The Dark Lady

She seemed totally at ease, and her demeanor was still serene.
    Heath brought her a cup of coffee.
    “Thank you,” she said, holding it in both hands but not making any attempt to drink it.
    “Is there anything else I can do for you?” he inquired.
    She shook her head.
    Heath seemed to be considering how to engage her in conversation. It was not so much that she seemed aloof, but rather that in her absolute tranquility she seemed to barely be in contact with the reality that surrounded her.
    “That was a terrible ordeal you were forced to undergo back on Acheron,” he began awkwardly.
    She continued warming her hands on the coffee cup and made no reply.
    “We will do everything in our power to make you comfortable,” he continued. “Is there anything we can get for you— anything at all?”
    She stared at him for a long moment, and though her face retained its serenity, I had the distinct impression that she was amused by his discomfort.
    “You have questions to ask,” she said at last. “Ask them now.”
    “What is your name?”
    “You may call me Nekhbet.”
    He grimaced. “It may take me some time to learn to pronounce it properly.”
    “I have other names that are easier to pronounce.”
    “Would one of them be Shareen d'Amato, Great Lady?” I asked.
    I had thought my question would surprise her, but she merely turned and stared at me curiously.
    “And Eresh-Kigal?” I continued.
    “You are a very surprising alien,” she said with a hint of amusement.
    “And I'm a very confused human,” said Heath. “Who are Shareen d'Amato and this Erash-whatever?”
    “They are just names,” she replied.
    “Yours?” asked Heath.
    She nodded.
    “What's your real name?” he asked.
    “Ask your friend,” she replied. “ He knows.”
    “Leonardo?” asked Heath, surprised. He turned to me. “All right— who is she?”
    “She is the Dark Lady,” I said.
    She smiled her acknowledgment.
    “May I ask you a question, Great Lady?” I continued.
    “Yes.”
    “Have you ever heard of a man named Brian McGinnis?”
    She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them and gazed at a bulkhead as if she were staring through it into the dim and distant past.
    “Who the hell is Brian McGinnis?” asked Heath.
    “A man who died almost six thousand years ago,” I replied.
    “Brian McGinnis,” she said at last. “It has been a long time since I heard that name.”
    “Did you know him?” I asked.
    “How could she know him, if he died six thousand years ago?” demanded Heath, annoyed.
    “Your friend is right, alien,” she said with a smile. “How could I know a man who died so many years ago?”
    “I mean no offense, Great Lady,” I said, “but you have not answered my question.”
    “I have the impression you know the answer.” Her dark eyes locked on mine. “Am I correct?”
    “I believe so, Great Lady,” I said, surprised that I felt so little fear of her. “May I ask if you also knew Christopher Kilcullen.”
    “You have done your homework well, alien,” she said with no hint of hostility. “I commend you.”
    “But you do not answer me,” I said.
    “There is no need to.”
    “Still, I should like to hear it from your own lips, Great Lady,” I persisted.
    She smiled again. “No doubt you would.” She paused. “You are not destined to have everything in this life that you seek, alien.”
    There was a momentary silence.
    “You did tell us to ask questions,” said Heath at last.
    “ You may ask them,” she replied.
    “Fine,” said Heath. “While we're on the subject of men you might know, what about Malcolm Abercrombie?”
    “Who is Malcolm Abercrombie?” she replied.
    “He collects your portraits,” said Heath. “In fact, he's spent a considerable fortune on them.”
    “What is that to me?” she asked serenely.
    “Would you like to meet him?”
    “I shall never meet him,” replied the Dark Lady. It was said not with a show of defiance, but as a simple statement of fact.
    “He would like to meet you.”
    “Then he shall be disappointed.”
    “In fact,” continued Heath persuasively, “I would venture to say that he would pay a great deal of money to make your acquaintance.”
    “I have no need of his money, and no desire for his company,” said the Dark Lady.
    “Then possibly you would do so as a favor to me.”
    “I owe you no favors.”
    “I realize that it is less than gallant to mention it, but we did rescue you.”
    “You are quite correct,”