Spaceways - The Planet Murderer Part 21

In revenge and in love, woman is more barbarous than man.

-Friedrich Nietzsche Looking down into the great hall of a dead prince's palace, Yahna Golden felt very, very good about herself. For one thing, she was taking strong action against the enemy. For another, she had parted from Musla and Twil and was doing it with no help or backing from Jestikhan Churt.

It was strange, the way she felt about Jesti. Did she love him? She wasn't sure. And that brought up another question, an ancient one. What was this thing called love? As a psychist, she had read and viewed tape after tape and listened to others. For her, the questions remained unresolved. Could it indeed be only another word for s.e.xual hunger, need? Yet could it not be that shared feelings, s.e.xual and non-, formed the element that bonded two disparate personalities? Indeed, to Yahna Golden it seemed possible that mutual antagonism might even form the core of a bond!

That brought her back to her own relationship with Jesti. Do I love him? Did he love her? Or did it matter, so long as they found something they both sought-even if it's antagonism!-when they were together?

And that returned her to dead center. Unsure of her own 211.

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feelings even while she wallowed in bristly, left-handed, unspoken bonding with him.

This is no time to be pondering that sort of thing, she told herself. Not here in Gel Gelor's makeshift headquarters in a drafty palatial banquet hall. Now was a time for action, not soul-searching. Briskly she advanced on the two women staring at her from where they hung shackled to a droid-frame.

"I don't know who you are and I don't need to," she said crisply. "The fact that you're locked here proves you're not included among Gel Gelor's favorite people. That's good enough for me. How do I get you out of this?"

"You ask me for the key," a man's beautiful baritone said, behind her.

Yahna whirled. "Who-"

"Need you ask?" The man smiled, a twisted, dangerous smile that turned his handsome-too handsome-face into a mask of s.a.d.i.s.tic menace. "You say 'Who' only to cover your panic, your confusion." He crossed to stand facing her. "Tall, aren't you. I am of course the man you and the purple freak have been seeking. I am Gel Gelor."

The woman locked to the right arm of the droid-frame spoke. A rather stocky woman, with wide-set, intelligent eyes and close-cropped black hair. Bruises marked the left side of her face, and elsewhere.

"He's also a monster. A handsome monster, cast in human form. No fiendishness is beyond him. For wealth and power, he'll lay waste to a whole planet-the planet Eilong."

The other captive was smaller; pet.i.te and delicate. Fine-featured with lavender lips and eyelids and nails. She cried out her words: "DeyMeox! Stop it! He'll kill you!"

Gelor gave DeyMeox no time to answer. Wordless, he closed the gap between them. Drove a savage fist to her breast, then slapped her hard where the bruises marked her face. She'd have fallen had she not been locked to the droid-frame. Staggering, clutching her breast, she retched.

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By pure reflex, Yahna started toward her. Choking, DeyMeox waved her back.

"No-don't tempt him." She gestured, and Yahna saw the shining rod in the man's hand. "He loves that awful spring-thing. He'd have used it on me long ago if he weren't afraid to kill me. He may not feel the same about you."

Again Gelor smashed her in the face. This time he used his fist. Again she lurched and gagged. Yet, reeling, she still pulled herself erect. Even though her mouth dripped blood now, the black eyes flashed.

"You see, girl? This is the sport he loves best. Beating women. Poisoning planets. Crippling unborn children!"

In an obvious fury, Gelor stepped a pace from her, whirled, and used the spring-thing. She did her best to hurl herself aside so that the awful head spent most of its force on her shackle, rather than the wrist it would have smashed. Still, she made a wretched sound of pain and sagged. That quickly, Gelor's hand clamped Yahna's arm. His fingers gouged so deep that she thought he must be breaking the skin. Dragging her with him, he stalked off through the great hall's gloom.

The rage seemed to flow out of him as he led her to a sagging divan.

"Ah, that evil woman-how she wants me to kill her! You saw me step away from her so that I would not? Sit down, do sit down. I a.s.sure you, you're safe with me. 1 have no designs on you and feel no animosity toward you. I do hope that as a favor you will grant me your technical a.s.sistance-you are Yahna Golden of MarsCorp, are you not?-registered psychist?"

She was regaining her poise, too. "Firm. Technical a.s.sistance?"

"Your* acquaintance, Jesti, proposes to come in here and kill me, I have reason to believe. I have no wish to fight him-but a fear barrier would keep him away, would it not?"

She matched his charming smile, crookedness included. "Of course."

"And then I need not kill him-or be endangered. You will help me?"

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"And if I refuse?"

"A woman of your intelligence?" He laughed-a cheerful laugh now, with nothing sinister in it. "No, you won't refuse, surely. You'd be saving us both."

She studied him. "But suppose I refuse, Mirza Gelor."

He sighed. "You too? You want me to threaten you?" He shook his head, actually looking amused. "I'm sorry. I cannot oblige you. I have no den of snakes available. No torture chamber. The spring-thing is not for such an intelligent beauty as you. Neg-the decision is entirely in your hands. I leave it to you to give it freely or not at all."

Yahna shrugged and smiled amicably. "la that case, I of course must refuse. You must find someone else, if it's a fear barrier you want."

"Uh. So be it then." Gelor's voice had lost none of its good humor and he still smiled. He gestured. "This way, if you please."

Yahna rose. She held her face immobile. "Where are we going?"

"I do like the way you avoid the cliche 'Where Are You Taking Me!' To a room more secure than this one. You do understand that I cannot have you running about loose, but am not so crude as to bind you." Again he signed her to precede him.

Yahna bit her lip, glancing pointedly at the awful device they called spring-thing. If only she could get him to get rid of it ...

He lifted it. "This? You are afraid to precede me? My dear, my dear!" And he tossed it onto the divan.

Yahna let him see her sigh, then turned as if to walk in the direction he indicated-and whirled, that deadly fingernail rushing up. She pounced as she had at Petronius Jee-and ran onto the fist a suddenly squatting Gelor slammed into her midsection. Agony doubled her over, retching, and he had the exodermic syringe out and had injected her before she hit the floor.

A few minutes later she was helplessly unable to avoid answering his questions. To get her to erect the fear barrier against Jestikhan Churt, he learned her fears. That was not difficult: she could not lie, with that tetrazombase in her 215.

system. In less than a half-hour she was working, sweating to complete her job. She had to erect the electronic fear barrier against the dreaded Fahrood, who was purple and who was coming after her at any minute.

"It won't stop him," she had said once, but he seemed to pay no attention other than to tell her to hush and hurry. She had to obey. Her mauve cloak was thrown aside and the jacket of her purple suit was open.

In the grasp of the droid-frame, the other two women watched her. She heard muttered words about "TZ" and "subconscious memory projection" and "induced paranoia as different from mere hypnotism," and she knew that the words were familiar to her from the Psychesorium. It was just that they had nothing to do with her, or Fahrood, who had taken the pseudonym "Jesti." She heard Gelor strike them, too, both of them, but that was their problem. It had nothing to do with Yahna Golden. She had to prepare the room against the advent of Fahrood/Jesti. And she did.

Jesti had been right. The One-horn was alone in its tunnel, and in its cave. Furthermore the cage was easy to get out of-for any thinking being with a hand. That was for the safety of anyone who might become trapped inside. Jesti was, and he very quickly was not.

The trouble then was that he had to search the bionarium for the monster named Gelor. He did not find him. Over an hour had pa.s.sed before the cursing Eilan allowed himself to leave the great zoo, and head back to the palace. He received another terrible shock-here were Musla and Twil. Or rather, here were their bodies. Both appeared to have been smashed down by incredible blows, and the Jarp's head was twisted half off. Jesti saw the fingerprints and marveled at the strength of Twil'im's killer-and then he remembered Dravan, and Jesti knew why Gelor had not been winded, up in the monitoring-control room.

"Yahna," he murmured, and started running.

In the relay room, an alarm bell rang. Hastily, Gelor switched on the monitors. He focused on the figure who 216.

was moving through the compound gardens, and without much regard for stealth. It was the purple man, and Gelor glanced at Yahna. He smiled, seeing her shudder as she looked at the Eilan onscreen.

That purple skin. Those bulging muscles. The s.h.a.g of ugly, half-grown hair, ridiculously hued. Gill-slits, even! She must not let him touch her again! Fahrood, now called Jesti, disguised-her mortal enemy! The terror and nemesis of her childhood; the shadow on her life.

Gelor spoke into her ear: "Quick! He's headed for the back hall." Catching her hand, he led her back to the others. Thrust a stopper at her. "Here. Take this. Protect yourself!''

The skweez-tube felt good in her grasp. She must remember not to squeeze it until the right time. Against him. Fahrood/Jesti. Unresisting, she let Gelor position her just to one side of the entry.

"Stand here, Golden One. The stopper is set on three. Disintegration, and you'll never have to fear him again. Wait till he hits the fear barrier. If he can stand it as you say, he will emerge not two meters from you. That way he will see you, and know who it is who Fries him."

Dutifully, Yahna nodded and took her stand. She gripped the weapon gratefully, and waited.

A shadow came gliding along the hallway. A cat-lithe, heavy-bodied shadow. Numbly, Yahna bided her time. Her palms were wet and her mouth dry. Her breaths came shallow. Out in the corridor, the shadow resolved itself into a solid figure. The figure of the Eilan-no, no, of Fahrood, disguised as an Eilan. Her grip on the stopper tightened instinctively. A rill of sweat slid from her armpit. It felt cold. She shivered. The purple man reached the doorway, and paused. He peered this way and that.

Monster! Soon I'll fear you no more!

Yet her heart missed a beat. He looked so alone. So exposed, so ... vulnerable. (No! Absurd! His true image is what he is: lethally competent, a deadly menace! He wants me again, poor little Yahna!) Horrible ambivalence-why did she also have this feeling of fondness, of ... of love? The conflict of it made 217.

her quiver in indecision. Then, somewhere deep within her brain, a pulse began to beat: Fahrood . . . Fahrood . . .

That beat wiped out all else. This was her nemesis. Fahrood-Jesti. How could she have forgotten, even for a moment! The thought put iron in her soul. Tight-lipped and tight-muscled, she sucked in air. And the purple man stepped through the doorway of the great hall. Through the doorway-and into the fear barrier.

The sense of anxiety hit him first, the subconscious antic.i.p.ation of impending danger. Fear took the stage an instant later. Jesti wanted to whimper as paralyzing waves of it surged through him like a cresting wave. The impulse to cringe, to cower, to cry out was an almost palpable force. Then came the pain. Leaping like a phosphorus flame, it flashed a message of agony into every neuron, every cell of him.

Instinctively, within his staggering mind he knew what had happened: I've walked into a fear barrier.

A neuro-electronic wall, a powerful one designed to turn his reflexes and perceptions inside out and rob him of self-control and movement. A poison.

At the same time, he knew it was all inside him, and that so was the ant.i.toxin. He had the counter to this induced horror because he was from Eilong, with an Eilan's unique nervous system. He simply had to fight the fear and ignore the pain. Force himself to keep on going . . . even while his lips hung slack and his muscles seemed made of syrup.

I have done it before. This is good. It must be Yahna's doing-he made her do it! She is alive! I can do it. I will do it! I will! I will!

He was. With efforts that shredded his equilibrium and rocked his belly with spasms, he forced oqe foot forward. The other. Another step. Another. (Or were they steps?) He could not be sure. Fear and pain could distort reality. Maybe I'm only shuffling in place.

He was not. All at once the fear was gone, and so was the pain. He was left with only a tendency to shake and a hammering in his ears. He was past the barrier and into the 218.

dim, echoing mustiness of the palace great hall, grimy with age and thick with clutter. And directly before him was . . .

"Yahna!" Her eyes-that strange, glazed look above the leveled stopper, as if she were seeing not him but someone or something far beyond him. "Yahna? You don't want to point that thing at me."

At that instant he saw hatred and loathing in her face such as he had never seen anywhere in his life.

The female voice, however, came from behind her: "Yes she does! She's in the grip of TZ! She'll kill you, Jestikhan Churt!" And with that screeched warning, DeyMeox surged desperately-and tore free of the restraint weakened by the crashing blow of Gelor's spring-thing. The spring-thing that lay on the divan just behind him, because behind his back he held a stopper, ready . . .

It was then, too, that Gelor's simulacrum came home. It came through the doorway and the invisible wall of fear as if it did not exist. Instantly it was aware of a heavy concentration of purple, and the dupladroid charged it. As it had been instructed to slay Musla and Jesti, and had, it had been instructed to seize and immobilize that which was purple, and it did. Jesti wore pale green coveralls and a helmet. The violet of his hands and face were as nothing in comparison to the concentration of Yahna's matched jacket and short skirt. Charging past Jesti and between him and Yahna, it seized her. The stopper spun away. Yahna screamed, but her captor was not programmed to hurt.

"You d.a.m.ned idiot droid," Gelor snarled, swinging his stopper around. "You were supposed to grab him-d.a.m.n you, Shemsi!"

Then he leveled the stopper past Yahna at Jesti, the stopper that really was set on Fry, and from behind him his own spring-thing shattered his elbow.

His only sound was one of sharply indrawn breath. Then Gelor fainted with the pain, and behind the crumpled form stood DeyMeox. Smiling.

Jesti was trying to wrest the dupladroid's arms away from Yahna. It let her go with one long enough to sweep the Eilan two meters across the floor.

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"d.a.m.n you, woman-what do we have to do now, wait .for him to wake up and call off his droid?"

"Neg," DeyMeox said. "We merely release its maker." She squatted to thrust a hand into Gelor's pocket, and then another, and soon she was thumbing the impulse that cut the EM field to Shemsi's bonds. DeyMeox broke the shackles.

Shemsi was weeping, practically wringing her hands. "It won't hurt her," she cried. "It's programmed only to hold her until he-" She glanced at Gelor. "Oh s.h.i.t. You'll have to hit it in its power-pak, dead center.''

"Belly?" Jesti asked, wiping off his helmet to reveal freaky hair.

"Firm," Shemsi nodded, while DeyMeox bent over Gelor again.

"And what if I just break its d.a.m.ned head open," Jesti said, and used the visor of his hardhat in an attempt to do just that. It sliced into the back of the droid's head.

The thing continued clinging to Yahna, who writhed. Suddenly her eyes seemed to focus. "Jesti? What the- what's happening! Oh-Gelor!" And she bit at skin that was not skin.

"Just be still, d.a.m.n it," Jesti said, and aimed, and struck again.

And then again. Unfortunately the dupladroid continued to grasp Yahna even after the back of its head was split open and its neck sufficiently severed so that it lay at an angle on its shoulder. With one hand it held her. With the other it defended itself. It swung a mightly blow at Jesti. Jesti went straight down with both legs while that mighty arm whished over his head with an audible sound, and that fast the Eilan was up and slamming his helmet's ridge into the droid's midsection.

Yahna, straining against the unnaturally strong hand that held her, staggered away several steps and fell when that hand dropped spasmodically away from her. Unfortunately the other had already begun its backswing, and even as Shemsi's creation fell, a couple of meters from the real Gelor, that arm rushed back and slammed into the side of Jesti's shoulder. Again he was flung across the room. This time, as the droid collapsed, Jesti's head banged 220.

into the wall and his eyes flared, crossed briefly, and closed.

"Check his pulse and the back of his head, Shemsi, Yahna," DeyMeox said, granting as she dragged the unconscious Gelor toward a table. "We have this monster at our mercy at last, and I have no mercy for him at all. Just as we discussed, Shemsi!"

"Pos!" the andrist said excitedly. "Absolutely!" "And if Yahna-psychist objects," DeyMeox said, "knock the snot out of her, Shemsi my dear!"

19.

Sure, purple's all right-it's just that Orange is Beautiful.

-TT leoot' lee of Jarpi, in The World According to Jarp Jestikhan Churt stood in the con-cabin behind Captain Fej, gazing at a viewscreen he hardly saw. That yellow-white ball a couple of sems in diameter was Kamo, Fej said. A star-and Eilong's sun. That was exciting, with exiled miner Jestikhan Churt returning as hero. The greatest hero in the history of Eilong, most likely.

Yet Jesti hardly saw the eye-eez green screen, even while he stared at it. Blankly. Remembering . . .

It really is over. (Well . . . almost.) In destroying the Gelor simulacrum-and how good that had felt!-he had also got himself knocked unconscious. When he awoke, he was in a small squarish room behind a barred door. A cell. A dungeon cell, in fact, and for a few moments he thought the Jasbiri had caught up with him. No; outside, her hair combed, cleaned up and poured into a velvon jumpsuit, was one of Gelor's aides. The two Jesti had seen secured to that odd metal frame-thing behind Yahna and the Handsome Monster.

"Jesti, you are safe," she told him in a nice soft voice. "You are not a prisoner. I am Shemsi-andrist. I've been Gelor's captive, and I made the Dravan dupladroid you've 221.

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