The Dark Lady

said. “I think I'll start in about an hour.”
    “Then, if you don't mind,” said Heath, “Leonardo and I will stay here until you're finished.”
    “I'm staying too,” added Venzia.
    “It's fine by me,” said Kobrynski. “But I ought to warn you that I've only got enough food for me. If you guys are hungry, this would be a good time to go to your ships and grab some dinner.”
    “You've only got enough food for one meal?” asked Venzia with open disbelief.
    “I'm leaving tomorrow,” replied Kobrynski.
    “Where are you going?”
    “I don't know,” he answered. “If I'm not pleased with my painting, I'll probably hunt up another deserted planet and try it again.”
    “And if you are pleased?”
    He shrugged. “There's no sense doing it again if I do it right the first time. There's a new Murderball league forming out on the Rim; maybe I'll take a crack at it.”
    “Murderball?” repeated Heath curiously.
    Kobrynski nodded. “It's a combination of an ancient game called rugby and something they used to call Bikes and Spikes.”
    “Bikes and Spikes?” echoed Heath. “Didn't they outlaw that a couple of centuries ago?”
    “In the Oligarchy,” answered Kobrynski. “They still play it on the Outer Frontier.”
    “They lost a lot of people in Bikes and Spikes,” said Heath. “What's the fatality rate for Murderball?”
    “Twenty-eight percent, in a ten-game season,” said Kobrynski. “It sounds exciting.”
    “It sounds frightening,” I said with a shudder.
    Kobrynski looked at me for a moment. “Do you know what sounds really frightening? Sitting alone in a hospital bed, waiting to die.” He looked out a window. “If you guys are going to eat, you'd better get moving.”
    “How long does it take you to set this plasma painting up?” asked Heath.
    “Maybe half an hour.”
    “Then I think I'll look at the painting before I eat. Nothing ruins a good meal like haste.”
    “It's up to you,” said Kobrynski with no show of interest.
    “I will remain here,” I said. “I wish to see how a plasma painting is created.”
    “What about you?” Kobrynski asked Venzia.
    “It's too damned hot out there,” muttered Venzia. “My ship is a couple of miles away. I'll wait until it cools down.”
    “What subject have you chosen to paint?” I asked.
    “As long as the three of you are here, I suppose I might as well paint the Dark Lady,” answered Kobrynski. He grimaced. “I really hadn't planned to do her for another few months, until I've got every detail absolutely right.”
    “She looked perfect in the hologram,” offered Heath.
    Kobrynski shook his head. “I haven't got the mouth right yet.”
    “It looked fine to me,” said Heath.
    “No,” said Kobrynski. “She always seems to be just on the verge of saying something, like she's just a hundredth of a second from moving her lips. I still don't have that feeling when I look at the hologram.” He shrugged. “What the hell. I could work on it another fifty years and still not get it right. I might as well go with what I've got.”
    There was a brief period of twilight, and then the sky darkened with surprising suddenness.
    Kobrynski waited a few more minutes, until the last light of the sun had vanished from the distant mountains, and then began issuing commands to his machines. Gradually they began to hum and glow, virtually throbbing with energy.
    “Are they supposed to do that?” asked Heath uneasily.
    Kobrynski nodded. “They're just acting as a conduit, from the pile to the canvas.”
    “The canvas?”
    “The sky, Mr. Heath,” replied Kobrynski with an amused smile. “The sky.”
    He continued giving orders, making minute adjustments, altering instructions, juggling vectors and angles, for another twenty minutes. Finally he stepped back from his equipment and turned to us.
    “It's just about ready,” he announced.
    “Where do we look?” asked Heath.
    “All of the windows have been treated,” replied Kobrynski. “You can watch through any of them.” He paused. “There's no danger as long as you don't leave the cabin, but you should probably climb into your protective suits, just to be on the safe side.”
    “What protective suits?” demanded Venzia.
    “That's right: You weren't here when I mentioned it. The whole planet's going to get a lethal dose of radiation when the explosions start.” He paused. “You'll be safe here.”
    “But how will I get back to my ship?”
    “I've got a spare suit