After her apparent acquiescence to his sexual blackmail Milo once again became sympathetic and, superficially at least, charming. He offered her another biscuit, saying that they would eat something more substantial after they had slept. Then he took the thin mattress off the wicker-work bed and laid it out on the floor. “You can sleep on that. It will be more comfortable than the bed.”
She thanked him and stretched out on it. She felt exhausted but at the same time not really sleepy. She realized that the idea of going to sleep scared her. She was afraid of what she might dream.
He stood over her, looking down. He said, “You can remove your garment if you wish. I won’t bother you. I gave you my word.”
“I’ll keep it on.”
He shrugged and undid the fastener on his own pair of baggy overalls. As he stepped out of them she gave his body only a brief, mildly curious glance before rolling over on her side and closing her eyes. It had been an unremarkable body, as male bodies went. Completely hairless, true, but then Minervan men had very little body hair as well. His sexual organs seemed normal, though she was well aware that her familiarity with male sexual organs rested on her one experience with Simon. The only odd thing about Milo’s body was that it didn’t look very powerful. Certainly hot powerful enough to have done what she had seen him do to the heavily-built Buncher.
She heard the bed creak as Milo lay upon it. Through the thin walls she could still hear the murmuring of voices. Somewhere, a long way off, a woman sobbed. She wondered if the lights were ever turned down or off. She could see the glow through her closed eyelids.
The glow from the ceiling lights turned red. She saw leaping flames as Minerva again burned. She heard screams, heard the sounds of the bombs, saw Helen again, dazed and staggering while she clutched an arm that ended in a bloody stump. …
Jan opened her eyes. As she feared, the nightmare of the last two days was waiting for her inside her head. Even before she was asleep the images were pushing their way out. If she slept she would have to live through it all over again. But she was getting sleepy now. There was no way she would be able to stay awake for very long, despite the unpleasant itching of her skin as a result of that white liquid. Against her wishes her eyes closed again.
Who was screaming? It was an awful sound; high-pitched and penetrating. It shredded the nerves. Jan looked anxiously around but there was too much smoke. The screaming continued, getting closer. Then, out of the smoke, Jan saw Martha running towards her. The chimp’s hair was alight, from head to foot. As she got closer Jan could hear the crackling of her burning flesh. “No!” cried Jan as Martha, in her panic and fear, leapt up at her. She started to scream as well as the chimp’s powerful, burning arms hugged her in desperation. …
Jan screamed and screamed as she struggled to get free of those arms but she couldn’t, they were too strong.
“Shush, amazon,” said a voice in her ear. “Calm down, it’s just a dream. You’re all right …”
The feel of the flames on her flesh faded away, though the powerful arms continued to hold her tightly. She realized where she was; in Milo’s cubicle, though it was darker now. She stopped screaming.
“For Christ’s sake, shut that bitch up, will ya!” a man yelled from another cubicle.
“Feeling better?” Milo asked her gently.
“I … I … don’t know. What’s the matter with me?” Her body was shaking violently, her limbs trembling so badly she seemed to be having a convulsion. She was filled with a feeling of nameless terror, as if she was about to fall off the edge of a bottomless abyss.
“It’s just a delayed reaction to all you’ve been through,” Milo told her, still holding her tightly. She, in turn, clung tightly to him. She felt that if she didn’t hold on to him the force of her terror would sweep her away and she would be lost forever.
“Relax,” he whispered. “Breathe deeply and slowly. One … two … One … two. …”
Gradually the awful feeling of panic and terror diminished, the trembling subsided. Milo released her. She felt drained; sick. In the dimness she saw him go to his trunk and take out a small box and his canteen. Kneeling before her on the mattress he told her to hold out her hand. When she did so he placed a pill in her palm and said, “Swallow that. It’ll make you feel better.”
“What is it?” she asked suspiciously.
She saw the flash of his teeth in the gloom. “You’re already sounding like your normal self. But don’t worry. It’s just a synthetic hormone that will stimulate your brain into producing more of a specific encephalin. It will calm you down and allow you to sleep peacefully. You’d better take it before I change my mind. Those things are as rare as hen’s teeth these days.”
She frowned. “But all hens have teeth. …”
“Forget it. An archaic saying. Just take the pill.”
Doubtfully, she put the pill in her mouth. He gave her the canteen and she washed the pill down with several welcome swallows of water. “I don’t feel any different,” she said as she gave the canteen back to him.
“You will.” He put the canteen and box back into the trunk. He turned and faced her again, remaining on his knees. “Jan,” he asked quietly. “What’s that you have in your pocket?”
“What?” she asked. For a moment she didn’t know what he was talking about. Then she remembered the bomb. Her mind went blank. “Er … it’s … I … don’t know …” she said lamely.
“You don’t know what you have in your pocket?” he asked. He leaned towards her and reached out. She didn’t resist as he deftly plucked the bomb from her top pocket. She watched him examine it in the dim light. “It’s heavy,” he said. “So what is this thing you didn’t know you had, eh, amazon?”
Oh Mother God, she thought as she watched him handling it, if he should twist the top. …
“Give it back to me,” she demanded, holding out her hand. “And I’ll tell you.”
He hesitated for a long time before handing the cylinder back to her. “Well?” he insisted quietly.
Something was happening to her. She realized it must be the pill. She was beginning to feel … wonderful. All her worries and fears—even her grief—were falling from her like old scabs from a healed wound. She felt both euphoric and pleasantly relaxed.
“Tell me what it is, Jan,” persisted Milo in the same quiet, encouraging tone.
Why not tell him the truth, she wondered? What did it matter? But at the last moment she decided not to tell him. Instead she said, “It’s a sacred object. Very sacred. All I have left of Minerva. My mother gave it to me.”
“Your mother?”
“My mother was a Headwoman in Minerva. Very important. The people you call the Aristos don’t know that … kept it a secret from them … you won’t tell, will you …?”
She leaned back on the mattress, resting on one elbow. She was feeling very sleepy now. Wonderfully sleepy.
“I won’t tell them,” said Milo softly. “But what is that object?”
“I’m tired,” she said drowsily. “Want to go to sleep.”
“In a moment, amazon. First tell me what it is.”
“Very sacred.”
“You said that. I want to know why.”
“It’s a rod of authority. One of several given to our fore-mothers by the Mother God.” The pang of guilt Jan experienced as she spoke this blasphemy was so slight as to be almost nonexistent. “Swore to my mother I would look after it. Protect it with my life.”
“I see,” he said slowly. “But how did you manage to get it on board?”
“Hid it.” She was struggling to keep her eyes open. It felt as if she was sinking into some deep, cosy bed. She felt like a child again; a glow of reassurance was washing over her from some unknown source.