Mind Guest (8 page)

“If you’re expecting me to start a fist fight with you, you can forget it,” he said, his tone flat and final. “Despite your generous offer, I don’t make a habit of fist-fighting with women – even when they deserve a good swatting at the very least. All you can expect from me is the swatting, but I’ll choose my own time and place, thanks. I’m used to setting up my own schedules.”

I watched him walk between Dameron and me and head for the door, and once it had closed behind him I couldn’t help shaking my head the way he had.

“What in the name of the deep endless dark was he talking about?” I asked no one in particular, then looked at Dameron. “And what’s a swatting?”

“He was trying to tell you that he doesn’t beat up on women even when they’re expecting him to,” Dameron answered, leaning back against the wall by the door with folded arms. “How did all that happen to get started?”

“He came in and immediately began asking me all sorts of questions,”

I explained, still feeling the urge to shake my head. “I decided that it was enough for you and your second to know about me, and we didn’t need baby to make three. I had the choice of telling him what to do with his questions and thereby starting a fight, or conning him and keeping it peaceful. Believe it or not, I decided to keep it peaceful.”

“Do all of your people use the same definition of peaceful?” Dameron asked with a snort of amusement. “If they do, I can’t wait until we’re in full contact with them. And for your information, Valdon is my second in command. He wasn’t there when I was questioning you – a small crisis had come up that needed seeing to – and he was probably trying to find out what he’d missed. Looks like he got more than he bargained for.”

“He should have told me who he was,” I said with a shrug, ready to dismiss the whole thing. “I usually use restraint when dealing with an ally. And speaking about dealing, now that your urgent errand is seen to, let’s take that walk and do a little dealing of our own. I think I can safely say you owe it to your people to get me out of here as soon as possible.”

“You may be right about that.” he nodded, still sticking to his piece of wall. “But when you talk about my urgent errand having been seen to, don’t start assuming it was seen to successfully. Flantoril, the post 9 fighter who just came in, can’t do the job I need her for. The only reason she’s back here is to be treated for the wounds she took in a recent fight; if she hadn’t been brought back, she would have died. Healing will keep her alive, but only if she doesn’t have to go through a second session of Healing to change her into Bellna.

Rumanoids from her home sector don’t react well to too much. Healing.

Did you really intend trying to defend yourself against Valdon?”

“Why not?” I asked, surprised by the sudden, out-of-context question.

“A small, harmless-looking man like him ought to be a cinch to take.

What has that got to do with our visit to my course computer?”

“It has a lot to do with it,” he said, finally coming away from the wall to stand himself in front of me. “When I saw you calmly accepting the possibility of a fight with a man most men would try to appease, it came to me to wonder how well you can handle a sword.”

“No, you don’t!” I said with an immediate headshake, holding one hand up toward him while the other turned into an automatic, unconscious fist. “As far as you’re concerned, I don’t even know what the word sword means. Your problems in Narella are none of my business, and I intend keeping it that way. If you’ll just show me the blinking red sign reading ‘Exit’ I’ll get out of your way and take care of my course computer myself.”

“Without specific coordinate and quadrant data?” he asked very mildly, the dark eyes looking down at me faintly amused. “I’ll bet you can handle a sword at least as well as one of my team girls.”

“The couple of times I tried, I nearly cut my own foot off,” I said, feeling absolutely no guilt over the lie as I met his gaze. “And as far as coordinates and quadrant data go, I’ll take my chances without them. The same luck that got me here just might get me home again.”

“That would be more miracle than luck,” he snorted, still looking at me with those piercing eyes. “And don’t you think you owe us more than a brisk ‘thanks!’ and a farewell wave? If not for us you’d be a stiff, blue corpse, riding an airless hulk into eternity.”

“Very poetic,” I applauded with a nod. “Not to mention graphic. Now, out of pure, soul-deep gratitude, I’m supposed to put my neck on the chopping block with an eager smile? What’s the difference between dying in space and dying on a planet I have no business going near?”

“The more I talk to you and think about you, the more convinced I become that if anyone can survive, you’re the one,” he said. “It may have taken me awhile to put the whole picture together, but now that I have, you can’t deny it.”

“How about if I deny your sanity?” I came back, putting my fingers on my hips. “I don’t know what you’re thinking about, and I doubt very much if you do.”

“I know exactly what I’m talking about,” he chuckled, suddenly moving past me to his blocky chair. He sat, tapped a few keys on his terminal, got half a dozen symbols in answer, then turned all the way back to me. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of the question sooner, but it finally came to me to ask why you were put in a crippled ship and headed into the deep black.”

He beamed at me with a possessiveness I’d noticed earlier, looking as though he’d made his point and was just waiting for me to acknowledge it. I have often found myself with my head in a noose, but I can honestly say I never helped put it there.

“You see a big secret in that?” I came back immediately, throwing in a shrug for good measure. “All I see is the caution of a man who knows what’s good for him. My people knew what I was doing and who I was involved with; if they decided to bring Radman in and put him to the Question, he’d have to be able to say that the last time he saw me I was alive and healthy, and was still in that condition as far as he knew. That’s why he made sure I had everything I needed to be comfortable.”

“Very logical and neat,” Dameron conceded, but his nod and smile showed nothing of concession. The man did it to protect himself. But you did say he was a slaver, didn’t you? Couldn’t he just have added you to his inventory and been able to say the same thing? I can’t imagine his having any trouble selling a woman with your – ah – obvious attributes, and I’m sure your Federation has too many planets for him to be afraid that your people might stumble across you. If he didn’t arrange a set of chains and a private auction for you, there must have been a reason.

He paused again, still wearing that “gotcha” expression, clearly waiting for me to comment; being compassionate, I saw no reason to disappoint him.

“Yes?” I prompted, looking faintly interested. “And the reason was?”

“That he thought you had too good a chance to get yourself out of any arrangement like that,” he growled, suddenly annoyed that I was ignoring the way he was pinning me to the wail. “If an enemy who knew you went to such lengths to be safely rid of you, then you have to be more than just average at what you do. Now go ahead and make your denials.”

“I have no denials to make,” I shrugged, turning away from his dark-eyed stare to go and reclaim my old lump-chair. I slid into it and made myself comfortable, then looked at him again. “I see no reason to either confirm or deny anything you say. Just let me know when you get to the end of your lecture series and the testing is about to start. That’s when I’d like to leave.”

“Damn it, you can’t refuse to do this job for me!” he snapped, leaning forward toward me to emphasize his words. “You needed rescuing and I need a decoy; you got what you needed, and now it’s my turn!”

“I only got half of what I needed,” I pointed out, resting my elbow on my thigh and my chin in my palm. “When it came time to discuss C & Q data, you were much too busy. If the kind of help that buys you is what you’re looking for, I’ll be glad to supply it. If not, you’ve got a problem.”

“How would you like to spend the rest of this crisis time in irons?”

he asked, growling again. “I promised to reprogram your course computer as soon as I find the time, and I will. I saved your life, and I’ll see to it that you don’t have to go searching for where you came from. What more do you want?”

“What more do you have?” I muttered, playing smart to cover the tiny, tingling doubts I was beginning to feel. I’d pushed Dameron as hard as I’d been able, expecting to see the iron fist flash out of the velvet glove, ready to do some fisting myself on my way out of there, but it hadn’t happened. Instead of threatening me Dameron was pleading, and not a word about holding back the information I needed! I leaned all the way back in the lump chair, silently cursing the roll of the dice. Coersion I can understand and cope with; frantic requests for help are harder to ignore.

“I think I can understand how you feel,” I heard after a long minute, looking up to see softer, more compassionate eyes on me. “You’re a long way from home and want to start back, without any twisting, dangerous side trips. In your place I’d feel the same, but Diana-I can’t afford to put myself in your place. Too many lives are hanging in the balance, and I have no one else to turn to.”

“I see you’ve finally remembered my name,” I commented, despite his sober expression. “What if I still say no?”

“You mean, what will I do to get even?” he asked, looking straight at me for another five seconds before raising his eyes to the blue ceiling and folding his hands behind his head. “I could always string you up by the thumbs, but I’d have to wait until an overhead hook became available. Putting in new hooks always loses us some air. Once you’re strung up I could light a fire under your bare feet, but the automatic extinguishers don’t like open fires. Skinning you alive might do the trick, but. . .”

“Okay, okay, enough,” I interrupted, showing my palm to admit surrender before his list got to be ‘phone book length. “If you were trying to tell me you’re beyond that sort of thing, I got the point.

The only thing I still don’t know is what you’re not beyond.”

“I’m not beyond dickering, if that’s ‘what you meant,” he answered, back to looking at me. “Motivation is important when it comes to survival, and saving your favorite neck isn’t always enough. I’ve always found bonuses helpful.”

“I don’t expect to hang around long enough to spend a bonus,” I snorted, dismissing the suggestion with a wave of my hand. “And survival has always been a good enough motivation for me on its own.”

“Then you are experienced in handling dangerous situations,” he said softly, a grin spreading across his face. I suppose something in my expression showed what I thought of his methods of data-gathering; he wiped the grin fast and leaned forward in his chair. “I wasn’t digging for that, but I’m glad to have the reassurance – since you’re not admitting or denying anything. What I meant to say was, the bonuses I offer aren’t in the form of legal tender. I try to offer things that would not normally be for sale at any price.”

“Like what?” I asked, more curious than hooked. I still couldn’t generate much enthusiasm for the idea of working for him. I had things at home waiting to be done – like a recently scheduled second meeting with Radman the slaver.

“Oh, items like certain souvenirs,” Dameron drawled, his grin back again. “The Tildorani have turned carving into a high art, but they aren’t in a position to do any exporting. Some of my people are collectors, and wouldn’t be able to pick, choose and carry off any of the better items without field team help. And then there are those who do more-personal-collecting, for any of a variety of reasons.

Even if the reason happens to be vanity, all they have to do is collect the necessary number of points.”

I could feel the hook being dangled more enticingly in front of me, but I couldn’t make out the nature of the bait. I could see I was supposed to ask what points and what they bought, allowing ignorance and innocence to draw me closer to the hidden barbs, but that wasn’t my first time at dickering. I glanced around, as though unconsciously trying to check the time, a shadow of impatience to the movement, and Dameron suddenly lost his drawl.

“Not all of our people have original Absari blood,” he said. “Those who do substitution work – or decoy work, if you’d like to put it like that – and have to be changed here in the base, have the option of keeping the features they’ve been given if they want them. Those team members earn one point for each job, and it takes three points to buy the option, but I won’t ask the same price of you. Do this job for me and Bellna’s looks are yours to keep or give back, whichever way you want it. She’s the most attractive humanoid female I’ve ever seen; if she weren’t, I would not have brought the point up. You’re pretty enough in your own right, girl, but Bellna’s one of those one-in-a-million special cases. Can you sit there and tell me you’re not tempted even a little?”

I sat there and didn’t tell him anything at all. Truthfully I was far from unhappy with my own looks, notwithstanding the tact that no one would ever consider me beautiful. How I looked was part of who I was to me, and I was satisfied with the whole and not particularly anxious to change it. The only thing that kept me from refusing outright was that Dameron was right: Bellna was spectacularly beautiful, and I remembered my earlier thoughts on the subject. If the change would benefit my job and make life – and surviving – easier, saying no could be the stupidest thing I’d ever done. I grappled with the pros and cons as I brushed my lips with a strand of hair, then focused on Dameron again with one of the more cogent cons.

“You’re asking an impossibility,” I said, not terribly unhappy with the conclusion. “Your field people know all about what’s going on, know the people involved, the language, the terrain, friend from foe.

I’d have to be crazy to involve myself in a project with that many minuses on my side, as crazy as you are for suggesting it. I don’t mind improvising when a situation calls for it, but I have to have something to improvise with.”

XXX
“You have no idea how glad I am to hear that objection,” Dameron said, his expression serious. “It means you’re finally thinking about the project as something to be thought about, not just something to reject out of hand. But I’m equally as glad to say that your objection is invalid. How do you think my field people learn what they need to know? Do you think I can afford to have them waste desperately needed working time cramming discs of information or groping around blind until they learn what’s what? They’re given what they need to know just the way you were given our language, quickly and painlessly. We even have a tape of Bellna’s persona for you.”