Part 20 (1/2)
*T see they made a bit of a mess of yon in Gottingen.” She shook her head.
”Was it worth it-? You might have started a real war this time. If it hurts, HI get a quack in as soon as we've got tills little business over with-.**
”Don't bother, General. Ill survive.”
She ignored him, absently watching the Fleet men as they tore up some loose boards. ”Look sharp, you lot,” she chided them, ”or 1*11 do it myself. You haven't got all day.” Her features went lax. Still looking away from him: ”I'm not sure you wfll, Truck. And I don't have all that much time here myself,”
Her one eye focused on him suddenly. ”Frankly, you've made it a shade difficult for me with the people I answer to. They're sending me over to the Strip to sort out the c.o.c.k-up you caused there-”
She ran a hand through her hair. Her attention wandered. ”Truck, my love, why haven't you introduced us?”
And she smiled over at Ruth Berenici- 200.
-who, emerging from whatever personal nightmare found its expression in the street below only to find herself in a more public one, cried, ”Who are you?
How can you just burst in here like this- Animal!”
Alice Gaw c.o.c.ked her head to one side like a small deformed bird. ”Mymy,” she said. She planted herself, feet apart, in front of Ruth and stared up at her with an expression of chilly intimacy. ”Look, lovie,” she began evenly, ”I like you. I liked you on sight If I hadn't, I might have resented that.**
She reached out lazily and captured Ruth's lower jaw in one hard hand. She tutted sympathetically.
”That's a nasty scar. No, don't be shy. Let's have a look at it.”
And, with the muscles of her forearm trembling slightly, she forced Ruth's marred profile into the light.
”You know, that really is nasty,** she mused. ”Look duckie,” she murmured confidentially, ”111 tell you what: I'm fifty-six years old, and Fve been on my feet all b.l.o.o.d.y night long. Just you keep on the right side of me, and Til keep on the right side of you. Hm?” ”Leave her alone, General,” said Truck quietiy. Since his trip across the long floor, it cost him pain to breathe, to speak-even to concentrate. A warm brown fog had crept up while he was unaware and filled the^oom: events filtered through it to him only after a peculiar delay. There was a salty taste in his mouth.
”You can leave her alone, now.” The General relaxed her grip. Rum Berenici twisted out of it and fled whimpering toward the door, her long body ungainly with fear. One of the Fleet men caught hold of her. ”Just see she doesn't do herself any harm, lad,” said Alice Gaw. Tiredly, gazing out of the window: ”All right then Truck-where is it?”
Keeping his eyes open had become difficult-some kind of grit had worked up under the lids. He got the Centauri Device out from under his cloak, painstak-
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ingly stripped the charred and blood-stained rags of that other garment offit, and set it on his lap. It didn't look much.
”What do you see, General?*' he asked. He shrugged painfully. ”I don't think I really want to know. No- I'd stay put if I were you. You're talking to a Centau-ran.”
And she was.
His eyes closed. In twos and threes, driven across airless s.p.a.ces by a wind no one can name, coming the long way round from the gutter-edge outposts of the Galaxy, they were stifl drifting into his head, pressing up against the shuttered windows to await a glimpse of that crucial room-a direct, inevitable link between the Centauri Genocide and the deaths of all his friends.
All us losers are Centaurans-and that conceit established his ancestry more effectively than any biochemistry. Eyes open again he discovered General Gaw squinting across the room at him.
”You'll regret that, sonny,” she promised. And: ”It doesn't look like the thing I saw in the bunker.”
”I think it armed itself when I picked it up. You only saw its dormant phase.”
Something caught at his throat; he swallowed, coughed, tasted blood again-and this time the contraction of his diaphragm muscles triggered off a quick, uncontainable spasm of his lower intestine-he'd dislodged the spent Chambers bolt and it had fetched up somewhere in the mess behind his window. ”Oh,” he whispered. ”Oh, s.h.i.+t.”
Then, hearing a sharp intake of breath, a sc.r.a.pe of feet, ”I can set it off at any time, General!” He raised his head slowly from where it had slumped on his chest She had moved in a couple of yards and stood before him in a relaxed professional crouch. ”What made you think you'd be any closer to owning it when you found your Centauran?”
She showed her teeth.
”Come off it, Truck. Fm your only chance. From 202.
The Centatm” Device the stink in here, I'd say somebody stuck one right in your guts. What's to stop me waiting? You're going to die, Truck.”
”I promise you ITI fire it off if that looks like happening, General. Fve got nothing much left to lose.”
Confounded, she withdrew; and through the thickening fog he watched her confer with one of her policemen, who presently nodded and left the room.
”Ruth?” said Truck, but she didn't hear him. He wiped his hand across his mouth, and it came away wet and shocking. Successive storms of fear and pain and vertigo swept through him, each crisis leaving him weaker-while the Centauri Device, a high, electrical voice, vibrated in every cell of his brain.
ITiere wasn't much left of him up there-a thread of memory, the odd little bit of personal stuff. It came down to streets and faces in the end, sc.r.a.ps that still defined nun, a fading signal from the hinterland. He was a proxy, he was a junction box- *TU ten you what / think, Trackie.”
He had almost fallen asleep. He peered about the room. He was deadly tired.
”I think you're waiting for your gyppo friends to pun you out of this. If you are, forget it Bring Mm through, lads!”
When ”he” came through, under the watchful eye of the Fleet, he was much changed. Occupying the same s.p.a.ce as he occupied, coextensive yet divorced, breathing-if it could be said to breathe-the same air as he breathed, came his long-time specter.
The flat and watchful planes of his face were simple implications of the bleached and jawless skull beneath, pouring fine sand from the sockets of its eyes, generator and epicenter of all deserts; resident in the marrow of his spine were other vertebrae-scattered beneath a dead tree, polished, mourning; as he moved, he shed brittle echoes of past deserts and intimations of the Desert to Come. And, far off in his liquid brown The Centauri Device203 eyes-broken white columns, like reflections in a failing cistern- Ben Barka. The ghost encompa.s.sed him It wore his uniform without pity.
”General-” The promptings of a parched wing. ”I am a prisoner of war. This is a charade. I object to taking part in it”
”Cut it out, Gadafli,” advised General Gaw. ”I know you.” And she gave him a breezy grin. He shrugged in-finitesimally and seemed to forget her. ”What I don't know, Truck,” she went on, ”is what deal you two scabs cooked up in the Avernus parking-orbit-”
Ben Barka chuckled sourly. ”General-”
”Speak when you're spoken to, ben Barka. Truck, you aren't denying that you s.h.i.+pped him up to a rendezvous with Nosser in that sardine can of yours?”
”There was no deal, General; there was no rendezvous. He kifled a friend of mine.” Truck couldn't understand what she was getting at. ”You must be mad.”
But it was hardly worth it Her voice rose and feU, endless, accusing, endlessly beside the point; ben Barka's deserted husk replied with the dry song of the locust; above them both, electrical, crystalline, angelic-the voice of the Centauri Device reminded how certain things might be done, ushered him, a particle of human silt down the long slow watercourses of Centauri vn.
Where at last he might be initiated into that queer half-life beneath the ooze, the purgatorial suspension of his mother's race- He woke up abruptly, in a panic because he thought the Fleet men were ushering ben Barka from the room.
”Wait!” he cried. ”General, make me a bid!”
She had crept closer while he dozed, hands tense and outstretched. Now she looked wonderingly down at him. ”It's you who's out of his mind, duckie.
'We've got you now, unless you do something quickly-” She sounded almost sympathetic. ”I wonder if you'U have the guts to work that ruddy thing?**
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