Hero! by Dave Duncan

of the boys and girls present around that firepool had even been born when he’d boarded Unity and faced down the Brotherhood. That was a medicine more bitter than booster.
    It was not the sort of medicine a boy wanted, though.
    Well, if he could do nothing about black eyes, he should be able to cure hunger. Turning to go in search of the kitchens, he discovered Zozo standing in the doorway with the damned gun still dangling in one limp hand. Spying? He hid his anger in a bland look of inquiry and asked politely, “Can I see him now?”
    She peered at him with a vagueness that only came from neverminds, the unmistakable appearance of being somewhere else. So, now she had chosen to meet her voluntary disintegration in a drugged daze, but that was her business. Tham had no choice, if his body was rejecting the booster, but she had gone into withdrawal voluntarily. Vaun didn’t think he could ever do that, not for anyone.
    Eventually she nodded. “He says so.”
    “Lead the way, then.”
    Zozo thought about that, then nodded. She turned and shuffled out the door. Vaun followed. He caught up with her in a couple of long strides and made a fast snatch for her wrist, twisting the gun away from her.
    She made no attempt to resist. “Why didn’t you just ask?” she asked bitterly, rubbing her fingers.
    “Why didn’t you just offer?” he snapped back. Surprisingly, the weapon was a spacer’s bullet-throwing pistol. Unless Zozo had skills he was unaware of, she would not have been able to hit the planet from the ground floor with a thing like that, but he felt much happier with it safely tucked in his belt.
    Long ago, he had shot Abbot with one of those…
    Hunched and awkward, she led the way back along the corridor, and out into the lofty central hall. Again Vaun sensed the paltry neglect that he had felt in the gardens. Pale dust dulled tables and banisters, and the beams of sunlight from the high windows were alive with sparkling motes. Forhil was already in mourning for the boy who had owned it for…how many years?
    He had hoped Zozo would lead him to the dining room, or at least the kitchens, but she headed for the library, and he realized that he was dreading the coming encounter.
    He knew the comcom as an attractive, trim boy with oversize freckles decorating a snub nose, and curly brown hair above a notable widow’s peak, a boy who smiled a lot and said very little. Either Tham preferred to run his mix very fast, or he was just naturally full of energy. He rarely sat down for two minutes at a time. He was a daunting companion in any sort of physical activity. At gill fishing he could swim even Vaun to a standstill, and then innocently suggest a half-hour run back up to the house just for the sheer enjoyment of it.
    And now…
    Now Tham was a shabby dressing gown full of bones, stretched out in a huge, heavily upholstered, brown chair. His eyes were closed; his breathing rattled. If that was what age looked like, then he must be as old as the galaxy. Most of his hair had fallen out, leaving only a taut stretch of skin to hide his skull, and yet his face hung in loose sags, frosty with stubble. His bare shanks were blotched and thin as sticks.
    Vaun had never dreamed it would be this bad. No wonder people withdrew from the world when it started! He had known domestic animals grow old, of course. Favored pets were given their own booster, but when their bodies likewise rejected the preservatives, then pouncers and horses could be mercifully shot.
    “He was awake a minute ago,” Zozo said fretfully. “I told him you’d come.”
    The room was silent except for an ironic, cheerful crackling from the big stone fireplace. A dog howled somewhere in the distance.
    Vaun stared miserably at the pathetic relic in the big chair. “Roker truly threatened him with a mind bleed?” he asked softly.
    “So he says. They had a screaming row.”
    “About what?”
    “About Roker forcing a com call through to a boy who’d gone