George Martin - Aces High

"And what are you sniggering at, you tubby little man," roared Traveler. Tom hadn't sniggered, not really, but the ludicrousness of the situation had drawn a sound from him.

"Do you know what they have planned for you?" Traveler continued, "Vivisection! Do you know what that means? I can't imagine why they seized you. You must be the most paltry of aces. Shaking like a bowl of Jell-O, and sniveling like a reluctant virgin." He shot a smoldering and resentful glance toward Asta, who threw him a bird.

Tom exploded. "Would you just get the fuck out of here! Fuck off! You think you're so fucking smart, but you're stuck too, just like the rest of us. You can't get off this ship. If you could, you would have. Now get out. Get out!" Tom charged at him, waving his arms wildly about like a man shooing chickens. Traveler went, his features looking decidedly curdled.

"Where the hell have you been?" Tachyon halted his nervous perambulations. "How long does it take to scout out a ship-" Traveler, halfway through the cabin wall, began to withdraw. Tachyon rushed forward. "No, please wait. I'm sorry. The stress… What did you find out?"

"Our captors are charging about the ship in pursuit of me. Though I can't imagine how they are tracking me. They'll no doubt be here soon-"

"And my Kibr? The old woman with the jewels in her hair," he explained at Traveler's blank look.

"I haven't a notion."

Tach held his tongue, deciding that Benaf'saj's whereabouts were perhaps not all that important.

"All right, never mind, we'll try it. To the left of the cabin doors there is a small protuberance on the wall. That is an override panel for the doors. Open mine, and then we'll-"

"No."

"I beg your…" he began politely, then stopped and rumbled, "What?"

"You heard me, I said no. I have not the slightest faith in your ability to successfully execute this escape plan, and I will not be a party to it. Besides, as I stand substantial and helpless outside your door, those thugs will come upon me, and harm me. "

"It will only take an instant."

Traveler folded his arms across his chest, and stared majestically at the far wall. "No."

"Please?"

"No."

Tachyon folded his hands at his breast. "Please, please, please?"

"No. "

"You whining, groveling coward!" bellowed Tach. "You're endangering all of us. You're the only one-"

But Traveler was leaving. Tachyon leaped for a wall niche, pulled down a beautiful Membres vase, and launched it at the rapidly departing ace. It passed through him, smashed into the wall, and Traveler gave him a look of withering contempt and loathing. The entire incident left Tach shaking; partly with anger, partly with despair over his violent reaction. He untied his lace cravat, and yanked open his collar, gasping for air. He had tried so hard over the years to put such responses behind him, to deal gently and kindly with all people. And he had lost it all. He was behaving like… He paused, searching for some appropriately disgusting comparison.

Like Zabb.

This brief indulgence in self-castigation felt good, but it didn't remove the primary problem. They were up a creek without the proverbial paddle.

And this too is my fault, thought Tach without pausing to consider whether any amount of bribery or cajoling might have moved the recalcitrant ace.

His hour was almost gone. Raging against the vagaries of an unkind and uncaring universe that had left him trapped within the body of man he considered little better than a vegetable, he wandered through the Takisian ship dodging increasingly hysterical search parties. But this could not last. If he delayed he would revert to that moron Meadows, and the aliens might harm him. And however much Traveler might despise his host body, he realized that without Mark there was no life. He had noticed that doorways left faint lines on the walls like the fossilized imprint of ancient flower petals. Some opened automatically, others seemed to require a telepathic command, and still others used the access panels that Tachyon had described. He went in search of one that would not open automatically. One that seemed firmly and soundly locked from the outside.

Mark returned to himself slowly. And blinked… and blinked again, because it was dark. His hands roamed fitfully over his face and head until he had fully assured himself of his consciousness. But it was still dark. He shuffled forward, and ran his long nose firmly into a wall. Holding his bumped nose with one hand he stared out into the stygian darkness. Slowly. he stretched out his arms, exploring the dimensions of his prison. It was small. Closet-size. Coin-sized.

That thought was depressing so he shook it off, and tried through the hazy filter of Traveler's memories to piece together what had happened.

"Aliens, man. Oh, bummer."

And Tachyon… a prisoner? Yes, that felt right. He had been angry, Traveler had done or failed to do… something. Mark sighed, and scrubbed at his face with his hands. Yeah, that sounded about right where Traveler was concerned.

For a moment he stood in morose contemplation of his alternate personae's social and emotional shortcomings.

He wondered what time it was. Sprout might be home from kindergarten by now. He could trust Susan to keep an eye on her for as long as the Pumpkin was open, but once the head shop closed who would watch her? Surely Susan wouldn't just leave her alone if Mark hadn't returned. He tried to pace his tiny prison, but kept misjudging in the inky blackness, and slamming into the walls.

"I gotta get out of here, and help Dr. Tachyon. He'll know what to do." He began fumbling around in his leather pouch, and emerged with a vial. He held it up before his eyes and peered, but to no avail. It was too dark to see the glass, much less the color of the powder it contained.

"Oh, bummer, man. If I get Flash he can burn down this door, but Starshine can't work in the dark. And Moonchild.." He poked at the unyielding wall. " I don't know if she could bust this or not."

He returned the vial to the pouch and fished out another one. And dithered. And returned it and tried another. And finally pulled out two. His head wove back and forth between the bottles like a puzzled stork. He put them away, and clutched his head.

"I gotta do something. I'm an ace, man. People are depending on me. This is like a test, and I gotta prove I'm worthy. "

He went back to his fruitless pawing through the pouch. He imagined he could feel the ship moving, hurtling them out beyond the orbit of Neptune, carrying him away from Sprout. His beautiful, golden-haired daughter who would never be mentally more than four years old. His Alice-in-Wonderland darling who needed him. And he needed to be needed. His fingers closed convulsively about a vial, he yanked it out, muttering, "Ah, fuck it."

Unstopped the bottle, and tossed back the contents. Later he might know if his choice had been an appropriate one.

Talli had brought him a meal. Delicate meat- and fruitfilled crepes that had been his favorite back home. The first mouthful choked him, and he tossed the rest down the toilet. His restless pacings had accomplished nothing except to give him a cramp in his left calf, so he seized a brush from the dressing table in the lavatory, and tried to soothe himself by brushing his hair. The rasp of the bristles over his scalp felt good, and some of the tension eased from his shoulders.

Then Hellcat gave a tiny shudder, and ringing through his mind came a loud, aggrieved "OW!" Obviously this ship did not believe in suffering in silence.

Traveler? he wondered. Had that puling coward finally decided to do something? Or could it be Turtle, overcoming his psychological block, ripping through the door, squashing Zabb into jelly.

Hellcat was making such a psi racket that he didn't think anyone would notice a nonshielded communication with Turtle. The probe lanced out.