Behold a Dark Mirror Read online

  "You bet. I..."

  "Yes?"

  "I brought something for you. I wanted to thank you for saving my life."

  "This is nice of you. Are you... Do you want to stay?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Nothing," she denied quickly.

  "Hawwa, if you had one wish, what would you wish for?"

  "Only one wish?"

  "Well, yes."

  "Then, I need to think hard."

  "Take your time."

  After a while she came back from her thoughts, looking at him as if he were the last man on earth. "One wish, I think I'd like you to—"

  Jenus interrupted her before she could finish: "Here, open this," he said, giving her a large envelope.

  Hawwa took it, hiding disappointment with marvel: "For me? Do I open it?"

  "Please do."

  "Will I be obligated if I open the envelope?"

  Jenus looked at her. "No catches, Hawwa. Just a thank-you for my life—for what it's worth."

  "This is the first present I've gotten in a long time." Inside there were three cards and a printout. "What is this?"

  "You know how to read: Go on, find out."

  Hawwa flipped through the boring-looking printout for a good starting place. She began reading the dull prose, looking up repeatedly at Jenus, her gaze at first puzzled, then incredulous. When done, she started weeping, tears dripping on the pages.

  She looked up. "This is real, Jenus. It is, isn’t it?"

  "It's all good stuff."

  "Why're you doing this?"

  "I told you."

  She sniffed, clearing her eyes with her hand. "I can't believe it's true."

  "It is, Hawwa. A life for a life."

  "Tell me more about Raarad Principal."

  "What I know I learned at the library. It opened two decades ago as an agricultural settlement; it’s pretty, maybe a bit boring. Safe. Two hundred thousand settlers live there now, with a good balance of men and women. Raarad Principal feeds Raarad One, Two and Four, which don't support life but are useful for other reasons. Principal looks like Mother Earth; it's a good world."

  "Are you coming with me?"

  "I can't."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I'm wanted. Raarad Principal is a prime destination. First-class only. They don't take questionable settlers any more."

  "What about you? What are you going to do?"

  "I'm leaving. Where I'm going is, well, classified. Sorry, Hawwa. For your good as well as mine."

  "I'll go alone, then."

  "You'll like Raarad Principal. You won't be alone for long, but even if you are, there's a pre-arranged homestead contract. It's yours; it's at the bottom of the papers."

  She dug down to it and read it. Then she said: "I..."

  "You?"

  "I can't."

  "You can't what?"

  Hawwa, crying, insisted. "This is worth a huge amount of money, Jenus," she said between sobs, "Deep space framepost passage, a settler's agreement on a world like Raarad Principal, a homestead contract, farmland! How did you pay for all this?" She dropped the papers to put her head in her hands, crying.

  "Tell me the truth, you devil!" she waited.

  "It's all paid for, Hawwa."

  "Then you stole the money, or made it by killing someone, or something else terrible. See?" She stared at him squarely, her eyes red, fixed on his. "I can't take it! I want to, but I may not! I may not take it!"

  Jenus breathed deep. "The money is clean, Hawwa. I was a successful Guilder, and a few days ago I did something really stupid."

  She quieted suddenly. "Like dad."

  "You have in your hands a good chunk of the cash I withdrew from my legal accounts while I was able to do so. Now I've told you more than I wanted to. Please, go. Do it for me. I need to vindicate myself for a friend I failed badly."

  "Your girlfriend?"

  Jenus nodded.

  "Is she...?"

  "She's dead. I didn't kill her; her death is the last thing I wanted, but it's my fault she died."

  "I'm sorry."

  "Enough of this, Hawwa. It would help me feel a little better about myself if you would accept this gift from me."

  "I believe you. I'll go, and I vow I'll call my first child Jenus." She thought it over: "Or Jenusa."

  He chuckled. "Don't feel bound by this promise. If you change your mind, you're relieved." He thought again. "But if the child's a girl, call her Janet."

  "Janet—I will." Hawwa said. "Will you see me off?"

  "At the framepost?"

  "Where else?"

  "I'm a wanted man, Hawwa. I've got to be cautious."

  "There's a public station not too far," she said.

  "When?"

  "Let me wash my face, then we can go."

  "You are leaving for Raarad Principal like this?"

  "Yes. I'm not leaving much behind, and I'm terrified."

  "Terrified?"

  She nodded. "If I blink, I may wake up; so, if I'm dreaming, I want to wake up on Raarad Principal." She went to the other room, and returned wearing a clean face, a worn coat, and a backpack for the papers now hers. "Come along, Jenus."

  He followed her to the station, chatting about the weather along the way. They waved goodbye to each other.

  "Your Lord, whoever that may be, watches well over you Hawwa. Good luck," Jenus told her.

  She waved again and disappeared from his sight.

  CHAPTER 16

  Kebe felt exhausted even after a night's sleep. She knocked at Nero's door and entered his bedroom without waiting. Nero was sitting on his bunk in a trance, staring at the wall.

  "Nero..."

  "Shh."

  Her lips opened, but she changed her mind; slouching into a corner, she waited. Creases appeared on Nero's brow. He flickered: For a split second, Nero appeared like a mirage distorted through hot air. But the room was too small, the temperature just comfortable. Kebe squinted, rubbed her eyes, and looked with greater attention. Nero did it again. She gasped, putting a hand to her mouth. This time his body had become translucent. Nero was repeating what had happened to him in the hangar—on demand! He seemed to try over and over before giving up, sweat drenching his clothes.

  "This is exhausting," Nero said, emerging from his spell.

  "Heavens, Nero, you disappeared!"

  "So it worked; that's encouraging. But I can't read your mind. Maybe that was a freak side effect."

  "That's sensational! I, you, I mean we should do something about it. Nero, this is fantastic! How do you do it?"

  "I'm nibbling at the tail a little bit—very little—every day. I want to see what happens—what it does to me."

  "Don't you think it may be dangerous?"

  "That's a strange observation from you," Nero said.

  She replied demure, "I'm serious."

  "I feel OK, Kebe."

  "That is a strange observation about you, Nero."

  He smiled: "Point taken. I meant my physical condition."

  She came closer, probing his skull. "Does it hurt?"

  "All is well," Nero answered.

  "All is not well. We've got to go. Today. Now." Kebe said, lowering her hands to her sides.

  He nodded: "What's your plan?"

  "Take off."

  "Why are you so scared, anyway? The framepost is sleeping. We're in the boondocks. It seems pretty safe here."

  "Call me paranoid. Paranoia has kept me alive; it has served me well." Kebe adjusted her hair, looking at herself in the mirror above the chest of drawers.

  "Yeah, well, OK. The generators should be enough to power an outbound framepos
t, if we don't go too far. We can go to Locus; it's the closest station. Then, what?"

  "Split. You go your way, I go my way. We'll meet later, far from here," she said, checking the skin of her cheek in the mirror, stretching it with her fingers.

  "Any advice?" Nero said.

  "Stay out of trouble," she answered, turning around.

  "Very humorous. Locus has a shuttle rental facility. Who carries out that part, you or me?" Nero asked still sitting.

  "Both."

  "Locus won't have more than six or seven shuttles. We can't rent all the shuttles twice."

  "Then I'll do it on Locus, and you'll do it at the next stop," said Kebe, leaning back on the chest of drawers.

  "Sure. Who carries the original?"

  "I don't care. I guess I will, since I'll rent first."

  "Very well, Kebe. On Locus you rent all the shuttles you can get. You put a copy of the memoirs on board each shuttle and ship them outbound on autopilot; one will carry the original on board. I'll do the same the next stop, except I won't have the original. Is it a plan?"

  "Sounds like one."

  "It's too simple," said Nero.

  "That's good; it means it might work."

  "I'll miss you, Kebe. Don't get caught."

  "I'll kill myself first," she said.

  "Even worse."

  "Maybe not," she said.

  "Where do we meet in two weeks?"

  "Two weeks?" Kebe said shaking her head. "No time limits, Nero: deadlines create pressure. We'll have enough pressure evading surveillance."

  "What are my chances?"

  She turned away without answering.

  "That bad? What about yours?" Nero said.

  "Been there, done that," she shrugged, looking out of the window.

  "Is this my death sentence?"

  "No," she said to the window. You're smart. You have money. You have drive. You need experience; you'll get it—under fire."

  "Any tips?"

  She turned. "Don't be curious. Here," she handed him three cards from her back pocket. "I came to give these to you."

  He looked at them. "Fake IDs."

  "Yes, fake framepost cards. Loaded; you can go anywhere you want. Throw yours away—they're already looking for Nero Vetrol."

  "How do you know?"

  "I do."

  He nodded.

  "I'll be waiting for you at a safe house, Nero."

  "How will I find you?" He stood up.

  "I can tell you how to get there; then I’ll find you."

  He held her hands and said solemnly, "Hail life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness; down with peace, order and fat government." His lips quivered. "I feel like I've got to get out of the executioner's den through a trap door, yet I don’t know if my shoulders will fit through it."

  "You knew it was going to be like this!"

  "It's different when it happens; I've never been wanted before."

  "Welcome to the world of the free, Nero. If it's any consolation, you're not technically wanted. We're harassing ConSEnt, not the government."

  "How do I find the safe house?"

  "Show up at the Space Crab in Vivitar City, on Vivitar III. It's a bar. Someone will come, ask you a few questions, and give you directions. If no one approaches you the first time, keep at it until it happens."

  "That's all?"

  "Yes. It's teamwork, Nero."

  "Do you promise to be there?"

  "I do. And pack a change of clothes, food, a blanket, a small weapon you know well."

  "How about a ceramic electrogun?"

  "I'm impressed, but we're wasting time. Get ready to go, Nero. Can we leave in two hours?"

  "I'll need two and a half hours to wake up the outbound framepost, if the automatic reveille doesn't glitch. Should I pick you up, or will you meet me at the way station?"

  "I'll walk. See you there in one hundred and fifty minutes," Kebe said and walked out of the room.

  Nero showered and started packing. Doka had become a familiar retreat to him; soon he would be lost. His hands trembled as he put the electrogun in the backpack.

  The gun had been a present from Margo. The engraving on the grip read: For my favorite company man, in case of mutiny. Margo couldn't have guessed he'd be the mutineer.

  Nero put the Cheshire tail into an airtight box. He didn't want to look around for a last time. His throat was tight. Doka was a desert, but it had been a good home in a way, a predictable home. Now he'd be on the run, maybe he'd be dead soon. Hi had been his home for too long. It had been a tomb, not a retreat. He walked out of his room, slamming the door.

  At the way station, Nero kicked the entrance door open. He strode through the flap doors to the control room of the teleportation equipment, sat at the main console, and concentrated on waking up the smallest people carrier.

  Kebe walked in a few minutes ahead of schedule. Nero acknowledge her presence with a wave.

  "How's the awakening, Nero?"

  "On schedule. We'll be ready to go in a few minutes. The framepost is set for Locus, two people. After the second passage, it'll fall asleep. We'll be out for good."

  "Very well. Where do you plan to go from Locus?"

  Nero shook his head. "I'll pick a destination."

  "Try Borodin. It's a relatively big place, easy to get lost, security still not too strict."

  "Thanks."

  He looked at the console. "We're ready."

  They went through the ritual of crossing the airlocks. The non-dimensional lattice within the framepost shone; its absolute half-reality was beautiful and ready to carry them through its mystery to any receiver in the universe.

  "You go first, Kebe."

  She winked. "You’re always the gallant gentleman."

  "That's flattering, but my purpose was practical."

  Kebe made a kissy-mouth and stepped into the lattice. Her leg disappeared, then her arm, head and body, the other leg. She had vanished. Nero followed her as soon as the machine told him to go. On the other side, on Locus, she was gone—maybe to rent shuttles, who knew. If she didn't wait, he wouldn't follow; Kebe always had her reasons. Yet he couldn't ignore the pang in his heart.

  He passed through the formalities of customs and immigration. The interplanetary way station of Locus was an unpretentious building in character with a small-economy world. Locus was at the edge of civilization; local staff was used to adventurers and crackpots, and the law was lax.

  Nero stopped for a hot meal and dawdled over a drink, waiting for the staff to change shifts. He was leaving with a different identity, and didn't want suspicious eyes noticing him, regardless of how lax the law might be.

  When the next clerk arrived at the counter, Nero approached him. The clerk sipped from a cup while paging through a reader, lips pursed. The clerk looked up, closing his reader, hiding it swiftly under the counter. He picked up Nero's card and looked at his customer with a neutral expression.

  "Name?" the clerk said.

  "Frank Goldsmith."

  "Destination?"

  "Borodin, WCC14S32."

  "Motive for the trip?"

  "Youhup hunting." The People's Space Almanac had suggested him that motive.

  "How long did you stay on Locus?"

  "Forever," Nero said. Pretending to be a native might confuse investigations of his departure: Kebe's paranoid attitude was contagious.

  "So you're a hunter, eh? I wish we could swap. I'll charge your card. Please proceed to the kernel. You'll go through the hub at Doolin—our generators can't get you to Borodin non-stop, but it's only two jumps. Do you need help?"

  Nero caught himself before answering No; his theater act was beginning. If he was a native,
he'd need help—frames were rare on Locus; so he let the clerk rehearse his instructions.

  He stepped through the framepost and popped out on Doolin for his connection. There, he switched to Borodin transfer. At destination he had to pass through more immigration debriefing; thereafter, he was a free bird. He needed now to execute their plan and ship the memoirs. Maybe he'd take one of the shuttles into orbit himself, have a good look at this place.

  He strolled across the way station. The floors were polished stone, the desks were stained shiny wood, the glass panes were spotless, the officers wore creased uniforms. Mural ads peddled hunting gear, youhup hunting permits—very expensive—and trips to beautiful places.

  Nero wanted modest accommodation to set up his base. The guide recommended a few budget hotels; he picked one with a name he liked and dialed himself half a kilometer from it. The walk carried him through a park; the local sun, Nus, shone warmly in a shade of yellow, coloring everything in earth tones. The sight was relaxing after the red light of Rook, the green light of Zochar, and the games they played with each other. His sack was light on his back, the air smelled of flowers, and he felt like looking at the girls.

  After taking possession of his room, Nero turned on the news and lay on the bed. Somewhere a cargo shuttle had crashed into an orbital station, and someone had caught the whole event on camera. An infection of driseola was now pandemic on Sertion, which had been quarantined. Little else of consequence caught his attention. Nero thought that Kebe was too paranoid and he should really go hunting youhups; but he decided to attend to duty first and returned to the business district.

  *

  "I'd like to rent four shuttles."

  "Four, sir?"

  "Yes, it's a large party."

  "Very well, sir. When do you plan to return?"

  "Can you leave it open?"

  "Sure; if we don’t receive contact within two weeks, we'll open a case with the authorities, standard policy. There's an additional charge for insurance, non-refundable. Any model preference?"

  "A small cruiser with extraorbital capability."

  Nero patronized several rental outlets; by evening he'd collected fourteen vehicles. He'd launch thirteen over a three-day period, keeping one for hunting. Along the way Nero had picked up an application for a hunting license; it turned out there was a test, so he bought a hunting manual, too.