Nicklin made his eyes focus on Montane’s face. “No tea for me, thanks—I need to talk to you.”
“I’m always ready to listen.” Montane went on very quickly, not giving Nicklin the chance to continue. “I was right about that green line we found last night. Remember I said it probably went all the way down to the shell? Well, according to the local news there are hundreds of the damned things—and they do go right down to the shell. I don’t like it, Jim. This is the Devil’s work. What did you want to talk about?”
Nicklin, still recovering his mental equilibrium, was not quite ready for the question. “I… I suppose I ought to congratulate you.”
“Congratulate me?” Montane looked puzzled but very much at his ease. “On what?”
“On the neat and highly professional way you and one of your prostitutes stripped me of everything I owned.” Nicklin was surprised to see the preacher’s bright, penetrating eyes become cloudy and vague. He had not expected that much of a reaction from a professional.
“You’re talking in riddles, son.”
“I’m talking about the excellent job done on me by you and your prostitute.”
Montane glanced uneasily at his wife’s coffin. “We don’t like that kind of talk in here.”
“Oh, I’m sorryl” Nicklin said, unable to resist the kind of sarcasm he normally disdained. “Pardon me for not measuring up to your high standards of behaviour.”
“I gather,” Montane said stonily, “that something has gone wrong between you and Danea.”
“You gather correctly.”
Montane sighed and shook his head, the picture of a man saddened by news he had expected but had hoped against the odds not to hear. “I’m really sorry about that, Jim—and, naturally, I’ll give you what counsel I can—but you must understand that my workers’ interpersonal relationships have nothing to do with me. And I made it clear to you, right at the outset, that any donation you chose to—”
“There’s no need for you to worry yourself about that side of things,” Nicklin cut in. “I fully accept the consequences of my own stupidity, and all I want to do now is get far away from here as fast as I can. I presume you won’t mind letting me have a couple of hundred, just to get me started.”
Montane frowned. “I can’t do that, Jim.”
Nicklin’s jaw tried to sag. “All I’m asking is the rail fare to Beachhead City, and a bit more for a room!”
“I’m sorry,” Montane replied, “I just don’t have that kind of money.”
“I know you don’t have that kind of money.” Nicklin was hardly able to believe what was happening. “My 82,000 orbs—that’s the kind of money you have.”
Montane gave him a patient little smile. “You don’t seem to understand, Jim. It is God who owns that money now. You gave it to Him—and I could no more think of taking some of it back than I could of taking a life.”
“Beautiful,” Nicklin said bitterly. “That’s really beautiful, Corey. You and Danea make a great team.”
Montane appeared not to notice the insult. “What I could do—in fact, I’d be neglecting my Christian duty if I didn’t do it—is let you have something out of my own pocket. Out of the housekeeping. I only have about thirty orbs, but you’re welcome to all of it.”
Too fucking kind, Nicklin thought, watching in disbelief as Montane stood up, set his cup aside and took a reproduction lacquered tea caddy down from the shelf over his cooking area. He opened the box, brought out three ten-orb bills and—with the air of a monarch conferring a knighthood—handed them to Nicklin.
“I’ll always remember you for this,” Nicklin said as he stood up and shoved the photo-pulsing rectangles into his hip pocket. Abruptly turning his back on Montane, he ducked out through the camper’s door and stepped down on to the trampled grass. The group by the marquee had grown quite a bit larger, and it seemed to him that every face in it was turned in his direction. They were all set to gawp at him while he went to retrieve his few belongings from his locker, and no doubt when he reappeared with them everybody in the mission would be assembled to watch his departure.
He hesitated, his face throbbing hotly in tune with his heartbeat, and for a moment he actually considered walking straight on out of the field and away from the whole sorry mess. It might be worth abandoning his meagre possessions if doing so spared him any extra embarrassment. The pounding in his chest intensified, causing him to feel a little nauseated and light in the head, and there came a real fear that for the first time in his life he could be about to faint. He fought to regulate his breathing, to use the yoga technique for inducing serenity, and it was while he was standing there in the intrusive light of the morning sun that he became aware of something strange.
Behind him—in the shaded solitude of the camper—Corey Montane was speaking to someone.
“I’m sorry, my dear,” Montane was saying. “As you heard, that young man had got himself worked up into quite an emotional state. The only way I could get rid of him was to give him some of your housekeeping money, but I’ll see to it that you don’t go short. I promise you he won’t disturb us again, so let’s finish our tea in peace, and then perhaps we’ll pray together for a few minutes. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Nicklin inhaled deeply, blinked at his surroundings as though seeing them for the first time, and began to smile.
A wearisome psychogenic burden was being lifted from his shoulders. He could feel mental fetters dissolving, chains falling away, prison doors opening… Metaphors abounded. The air he had drawn into his lungs retained all the pastel colours of dawn, and those colours were diffusing through his system, creating a nacreous glow, sparkling in his mind.
It’s all a joke, he told himself. Thank you, O Gaseous Vertebrate, for reminding me that everything is just one big joke. Conceits such as embarrassment and humiliation are no longer valid as far as I am concerned. I repudiate them! Montane has my money, and there’s nothing much I can do about it, but he can no longer simply face me down. Nobody can do that any more—especially not some silly old cool who lugs his belter half around in a tin box and chats to her over his corn flakes; especially not a bunch of heliumheads who believe the world is going to end next Tuesday…
Remembering he had an attentive audience in the group who were supposed to be erecting the marquee, Nicklin raised one hand and gave them a cheerful wave. His smile grew wider as he noted the uncertainty with which several of them returned the salute. He spun on the ball of his foot and went back into the camper. Montane, who had resumed his seat, looked up in some surprise—teacup in hand—and a look of priestly displeasure appeared on his face.
“Jim, I’ve been as generous to you as I possibly could,” he said. “Is there any point in spinning this thing out?”
“I’ve been thinking the whole business over,” Nicklin replied. “I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday. You know—about how the mission could make good use of all my technical skills and that kind of stuff. What I’ve been thinking is that it’s my Christian duty to stay on here with you… and Danea… and the rest of the gang.”
Nicklin took the three ten-orb notes out of his pocket and, with a meaningful wink, placed them on top of the silver coffin.
“After all,” he added, maintaining his cheerful smile, “I still have so much to give…”
Chapter 10