"

  Danson nodded. "I guess so. I know enough about this situation to tellthat you're either on the level, or you're a damned convincing liar.What's the plot?"

  "The plot, as you put it, is to get you and Brice back to earth..."

  "Brice? Nolan Brice? He's here?"

  Lors nodded. "Brice found your watch where my scout ship cracked up andguessed who I was before I did. I was hiding up at your cabin, trying tofigure things out when he decided to put a bullet into me. Both Beth andI thought I was you and she was trying to help me figure out what I'dbeen doing for thirteen months. Brice came in shooting and my peoplekidnapped him."

  "Great."

  "In any event, I think I can get Brice to the scout ship. I'm going torely upon you to spring yourself out of here and get down to the hangar.You'll pass for me easily. Okay?"

  "How do I get past the guard?"

  "I'll fix it. If I can't, I'll be back."

  "Okay, Buck Rogers. It's your show."

  Lors grinned at him. "Keep your fingers crossed," he said and went out.

  * * * * *

  "I won't do it," Narvi said flatly. He lifted his glass and took a largeswallow of the drink to punctuate the sentence. "You've got to," Lorsinsisted. "You know as well as I do, it's the only way to straightenthings out."

  "You talk to Zark?"

  "How can I tell him about it? What am I supposed to do? Tell him that Ilove a Terran and want her to be happy?"

  "Thunder and lightning! What's so important about Brice and Danson?They're only Terrans. This woman you're so silly about will find someoneelse. Lors, by the gods, if you take those two back they'll talk toeveryone they can get their hands on..."

  "No they won't, not Danson. Narvi, that's the beauty of this whole plot.Danson understands that our people simply want to begin tradenegotiations with Terra; he's learned to speak and read our language andhe knows how badly we want to trade with his people. He'll help us..."

  "What about Brice," Narvi snorted.

  "Brice can be handled by Danson. If that doesn't work, we can threatento do all sorts of things to him."

  "And you want me to take the guard's place, outside Danson's quarters,and give you time to steal a scout ship?"

  "Yes."

  Narvi cast his blue eyes toward the ceiling and groaned aloud. "If Ikeep doing all these goofy things for you, I'll never make commander. Iwon't even make Vice-commander."

  Lors smiled. "Don't worry about it. If things work out, you'll have hada hand in opening up a new planet for our trade rockets."

  Narvi sighed. "All right. I'll do it, although I should have my headexamined by the ship's doctors."

  Lors grinned at him and finished the last of his drink. "It'll work out,Narvi, and you'll probably get a medal."

  "A prison cell, likely," Narvi snorted, "on Thista."

  Lors slapped him lightly on the arm and left the ship's wardroom. He hada lot to do, and damned little time to do it in.