Serpent's Gift (48 page)

"No, I won't feel terrible," Morrow said, sounding a bit petulant and impatient that Rob didn't appreciate the gift he had planned for him. "That place kills people." He jerked his head at Serge. "Like it's killing him. It sucks the students dry, then spits them out. I won't let it kill you, too."

Rob took a step toward the engineer, and suddenly the gun moved, came to bear on the psychologist, who stopped short. "Besides," Morrow said, and now his voice was as hard as the vacuum outside, "the radonium was making those damned Mizari

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rich, and now
they'll
have to buy from
us--
from Earth--and we won't be threatened any more, held down, treated like second- class citizens."

"Jeff," Rob said, "that's not you talking, that's Mike, your dad. Remember how--"

Behind Serge, the airlock hissed open, and they saw Andrea Lynch

silhouetted there. The gun in her hand was pointed directly at Morrow. There was no way that Jeff could turn and fire at her before she would be able to shoot him; the angle was all wrong, and Serge saw Morrow realize that.

Slowly, he lowered the gun.

Moving deliberately because she had to do it one-handed, the woman removed her helmet. "All right, Jeff," she said reprovingly, "this has gone far enough. Put the gun down. Move slow."

Obediently, the man responded, laying the gun down and then straightening slowly back up. "Andrea--" he began.

"Shut up, Jeff!" she snapped. "I'm calling the shots now, and you do what I say. We'll both be free and safe--and rich, just like we planned. Now you stop that damned countdown. You're not killing anyone else!"

One part of Serge's mind registered what she'd said, but he was too preoccupied with the drama that was taking place before him to focus on it, and its implications.

"All right, Andrea," Morrow said. "Maybe you're right."

Slowly, keeping his hands away from his sides, he moved to the terminal and keyed in a password, then a command. The monotonous voice abruptly ceased.

There was a palpable easing of the tension in the cavern. "That's better,"

Lynch said, and managed a halfhearted smile. "God, Jeff, I thought you were coming apart on me. Don't scare me like that again, okay?"

"Okay, I guess you're right, Andrea," Morrow said, returning her smile. "It'd be a damned shame to waste all this good radonium, wouldn't it, honey?"

She smiled at him like a fond parent, then they both chuckled. "Now"--Lynch waved her gun at Serge and Rob--"what are we going to do with
them?"

"I don't know," Morrow said, still standing by the terminal. Slowly he began walking toward the woman, still moving cautiously. "We can't kill them."

"Damn straight," agreed Lynch fervently. "There's been too much killing. "But we can't leave them free, either. They'll call the cops on us."

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"What about if we put them in the bubbletent and then take their suits?" Jeff suggested, walking over to idly run his fingers along one of the radonium cylinders. 'They'd be fine there, plenty of air, a servo--but we smash the communications equipment. Sooner or later, they'll get around to looking for them, and find them there, safe and sound."

"Sounds good to me," Lynch said. "Come on, the ship's fully loaded."

"Don't we have time to get another load?" Morrow gestured at the radonium stacked around them. "After we lock these two up, we can--"

"Lynch," Rob broke in suddenly, urgently, "don't trust him! He's a borderline personality, and he's breaking down--undergoing a psychotic episode. He's delusional, and paranoid. Don't trust him! He's conning you!"

"Shut up, Gable," she said. "Don't give me that psychologist's mumbo jumbo.

Jeff was just a little overeager, but he's fine now."

She really cares about him,
Serge realized sickly. I
believe she is in love
with him. She cannot bear to recognize that he is mad, because she loves
him . . .

"Rob is right, Ms. Lynch," he said. "When he was talking to us before you came in, he was nearly raving! Do not trust him! He will hurt you!"

"Shut up!" Lynch snarled, turning the gun on the two prisoners. "Jeff and I are partners, and soon we're going to be so rich--"

Serge saw Morrow bend over beside the cylinder, glimpsed a large chunk of slag in his hand as he came up, arm swinging, and yelled, "Lynch! Look
out!"

But instead Lynch whirled toward Serge, and that error was her undoing.

Rob yelled hoarsely as Morrow struck the side of her head viciously with the rock. Serge heard it crack against her skull.

Dazed, her skull probably fractured, Andrea Lynch dropped the gun and fell forward. In a second, Morrow had pounced on the gun, grabbed it, then stepped back to cover all three of them. "Too bad, Andrea," he said calmly, scarcely breathing hard, "you should have listened to them."

Slowly he backed around in a circle until he was beside the terminal again, then he turned the countdown back on. "Six minutes forty-six seconds, six minutes forty-five seconds, six minutes forty-four seconds . .." it was saying.

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Lynch could barely move her head,
but
she was watching Morrow, the look of wounded betrayal in her eyes as
eloquent
as any animal's. "I turned the
sound
off,
Andrea," Morrow said,
as if speaking to an idiot, "not the countdown itself.
You lose."

Then, to Serge's horror, his finger moved on the trigger,
and a
deadly spurt of energy lashed out, turning Lynch's head
and half
her torso into a charred, smoking horror.

Gagging, Serge fought the urge to vomit, and all the while the computer was chanting: "Six minutes eighteen seconds, six minutes seventeen seconds, six minutes sixteen seconds ..."

Serge realized he was going to die, knew it as surely as he knew now how much he wanted to live. He had so many things left to do--so much music he wanted to write! So many treasures he wanted to discover!

"You
caused that," Morrow said accusingly to his prisoners. "If you'd kept quiet, I probably couldn't have got the drop on her like that."

Serge groaned softly, shaking his head, saw the gun swing toward him again. "Sorry, Serge," Morrow said, and his finger moved--

With a rush that amazed Serge, Rob Gable left the ground in a flying tackle, then he and Morrow were struggling for possession of the gun. The weapon went off, and a lance of energy struck the back wall, leaving the smell of ozone almost overcoming the odor of over-cooked meat. Even as he rushed to help Rob, Serge held his breath, expecting them to lose pressure.

Rock spurted, crumbled, then, with a slow, majestic kaTHUMP, a huge chunk dropped down into the pit H.U. had dug.

But the pressure held, and Serge then remembered the small chamber beyond. The little cave was indeed airtight,
Grace a Dieu!

As Rob and Jeff struggled wildly, Serge reached the other gun that was lying on the floor, and picked it up rather gingerly, thumbing the setting down to stun. "Stop it!" he shouted, and his voice sent more rock dust cascading.

"Stop or I will shoot!" Grimly, he thrust the end of the muzzle against the back of Morrow's neck. "Drop your weapon!"

Slowly, Jeff's fingers loosened on his gun, and it clattered to the floor. Rob Gable was bent over, fighting for breath. "Tie his hands," Serge said, backing up to the terminal desk, then handing Rob a length dispensed from the roll of plas-steel cord that still sat in the corner, a mute reminder of the vanished archaeological site.

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Quickly, efficiently, Rob lashed
the engineer's hands behind
him, then
stepped back.

Three minutes
twenty-nine seconds, three minutes twenty-
eight
seconds, three minutes twenty-seven seconds. .." the countdown was saying.

"The helmets!" Rob yelled. "We have to get out of here!"

Jeffrey Morrow began to giggle. "You'll never make it," he chortled. "Never, Rob! This wasn't the way I planned it, but at least we'll always be together, won't we?"

"Shut
up,
you sonofabitch!" Rob screamed at him, slamming the helmet down over the engineer's head, then sealing it with a jerk.

Moving with frantic haste, the doctor handed Serge his helmet, then donned his own. Grabbing the unresisting Morrow beneath his bound arms, they hauled him to his feet and started toward the airlock.

Three minutes remaining in countdown sequence," said the computer. 'Two minutes fifty-nine seconds, two minutes fifty- eight seconds, two minutes fifty-seven seconds ..."

One stride short of the airlock, Serge stopped, then shook his head, thinking of how far it was across the slagged plain to the landing area. "We will never make it, Rob," he said, knowing it was true.

Rob stopped, then nodded.

Slowly, Serge took off his helmet again, and Rob did the same. They let go of Morrow, and the engineer backed away, tripped, then sat down hard on the rocky floor. Serge could see the man's lips moving, and was glad he didn't have to listen to him anymore.

"Two minutes remaining in countdown sequence," said the computer. "One minute fifty-nine seconds, one minute fifty-eight seconds, one minute fifty-seven seconds ..."

Serge took a deep breath, then, catching a whiff of Lynch's still-smoldering corpse, he walked over to the terminal, grabbed a dropcloth they'd used for collecting rock samples, and threw it over the body, hiding it. He really didn't want
that
to be the last sight he ever saw.

"One minute seventeen seconds, one minute sixteen seconds, one minute fifteen seconds . .."

Serge smiled at Rob.
"Au revoir, mon ami,"
he said, holding out his hand to the doctor. "It has been a pleasure--and an honor--to know you, Rob."

The psychologist solemnly shook hands. "Same here, Serge,"

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he said. "To quote one of my favorite films, 'Bye , .. see you on the other side.' "

Serge shook his head ruefully. "But I do not believe in the other side," he said.

"Fifty-five seconds, fifty-four seconds, fifty-three seconds, fifty- two seconds . . ."

Rob raised an eyebrow at the younger man. "We'll both know, soon enough," he said. "And if I'm right, Hing and I will have a good laugh at your expense, when we all get together."

The archaeologist smiled. "Then I shall hope that you are right, and I am wrong."

"Forty-seven seconds, forty-six seconds, forty-five seconds . . ."

This is it,
Serge thought, fighting panic, wanting to die with dignity. He realized that Rob was still gripping his hand.

"Thirty seconds, twenty-nine seconds, twenty-eight seconds . . ."

"Oh, dear God," Rob whispered, and then, by mutual unspoken instinct, the two men grabbed each other, holding hard as though the feel of another living person could stave off the inevitable. Serge could hear the doctor rapidly whispering a prayer.

"Nineteen seconds, eighteen seconds, seventeen seconds . .."

Hugging Rob against him with all his strength, Serge closed his eyes. Would he see Hing again? Was Rob right? If only he could believe . .. but he couldn't.

"Nine seconds, eight seconds, seven seconds--"

If only I could have finished the Starburst Symphony . . .

"Four seconds, three seconds, two seconds, one second ..."

Serge heard a
click,
then an unmistakable giggle. A sweet, high-pitched voice cried,
"Boom!
Fooled you, Mr. Morrow!"

Completely bewildered, Serge raised his head, only to realize that he was still in a tight embrace with Rob Gable, and that their faces were only centimeters apart. Embarrassed, both men hastily stepped back just as the airlock door slid aside.

A diminutive figure stood within the small cubicle. It removed its helmet, and a mane of curls blazed forth. "Hi, Dr. Rob. Hi, Serge!" Heather said breezily.

"I got him good, didn't I?"

Serge was just beginning to realize that he wasn't going to die.
"You
stopped the countdown?" he demanded.

"I sure did," she said proudly. "Morrow entered his password, and that gave me the opening I needed. I had to go
inside,"
she grimaced with distaste,

"but if I hadn't, we'd all be dead now, so I guess that's okay, huh, Dr. Rob?"

"I suppose so," Gable said feebly. "But don't do it again."

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"Don't worry, wild horses couldn't drag me," she said, then looked around curiously at the cavern. "What happened to Lynch?" she asked, suddenly uneasy.

"Jeff killed her, I'm afraid," Rob said. "Heather, tell me one thing ... how did you get the countdown to keep going, but not blow up the asteroid?"

"Oh, I stopped the
real
countdown a couple of minutes ago," she said with pardonable pride. "That was just the voice recording talking. I thought Morrow might get suspicious if that stopped, and come looking for me."

"Morrow ..." Serge whispered as memories suddenly rushed back. "What Lynch said. He was the one--"

Before Rob realized what he was doing, Serge was across the cavern to the bound engineer. Quickly he unsealed his helmet, then viciously yanked it off.

"What are you doing?" Morrow gabbled. "No, no, I didn't, it was the computer, I didn't--"

His words stopped as Serge's inhumanly strong hands fastened around his throat, not exerting much pressure, but enough to keep Jeff from speaking.

"You killed Hing," the archaeologist said softly, between his teeth. A crimson haze seemed to be drifting across his vision-- or was it his mind? It felt wonderful, more potent than any drug. "You killed her, and I will never see her again," he snarled into Morrow's pale, sweating face. "And now," Serge said, his voice calm once more, "I am going to kill you. One crunch"--he gave an experimental squeeze that made Jeff gag--"and you will be dead. How do
you
like it?"

Rob stepped forward, one hand held out. "No, Serge!" he said. "Don't! It won't help! It won't bring her back!"

Serge hesitated. "But he
killed
Hing," he said after a moment. The red haze was thickening, and Morrow's flesh felt very fragile in his grasp.