Part 40 (1/2)

”A consideration you did not have when you murdered your human friend,” the Disty said.

”Or when you threatened us,” Flint said.

”Yet you're not injured.” Norton rubbed the bandage. ”I'm going to complain to every authority I can find about this.”

”Then complain.”

The Disty looked at Flint. ”Will you let me into your brig?”

Flint unlocked the door. It swung open. He put a hand on his laser pistol, but to his surprise, Norton didn't try to bolt. Instead, he remained pushed against the wall, watching the Disty.

The Disty opened the vial, setting the cap in its pocket. Then it unsheathed its knife. The blade was as wicked as Flint remembered those ritual knives to be. The black gla.s.s absorbed the light-yet something deep within sparkled for just a moment.

Flint held his breath. He knew that the Disty couldn't commit a vengeance killing for a human-on-human crime, no matter what the outcome. Besides, it would take more than one Disty to do a proper vengeance killing, since most of the knife work happened before the victim died.

Still, Flint's grip on his laser pistol tightened.

”Thank you for remaining seated,” the Disty said. ”This makes my job so much easier.”

Then it reached out with the knife and slashed forward, hitting Norton in the jugular vein. Blood spurted all over the brig, splas.h.i.+ng the Disty.

”What the h.e.l.l?” Flint sprang forward, shoving the Disty aside. It already had filled the vial.

Norton was grabbing his neck, his skin growing paler by the second. His fingers couldn't contain the blood.

Flint put his hands on the wound as well, but the blood continued to flow out.

”You said just a little blood!” Flint snapped.

The Disty held up the vial. ”So it is.”

”You had no right to kill him.”

”Perhaps he will not die.”

But they both knew that Norton wasn't going to survive this. Even Norton knew it, his eyes panic filled, his voice gone because he couldn't get enough oxygen into his lungs.

”What the h.e.l.l am I supposed to do?” Flint asked.

”Try to save him,” the Disty said. ”I shall leave before he dies so as not to be contaminated.”

”Wait!” Flint said.

”You can tell your government that he came to me willingly and partic.i.p.ated in the ritual.” The Disty held up the vial. ”They agreed to that.”

It nodded, then backed out of the brig, leaving a trail of blood as it hurried down the corridor.

Flint couldn't follow it. He kept his fingers on Norton's neck, grasping for the medical kit that had been replaced outside the brig.

He couldn't reach the kit. So he grabbed the bandage on Norton's shoulder. The bandage was designed to hold the pieces of the wound in place while nanohealers knitted the skin back together.

But he couldn't pull the bandage free. In fact, the bandage yelled at him, telling him he would destroy the work if he continued pulling. He ignored the voice, but the bandage didn't come off. It had incorporated itself into the healing skin.

Norton's own grip had slipped. His hand was loose beneath Flint's. Norton's eyes fluttered, and he made a slight gurgling sound.

The s.h.i.+p bounced. Flint recognized that motion. The automated tunnel had retracted. In a moment, the grapplers would let loose.

He cursed but kept his hand on Norton's neck. It was futile. Flint knew it, but couldn't stop himself, not until the blood stopped flowing completely.

It grew sticky against his fingers.

Flint looked up at Norton, his skin a pale grayish-white, and saw that his eyes were half open and gla.s.sy. Flint sprinted for the medical kit, placing a bandage on the neck, a bandage like the one stuck to Norton's arm.

The bandage informed Flint that the subject was dead, and therefore the bandage would be useless.

Flint flung it across the room.

He sank down onto the floor, looking at the dead man in his brig. The s.h.i.+p bounced again and then shook as the grapplers came free.

You can tell your government that he came to me willingly and partic.i.p.ated in the ritual. They agreed to that.

Technically, the Disty was right. The government had agreed to that. But the death had occurred in Flint's s.h.i.+p, in his presence. He was not a government representative. He would be in trouble from the moment he returned to Armstrong.

He sat there for a long time as the blood pooled. Norton's body slipped down the wall slowly, leaving another blood trail.

Flint knew what he had to do. The Disty had given him the answer. Flint would claim-should anyone ask-that Norton had gone with the Disty. The Disty would back him up with the official language used previously.

Flint would have to change his records so that there were no complete recordings of the Disty taking the six out of the s.h.i.+p, and only a short moment of the lead Disty talking with Norton.

He stood slowly, furious at himself for being tricked. He had known better.

He would never do the government-even in the person of DeRicci-any more favors.

This one could have killed him.

But it wouldn't.

He would make sure of that.

66.