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.”