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Knotting his big fists, Grant inquired quietly, "Why don't you come closer,
Sam? I'll put all of your parts to sleep."
Surprised, Sam snapped his head toward him and rubbed his hands together in
agitation, making a dry, papery rustle as of scales sliding across leather. He
glared at Grant in sudden rage. The sheer homicidal fury in his eyes and face
rocked Grant back like the blow of a fist.
"Don't dare wake all of me!" he shouted. "Not until I have built the world I
want, rebuilt this one to suit me so it will truly be a part of me. It will be
the world of my dreams even the people in it!"
' 'What makes you think you can build anything?'' Grant asked, voice heavy
with undisguised contempt.
"Much less a world?"
The question didn't upset Sam. His expression be-
Sea of Plague 317
came vague and preoccupied. ' 'I am not too young to be a god, am I?"
"You're just a boy."
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Sam nodded in grudging agreement. "A boy who doesn't age, but who evolves, who
possesses all the wisdom from the beginning of time. But no one has ever been
as alone as I. So I must build my own world, where I will never be alone
again."
"And how," Grant asked, "will you do that?"
"By making everyone who ever lived, who ever will live, a part of me. And me a
part of them."
Grant stood frozen, inwardly shrinking from the quiet self-confidence in the
young man's tone and bearing.
Sam put his hands in the pockets of his blazer and looked down at the toes of
his spotless white shoes.
Musingly, as if he were talking to himself, he said, "I know what happened to
the cities in the Black
Gobi, to Kharo-Khoto, to Sumer...to the civilization of Angkor...to the
temples of the Maya and the
Aztec. Somehow I know. And because I do know, that isolates me. I was bom
alone. No one in history has ever been as alone as I."
The young man laughed, a low, bitter sound. He glanced up, staring intently at
Grant as if seeing him for the first time. "How did you find out about this
place, Mr. Grant? Do you know what I'm doing here?"
Grant's reply was toneless. "What makes you think I know anything about
anything?"
Sam's mouth twisted in a moue of mockery. "Oh, yes, naturally, you know
nothing!" His tone was brit-
318 JAMES AXLER
tie with sarcasm. ' 'Naturally, you must deny knowing anything about
anything about the perfectly unique aircraft you were flying, about the hows
and whys of you just happening to be flying it over this province in Assam,
about whether I can expect your friends, Mr. Kane or Miss Baptiste or even
Mohandas Lakesh Singh, to drop in at any moment."
"Judging by your missile and radar emplacements," Grant retorted, "it wasn't
like you never foresaw something like that happening."
Sam's response was sullen. "I believe in being prepared to deal with all
contingencies."
"I've heard that about you."
Sam stepped farther into the room. "Really? What else have you heard?"
Grant refused to reply; he only shook his head.
"The fact you have not asked me any questions tells me you know quite a bit
about my affairs. Far, far more than you should, by any laws of logic. You
know where you are, don't you?"
Grant didn't move or speak. His face remained impassive.
' 'I suppose I could tell you a few things,'' the im-perator continued
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blithely. "For example, before another month is out, almost all of Assam will
be under my control. Before another month and a half passes, that quaint
little mountaintop retreat of yours will be destroyed."
Grant let out a long breath. "All right, Sam. I do know a few things, some of
which you don't know, but really want to know. But I'll expect to receive
Sea of Plague
319
some information from you, too. For example, what's so special about Assam?"
Sam's golden eyes glinted with sudden humor. "Very little, actually, except
for its long historical association with a variety of Tantric sex cults. At
this point it's a culture dish, in more ways than one."
Grant shook his head. "I don't get you."
Patronizingly, Sam stated, "Perhaps it would be more accurate to refer to
Assam as my laboratory, wherein I gather empirical data about the human race's
primary motivators. For example, humanity
functions by responding to the overwhelming commands of its visceral needs and
its survival.
"Humankind's single most overriding need is to eat, so at the head of my data
list is to induce hunger. It's simple, isn't it? Eat or die."
Grant nodded, wishing the young man would come close enough so he could launch
a kick. "Yes, that's simple enough."
"Then when a belly is full," the imperator continued, "sex assumes the
dominant position of visceral demands. As far as your kind is concerned, sex
transcends simple procreative needs. You find it satisfying, intoxicating.
Every human society throughout your sordid history has followed this basic
pattern. I meet these two basic drives with the Nirodha movement. This
country, this province, is only a pilot experiment. I'll be exporting it
abroad soon enough."
Grant nodded casually. "I figured as much. You need to test the audience
before you fully draft your so-called Great Plan."
Sam's lean body suddenly seemed to freeze. His
320 JAMES AXLER
expression did not alter, his eyes did not blink, his hands did not move. He
did not appear to breathe.
When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.
"Now that interesting, Mr. Grant. How could you possibly have heard those two
words in connection is to me?" His eyes shone brightly, hot aureate pools of
suspicion and anger.
Grant tried to shrug, even though the motion pained him. "I have my
connections, Sammy."
"What are they? What brought you here?" Sam's tone had lost all pretense of
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amiability. "Have I been betrayed? Did my mother ?'' He bit off the rest of
his question, as if he could not bring himself to utter it.
Grant brayed a short, scornful laugh. ' 'Who the hell would betray you? Nobody
gives enough of a shit about you."
In a voice pitched so low it was almost a sibilant hiss, Sam intoned, "You are
so very, very wrong about that, Mr. Grant." He turned his head and called,
"You may come in now. I'm afraid I'll need you after all."
Instantly, a woman stepped into the room, moving with a lithe, danceresque
grace. Grant had expected to see Erica van Sloan, but he didn't recognize the
dark-haired woman who responded to Sam's summons however, he recognized her as
a type. She was a hybrid, and a stirringly beautiful one, too.
Grant noticed immediately that she was nearly a half head taller than most
hybrids he had seen. The long sleek hair that framed her high-planed face and
Sea of Plague
321
her dark, back-slanted eyes gave her an exotic, almost barbaric flair. She
wore the black imperial uniform, the satin tunic stretched taut across her
small breasts and cinched tight at her narrow waist. She carried a slender [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]