Dumarest - The Terridae Part 17

"The sacs, my lady. Everything is now in readiness."

"Coming!" She looked at Dumarest. "Cattaneo," she explained.

"One of Lim's acolytes. A robot like the rest of them. I told you it was catching."

"Does he have a friend?"

"I doubt it. But he does have a companion. A creature like himself. Earl! Your hand!"

He had lifted it casually toward his scalp, and he froze the motion, looking at her with a frown."My head itches. Mustn't I scratch it?" His tone sharpened with simulated anger. "To h.e.l.l with this! If we're going, let's go!"

He rose without warning, catching the edge of the table on his knees, lifting it to jar against her hand which held the laser. A movement continued as the weapon swung upward, the weight of the furniture tipping to strike across her torso, to throw her backwards off her chair.

Dumarest followed the table, feeling the sear of the laser as its beam brushed his cheek. Then he was close, hand moving, the red ampule it held driving into the soft flesh of her throat.

And, suddenly, he changed.

"My lady!" The acolyte was no longer young, a man set in his ways, one who would never don the scarlet robe of a cyber but a dedicated servant nonetheless. He entered the room, attracted by the noise, to stand for a moment looking at the mess. Then he stooped, lifting Dumarest by the arms, setting him upright on his feet. "Are you hurt, my lady?"

The pain of the bruise on his cheek and temple, the ache of ribs-the impact of the table had not been gentle. And a sting in the throat from the ampule buried in the flesh. Dumarest lifted his hand to it, tore it free as he shook his head.

"No. I'll be all right." He looked at the man. Cattaneo? A high probability but it was best to avoid names. "Get a sac and prepare Dumarest for travel." He gestured at the body in the pale amber robe lying slumped on the floor.

"Is he-"

"No. He's unharmed but I had to drug him." Dumarest displayed the red ampule. "The other is dead but forget him.

Those of Zabul can clear up the mess. Hurry, now, your master will be waiting!"

Dumarest sagged as the acolyte ran to do his bidding, fighting a sudden nausea born of the shock of transition. There had been no time to adjust, none to master the workings of the body whichwas now his host. Now he straightened, looking at his hands-the fine, delicately strong hands of an artist. The arms covered with the fabric of the tunic, the legs, the torso with its unaccustomed contours. Carina's body now a vehicle in which he rode by the magic of the affinity twin.

Used it and dominated it so that it had become his own. He saw through Carina's eyes, felt with her hands and nerves, walked on her legs and spoke with her voice. The affinity twin had given him total slave-control. With it in their possession the Cyclan would be able to control every person of power and privilege. Offer a bribe no dotard could reject, no crone refuse.

To be young again! To own a fresh, virile body.

The secret Kusche hadn't known.

As the acolyte returned with a companion to lift the pale-robed body into a sac Dumarest drew a shuddering breath.

His own body was quiescent, operating on its autonomic nervous system, waiting for his conscious ego to regain mastery.

But the link he had established could only be broken by death.

"I'm sorry," he said inwardly. "I had no other choice. You'd killed Kusche and left me no option."

Could she hear? Understand? Or had her own conscious awareness been totally swamped by the invading molecular unit and driven into some formless limbo? But, if not, was she now cringed in some dark corner of her mind wailing in endless terror?

"My lady." The first acolyte looked up from the sac. "We are ready."

"Then let's waste no more time. Go before me. Head directly toward the lock."

Walking ahead, they would notice nothing if he should stagger or act in any unusual way. Burdened with the weight of his body now sealed in the air-tight membrane, they would have little chance of spotting or questioning any activity around them.In the corridor leading to the lock Dumarest paused to look at Volodya standing attended by a pair of guards. Althea, standing further down the pa.s.sage, stared at Dumarest with hostile eyes.

"You've hurt him!"

"No. He's drugged, nothing more."

"Must you take him?"

"Surely he explained all that?" Dumarest kept his voice as level as his eyes. Althea seemed to have grown taller than he remembered; the illusion was because of his own new viewpoint.

Carina's height was less than his own. He said, "You spoke together, I understand. A lover's parting? Never mind, my dear, there will be others ready to fill your arms."

"You b.i.t.c.h!"

"But a winning one. Dumarest is mine now. Think of what he told you-you'll have nothing else."

He moved on, following the acolytes as they pa.s.sed into the large area of a loading port. Here an entire vessel could be sealed from the void but other, smaller locks gave pa.s.sage to items of lesser bulk. Before one lay the crumpled envelopes of three sacs.

Zabul technicians stood ready to operate the controls.

"My lady?" One of the acolytes looked at Dumarest. "Are you ready to be placed in a sac?"

"You go first." A mistake and Dumarest corrected it. "No. One of you, then myself, the last to see us pa.s.sed through the lock then to follow."

A jumble of litter rested beside and around the area: bales, cartons, cases, a heap of what looked like rope but which was a ma.s.s of vine from the hydroponic gardens. Men heaved at it, some of them familiar to Dumarest. Close to the vine lay open containers of seed as fine as sand. As Dumarest walked toward the portal a man yelled a warning from somewhere behind."Alarm! A plate's cracked!"

The shout was drowned in the blare of a klaxon. As it fell silent a wind sprang to life to roar over the area, catching up a.s.sorted fragments and swirling them into a blizzard-like hail.

The ma.s.s of vine heaved, fine seed pluming upward from the containers to grit eyes and fill nostrils with a stinging odor. For a moment all was wild confusion, then the wind died and the debris settled as the emergency systems came into operation.

"My lady?" The elder of the acolytes was anxious. "Into the sac, my lady. Hurry!"

They drifted from Zabul like elongated bubbles, the membranes puffed from internal air pressure, reflected starlight giving them the appearance of pearls. Those ahead shifted a little as Dumarest watched: small jets blasting vapor into the void and giving a measure of directional control. Would Carina have known how to operate a sac? Dumarest recalled how he had been sealed and evicted and decided that she had no need of instruction. It was safe to manipulate his own controls and draw closer to the others. One of the acolytes turned to face him and gestured ahead. A clear indication to move into the van.

Dumarest obeyed, seeing the figures behind the protective transparency, the starlight giving them a peculiar, blurred quality as if seen through misted gla.s.s.

A suited figure caught the sac as Dumarest guided it into the open hold of the vessel. The acolyte set it firmly on the deck, then went to help the others. Within seconds after their arrival the ports closed and, as the taut membrane of his sac began to soften beneath external pressure, Dumarest tore at the fastenings. He climbed free before the acolytes, halting the suited figure as he stooped over the sac holding the figure in the amber robe.

"Leave him. Dumarest is safe enough as he is."

"My lady-"

"I am a doctor," snapped Dumarest. "The man had to bedrugged. Moving him now will do no good and could lead to later complications. Where is your master?"

Locked in his cabin and in the final stages of rapport. He came to join Dumarest in the salon and stood for a moment looking at the table, the wine it held. A concession to the woman; no servant of the Cyclan had any use for intoxicants.

"You are not drinking."

"No." Carina, unlike Kusche, had not leaned on the comfort of alcohol. "I had thought you would greet us."

"I was otherwise engaged." Lost in a mental paradise which had lasted longer than he had antic.i.p.ated, as the transfer had happened sooner than predicted. "Dumarest is in the cabin prepared for him?"

"Not as yet."

"But still sealed in his sac?"

"I explained that." Dumarest turned to stare up at the cyber.

"Nothing can be gained by moving him while he is still under the influence of drugs. He was in a highly emotional state when faced with the inevitable."

"So you drugged him?"

"I had no choice." Dumarest coughed and tasted blood.

Wiping his lips he displayed the carmine smear. "He attacked me, broke a rib; given time he would have broken my neck."

Lim nodded; he had already received the report from Cattaneo. Of how the woman was down, the upturned table beside her, Dumarest sprawled to one side. And of the man lying dead.

Had Kusche allied himself with Dumarest at the end? A possibility which he considered and one backed by the bruise on the woman's face, her obvious internal injuries, Kusche's death.

Details now of small importance.Dumarest said, "When do we leave?"

"You are in a hurry?"

"To gain my reward, yes. I didn't do all this for fun."

"You will receive all you have earned," said Lim evenly. "The Cyclan always keeps its word." The truth-but there was more than one way to keep a bargain. "Hulse!" As the acolyte entered the salon Lim gestured at Dumarest. "Search her."

An examination which he accepted without argument. The touch of the acolyte was deft but thorough.,The cyber looked at the small laser Hulse placed on the table close to the wine.

"You had another."

"Ruined. I left it where it lay." Dumarest added, "There was no need of the search. I would have handed it over had you asked."

"Of course. Where did you keep the drug?"

"The one I gave Dumarest? Here, beneath the edge of my tunic." Dumarest gestured with his hand. "I always carry it as a precaution. Some men refuse to take no for an answer."

A logical explanation and Lim seemed to be satisfied.

Dumarest coughed again and swallowed a warm, salty wetness.

One rib broken, maybe two, and a jagged fragment must have lacerated a lung. Movement would accelerate the slow bleeding but his nerves screamed for action. How long would the cyber take to make up his mind?

"You seem unwell," said Lim. "It would be wise to retire to your cabin. I shall send you medical a.s.sistance."

An order it would be stupid to disobey. But which was his cabin?

Dumarest rose and fought a sudden giddiness. Reaching for the wine he said, "You are gracious, but first a toast. I think themoment calls for it." The wine gurgled as he poured and he remembered how Carina had acted when they had shared a meal in the Durand on distant Shard. Lifting the gla.s.s he faced the cyber with a smile. "To success, my friend. To the fulfillment of ambition!"

He drank with Lim watching, the cyber making no comment.

Setting down the gla.s.s, Dumarest walked across the salon to halt at the door. Swaying, he rested one hand on the edge, lifting the other to his bruised face.

"It hurts," he muttered. "And I feel about to faint. Help me, cyber. Help me!"

For a moment he clung to the support, then slowly let his knees buckle to hit the floor, his body following to lie in a helpless sprawl, eyes closed, breathing shallowly. A woman who had fainted and who would need to be carried to her cabin.

Dumarest heard the soft rustle of the cyber's robe, felt the m.u.f.fled vibration of his footsteps as he came close. The fingers which touched his face were like thin, dry twigs, deft as they lifted an eyelid to expose the rolled-up ball. Fingers moved to probe at the bruise and sent darts of pain lancing through cheek and temple. Dumarest groaned and moved, to lie still again as the delicate touch moved to his throat and the tiny puncture left by the hollow needle of the ampule.

And screamed as a band smashed down to drive the jagged end of broken bones into his lungs.

Chapter Fifteen.

It was a red flood which filled the universe and left him gasping and weak in its savage ferocity. Dumarest had known pain before but this had come with total unexpectedness- and this body was not his own.He reared, seeing the skull-like visage of the cyber inches above his own. The face turned carmine as Dumarest stained it with the blood he spat from his mouth. As Lim retreated Dumarest struck at the throat, missed, and followed the blow with another with the same result. Fury vented on thin air and effort which tore at his lungs and filled the universe with a fresh tide of pain.

Dumarest rolled to hands and knees, coughed a scarlet flood and fought a mountain of pain to climb to his feet. Staggering, he reached the support of the edge of the door.

From where he stood, well out of reach, Lim said, "Do not attempt anything foolish. I will not hesitate to cripple you should you try."

A machine with a laser in his hand and blood on his face.

Carmine which matched the scarlet of his robe and soiled the glitter of the sigil on his breast. One who could feel no anger, know no fear.

Dumarest said, "Why?"

"You made mistakes. Small things which acc.u.mulated, but the biggest of all was to take me for a fool. Did you really think I was so inefficient as not to recognize the charade?"

"I don't understand." If the cyber knew the truth there was no point in verifying it. If he was guessing then to be honest was to be stupid. "You hit me." Dumarest lifted a hand to his chest, face registering agony which was real. "I fainted, I think, then you hit me. My reward, cyber? Is that how the Cyclan pays its debts?"

"Sit." Lim gestured to the table, the chair. "Take wine. It contains a stimulant."

One he needed and Dumarest poured a gla.s.s full as the cyber left to wash the blood from his face and change into a clean robe.

To be dirty was to be inefficient and he saw no immediate urgency demanding his presence. Hulse took his place, the acolyte standing well to one side. Dumarest studied him as he swallowed the wine.A man a little too cautious and so too highly strung. One who must lose his concentration after a while as the body, keyed for immediate action, rebelled against the strain. Then would be the moment to act if action was possible but Dumarest knew that it was not.

He drank more wine, indifferent as to what it might contain, needing the chemical strength it could give. The stimulant sharpened his senses but did nothing to dull his pain. A calculated effect, he guessed, Lim would not want him to be comfortable.

Dumarest coughed and dabbing at his lips, looked at the bright scarlet on his hand. Blood which he had spat into Lim's face to blind him. An attack which had failed and he knew again the hurt of inadequacy. He had misjudged, mistimed. His arms had been too short, his reactions too slow. The body he wore was alien in more ways than one. He almost felt hampered by leaden weights. Was this how it felt to be a woman?

Dumarest reached for more wine as Lim returned and tensed, the decanter in his hand. Hulse came to remove it at the cyber's signal, moving in close enough for his skull to be smashed, but Dumarest doubted his ability to hit hard and clean. In any case to kill the acolyte would serve no purpose. He released the decanter and watched as it was removed together with the gla.s.s.