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10

As the days went by, Captain Davage continued his dangerous ventures into Sygillis's quarters. She had become much more agreeable, much more prone to simple conversation, but still, every so often her eyes acquired that glassy, doll-like pose, every so often she threatened to kill him again in an icy voice. Lt. Kilos came in with him once, and Sygillis literally turned into a spitting, raging beast, not calming until Kilos left the room. Kilos, her SK drawn, was certain she was an irretrievable rabid animal and suggested the Sisters be allowed to kill her.

Davage, though, insisted that she was making good progress. He insisted he continue this odd, dangerous game. He was convinced that somehow, some way, the Black Abbess's Clutch, that invisible wall of evil, had been broken, that she was free, and she was awash in new thoughts and feelings.

Besides, he was driven. Something deep down didn't allow him to stop. He couldn't avoid her even if he wanted to. He guessed, even though she seemed to take great delight in threatening to kill him, that he liked her. Despite it all, he thought that she was charming.

And she was so beautiful. Hathaline's face, brought back from her hero's tomb.

He made his way down to lonely, dark Deck 13. He knocked on her door.

"Come in," came a soft voice.

He opened the door and went in. Sygillis's quarters were fairly small, just a space for a bed, a small sitting table, a bathroom, and the ever-present clanking of pipes. Her door was unlocked, but she dare not go out. The Sisters would pounce on her immediately.

Sygillis was not there. The room was empty.

He didn't feel like he was in any particular danger, and apparently, as the Sisters were not reacting, she was here somewhere.

"Hmmm," he said deliberately. It was best to play this as casually as he could.

He low Sighted the room, using as little Sight as he could. He didn't want to give any indication that he was actively looking for her.

In his low Sight, he could see her plain as day. She was crouching by the bed in her pajamas. She was apparently using some mild form of TK—something that masked her image but not alert the Sisters.

She was smiling, a big silly grin, as if she thought she was getting away with something. Any thought he had that something sinister might be happening vanished.

He made his way to the table and sat down. Out of the corner of his low Sight, he saw her sneak around to the other side of the bed.

"Com," he said.

"Com here, Captain," came the Com officer from the bridge.

"Com, please ask the Sisters to check Sygillis of Metatron's room."

"Standby, Captain," the Com said. "Captain," the Com responded after a moment. "The Sisters say Sygillis of Metatron is currently in her quarters. They want to know why you ask. Do you require assistance, sir?"

He could see Sygillis sneaking up on him to his right. Again, she looked excited, like she was about to pull a fast one.

"No, no, I am fine I think, just a routine check. Captain out."

He sat there for a moment and pretended to be puzzled. "I know you're here, Lady Sygillis. Why not come out?"

She crept up to him and did something he never would have guessed in a million years: she blew in his ear and licked his earlobe! She then backed away and tried to make her way to the other side of the room.

Standing up, he followed her, still pretending that he couldn't see her. She stumbled and padded about, trying to get out of his way. She hit her bandaged foot on the side of the bed and fell down.

That was enough silliness. "Lady Sygillis, are you all right?"

She didn't respond. She tried to hobble around the bed.

"I can see you just fine, you know, and for this whole time."

She seemed shocked. "You can see me, Captain?"

"Of course I can see you. I have the Sight; certainly you know that."

"The Sight does not exist. The Sight is a myth."

"But it does. It is not a myth."

"Then I suggest you stop me!" she said, making her way to the door.

Davage didn't want the Sisters to become annoyed. He sprang in front of her, and she bumped into him, kicking his boot with her bandaged foot. She hopped in pain. He put his hands on her tiny invisible shoulders.

"I'm sorry for that," he said. "I hope I didn't hurt your foot."

She stood there for a moment and put her invisible hands on his face. She held them there.

"Is your foot all right?" he said again.

"My foot is fine," she said finally. She became visible.

"Are you through playing 'Confuse the Captain'?" he asked.

"I was simply wishing to have sport with you."

"You didn't think I would be alarmed and call the Sisters?"

"The game we play does not involve the Sisters. This is between you and me. You are man enough to play this game with me, I think."

She still had her hands on his face.

"Why did you blow in my ear?" he asked. "Why did you lick my ear?"

"Because I wanted to. I wished to know what you taste like. You taste good, if you're curious to know. Will you blow in mine—in my ear?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because Fleet captains do not blow in the ears of their prisoners."

"Am I your prisoner?"

"Yes, you meet all of the criteria."

"I see. And if the prisoner requests such an action, in writing perhaps, as you suggested earlier?"

"The request will take six months to process. At that time, the request will be refused. Such an activity does not fall under the minimum requirements imposed on a ship's captain regarding the maintaining of a prisoner."

"And if I were to protest the decision?" she asked.

"Then a hearing shall be convened to further explore the matter."

"And if the final judgment were to be rendered in my favor?"

"Then I'll select an orderly to do it—a female orderly, of course."

She smiled. "What are you afraid of, sir?"

"Nothing. I am not afraid of you. We have been through this before."

"You are not afraid of me killing you, I will grant you that. However, you are still afraid of me."

"And how so?"

She took a step toward him. Though she was clad in pajamas and her feet were bandaged, she had a commanding presence. "You are afraid that we shall become lovers some day."

"Is that what I am afraid of?"

"Yes, it is."

"And does such a thing not frighten you?"

"Not at all. I await it. I am eager for it." She smiled at him. "As I said, you taste good."

"I have told you that I am uninterested in—"

"It matters not, the lies you have told me. We shall become lovers regardless."

"And why do you wish to become my lover?"

She took a step toward him. "Let's see … because you are a man, because I find you handsome, because I like the sound of your voice, because I enjoy your company. Shall I go on?"

"You have greatly improved at the art of debate, I must say. I cannot dominate you as I once did."

"I have had a fine teacher."

"Then allow me to put your argument to rest. We shall not become lovers, because I will not allow it—ever. All the morals, ethics, and principles I hold dear make no other choice possible. Is that concise enough for you?"

Sygillis, eager to argue, made to respond, but then her eyes glazed over and became hollow and glassy again. It appeared that she was going to topple over, and Davage caught her before she could collapse. Carefully, he placed her into bed and pulled the bedclothes up to her chin.

She had been becoming more prone to these strange spells as the days wore on. He was becoming concerned, if that was possible. He wanted Ennez to look her over.

She stirred. She spoke, slurred.

"I have had … a vision … of the future … just now."

"I have heard Black Hats can often see the future."

Sygillis's eyes drifted in and out of focus.

"And what did you see?" Dav asked, stroking her red hair out of her face.

"I saw us … standing together … in … Metatron I think."

"Metatron?"

"Yes, I am certain of it. Metatron. We stand there together, hand in hand. Just the two of us. You are telling me something."

"And what am I saying?"

"I am … not certain … but I weep as I listen. What you tell me … means more to me than I can currently comprehend …"

"It's a dream, Sygillis, nothing more."

She looked at him, eyes glassy. "Believe in me, Captain. Do not … be afraid to love me … please …"

She said no more. She did not move; she did not close her eyes.

11

A steel scream ripped through his mind as he slept.

Davage sat up in bed and held his head—a knife had apparently been jammed into it. He rubbed his eyes. Had he just been dreaming?

He doubled over and winced. That was no dream.

The Com cracked to life.

"Captain!" Kilos yelled. Whenever she called him Captain, he knew something bad was happening.

"Situation!" he said.

"She's gone mad, Dav! Berserk! She's tearing her quarters up and screaming your name!"

"By the Elders—what has happened?" Davage Sighted his star-lit quarters and began hurriedly dressing. "Has she used any of her powers?"

"Other than a bit of telepathy, I don't think so, but the Sisters have just about had it, Dav! If you have any hopes of saving that Black Hat still, you better get down there, and fast!"

Cursing, Davage pulled his boots on.

"Ki, I am on my way there now. You tell the Sisters that I have not authorized this execution, and if they choose to take her life then they will have to face me over it and hard!"

"You better hurry!"

Without tucking his shirt in, Davage clipped on his MiMs gun belt and clanking, saddled CARG, threw his hat on, and headed out into the corridor at a run.

When he got to her quarters, quite a commotion greeted him. A company of Marines, their SKs drawn, were stationed on either side of the door. Four Sisters stood there, two of them in their night garments. They looked sleepy and rather grumpy.

There was a terrible racket coming from inside the quarters. The sounds of objects flying and cloth ripping assailed his ears.

"D
avvaaaaaagge!
" came a shriek through the door.

Davage adjusted his hat, unbuckled his MiMs, and went toward the door.

"Captain, you aren't going in there, are you?" asked one of the Marines, his SK pistol at the ready.

"Well, Captain? Had enough … this silliness?" said one of the Sisters, her accent rough and grating at this early hour.

"Captain, please be reasonable," a Marine said for one of the Sisters.

"I am going to kill her now!" another Marine said.

Davage turned to the Sisters. "Sisters, please … she is clearly in distress of some sort. I am going inside to assist her."

One of the Sisters, the one he was used to seeing in his office, came forward and put her hands on his chest. She was wearing a night robe and didn't have her headdress on; her shoulder-length blonde hair was damp, as if she'd recently washed it. Davage couldn't help but notice that she had a pleasing bosom and a comely figure. A Sister … with a pleasing figure. Who would have thought? The fact that the Sister probably knew that he'd just noticed her in a carnal sort of way was … mortifying to say the least.

"Captain," a Marine said for the Sister, "please do not go in there. She is a raging beast and will certainly kill you upon sight. I'll not see you killed."

"Sister, again, I am endlessly humbled that you care for me so, however, I am certain she will not kill me. She cried out for me, not to kill, but to seek aid. I must to her side and help her as best I can."

"Then I will come with you. I will protect you," a Marine said for her.

"Sister, your presence will prove provocative; she might think you are there to harm her. She might think she is under attack. I must do this alone, as I am a harmless nobody, she will …"

The Sister put her finger on Dav's mouth. She spoke: "Not … nobody …"

Another Sister came forward. "Enough—she will die!" a Marine shouted for her.

The Sister shot her a furtive glance, and she backed away. The Sister then reached up and kissed him on the cheek. The Marines appeared amazed.

"I will miss you, should you die," a shocked Marine said for the Sister.

Davage cupped her face in his hand for a moment. This display of love was enough to wrench his soul into pieces.

"Then, for you, I will make it a special point to survive," he said.

Without a further word, Davage opened the door and went in. The Sister, good-looking in her nightclothes, watched him as the door closed.

The quarters had been torn to shambles. The bed was overturned, sheets ripped and tossed. Broken glass was everywhere.

Something dark lay on the floor, amidst the wreckage.

It was her black felt bow.

And then, there she was, standing by a broken mirror, arms extended, head cocked to one side, mouth pulled back, teeth showing, her hair a tangled red cloud around her scratched face—like a vision from the grave.

She was naked, her pajamas ripped from her. The bandages on her feet had also been ripped away. Her feet were raw, throbbing.

She lunged at him, and for a moment, he found himself reaching for his CARG.

She reached Davage and threw her arms around him. She sobbed and moaned into his chest.

"Davaaage … help me," she cried, slobbering.

"Lady Sygillis, what is it, what is wrong?"

"TTTTTeneramusssss."

"Teneramus … Shadow tech?" he said.

Sygillis sobbed, her face was drawn in anguish. "It's killing me, driving me mad!"

"But why, how?"

She was hysterical. "Can't … can't … can't get rid of it. Growing … filling me,
DRIVING ME MAD!"

Davage couldn't make any sense out of it. "You're saying Shadow tech is somehow growing inside you."

"Sisters … Sisters … won't let me cast … won't let me expel … growing … going to die …
GOING TO DIE!"