Theatre of the Gods Read Online Free PDF Page B

minute before he removed his earplugs, placed them on top of his wooden box, and said, ‘Pardon?’
    The stranger blinked, then said: ‘My name is Carlos Góngora Lambestyo. I was a cadet in Her Majesty’s Elite Black Squadron. During the invasion of Manchurious V my bat-fighter was hit by a rocket and I crashed. I was captured by the enemy. I escaped by holding down a guard and rubbing his head until he gave me his keys. That is all you need to know about that time. I found a refugee ship and drifted through space for a full year, fighting for my life, surviving on rats and other small creatures. I got aboard a ship by pretending to be a beautiful lady. Then I threw the captain overboard and took his ship. The crew was ready to kill me until I proved I was not a lady.’ The boy had not said ‘kill’ like you or I might. He’d said ‘keeeeel’, ‘… to keeeeel me’. Looking into the boy’s eyes Fabrigas suddenly found that, yes, he felt like dying.
    The boy held the old man’s eyes in his, leaned closer.
    ‘I have seen things and been places you wouldn’t believe, old man.Many times I have wished for death myself, but it never came. Now I hear you are trying to catch a pilot for a dangerous mission of almost certain death. That pilot is me.’ He took a small sphere from his coat and placed it on the table. It made a dull thud. ‘I usually only tell my story once.’
    The young man’s tale filled Fabrigas with utter despair, and he thought about just fleeing. But he stayed fixed to his chair, trying not to stare. Carrofax, he noticed, was staring, bemused. This was the infamous mercenary pilot whose very name struck fear into the heart of every sailor?
    ‘ He is the Necronaut?’ said Carrofax.
    ‘ You are the Necronaut?’ said Fabrigas.
    ‘That is a name given to me by others; I did not choose it for myself,’ said the boy. ‘“Necro” means “Death”. “Naut” is a word for the number zero, I’m told. So “Necronaut” means “No death”.’
    Fabrigas made to speak, then thought better of it.
    ‘Do you mind?’ said the boy. He pointed to the teapot. Fabrigas blinked twice. The boy poured himself a cup of jasmine tea, sipped and nodded thoughtfully. His leather gun belts croaked. ‘I once piloted a ship smuggling jasmine from the Black Isles. Our cargo caught fire. I smelled like jasmine for months. Whenever I smell jasmine I think of that time. It is not relaxing. But I never cry.’
    He took another sip. ‘I see you look at my scar. You are perhaps wondering how I got it?’ The boy’s forehead carried several deep marks, and a long scar ran from his temple, down his face, down his neck, to the collar of his cloak, and on to God knows where. This boy’s face looked like a map – a map of a land called Pain. ‘I have fought many, many monsters,’ said the boy pilot. ‘Zombies, Cyclopses, Triclopses, serpents, vampire owls. But the creature who gave me this was a woman. We are not together any more. I could tell you the story but when I finished you would surely want to keeeeel yourself, so I won’t.’ He put down his cup and pushed it away with his index finger.
    ‘My boy, how old are you to have had such dreadful experiences?’ said Fabrigas, who had been trying not to look at the scar.
    ‘I am no boy,’ said the boy, ‘I am eighteen and one-quarter years old. I have whiskers, see?’ He pointed to a faint copse of stubble on his chin. ‘I have my own ship, the Fire Bird . At least I did, until it caught fire. I have many terrible stories like this. One day I think I should write a book.’
    ‘How much flesh are you, boy?’
    ‘… Ninety-five per cent. But my military enhancements make me very strong. Would you like to arm-wrestle?’
    The servos in the young man’s elbow whirred softly.
    ‘So you’ve lost no organs to plague?’
    The boy pouted. ‘I almost lost a kidney in a game of cards. True story.’
    Fabrigas pushed aside his own cup and looked at Carrofax.