head.I hadn't eaten much; partly hangover, partly
nerves.It was a muggy, enervating mid-morning;
the tenement's conditioning plant had broken down
again.
'Is what they're asking really so terrible?' Maust
pulled his robe tighter, balancing plates expertly.I
watched his slim back as he moved to the kitchen.
'I mean, you won't even tell me.Don't you trust me?'
His voice echoed.
What could I say?That I didn't know if I did trust
him?That I loved him but: only he had known I was
an outworlder.That had been my secret, and I'd
told only him.So how did Kaddus and Cruizell
know?How did Bright Path know?My sinuous,
erotic, faithless dancer.Did you think because I
always remained silent that I didn't know of all the
times you deceived me?
'Maust, please; it's better that you don't know.'
'Oh,' Maust laughed distantly; that aching, beautiful
sound, tearing at me. 'How terribly
dramatic.You're protecting me.How awfully
gallant.'
'Maust, this is serious.These people want me to do
something I just can't do.If I don't do it they'll
they'll at least hurt me, badly.I don't know what
they'll do.They they might even try to hurt me
through you.That was why I was so worried when
you were late; I thought maybe they'd taken you.'
'My dear, poor Wrobbie,' Maust said, looking out
from the kitchen, 'it has been a long day; I think I
pulled a muscle during my last number, we may not
get paid after the raid - Stelmer's sure to use that as
an excuse even if the filth didn't swipe the takings -
and my ass is still sore from having one of those
queer-bashing pigs poking his finger around inside
me.Not as romantic as your dealings with gangsters
and baddies, but important to me.I've enough to
worry about.You're overreacting.Take a pill or
something; go back to sleep; it'll look better later.'
He winked at me, disappeared.I listened to him
moving about in the kitchen.A police siren moaned
overhead.Music filtered through from the
apartment below.
I went to the door of the kitchen.Maust was drying
his hands. 'They want me to shoot down the
starship bringing the Admiral of the Fleet back on
Ninthday,' I told him.Maust looked blank for a
second, then sniggered.He came up to me, held me
by the shoulders.
'Really?And then what?Climb the outside of the
Lev and fly to the sun on your magic bicycle?' He
smiled tolerantly, amused.I put my hands on his
and removed them slowly from my shoulders.
'No.I just have to shoot down the ship, that's all.I
have they gave me a gun that can do it.' I took the
gun from the jacket.He frowned, shaking his head,
looked puzzled from a second, then laughed again.
'With that, my love?I doubt you could stop a
motorized pogo-stick with that little -'
'Maust, please; believe me.This can do it.My
people made it and the ship the state has no
defence against something like this.'
Maust snorted, then took the gun from me.Its lights
flicked off. 'How do you switch it on?' He turned it
over in his hand.
'By touching it; but only I can do it.It reads the
genetic make-up of my skin, knows I am
Culture.Don't look at me like that; it's true.Look.' I
showed him.I had the gun recite the first part of its
monologue and switched the tiny screen to
holo.Maust inspected the gun while I held it.
'You know,' he said after a while, 'this might be
rather valuable.'
'No, it's worthless to anyone else.It'll only work
for me, and you can't get round its fidelities; it'll
deactivate.'
'How faithful,' Maust said, sitting down and
looking steadily at me. 'How neatly everything
must be arranged in your Culture .I didn't really
believe you when you told me that tale, did you
know that, my love?I thought you were just trying
to impress me.Now I think I believe you.'
I crouched down in front of him, put the gun on the
table and my hands on his lap.'Then believe me
that I can't do what they're asking, and that I am in
danger; perhaps we both are.We have to
leave.Now.Today or tomorrow.Before they think
of another way to make me do this.'
Maust smiled, ruffled my hair. 'So fearful, eh?So
desperately anxious.' He bent, kissed my forehead.
'Wrobbie, Wrobbie; I can't come with you.Go if
you feel you must, but I can't come with you.Don't
you know what this chance means to me?All my
life I've wanted this; I may not get another
opportunity.I have to stay, whatever.You go; go for
as long as you must and don't tell me where you've
gone.That way they can't use me, can they?Get in
touch through a friend, once the dust has
settled.Then we'll see.Perhaps you can come back;
perhaps I'll have missed my big chance anyway
and I'll come to join you.It'll be all right.We'll
work something out.'
I let my head fall to his lap, wanting to cry. 'I can't
leave you.'
He hugged me, rocking me. 'Oh, you'll probably