CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Outside, in the corridor, Lors nodded to the guards and began walkingtoward Thesa's quarters. In his mind, now that he again _had_ a wholemind, was the feeling of being trapped, the feeling of being caught in amesh-like web that was about to strangle him.
Perhaps they could patch things up on Terra, but the two Terrans wouldhave to die, or at least one - merely to gain him another month, or two,with Beth. Was it worth it? In the long run, was it practical? Perhapshe didn't really love the Terran woman - maybe it was just infatuation,or gratitude, or even the result of long abstinence. If that was thecase, it would be brutal for them to kill the one man who could make herhappy.
Then, on the other hand, suppose his love was genuine. If he reallyloved her, the coming accident which he was to stage would never come topass. He knew himself too well to believe that. He would take Beth andrun, get away into another country, change his name, his features...
He smiled to himself and remembered his training on Mars, and theability of the spacemen to reach out with a long arm to stop anything.Anything! _We are the gods, he remembered. We are the gods who move withlightning and speak in thunder. The Terrans are like so many cows thatneed a watchful eye upon them at all times..._
Gods. Yes, in a manner of speaking, he decided that they were gods ...but what did the book say about one of the minor gods being caught upin a crazy thing like this? It had never happened before.
Without actually realizing it, he found himself standing at the door tohis own quarters. A single guard, armed with an auto-rifle stopped himwhen he approached the door.
"I'm sorry, sir," the Spacer said. "You cannot enter here."
Danson was on the other side, he knew. Nicholas Danson, the artist, theman with whom he had traded places. Suddenly he wanted to speak with theman, find out about him. All at once, Danson was not just another Terran- he was a man, with feelings, emotion...
"I'm Firstspacer Lors," he heard his voice rumble with authority. "I'dlike to speak with the Terran."
The guard stiffened. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't know who you were."
"You will open the door, spacer?"
"Yes, sir, but you'd best leave your sidearm with me."
Lors nodded and pulled his auto-pistol from the black leather holsterand handed it to the guard who stuffed it into his belt. He reached backand unlocked the door. As it swung open, Lors stepped inside.
The room was not large; it couldn't be very big on a starship, but itwas serviceable. There was a dresser and locker for uniforms, as well asa visi-screen, a couch and a small bed. The Terran was lying on the bed,reading.
Lors smiled at him. They could have been twins of the same mother, wereit not for the fact that Terran's disposition was different. He hadn'tshaved in a few days, and his black hair was tangled. Even the fatigueuniform he wore was rumpled badly.
"Hello, Danson," Lors said, in English, and to his acute surprise, theTerran answered in Lors' tongue.
"This mortal bids welcome to the great god, Lors," Danson said, with afaint smirk.
"You speak my language?" Lors asked, puzzled.
"Why not? You speak mine. When they checked my brain, they found that Ihad a rather high I.Q. Besides, I've read all your reading material anddecided that you have lousy taste. So I decided to learn the language,and try to make conversation with my watch dogs."
"You are comfortable?"
Danson nodded. "Wonderful. First rate. Now that I know the language, I'mgoing to get a deck of cards and teach my jailers how to play drawpoker. Then I'm going to win this starship and take it to Washington foranalysis."
"I didn't come here to jest."
Danson lit a cigarette and smiled thinly. "Why did you come here?"
"To see you. Are you well taken care of?"
"Certainly. They've hooked up my pint sized T.V. set so that I can lookat the earth. I've been to the Lunar Base ... terrific real estate. Arock pile. Elaborate, but still a rock pile. I eat very well. I sleepoccasionally, except that I cannot get used to the total darkness, and Ihave minor grievances ... like I want to get the hell out of here!" Hestood up suddenly and glared at Lors. "Am I happy! Am I content! Hell,yes! I'm so goddam content I'm going stir crazy from it!
"I'm sick of the whole damned mess, Firstspacer Lors, plain downrightsick and..."
"Take it easy, Danson."
"Shut up! Shut your damned mouth because I'm not finished! Tell me, god,have you ever been confined to a pint sized prison? You ever had yourbrain picked clean by a flock of intellectual buzzards? You ever sat ina room, with the walls closing in on you, listening to a couple ofblue-uniformed knotheads stand outside your door talking a babble oflanguage that sounded like Chinese, and not be able to speak to them?Not be able to take a piss because you don't know how to find the toiletand don't know how to ask where it is?
"Well, I have. I have and I'm up to my ears with this whole bit. I liehere every night and dream about taking this so-called starship andramming it up your ass, plate by plate..."
Danson broke off suddenly, unable to continue his wild tirade. He satthere on the edge of the bunk, his face a livid white, with thecigarette dangling from his lips. His left eye closed against the biteof the smoke and his jaws knotted as he stared at the wall.
"All finished," Lors demanded quietly.
Danson grunted. "Yeah. Yeah, ace, I'm all finished. In a way, I'm sorry... but it felt good. I've wanted to get all that off my chest for along time."
"I can see your position, Danson," Lors told him. "I know what you'vebeen through, but I can't do anything about it. I follow orders."
Danson grinned. "Who're you trying to kid, pal. You got Commander Zark'sdaughter eating out of the palm of your hand. Hell, I'll bet you pullmore strings around this ship than a puppeteer."
"I've underestimated you, Danson," Lors told him in a soft voice. "Youhave an interesting mind. Quite a grasp."
Danson snorted again. "You guys aren't the sharpest people in the world.I will give you a bit of advice, for free. You better either return meto earth, or kill me. In another thirteen months, I'll figure out a wayto blow this hulk into a million pieces."
"I doubt that," Lors mused.
"Go ahead and doubt it, but you'd better keep the powder magazine underdouble guard. And while you're at it, you better have the boys becareful of what they say around me, since I know the lingo."
"How many Spacers have you talked to?" Lors asked. "How many of themknow how intelligent you are?"
Danson shrugged. "Why?"
"Just wondered."
Nick Danson looked at him narrowly. "You have something on your mind,Lors?"
"Maybe. Right now, I'll keep it to myself. Until then, keep your mouthshut about how smart you are. A weapon, Nick, is only useful when theenemy doesn't know how well it will work. When they know, acounter-weapon can be made." Lors moved to the door. "I'll be back,probably," he said and went out into the corridor, leaving the Terran toponder on what he had said.
The guard snapped to attention, then handed Lors his auto-pistol. TheFirstspacer slipped it into the holster and snapped the flap. Then hewalked rapidly toward Firstspacer Thesa's quarters with the germ of anidea filtering and dancing through his mind.
It wasn't a complete idea, but it certainly was a wild one. The chancesof its working were about a thousand to one, but if it did things mightwork out.
He hoped so.
He reached the door of Thesa's quarters and jerked it open. His fingersfumbled for the button, inside the door, that would switch on thelighted walls. When he found it, he closed the door and flicked on thelights. He stared at the inside of the room in amazement.
She was lying on the bed, with her golden hair falling about hershoulders like a waterfall of sunlight, and her lips pulled back overwhite teeth to smile at him. But he was stunned, frozen to the spot.
"Jela," he whispered, in shock.