Dumarest - The Terridae Part 15

"Have you?"

"I've done undersea work and held a job on a salvage team. If you want to help, give me a hand suiting up and stand by the lock."

It was at the summit of a pinnacle reached through triple doors and guarded by a combination lock. One Dumarest opened with the information given him by Althea. Beyond lay a chamber walled in screens which gave the impression they were of gla.s.s.

Depicted in them, s.p.a.ce was empty but for stars and a single, drifting mote.

"The ship," said Kusche. "Once the bomb is fixed we call thetune. Go home or go to h.e.l.l! Now where's that suit?"

It rested in its slot and Dumarest checked it before donning the plastic envelope and sealing the helmet. Air whispered in his ears as he stepped into the orifice of the air lock, Kusche handing over the bomb before rotating the compartment into s.p.a.ce. A step and Dumarest was on the slope of the pinnacle, held by the gravity zone of Zabul. Flexing his knees, he sprang upward and was suddenly spinning in free fall as he broke the attraction. A moment later he had corrected the spin to hang drifting while he searched for his target.

It hung against the background of burning stars more majestic now in their naked splendor. A tiny ovoid which occluded the brightness, and Dumarest moved toward it with the aid of the power-jets built into his suit. Against the bulk of Zabul he would be invisible to casual observation and he was moving to slowly to activate the vessel's alarms.

But if the vessel should move while he was within the zone of the Erhaft field he would die.

A real danger; ships moved at the dictates of computer directives and the system could have been set to maintain a constant distance from Zabul, to follow a random flight path as a security precaution, or even to twitch away from any object, no matter how small or slow-moving, heading toward it.

Or Lim, tired of waiting, could have decided to take more positive action.

Dumarest altered his course a little, aiming to reach the ship toward the rear section housing the drive mechanism. The hull slapped gently against the soles of his boots and he flexed his knees to cushion the impact. The bomb was clumsy in his gloved hands and he turned it, examining the fuse. In the starlight his face took on the savage ferocity of a primitive idol. For a long moment he worked on the device then stripped off the limpet-cover. A push and the ma.s.s was firm against the metal of the hull. A jump and he headed back toward Zabul.Urich Volodya was waiting for him in the lock.

He stood very tall and determined, two of his guards at hand.

Young men armed with clubs and guns firing gouts of stunning gas. Short-range weapons but effective in limited areas. Kusche was nowhere to be seen.

"I'm sorry," said Volodya when Dumarest had opened his helmet. "I must ask you to come with me."

"Ask? Have I a choice?"

"No." Volodya sounded regretful. "I could wish things were otherwise but circ.u.mstances leave no alternative. Please remove your suit. I must warn you that the guards have orders to restrain you if you are foolish enough to attempt resistance."

Words well chosen-he could resist but never escape.

As Dumarest returned the suit to its slot he said, "I a.s.sume that Cyber Lim has persuaded the Council to hand me over."

"That is correct."

"Did you agree with the decision?"

"I am not of the Elders."

"Which isn't answering my question," said Dumarest. "Or perhaps you did answer it after all. And the price? You surely aren't handing me over for nothing?" He turned as if to make a last inspection of the suit, then smiled at Volodya. "You didn't answer. If you sold me cheap you made a mistake. After all, with me goes your hope of ever living to see the Event."

"So you say."

"Why do you think I'm so important to the Cyclan?" Dumarest left the question hanging as he moved toward the door. Volodya stepped back, one of the guards following his example. The other, lingering, went down as Dumarest stunned him with a blow to the neck."You fool! Guard-"

Volodya's voice died as Dumarest jumped through the doorway and slammed the panel shut behind him. The combination lock spun uselessly beneath his hand. One of the triple doors opened as the guard came from behind, a writhing cloud of greenish vapor spouting from his gun. It reached Dumarest as, holding his breath, he flung open the door and dived through. Hitting the floor he rolled, sucking air, rising to lunge at the second door. Behind him Volodya snapped his impatience.

"Wait, you fool! Hit the gas and you'll be affected. Don't fire again until he is facing you!"

The guard's inexperience won Dumarest time and he put it to good advantage. The final door yielded and he raced down a pa.s.sage, turned at a junction, ran on to turn again and lose himself in a complex maze. One stranger to him than to the residents of Zabul but even they would need time to isolate and corner him.

How to escape?

No-how to survive?

A woman stared at him as he rounded a corner calling after him as she recognized who he was.

"Earl! Wait! I want to ask you what the Shining Ones do when-"

The question broke off, unfinished, as he ran on.

Ahead he caught the flash of movement and veered down a nearby corridor, to emerge in a chamber set with arching beams and windows which gave onto a misty vastness apparently as s.p.a.cious as the nave of a tremendous cathedral. Then he readjusted his orientation and knew the vision to be the product of illusion. The scenes were set behind lensed windows which expanded visual horizons and provided the stuff of endless yearnings.A moment later he had traversed the area, leaving those enamored with distance hardly aware that he had come and gone.

More movement and the sharp blast of a horn, then he was heading down a long slope past windows set with wide-eyed faces. A cage which parted its door became an elevator which whisked him down to lower levels. An area of chill and softness in which echoes died and his pursuers could be within touch and still remain unheard. To either side caskets rested like waiting sarcophagi and he checked them as he ran, counting, watching, halting when he saw the one he had been looking for.

Althea's casket, and he reached it, fighting for breath, chest heaving as he lifted the lid and stared at the soft padding inside.

A moment in which he fought the temptation to climb inside and close the lid and seal himself in a private heaven. One he knew could only be the short prelude to a lasting h.e.l.l.

Stooping, he lifted the knife from his boot and thrust it up and under the upper rim of the casket to the right of the opened expanse. It lanced into the padding and stayed there invisible to a casual eye. Closing the lid he ran on.

"Halt!" The voice roared flatly before him. "You cannot escape!"

A fact Dumarest knew but the guard went down as a fist slammed into his stomach and Dumarest s.n.a.t.c.hed his club and gun before racing on. Time won to put distance between himself and the casket. Time to head toward the reclamation plant where more guards were waiting. One lifted his gun and fired and Dumarest felt his senses swim as green vapor wreathed his face and head in a stifling cloud. Through it the guards were indistinguishable blurs that ducked as he lifted his hand and arm to send the gun flying to ring on a metal stanchion.

They ducked again as he ran at them with the club and fired as he staggered, shrouding him in emerald mist, watching as, already unconscious, he sank to sprawl helplessly on the floor.

Chapter Thirteen.

Dumarest woke to find himself lying naked on a narrow cot in a small room with a barred grill for a door. A cell which could not be mistaken for what it was. The cot lay in a corner and he touched the wall at his side, feeling the faint tingle of transmitted vibration. The quiver grew louder as he rested his ear against the metal: words, the sound of movement, the dull impact of ma.s.ses colliding, but all merged into a susurration which robbed each of individual clarity.

Against it the clang of the opening door rang like bells.

Urich Volodya said, "It is useless to pretend you are unconscious. I know you are awake."

He stood beside the cot, haloed in a nimbus of light, seeming taller because of his position. One not so close as to be careless but close enough to display his confidence. A guard stood at the opened door, armed, alert, and Dumarest guessed others would be outside.

"Are you ill?" Volodya frowned as Dumarest rolled his head, gasping, pretending a weakness he did not feel. "The gas is harmless but you had a heavy dose." And it could affect those with unsuspected allergies in unusual ways. As Dumarest raised himself, slowly and with obvious effort, Volodya called, "A stimulant! Quickly!"

It came in a container of thin plastic material which would not shatter or hold an edge. A precaution Dumarest could appreciate even as he regretted the lost opportunity. Volodya, with death at his throat, could have provided a valuable hostage.

"Drink," he ordered. "Immediately!"

Dumarest obeyed, sipping the pale azure fluid, feeling strength well from his stomach as the drugs gave him chemical energy. As he finished the drink Volodya threw him a robe of pale amber material."Wear this."

Rising, Dumarest slipped on the robe. The fabric was thin, moulding itself to his body and reaching barely to mid-thigh. It was held by an adhesive band on the edge. As Volodya stepped toward the door Dumarest sat on the edge of the cot.

"You are to come with me," said Volodya. "To defy me would be futile and childish."

"I'm not defying you," said Dumarest. "But those who gave you your orders."

"The Council-"

"Are dancing to an alien tune. They obey the cyber and you know it. Which means you have become his willing servant. So much for the Guardian of Zabul."

"You have a choice," said Volodya coldly. "You can walk with dignity and pride or you can be dragged struggling every step of the way. Which is it to be?"

A hard man, thought Dumarest, leaning back to rest his shoulders against the wall. One who couldn't be pushed and who justified everything he did. To arrest a prisoner-a matter of obeying an order. To take him where directed-another order to be obeyed. But such a man would never have gained his position if he had been nothing more than an obedient machine. How to stimulate his ambition? His curiosity?

At his back the wall murmured with vibration, sounds rising like rocks in an ocean, a shout, a thudding, the rasp of what could have been metal.

Dumarest said quietly, "I will not make your task harder. You already have enough on your hands as it is."

"You know?" Volodya stared his incredulity. "But you have been unconscious and no one has visited you. How did you know those young fools were demanding your release?"Kusche's work? A possibility but, Dumarest knew the strength and speed of rumor. A technician or a guard who had pa.s.sed the word and one would have been enough to arouse the predicted reaction. To the young he was their hope of witnessing the Event.

Volodya was the instrument of those robbing them of their dream.

And what could he or the Council know of rebellion?

What could these of Zabul?

Lim would ignore them as troublesome vermin. If they defied him he would threaten to destroy their world and would do it without compunction. To rely on popular support was to invite destruction.

Dumarest said, "You are too intelligent to resist advice when your survival is at stake. It is true that one man cannot be set against the value of a world, but do not make the mistake of underestimating the Cyclan. Against a cyber the Council are like ignorant children. He will use and manipulate them all along the line. You must have sensed this."

"So?"

"The Council are wrong and you know it. They are old and clinging to power. They don't want to find Earth-do you?"

Volodya said, stiffly, "We all long for the Event."

"You, Althea, some others. You could name them better than I. And the young, of course. The young are always impatient."

Casually Dumarest added, "What are they doing?

Demonstrating? Shouting and making a noise? Clogging the pa.s.sages? Neglecting their duties? What happens if they refuse to obey orders? You need them to maintain the system. What happens if they demand to retire to their caskets?"

He gave Volodya time to ponder the question as, again, he leaned his shoulders against the wall. His initial reaction had been wrong; Zabul had no separate working cla.s.s. The young of the Terridae maintained the artificial world, not being ent.i.tledto a casket unit they had reached full maturity. Even then custom dictated they use them rarely until advancing years gave them the right to extend their lives to the full.

A nice, neat, well-organized culture but brittle as such cultures always had to be. His arrival had cracked it and now Lim threatened to shatter it with his demands. A fact Volodya recognized.

He said, "What can I do? Cyber Lim has warned he will destroy Zabul unless you are handed over to him. He could be bluffing but I dare not take the chance."

"The Cyclan does not bluff."

"So I gathered. It helps that you understand. For you, as a person, I have only respect. If circ.u.mstances were different I would like to be your friend. As it is-" Volodya broke off, shrugging. "Now you must come with me."

"Of course," said Dumarest. "But hadn't we better work out how to get things back to normal first?"

Volodya hesitated, looking at his prisoner. A man almost naked, certainly unarmed, knowing what his fate would be yet sitting with a relaxed ease he found hard to understand. As he found it impossible to know how Dumarest could quell the unrest his arrest had created.

"What can I do?"

"You alone? Nothing." Dumarest was blunt. "You stand for the Council and the power of the Cyclan. They have no reason to trust you. But there are others, Demich, Althea Hesford. Althea,"

he decided. "We were close and they would know it. They will trust what she has to say. What I will tell her to say. Send for her and let us be alone."

A trick? What could Dumarest do? Volodya hesitated, then, knowing he had no alternative, nodded his agreement.

"I'll give you ten minutes-Lim will be getting impatient. Butcan you guarantee to restore peace and order?"

"How can I? I'm in no position to guarantee anything."

Dumarest hardened his tone. "But one thing is certain- unless I try, Zabul will tear itself apart Now hurry and get Althea!"

They were taking too long; the prediction he had made as to when Dumarest would be in his hands had turned out to be at fault. An error Lim found unpleasing and he quested for reasons to account for it. Had he underestimated his adversary? Judged the capabilities of the Council too highly? Forgotten some small but significant factor which should have been included in his a.s.sessment of the situation?

If the last, it was proof of his failing capabilities but, with cold detachment, he examined the possibility. An exercise conducted with the speed and skill of long training and longer experience and the summation was satisfactory. The reason had to lie elsewhere. Dumarest was clever and resourceful but limited by his situation, and his capture was inevitable. Those responsible for taking him, then, were to blame for the delay.

Leaning forward, he touched a communicator and, as it flashed into life, said, "Contact Zabul and find why the delivery of Dumarest is taking so long."

"Yes, Master."

As always the acolyte was respectful and as always he would be efficient-should he be otherwise then he would have proved himself unfit to don the scarlet robe. A hard apprenticeship and one every cyber had to take.

Lim looked at the papers lying before him: data on a score of problems on the world he had left to pursue Dumarest. Some of them would now have been resolved, while others must have risen, but, while waiting, it would be inefficient to waste time.

Quickly he studied the reports, made his a.s.sessments, noted the predictions as to the order of probability. The salon was quiet, the ship carried no pa.s.sengers other than himself and his acolytes, and the crew wore padded shoes.A soft chime and his communicator flashed for attention. The face of Hulse stared from the screen.

"Master, a report from Zabul. Dumarest has been taken but had to be ga.s.sed before capture. He has now recovered consciousness and will be dispatched as soon as arrangements have been made."

"Why the further delay?"

"Shipping sacs have to be prepared. The alternative would be to move the ship and make physical contact with Zabul."

After a moment for a.s.sessment Lim said, "No. The possibility of danger is small but there is no point in taking risks without cause."

"The demonstrators are dispersing."

"Even so our presence may excite them to take action to protect Dumarest." And the violence could result in accidental injury to the man concerned. "Full instructions have been given?"