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Mikah had thrown back his covering skins and made this startling discovery. "Belial!" he roared. "Asmodeus, Abaddon, Apollyon and Baal-zebub!" "Very nice," Jason said admiringly, "you really have been studying up on your demonology. Were you just listing them or calling on them for aid?" "Silence, blasphemer! I have been robbed!"
None of his tenseness showing. Mikah Samon got the book and handed it to him. Jason flipped through the pages while he talked. "Yes ... yes, this is perfect. An almost ideal example of your kind of thinking. Do you like to read Lull?" "Inspirational!" Mikah answered, his eyes shining. "There is beauty in every line and Truths that we have forgotten in the rush of modern life.
"We are your slaves, Hertug, we are your slaves," everyone in the room shouted in unison, waving their hands in the air at the same time. Jason missed the first chorus, but came in on the second. Only Mikah did not join in the chant-and-wave, speaking instead in a solitary voice after the pledge of allegiance was completed. "I am no man's slave."
The water-of-power had vanished with Snarbi who, afraid as he was of the steam engine, apparently knew enough from observing Jason fueling the thing that it could not move without the vital liquid. An empty feeling of resignation had replaced Jason's first rage: he should have known better than to trust Mikah with anything, particularly when it involved an ethical point.
On the top of the dunes a remembered figure suddenly appeared, the armored man, doing something with what appeared to be lengths of rope; there was metallic tinkling, suddenly cut off. Mikah Samon groaned and stirred. "How do you feel," Jason asked. "Those are two of the finest blood-shot eyeballs I have ever seen." "Where am I?"
There is a bigger risk factor for you of course, but I'm afraid I didn't take that into consideration. After all, this entire affair is your idea. You'll just have to take the consequences of your own actions and not scold me for them." "You're perfectly right," Mikah said quietly. "I should have been more alert. Now will you tell me what to do to save both our lives. None of the controls work."
This was of a unique design and built to Jason's exacting specification, and since no one, including Mikah, had ever heard of or seen a test stand before Jason had his way. The first engine proved to have a burnt-out bearing and Jason rebuilt it by melting down the original bearing metal and casting it in position.
He started slightly when Jason called to him. "Since you don't stock cigarettes on this ship how about letting me smoke my own? You'll have to dig them out for me since I can't reach the pocket while I'm chained to this chair." "I cannot help you," Mikah said, unmoving. "Tobacco is an irritant, a drug and a carcinogen. If I gave you a cigarette, I would be giving you cancer."
I don't know why they are here, what they are doing or where they are going, but their status is painfully clear ours, too. Old Nasty up there on the hill is the boss. The rest of us are slaves." "Slaves!" Mikah snorted, the word penetrating through the pain in his head. "It is abominable. The slaves must be freed." "No lectures please, and try to be realistic even if it hurts.
"You force this poor creature to bend to your will, humiliate her, strip her clothes from her and gaze upon her though you are not united in lawful wedlock." He shielded his eyes from sight with a raised arm. "You are evil, Jason, a demon of evil and must be brought to justice " "Out!" Jason roared, and spun Mikah about and started him through the door with one of his practiced Ch'aka kicks.
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