cone around the muzzle of the disruptor, shaping the energy flow. It allows you to fire either a stream of neutrons on a tight beam or a spray of neutrons on a wide sweep. It’s really quite uncomplicated. You turn the field adjuster, here, to select the firing mode. Turn it to the left and you get a tight beam about one inch in diameter. Turn it to the right and you have a spray. There isn’t any recoil, naturally. It’s just like holding a water hose, only there isn’t any sensation of pressure. Try it out.”
“On what?” said Finn, still dazed.
“God in heaven, man, you needed a weapon, I designed you a weapon. Now you want me to tell you what to shoot with it? What in hell do I care? Try it on yourself, that ought to be amusing.”
Finn walked over to an open window and sighted at a palm tree. He turned the magnetic field adjuster to spray and carefully squeezed the trigger. There was a brief flash of barely discernible blue mist, Cerenkov Radiation, and the palm tree disappeared as if it had never been there in the first place.
“Shit,” said Finn.
“Such eloquence,” said Darkness. “Now give it back, please.”
Finn carefully handed the warp gun back to him.
“You think you can remember how it works?” said Darkness, dryly.
“I’ll manage,” Finn said.
“Good. They will be delivered to you at the proper time.”
“When?”
Darkness sighed. “When the signal for attack is given. All the soldiers of the First Division have been recalled and they are on standby alert, awaiting your signal. Try not to screw it up. Now, are there any more foolish questions? No? Fine. Good-bye.”
Suddenly, he simply wasn’t there anymore.
“How does he do that?” Andre said. “He was solid one second and then when Finn tried to hit him…”
“Tachyons,” said Lucas. “Amazing. He’s faster than the speed of light. Or can be when he wants to.”
“Is he always like that?” Andre said.
“No,” said Martingale. “Sometimes he can be pretty abrasive.”
“If he ever perfects that process,” Finn said, “the warp disc will be as obsolete as an electric train.”
“That’s if he ever gives it to anyone,” said Martingale.
“Why wouldn’t he?” said Lucas.
Martingale shrugged. “Why should he? He’s got an ego bigger than the whole damn planet and he really doesn’t care all that much about what happens here. He lives somewhere on the other side of the galaxy and only drops in when he feels like it or when he needs something. He’s a very hard man to figure out. If I were you, I wouldn’t even bother trying.”
11
It was all they could do to get to sleep that night, knowing that in the morning they would be leaving Barataria for Drakov’s island base. There were still unanswered questions and the frustration they had been feeling at being unable to do anything, combined with the anticipation of it all coming to a head at last, made it impossible to relax.
Verne didn’t make things any easier when he returned from his night out on the town. They had been given rooms upstairs in Lafitte’s house. Verne and Land shared one, Finn and Lucas shared another and Andre had been given a room of her own. Land had still not put in an appearance, so Verne, lacking for company, ensconced himself in Finn and Lucas’s room and talked endlessly about his trip to New Orleans with Drakov and Lafitte. Paris nightlife, he had thought, would have prepared him for anything, but he was not ready for New Orleans. He had resolved early on to drink very sparingly, so he could remain sober and observe with his writer’s eye, but that went the way of so many resolutions and he came back roaring drunk. Unfortunately, while he was quite a pleasant drunk, he was one of those who cannot shut up and even feigning sleep was not enough to put him off. Finn, miraculously, finally managed to fall asleep, but Lucas remained wide awake, his eyes closed, breathing heavily, hoping Verne would notice that his audience had departed for the realm of Morpheus and take the trip himself.
Frustrated, Lucas finally was reduced to timing Verne’s sentences, which kept getting longer and longer, though they remained perfectly grammatical. To his astonishment, Verne, his accent growing thicker, launched into an extensive mono-logical sentence which went on for forty-five minutes without a break, ending finally, incongruously, in a question. Verne actually paused at that point, awaiting an answer. None was forthcoming. Please, thought Lucas, for God’s sake don’t start up again! The silence became lengthy and finally broken by a window-rattling snore from Finn, and Verne belatedly became aware of the soporific effect of his conversation.
“Oh, well, never mind,” he said, and fell asleep the very next instant, slumping forward in his chair, chin on his chest.
“That’s one for the books,” Lucas mumbled to himself. He was just starting to drift off when there came a faint knock at the door and it creaked open slightly.
“Lucas? Finn?”
It was Land.
“Oh, no,” said Lucas.
“Are you awake?” said Land.
“Ned, whatever it is, can’t it wait till morning?”
“No, no, I must tell you now,” said Land. “I will not be here in the morning.”
Lucas came fully awake. “What are you talking about?” The others slept on, both snoring loudly.
“I am leaving,” Land said. “Tonight. Within the hour.”
“What do you mean, you’re leaving? Where?”
“I’m going with Marie,” said Land. “We are running away together.”
Lucas sat up in bed. “I thought she didn’t want to leave Lafitte,” he said.
“That was before,” said Land. “All that is changed now. I love her. And she loves me.”
“Ned, she’s young enough to be your daughter.”
“She doesn’t think me old,” said Land. “And she’s no child, believe me. She knows her mind.”
“Perhaps, but it does seem changeable,” said Lucas. “You realize this is very foolish, don’t you?”
“I know what you’re going to say,” said Land. “There’s no point in running off. Lafitte was willing to make me a present of her before, why not just ask if he still stands by his offer? No. I will not have any man make a present of a woman as if she were a horse.”
“So you’ll steal her as if you were a horse thief,” Lucas said. “Ned, don’t be an ass. Where would you go?”
“She knows her way through the bayous,” Land said. “She’s getting some things together. She’ll meet me on the back side of the island in a pirogue and we’ll paddle to New Orleans. Then we’ll make our way to Boston. I can get work as a harpooner. I’ll buy a house and we will marry. She’s very light, no one would think she was a Negro. We can have a family.”
“Ned, has it occurred to you that you don’t belong in this time? It’s 1812. You haven’t even been born yet.”
“What does that matter? I don’t care. I’m leaving, I tell you and nothing you can say will change my mind. I only came to say good-bye. You will say good-bye to Finn and Andre for me, won’t you? And to Jules.”
“Well, if you’ve made up your mind…”
“You can’t talk me out of it. There’s no use trying.”
Lucas got out of bed. “All right, Ned, I won’t. I wish you the best of luck. I hope you won’t regret this.”
He offered Land his hand and the harpooner took it. “I will have nothing to regret, I promise you.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” said Lucas and, still holding onto Land’s hand, he gave him a savage kick in the balls.
Land wheezed and doubled over and Lucas nailed him with an uppercut to the jaw. The harpooner dropped to the floor, unconscious. Verne and Delaney kept up their steady cadence of snoring.
“Marie’s going to have a long wait by the boat,” said Lucas. “And by the time morning comes around, I don’t
