Virgil screamed and plunged toward her, seizing her wrist. She tried to drive the knife into her chest anyway. Virgil cursed and cried at the same time.
“Stop, Death Angel! Stupid, stupid to die like that when I can rebuild you. Waste of time!” He winced as the misguided blade sizzled through his shoulder, cutting a shallow groove in his skin. He twisted his arm around to knock the weapon from her hand. It sparked and crackled against a bulkhead.
He grabbed both her wrists. She tried to slash him with her nails.
“Let me die!” she pleaded, kicking at him. He twisted about at the waist, grappling her legs with his. Furious teeth snapped at his arm.
“Sorry,” he said. “Sorry I made you die. Tried to kill Jord, is all. Don’t go crazy, Delia. Death Angel mustn’t die.”
“Have to!” she cried, pulling back and freeing an arm. He caught it before she could deliver a blow to his neck. He pulled her arms as far away from each other as he could. Their faces were inches apart, but still they shouted.
“I can die and die. Why can’t you? What’s wrong? All of you given up to Nightsheet?”
“Death, death—the Reaper Man.”
“Reaper, Nightsheet—all one. We’ve beat him and can keep doing it.”
“No!” She tried to squirm free from the grip of his legs. Her thighs slipped between his, then held fast.
“Don’t make me, Death Angel. Don’t make me—”
“No!” She kicked her legs about, but he tightened his thighs against hers and wrapped his legs around her calves. She moved against him, rubbing against him, trying to wriggle loose. Her head swung at him, lashing him with her hair.
Death Angel stop! Something’s going wrong. I want you to stop struggling but I don’t.
“Virgil. Please. Kill me!” She twisted into him, running her flush skin against his. He held her tighter.
“I can’t kill you. I—I want—t-to—”
“Cut into me, Virgil!” She moved her legs under his, lashed him again with her hair.
“No!” he shouted. He released her legs, let go of her arms. She clung to his shoulders and wrapped her legs around his thighs.
“Please. Cut me deep, Virgil, so deep. I want you to stab into me. I want to feel your blood inside of me.”
He screamed a scream that sank into a powerful sob and clutched her to him. Death Angel moves madly against me and it’s so much what I want but how could I ever tell her when I didn’t even know my most hidden of secret codes. And she cracked it before I cracked hers. I move inside her and the room twists and grows dim and I and I and I see her here and what she’s done and I’ll show her what it’s like to trick me.
Baker grabbed her throat and squeezed. She stared at him, her eyes drifting and refocusing every few instants. “You won’t trick me again, Dee. I’ll tear you apart and rebuild you.”
I’ll be careful to kill you just enough so the boxdoc can save you, bitch. I won’t choke you to death death Death Angel make him let go!
She breaths deep and pulls closer, murmuring and stroking me. I smell her hair against me, wet with her. Nightsheet’s mistress huddles against me and wants me and takes me as I take her and and and I’ll punch her enough to make her think twice twice twice I’ve blacked out and she’s changed toward me. The dead man’s hurting her. Get him back. Get him down. Move faster. Ride away from him on the wings of Death Angel. Wrap me in your wings and take me away from dying and dying and
dying dying dying, die die die die!
“Die die die die!” Every word was an angry thrust inside her. She gasped and whimpered.
Die die don’t die don’t Die Die don’t die don’t don’t—
“Don’t,” cried Virgil. “Don’t—” You make me die inside, Death Angel pretty Death Angel lovely Death Angel goddess of darkness and freedom from hurt and care and want and death most of all from death my life goddess my—mine, made you mine and I’m yours all yours my goddess.
Virgil shuddered and stopped moving. Delia held him close and let her tears wet his neck.
Chapter Fourteen A Time Beyond
Circus Galacticus orbited the dark object. Four hundred million kilometers in diameter, it occulted a good portion of stars from the sky. In the infrared range of the spectrum, though, it glowed dazzlingly bright. The computer launched a flashby probe; an answer returned hours later in the sudden appearance of a kilometers-long spaceship.
The craft transferred in alongside Circus Galacticus and emitted a hailing message on all frequencies. The computer returned the greeting and worked with the other ship on deriving a common language. Only then did it attempt to notify Delia and Virgil. One was unconscious, the other catatonic.
As a plenipotentiary of the Brennen Trust, the computer initiated trade negotiations with the other ship.
Jord Baker opened his eyes to behold Delia huddled sleeping in his arms.
“You. slut! ” he hissed.
She opened her eyes, her expression changing from restfulness to fear.
“Hide,” she whispered.
Baker smiled. “It won’t work. I know about it and I’ve been through enough that your post-hypnotics have worn off.”
She tried to push away from him but he wrestled her into the chair and strapped her in.
Something clanked amidships.
Baker picked up the hypogun and filled it with five milliliters of DuoHypno Type II.
“However,” he said, turning toward her. “Maybe I can use your trick to make you cure me.”
She regained enough composure to say, “What was that sound?”
“What?” He held the hypodermic gun to her shoulder.
“That sliding sound.”
“Robots.”
“Computer!” she called. “Status of all ship robots.”
No answer. Baker put the gun back and looked at her. She’s tied up. And something’s going on out there. I’d better check. He went to the hatch and listened. Something scraped across it, then made a chittering noise that receded in the distance.
“Stay right there,” he said to her, listening with his ear against the hatch.
“I can’t go anywhere, you son of a bitch.”
“Shh.” He opened the hatchway and slipped out.
The air smelled of some faint, musky sweet odor. The corridor lights glowed at a far lower level than that to which he was accustomed. Something moved past a hatchway to his right. Something teardrop-shaped and translucent.
White and pale like a ghost. I saw right through it! It just floated—
He employed the handholds to move cautiously down the corridor. He snuck a look around the edge of the hatch and pulled back immediately.
Five of them. What are they?
He drifted silently back to the other corridor and switched on a computer console.
WHAT IS GOING ON? he typed.
PLEASE RESTATE QUESTION came the reply.
“You know what I mean,” he whispered angrily. “What are those things floating around the hall?”
SYSTEMS OPERATING AT MAXIMUM CAPACITY. YOUR
QUESTION WILL BE ANSWERED WHEN TIME IS AVAILABLE.
What the hell? “Don’t ignore me, damn you! I’m the human!” When no answer came, he maneuvered down the corridor to the armory and slipped on a laser glove. He headed toward the prow ellipsoid—quietly, carefully.
The same musky smell hung thickly around the ellipsoid. Silver-white strands thinner than silk drifted through the air. They clung at his skin and hair like cobwebs. Charging the laser, he pulled slowly down the passageway to the hold containing the life support system. No ghosts there, either.
He moved on to the next level and the compartments storing the Valliardi transfer equipment. Something hissed. Baker pulled into the crook of a support beam juncture and waited. The hissing grew louder, rising to the level of a stage whisper.