Through the silent dark the Luoyang sped on, heading out toward its rendezvous with Ganymede.
Hans Ebert sat next to Kim on the bunk, his blind eyes staring past the Clayborn, the tiny cameras orbiting tightly overhead, relaying back the scene to micro-fine receivers in his skull.
The tiny, cell-like room was sparsely furnished: a single bunk, a chair and, on a table by the door, an old-fashioned comset brought long ago from Mars. A small lamp on the wall above the bed was the only source of illumination. The effect was spartan, as if Ebert inhabited a prison cell. "So?" Kim asked. "What should I do?" Ebert shrugged. "It is difficult, my friend. You ask me whether you should be true to what you have always believed, yet the only true test of any idea or philosophy is when it has real meaning to a man's life - when it affects a man. Until then all professed beliefs are but words. So, when you ask me what you should do, how can I answer you truthfully? How advise you? For me, you see, the question is an academic one - if it were my child, Pauli, who were threatened, would I save him or would I stand by my principles?"
"Well?" Kim prompted, anxious now, conscious of time passing. "What would you do?"
Ebert lifted his face slightly. "What you really mean is how far would I go to save my child, neh?"
Kim hesitated, then nodded.
"Well," Ebert continued, "let us look at the matter objectively. To my mind a child is greater than any material possession. Were it impossible to have a child except to have one built, what would one cost? A billion yuan? Ten billion?"
"And what they're asking for?" Kim asked, troubled now. "Does that mean so little?"
Ebert pulled his head to one side and scratched at his neck. "Not at all. It means a great deal. And yet their world is dying. In giving Egan what he wants you will be doing him no great service. To be Lord of such a ruin forever . . . well, it is not a fate I personally would ask for." "So I should agree, then?"
Ebert laughed, then leaned forward, resting his right hand on Kim's shoulder. "Your decision was made for you long ago, Kim, when you first chose to be a scientist, for how can a man know what his discoveries will be used for? How can he know for sure whether good or ill will come of them?"
"But only ill will come of this . . ."
"You're sure of that?"
Kim looked up, meeting Eberf s blind eyes, disconcerted by the way those empty sockets seemed to look right through and into him.
"If you are sure," Ebert said, when Kim was silent, "then you should say no."
"And is that your counsel?"
"Would you kill another man to save your daughter?''
Kim swallowed, then looked down, deeply troubled. Would he?
"No," he said finally.
"Then my counsel is that you should make a deal with Egan."
"A deaf?" Kim stared at Ebert, surprised.
"Yes. Tell him you'll give him what he wants, but only if you keep the patent."
"The patent. . ." Kim laughed, understanding. The Old Men would get their chance at immortality, but so would anyone else who wanted it. That is, if anyone else truly wanted such an obscenity.
"Well?" Ebert prompted. "Hadn't you better hurry?"
"Of course. Forgive me, I..." Kim turned his left wrist and, lifting the flap of protective skin, tapped out the connecting code. At once a patch of skin lit up, showing Wen Ch'ang's face.
"Wen Ch'ang," Kim said urgently. "Set up a channel to Old Man Egan back on Chung Kuo. The number and special access code are on file. I'll be with you in five minutes."
He cut contact and sat back, looking to the blind man, then took his hand and squeezed it. "Thank you, Hans. You've been a good friend."
Ebert smiled. "Never mind that. Get going now, my dear friend. And good luck. I'll pray for you."
Jelka woke. In her dream she had been soaking in the huge marble bath, back in her father's house. She had been eight. That morning she had been practising a special kicking movement and her upper thighs ached from the exercise. Now, relaxing, her body sheened in sweat from the steam, she stretched her aching limbs and sighed.
For a moment longer the dream held her, then she realised where she was. She shuddered, then turned and drew Mileja close, cuddling her. The child was cold. Deathly cold. Jelka gave a motherly cluck and smoothed her hand over her daughter's back a few times, holding her tighter, trying to warm her as she slipped back into unconsciousness.
Kim sat, preparing to give Egan his answer - to commit himself to giving the Old Men what they wanted - when the Machine spoke softly in his head.
It's Jelka, Kim. She's sent a message from the Luoyang. I'll patch it through.
There was a moment's disbelief, and then Kim laughed and stood, looking to Sampsa who was sitting in the corner.
"What?' Sampsa asked, staring at his father as if he'd gone mad.
In answer, Kim turned, indicating the screen as the Machine patched through the clip. Sampsa stood and came up alongside his father, staring into his mother's gaunt and damaged face.
"Gods," he said, appalled by what he saw. How changed she was. And those eyes . . .
"Kim, Sampsa... I hope you can hear me. I'm calling from the bridge of the Luoyang. The ship's on automatic. Captain Hamsun and his crew are dead. They're all dead. I'm fine now, but I'm very weak. I'll have to go and lie down again in a while. But listen. Send out a ship to meet us. But warn them. Tell them to use special suits, and to burn the suits afterwards. And the ship, too. You must destroy the ship once you've taken me off it."
"And Mileja . . .?" Kim coaxed, his voice scarcely a breath.
Jelka looked down, as if she'd heard him. Both men could see how difficult it was for her to say what she said next. But she was the Marshal's daughter, after alclass="underline" even this, it seemed, could be borne.
She looked up, her golden eyes weeping. "She's dead, Kim. Our darling little girl is dead ... I ... I've put her into cold storage. We'll. . ." She shuddered, then continued. "We'll bury her in Kalevala."
Kim stared in disbelief. "No," he said. "No, you must..." He fell silent, stunned by the news. Beside him Sampsa was snuffling and wiping his face with the back of his hand.
"I don't think she suffered much," Jelka said, her face showing her own pain now. "Mostly she slept. I... I held her."
He saw her face crack and felt as much as heard a great groan of pain issue from his own lips. Dead? How could their darling girl be dead? Why, he could see her, running, laughing...
Jelka sniffed deeply, regaining her self control. "You must be strong, Kim. And you too, my darling Sampsa. You must help each other until I come home. You must remember all the good we can still do."
She smiled, and as she did, Kim leaned toward the screen, meaning to kiss the image of that damaged, yet still beautiful face, yet even as he did, the screen blanked.
He turned, his face distraught, tears running down his cheeks, and put his arms out, letting Sampsa hug him tightly, both men groaning - the sound torn from the very depths of them.
"My girl!" Kim groaned, unable to bear the thought of it, wanting at that moment to die. "My darling little girl..."
But she was gone. He knew it now. There was no need for deals. No need to pander to Old Man Egan.
Gone ... He groaned again, then clutched his son to him, desperate now, conscious of the darkness pressing close, and of the light receding.
CHAPTER-14
in the city of the dead
It was five days now since the first reported case and the streets and alleyways of the northern city were quiet Corpses lay where they had fallen, curled into themselves like foetuses, their hollowed husks stirred by the gusting breeze that blew from the south.