Prophet (30 page)

"Wise enough to kill me?” she asked, amused.

"I think so,” he replied seriously.

She laughed. “I don't even need my powers to destroy you. You haven't grown wiser, merely older. You are a fat, lame old man. Already you pant and sweat from the mere exertion of walking the last mile to my home. Your heart beats faster, your blood races through your body, you have trouble catching your breath. I could kill you with my bare hands, Iceman."

"Look ahead, and see what will happen if you do,” suggested the Iceman.

"You will die."

"But not alone."

"You refer to the vest you wear, of course?"

"If you hit me or shoot me, I'll fall down. And if I fall down, every map of Mozart is going to be obsolete half a second later. I'm carrying enough explosives to make this the center of a twenty-mile crater."

She stared at him. “So five million men died this morning merely to let you approach me with your plans and your explosives—and you call
me
a monster?"

"I don't call you anything, Penelope,” he said. “I'm your executioner, not your judge."

"And did you really think it would be this easy?” she asked. “Did you think there wasn't a single future in which your switches failed to activate your explosives?"

The Iceman felt a sudden tension at the pit of his stomach.

"You're bluffing,” he said with more confidence than he felt.

She shook her head serenely. “I never had any need to bluff. I could have disabled your explosives whenever I wanted to."

"But you didn't?” he said, frowning.

"No, Iceman, I didn't.” She stared at him for a long moment. “You are prepared to die today, are you not?"

"I am."

"So am I,” she replied. “Our deaths, like our lives, are intertwined.” She paused. “But first I would like to talk to you."

He looked surprised. “What do you want to talk about?"

"Oh, about many things,” she replied. “It is strange: I am bound to you by hatred, but I am also closer to you than to anyone now alive. And you alone have never lied to me.” She paused. “The threat of invasion is over. We have all the time in the world to talk.” She smiled ironically. “The rest of our lives. And I have some questions for you."

"What kind of questions?” he said suspiciously.

"Simple ones."

"All right,” he said. “Start asking."

"Why do all living things shun me?” she asked. “Not only people, but even animals.” She paused. “Even puppies."

The Iceman was taken aback for a moment. It was not the type of question he had anticipated. Finally he spoke.

"Because you're different,” he said. “Because you are no longer human."

"Men do not shun the crippled or the senile, the retarded or the deformed,” said Penelope. “They take them into the bosom of their families, and shower them with love and compassion. Why, of all the sons and daughters of your race, have I alone been cast out?"

"Because none of the unfortunates to whom you liken yourself have the power to destroy entire worlds at their whim. You not only have that power, but you have exercised it."

"Only to protect myself.” She paused. “Do you know that no human being has touched me since the day the Mouse died some twenty years ago? Not a single one?"

"No,” said the Iceman. “I didn't know that."

"Kittens hiss and puppies hide,” she continued. “Birds fly away. Even the reptiles in my garden slither off into the shadows when I appear."

"I have no better answer,” he replied uncomfortably. The sound of a tractor working in a nearby field came to his ears. “Have you any more questions?"

"You have hated me from the first day we met,” she said. “Why? What had I ever done to you?"

"I don't hate you, Penelope,” he replied. “You don't hate an ion storm that threatens your ship, or a meteor swarm that bombards your planet. If you're alone in a jungle, you don't hate the carnivores that stalk you in the night. None of them are good or evil. They're just hazards of nature that have to be overcome in order to survive.” He paused. “I feel no hatred toward you at all. I bear you no malice. I blame you for only one thing—the death of the Mouse."

"She betrayed my trust."

"You were a child,” he replied. “You had no grasp of subtleties. You couldn't fully comprehend what was happening.” He paused again. “She loved you as if you were her own daughter. The only reason she's dead is because she never truly understood what you were. She thought she was saving you, as if you could be shot down like any ordinary human."

Penelope paused. “I have not thought of the Mouse in a long time,” she said at last.

"I think of her every day,” said the Iceman.

"Her death caused you that much pain?"

"It did."

"Then I have repaid you for some of the pain you have caused me."

He stared at her and made no reply.

"Did she really love me?” asked Penelope after a brief silence.

"Yes, she did."

"Will anyone ever love me again, I wonder?” she mused thoughtfully.

The Iceman shook his head. “No, they won't."

"I know,” she replied. “Do you know what it is like to face a future in which not a single person will ever love you? A future in which every member of your race shuns you as if you were some beast to be avoided?"

"No,” answered the Iceman. “And I don't envy anyone who does."

"I never asked for this gift, Iceman,” she said. “All I ever wanted was to be a normal little girl, to play with other girls, to live with my family.” She paused for a moment, lost in her memories. “My own mother was terrified of me. They took me away when I was six, and they killed my father when he tried to prevent it. Do you know how many times I played with children my own age after that, Iceman?"

"No,” he said.

"One afternoon, when the Mouse and I were hiding from you,” she said bitterly. “One afternoon in my entire life!” Suddenly she sighed. “And within twenty minutes they had all run away from me.” She look at him. “They will always run away from me, won't they?"

"Little girls?” he asked, confused.

"Everyone."

"Yes, I suppose they will."

She looked up at him, and for just a moment the emotionless, alien mask disappeared.

"I thought I was escaping from Westerly and Calliope and Killhaven and Hades,” she said, “but there is never really any escape, is there? Mozart is just a bigger cell than the one I had on Hades, and the galaxy is just a bigger cell than Mozart."

"You can't escape who you are,” he replied.

She paused. “Do you know something interesting, Iceman?"

"What?"

"Of all the Men I have known since I left Hades as a grown woman, only you have looked at me without repugnance. With fear, yes, as well you should, and with trepidation, but without disgust."

"I don't feel any disgust toward you,” replied the Iceman. “Other things, yes. But not disgust."

"Every other man and woman has felt it. I even saw it on The Black Death's face, and in the eyes of your young spy.” She sighed. “I have seen it every day of my life, even in the eyes of my own mother."

"I'm sorry,” said the Iceman sincerely.

"You think me a monster,” she continued. “But you are on the outside looking in. Believe me, Iceman, it is infinitely worse to
be
Penelope Bailey than to fear her. I inspire fear and hatred by virtue of my very existence. I am as much a prisoner as I ever was, trapped within this body as this body was trapped within a tiny cell on Hades.” She paused. “My only consolation has been the Plan."

"The Plan?” he repeated.

"I have been working on it for years,” she replied. “It began to form in my mind while I was in my cell on Hades, and I have been implementing it ever since I gained my freedom."

"What does it involve?” asked the Iceman. “Control of the Democracy? Its overthrow?"

"Even now, on this last day of our lives, in the middle of this conversation, you do not begin to understand me,” said Penelope. “I have no desire to rule anyone. I have no army, I control no politicians, I have not garnered untold wealth."

"Then what
is
this Plan?” he persisted.

She stared at him with a level gaze. “Simply this,” she answered. “That no child shall ever bear the curse of precognition again. There are some three hundred men and women with the genetic potential to produce another Soothsayer, another Oracle, another
me
. I have manipulated events, built and destroyed planetary economies, changed entire political systems, to make sure than none of those three hundred people ever meet.” She paused. “That is my gift to your galaxy, Iceman. More important, that is my gift to the unborn. No child shall ever be cut off from his people as I was."

He returned her stare. “You
are
ready to die, aren't you?"

"Soon,” she replied. “I have a few things yet to do.” She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. “I have allowed Moses Mohammed Christ to live and fight another day. With his defeat this morning, he can no longer affect the outcome of the Plan.” She shrugged. “Let your vaunted Democracy find out if it is fit to rule, or so corrupt that its time has past."

"You don't know the answer?"

"I no longer care about the answer,” she said. Suddenly she walked past him, circled the pond, and entered her house. She emerged a moment later with something small and furry cradled under one arm.

"I seem to remember that doll,” said the Iceman.

She shook her head. “This is a new one. The one you remember fell apart while I was in prison on Hades, and of course I did not request another, because grown women do not lavish their attentions on dolls.” She sighed. “Somewhere along the way I found out what others have always known: that I am not a woman.” She stared at him again. “It is time, I think."

He carefully pulled his weapon out of its holster and aimed it at her.

"Say a prayer to your God,” said Penelope calmly. “The surge of energy when you pull the trigger will activate your explosives."

"Just a minute,” said the Iceman. “There is a better way."

"I thought you were prepared to die,” she said. “I hope you were not lying, for neither of us will survive this day."

He carefully pulled one tiny explosive off his vest and attached it to his weapon's power pack.

"Let me take the vest off and deactivate it,” he said.

"Why should I?"

"This bomb is more than enough to kill both of us. If the vest goes off, we'll wipe out ten thousand people."

"What are they to me?” asked Penelope.

"Let me do it, for what they
might
have been to you under other circumstances."

She considered his entreaty for a long moment, then nodded.

He deactivated the switches, removed the vest, and walked to the house with it, laying it carefully on a couch. Then he returned to the pond, where Penelope was waiting for him.

"Aim straight and true, Carlos Mendoza,” she said.

"That's what I came here to do,” he replied, raising the weapon and training it on her heart.

Suddenly he froze.

"I have a question,” he said. “You're probably the only person who ever lived who might be able to answer it."

"What is it?"

"Can you see another life beyond this one?"

"God, I hope not,” she said with a shudder of revulsion.

The Iceman pulled the trigger.

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Lomax waited until the Anointed One's flagship retreated to New Gobi, leaving its disabled companions behind, before he jettisoned the body of the dead crewman. Then, because he was a cautious man who had every intention of surviving, he waited a few hours more.

Finally, when he was all through waiting, he requested permission to land and touched down at the tiny spaceport about two hundred yards from the Iceman's ship.

He spent a few minutes clearing customs, then made arrangements to refuel the ship and house it in a hangar. There were a pair of groundcars waiting outside the observation tower, and he got into the nearer of them.

"Where to?” asked the driver.

He summoned up Penelope Bailey's address from the computer's directory.

"I took someone out there yesterday,” remarked the driver, as they began racing past the endless pastures and fields that lined the road.

"Old fellow with a bad leg?” asked Lomax.

"That's the one."

"Do you know if he came back?"

"If he did, he didn't rent a vehicle to do it,” replied the driver.

Lomax checked his laser weapon, and made sure that the charge was full.

"Did he say anything to you?” he asked.

"Just that he had some personal business to take care of,” said the driver. “Funny thing, though: he had me let him off about a mile short of where he was going. Guess he felt like taking a walk."

"Probably,” said Lomax noncommittally.

They drove the rest of the way in silence, until at last the geodesic dome came into view.

"Well, there it is,” said the driver. “Are you the walking type too?"

"No, I like my comfort."

The groundcar pulled up to the house a moment later. “Should I wait for you?"

"It'd probably be better if you didn't,” answered Lomax. “I'll call you if I need you."

He got out of the groundcar and walked up to the front door. It was locked, and the security system, which didn't recognize him, refused to let him in, so he cautiously walked around to the back of the house.

He found what was left of them by the pond. Not much, but enough to identify them. The back door of the house was unlocked, and inside it he found the Iceman's vest, loaded with explosives. Try as he would he couldn't reconstruct what had happened, although the climax of it was there for anyone to read.

He found a tool shed hidden behind some bushes, broke the lock on it, killed the ensuing alarm siren with his laser pistol, and searched through the tiny building until he found a shovel. He picked a shady spot under a huge tree by the pond, dug a shallow grave, and buried what he could find of them.

He filled in the grave, then tried to decide how to mark it. He doubted that either of them wanted a religious symbol, and he had no intention of remaining on Mozart until a headstone could be created and delivered. Then his gaze fell on something small and fluffy lying on the ground. He walked over and picked it up; it was the shredded remains of a small doll.