Crown of Slaves

uniforms, members of the Felicia's actual crew. Only one of them, judging from the uniform, was an officer.

They all looked petrified, as, indeed, Berry was sure they were. Cachat was bad enough-but he came on top of having had their ship taken over by religious maniacs who were announcing to the galaxy that they were quite prepared to blow it up if their demands were not met.

'Where's the control for destroying the ship?' Cachat demanded. As if guided by a single will, the eyes of all four crew members went to the one Masadan seated at a station. More precisely, to a large button on one side of the panel in front of him. The button had the vague appearance of being something jury-rigged, not to mention- Berry almost giggled at the absurdity of the melodrama-having been painted bright red. A very recent and rather sloppy paint job, in fact.

'That's it? Fine. Push the button.'

Kubler's mouth was open again, as if to begin a tirade. But Victor's last three words caused it to snap shut.

The Masadan seated at the control, on the other hand, was almost gaping. 'What did you say?'

'You heard me clearly, you imbecile. I said: Push the button.'

Now, the Masadan was gaping.

Cachat didn't move a muscle, but somehow he seemed to be almost looming over the man by the red button. His spirit, rather. Like some dark and terrifying hawk stooping down on a rabbit.

'Are you deaf? Or simply a coward? Push the button. Do it now, you self-proclaimed zealot! '

The Masadan's hand began to lift, involuntarily, as if he were falling under Cachat's spell. Finally, Kubler found his voice-but his face was no longer red with fury. It was quite pale, in fact.

'Don't touch that button, Jedediah! Remove your hand!'

Jedediah shook his head, half-gasped, and snatched the hand away.

Cachat turned back to Kubler. His lips were not actually twisted into a sneer, but somehow he managed to project one simply with his eyes.

'Zealots. How pitiful. Don't think for a moment that you can possibly intimidate me with a threat of death. You know who Oscar Saint-Just was, I presume?'

Kubler nodded.

'Delightful. An educated zealot. Let me further your education, then. I was one of Saint-Just's closest associates. Secretly hand-picked by him-one of only five such-to serve at moments when any sacrifice was called for. And I was the first to volunteer, when the traitor McQueen launched her insurrection, to take the codes into her headquarters and blow it up myself if the remote controls failed in the purpose.'

He made a minimal shrug. 'As it happened, the remotes worked. But don't think for a moment I wouldn't have done it.'

He swiveled his head to bring the large red button back under his gaze. This time, his lips did twist in a slight sneer.

'How impressive. A big red button which can destroy eight thousand people. The button in Oscar Saint-Just's command center was a small white one. When I pushed it-yes, he allowed me that privilege, in light of my volunteering to go in-I destroyed perhaps a million and a half people in Nouveau Paris along with McQueen and her traitors. There was never an exact body count, of course. With numbers that high, it hardly seemed to matter.'

He brought the gaze back to Kubler. The slight sneer was gone, but the dark eyes looked like bottomless pits.

'Ask me if I lost a moment's sleep over it.'

Kubler swallowed.

'The answer is: no. Not so much as a second's sleep. Everyone dies sooner or later. All that matters is whether they die for a purpose or not. So I say again. Take the girl out of here so we can begin our negotiations, or match your zealotry against mine. Those are your only options. Obey me, or push the button.'

There was silence, for a moment.

'Decide now, Masadan. Or I'll go over there and push the button myself.' Cachat lifted his wrist-watch. 'In exactly five seconds.'

Less than two seconds later, Kubler snarled at one of his subordinates. 'Get the slut out of here, Ukiah. Put her with the cargo. Take one of the heathen crew to show you the way.'

Ukiah let out a sigh. He gave a hard glance at one of the crew, who rose from his station with alacrity. The man was clearly even more relieved than Ukiah.

Berry, on the other hand, was not relieved at all. Ukiah was the Masadan who'd subjected her to his leering 'weapons inspection'-and she was sure it was a long way to the 'cargo.'

But Cachat stifled that instantly, also. His snake-cold eyes were now on Ukiah.

'You've already pawed the girl once, zealot, despite the fact that not even a cretin could believe she might be concealing a weapon-and despite the fact that you gave me no similar such 'inspection.' Do it again and you are a dead man. Lay so much as a finger on her, and the first demand I will advance in my negotiations will be your bowels fed to you. Yes, I know how to do it while still keeping a man alive. And you will eat your own colon, don't think you won't.'

He shifted the cobra gaze to Kubler. 'That demand will be nonnegotiable, of course. His bowels, shoved down his throat-or push the button.'

Kubler's fear and rage finally had an outlet. He took three quick strides, drawing his pulser, and literally hammered Ukiah to the deck. The butt of the weapon opened a large gash on his forehead and left him completely dazed.

'I told you to keep your hands off!' Kubler shrieked. He aimed the pulser. For a moment, Berry thought he was going to shoot the man as well. But, barely, he managed to restrain himself.

Seething with rage-but still careful, Berry noted, not to aim directly at Cachat-Kubler turned on another Masadan. 'You take the whore to the cargo, Ezekiel. And don't touch her.'

Hastily, Ezekiel complied. Within seconds, Berry was being taken off the bridge.

'Ushered' off, rather. Again, she had to restrain a giggle. The Masadan and the crewman were being careful- oh, very careful-not to get within three feet of her.

She gave Victor a last glance over her shoulder. But she could read no expression at all in that face. It was like trying to scrutinize a plate of steel.

Berry gave him silent thanks, anyway. And, in the minutes which followed as she was led-ushered-to the slave compartments, found herself simply wondering at the mysteries of human nature.

She wondered, first, if Victor had been speaking the truth when he told Kubler he'd pushed the button which destroyed half the city of Nouveau Paris.

She didn't think so. Victor was certainly a good enough liar to be able to pass it off as the truth. On the other hand-

With Victor Cachat, you never know. If he thought it was called for by the demands of his duty…

She wondered, second, what Victor was going to do next. Berry had no idea-not a clue-what sort of 'negotiations' he intended to conduct with the Masadans now that she was out of the way. Whatever it was, she was sure it would be a doozy, thought up on the spot. If Victor Cachat suddenly found himself cast down into the lowest pit of the Inferno, Berry had no doubt at all he'd be improvising a plot against the Devil before he'd finished brushing off the bone dust of sinners.

Mostly, though, she found herself wondering about Thandi Palane.

Not whether Thandi would get there in time. On that subject, she had no doubt at all. She just found herself, again, wondering at the quirks of human nature. What does she see in him, anyway?

She decided to ask her, when she got the chance. It was none of her business, true. But since Berry had decided that Thandi was another big sister, it was her simple obligation to help the woman sort out her own feelings.

The thought cheered her up. Berry was good at that.