To Die In Italbar

"Mind if I open those shutters for a minute?" he asked.

"Let me do it."

"No, that's all right."

But she was already on her feet and halfway across the room.

She located a control beneath the sill and they slid back into the wall.

"Would you like the window opened too?"

"A little," he said, coming up and standing beside her.

The window responded to another control, and he inhaled the moist night air.

"Still raining," he observed, and he extended his hand and flicked an ash outside.

"Yes."

Looking out over a low rooftop, they watched the quiet city through the drops and rivulets on the half-raised pane. The lights below were fractured, shifted slightly. With the mild draft that entered, there came the faint salt odor of the sea. "Why do you keep it closed?" he asked her; and, "I hate the sight of that city," she replied, without emotion. "It is not too bad at night, though, when you can't see anything." A faint thunder-rumble rolled down from the hills. He rested his elbows on the sill and leaned forward. After a moment's hesitation, she did too. She was quite close to him then, but he knew that if he touched her the moment would be shattered.

"Does it rain often here?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. "Especially at this time of year."

"Do you do any sailing, or swimming?"

"I swim, to keep in practice, and I know how to handle small vessels. But I do not especially like the sea."

"Why not?"

"My father was drowned. This was after my mother died and they had put me in with the children. He tried to swim around Point Murphy one night. I guess that he was attempting to escape from the Relocation Center. --At least, they told me he had drowned. --It might be that one of those damned guards shot him."

"Sorry."

"I was just a child. I didn't know enough to hate them until later."

He flicked more ashes through the window.

"What will it be like after you win?" she asked.

He threw away the cigarette.

Staring, he saw it become an instant's comet.

"Win?" he said, turning his head and looking at her. "I am going to fight until I die, but I will never break the CL. I will never win, in that sense. My objective is the preservation of the DYNAB, not the destruction of the CL. I want to keep thirty-four little worlds from becoming subservient to the whims of fourteen leagues. I can't hope to beat them, but maybe I can teach them some respect for the DYNAB-- enough so that the DYNAB might have a chance to grow and expand to the point where it can achieve League status itself one day, rather than being reapportioned and absorbed by the others. If we had a chance to colonize a few dozen more worlds, if we were unhampered by the Leagues instead of being boycotted and cut out every time we tried our hand at something new, then we'd have a chance. I want us to join the CL--not break it--but on our terms. Sure, I hate them, for what they did to us. But they're the best civilization we've got. I want to be in on it--but as an equal."

"... And the thing on the Mound? The identity of H?"

He smiled crookedly.

"If I can get control of H's secret, I'll go down in history as one of the blackest villains who ever lived. But, by the gods! I'll scare the holy hell out of the CL! They'll leave the DYNAB alone for a long time afterward."

She tossed her cigarette after his and he lit them two more.

They listened to the voice of a faraway storm-buoy and saw into the distance whenever the lightning flickered. When it flashed far ahead, the skyline was silhouetted dark and gap-toothed before them; when it came from behind, the windows of Capeville each seemed to catch some of its burning and spill it in a different way. Mainly, though, there were only the fractured lights of the city.

I haven't talked like this in ages, he thought. I don't always have Shind sitting there to tell me who I can trust, though. She's a likable child. Certainly pretty. But those whips, and that fu

A low-flying aircraft passed slowly, circling like a luminous insect. He watched it mdve off in the direction of the field where he had landed.

Could be a jump-buggy, he decided. About the right size. Who would come down on a night like this when he could stay in a nice, warm, dry orbit until things blow over? --Not counting me, of course.

The vessel swung through a slow, circular pattern, then hovered as though awaiting landing clearance.

"Jackara, would you turn the light out?" he asked, and she stiffened beside him. "... And if you have binoculars, or a telescope of some kind," he continued quickly, "please get it for me. I'm curious about that vessel."

She moved away and he heard a closet opening. After perhaps ten heartbeats, the room grew dark.

"Here," she said, coming up beside him again.

He raised the glass to his eye, swung it, adjusted it.

"What is it?" she asked. "What's the matter?"

He did not reply immediately, but continued to sharpen the focus.

There was another flash, from behind them.

"That vessel is a jump-buggy," he stated. "How many come to Capeville?"

"Quite a few, of the commercial kind."

"This one's too small. How many private ones?"

"Tourists, mainly," she said. "A few every month."

He collapsed the tube and returned it to her.

"Maybe I'm overly suspicious," he said. "I'm always afraid they will find a way to keep track of me--"

"I'd better get the light again," and she retreated through the darkness, then made it go away.

After he heard the closet closed, he continued to watch the city for a long while.

At his back, he heard a muffled sob and he turned slowly.

She was lying on her side on the bed, her legs scissored out behind her, hair hiding her face. She had unbuttoned her blouse and he saw that she had on black underwear.

He stared for a long moment, then went and sat beside her. He brushed her hair aside and pushed it back over her shoulder, letting his hand rest between her shoulder blades. She continued to cry.

"I'm sorry," she said, not looking at him. "You wanted a room and a girl, and I can't. I wanted to, but I can't. Not with you. Not so that you would enjoy it. There is a very nice girl named Lorraine and another named Kyla. They are quite popular. I will get one of them to come and be with you tonight."

She began to rise, and he reached out with his other hand and touched her cheek.

"Whichever one you bring, she'll get a good night's sleep," he said, "because that's about all I'm fit for right now."

She looked at him then.

"You wouldn't lie to me?"

"Not about that. I'm very sleepy. If you'll just turn back the covers, you can tell me in the morning if I snore."

She swallowed, nodded vigorously and moved to obey him. Later, he heard her emerge from the bathroom and felt her enter the bed. She had forgotten to close the window. As he liked fresh air, he did not remind her. He lay there, breathing the ocean and listening to the rain.

"Malacar," he heard her whisper, "are you asleep?"

"No."

"What about my things?"

"What things?"

"I've got some nice dresses and some books and--well-- just things."

"We can pack them in the morning and have them shipped to the port and held there until we're ready to leave Deiba. I'll help you."

"Thanks."

She turned and twisted some, then lay still. The stormbuoy sounded. He wondered about the jump-buggy that had passed. If the Service had somehow tracked him from the Sol-System, there was nothing they could do to him. On the other hand, he never wanted them to co