Debbie had candles burning, and had hung strands of colored cloth from the ceiling. She had been sprinkling some brightly sparkling powder over the flames. She whirled in slow motion, backing away, her blond hair tangling in the strands of cloth.
The woman got both feet against Kyle’s chest and pushed with unnatural strength, sending him flying in a long arc across the stateroom and against the steel wall. The slow motion effect was wearing thin; time was pulling free. One moment he was looking at the situation from near ceiling level, the next he was seeing the floor rushing toward his face. Before he could even register the shock of pain he was scrambling across the floor toward the woman, his footing insecure and balance out of whack. The woman was leveling the dart gun at Debbie as he fell against the assassin’s legs. The shot went wild, the dart sinking into the bed. Kyle rolled and got to his feet, regaining his balance, and launched himself again. He caught her gun arm and pushed it back, which had the odd effect of swinging the rest of the woman’s body. She struck at him with her other arm, and he caught it, painfully. The feel of her arms were wrong. They were too hard, too light. They weren’t flesh and blood, they were metal and plastic. The body was too strong, the joints having too much torque — he couldn’t fight the thing on its own terms. Kyle spun it around, pushing it off balance, then grabbed the clothing at the back and lifted it off the ground. He could feel the familiar resistance. There was of course a gyro spinning inside the thing’s body. Holding it off the ground, moving it to-and-fro, Kyle kept it disoriented and kept it from being able to grab him or anything else. In its confusion and panic, the dart gun flew out of its hand and clattered across the stateroom floor. Debbie picked it up and followed Kyle as he maneuvered the thing out the door and carried it, with its arms and legs flailing wildly, down the hall and up onto the main deck. As the other passengers looked on in mute horror, Kyle hurled the white-haired thing over the side and into the mists below.
While all of the crew and passengers rushed, in reflex, to see the white-haired woman fall, Kyle noticed one man who was at the back, moving away, trying to get to the stairway below without being noticed. He was a tall, thin, balding man. Kyle rushed over and grabbed him, lifting him over his head like he did the robot. A control device dropped out of the man’s coat and clattered at Kyle’s feet. “You idiot!” the man said, enraged. “You big, stupid steroid head! Put me down at once.”
“My pleasure,” Kyle said, heading toward the edge. He hesitated as he heard Finney yelling for him to stop. Finney took the dart gun from Debbie and pointed it at the man Kyle was holding.
“Put him down, Kyle. I’ll take it from here.”
Kyle put him down hard enough to give him a bloody nose.
#
Early the next morning, Kyle came on deck as Drapier Island became visible through the mist. Black, rolling smoke poured out of the active volcano. The island seemed harsh, brown, and jagged, but Kyle thought it looked beautiful. The island seemed to have a gravity that pulled at him. Just the sight of it gave him the feeling of endless inner strength, like the stone and fire were feeding him.
Debbie approached him, looking at him with an unsure expression. It was almost timid, which was so unlike her that it caught his attention, pulling it away from the island. “I’m no longer at the center of the universe,” she said.
“Um …”
“I’ve always been the center of the universe. Always ever since I could remember. Now, I’m not. I don’t feel that way at all.” Her eyes narrowed and she aimed a thin finger at Kyle. “You have something to do with it.”
“Me?”
“You have something to do with it,” she said, still pointing.
“It makes me feel …” She seemed hesitant about finishing the sentence.
“You feel frightened.”
Her eyes widened. She was still pointing at him. “See!” she said. “It has something to do with you.”
“What would make you feel less frightened?”
“When you held me …” She stopped pointing, and drew her cloak tighter around her shoulders. Turning to face the ocean, she said, “Something happened when you held me. You did something, you cast a spell on me.” She whirled on him, face accusing. “Didn’t you?”
Kyle shook his head.
She turned back toward the ocean. “Yes you did. You did something. You held me and you made me vulnerable.”
“Vulnerable?”
“I don’t like it!” she yelled at him. Then she looked down.
“Would you hold me some more?”
“Would it make you feel safe?”
“Yes.” Her voice was small, ashamed.
He put his large arms around her and held tight. She pressed in against him, losing herself in it.
#
There was a landing at the base of the mountain. Only Debbie, Finney, and Kyle got off. There was no one there to meet them, and no machine to carry their bags. Kyle bundled it all together and heaved it up over his huge shoulders, and they set out on foot up the trail that led to their destination. Much of the rock underfoot was razor sharp, black obsidian — Kyle kept reaching out and grabbing Debbie’s arm as she’d slip or lose her balance, because simply falling down could cut her to shreds. The fact that the whole island was constantly being hammered by volcanic tremors didn’t help.
“There,” Finney said. “Not far to go.” He pointed to the tops of some structures that could be seen among the trees ahead. The structures turned out to be pods from an old one-way colony ship; big, round metal huts with conical roofs. One featured a crudely built wooden porch, on which a man with a vaguely Asian look sat and sucked a flavo. He saw them but made no greeting. Instead he watched them silently as they made their way up to his porch and stopped in front of him.
“Opposite ends meet here,” he said, touching his fingers together. “I see you’ve returned for more pearls of wisdom.” How much have you learned on your own?
Kyle’s eyes widened. The man had not spoken the last part. He glanced at Debbie and Finney to see if they’d heard it as well, and it appeared they had not.
“A substantial deposit was made in your account,” Finney said.
“The same amount as last time. I assume that is sufficient … ?”
“It is kind of you to provide me with a living.” You’re wasting your money, spoiled girl. You don’t have the patience or understanding to accomplish your childish desires.
Kyle tried to answer his silent words, thinking them as loud as he could. She might surprise you, old man. Give her the benefit of the doubt.
His gaze slowly, purposely shifted to Kyle. “I don’t believe we’ve met.” Who are you?
“This is my new bodyguard, Bruce,” Debbie said.
She calls all her bodyguards ‘Bruce.’ My real name is Kyle.
Kyle held out his hand.
“Pleased to meet you, Bruce.” Kyle. “My name is Savonah Rieh.”
Dr. Savonah Rieh, formerly of Technica, formerly considered a theoretical mathematician, now generally viewed as a crackpot by practically everyone in the known universe. It appears you have some telepathic abilities.
I guess so. They shook hands. I’ve never noticed it before.
“Interesting,” Savonah said slowly.
Debbie gave Kyle a suspicious look, but said nothing.
#
Savonah Rieh provided them with a large room in one of the metal huts. They had bundles of old padding for beds, seawater for showers, and food they had to scrounge for themselves. Finney and Kyle took care of getting food for Debbie. There were large red fruit pods in some of the trees, and Kyle proved resourceful at fishing. Unless they built a fire, there was no cooking after dark since Savonah’s only oven was solar powered.
Debbie disappeared for six hours a day with Savonah for her lessons. Four days went by before she came back and showed Kyle and Finney a new trick. She waved her hands around, chanting some incantation, and the whole hut vibrated with an oscillating tone that rose and fell in pitch. It struck Kyle as a particularly useless piece of magic, but he applauded none the less. Debbie was very proud of herself.
Savonah’s loud, distinct thought-voice reached Kyle that night. He sat bolt upright, taken by surprise. The other two, already bedded down for the night, hardly took notice. “I think I’ll take a walk,” he whispered to them, then left.
He met Savonah down by the shore. The huge waves crashed like monsters beating on the rocks, sending up a continuous spray and lighting the beach with agitated luminescent plankton. The island rumbled, the ground giving an occasional lurch as the volcano seemed even more active than usual this evening. In the distance, there was a clear view of a lava stream running down into the ocean, creating a great plume of steam. “Isn’t this wonderful?”