Earth is Heaven

Chapter Fourteen

Avro waited in a chamber painted a neutral grey, the room which in an ordinary ship would have been the salon, but here were no means of diversion and the Seldah was no ordinary vessel. A thing Dumarest had noted as Ysanne had driven him toward the port; more obvious now he was inside. A vessel of unusual lines and construction containing, he guessed, novel devices. The product of Cyclan technology and probably on its maiden flight.

"The gun." Weitz stepped forward, his own laser lifting in his hand. "You will discard the gun."

"Sure." Ysanne glanced at the cyber, at Amrik, at the others in the chamber. Ship-crew from the way they were dressed and one of them seemed to be the captain. "Just as soon as a few things are settled." Her tone hardened. "Move that pistol another fraction and I'll blow his head off!"

Dumarest felt the pressure of the muzzle against his skull, heard Batrun say, "Be careful, Ysanne! Kill him and-"

"You will both be destroyed." Avro gestured at Weitz, deploring the necessity of having to use the man, but with one acolyte already dead he had little choice. As the laser lowered he added, "You had best state your position."

"I was approached," she said. "Maybe by the same man who made a deal with Craig. Promised a high reward if I worked for the Cyclan. I was to stay undercover and move only when essential to capture Dumarest. Well, here he is." A push sent him stumbling toward the cyber. "How much is he worth?"

More than she could ever guess-a fact Avro would never divulge.

"The gun." He watched as she threw it to one side, waited until the metallic echoes had died. "Where were you contacted?"

"On Jourdan." She didn't hesitate with her answer. "When do I collect?"

"Soon," said Avro. "Be patient."

Her story could be checked, but to do it he would have to enter rapport and contact Central Intelligence. If the answer was negative she could still be working on his side; taking advantage of opportunity to gain riches. As Farnham had tried to do. Shooting him had proved her to be ruthless if nothing else.

Dumarest said, "Kill her! Get rid of the lying bitch!"

A natural reaction, but would he have made it had they been allies? A man hurt, confused, poisoned with anger would have wanted revenge. Weitz raised his pistol.

"You bastard!" Ysanne looked at the weapon. "Is this how the Cyclan keeps its word?"

"Move and you will die. You also." Avro glanced at Batrun. To Dumarest he said, "You know what will happen to you if you act foolishly."

"I know." Dumarest glanced at the acolyte, at the other standing close to the cyber, at the others in the chamber. The captain and three of his crew standing against the far wall. Armed, seemingly alert, yet small signs betrayed their true nature. A certain listlessness, a blankness of expression, a lack of curiosity. Robots fashioned from flesh and blood, conditioned, programmed to obey. He said, as if with interest, "How did you manage to follow us? We carried no homing device-the ship was searched after Craig died."

"You were not followed."

"Then-"

"A prediction." Avro felt again the glow of mental achievement. "From the collected data it was obvious where you would be found. The rest was merely a matter of reaching your destination."

"No." Dumarest shook his head. "I can't believe that. You had no way of telling where the Erce was bound. It was a matter of luck."

"Luck is the favorable combination of fortuitous circumstances. The Cyclan does not rely on such random phenomena." Avro paused then, added, "It was a matter of calculated assessment. I cannot understand why you should be surprised. Or have you forgotten Cyber Vire whom you left in a wrecked vessel close to Zabul?"

"He reached safety?"

"On Zabul, yes. And there he learned of your activities. The interest you had shown in the Archives and of a certain mnemonic you heard from one of the Terridae. A recording had been made-the rest was simple."

Ysanne had solved the cypher-for Vire it would have been child's play once it had come to his attention. The coordinates isolated, the information relayed-the rest had been a matter of routine.

"It was still luck," said Dumarest. "You had a special ship and so were able to get here in time. Another day or so and we would have been gone." He looked at Ysanne and corrected, bleakly, "No. Something would have delayed us; trouble with the engine or a search to the north to find ruins and treasure. Nights spent beneath the stars talking of love. Of what we'd find. Of what we'd do. Lies! All of it lies!"

Shrugging, Ysanne said, "Quit whining, Earl. It's the luck of the game."

Luck?

The cyber looked at the couple, noting how they had parted, Dumarest edging forward to stand closer than he had. A coincidence or the result of deliberate intent? And luck- how had he forgotten his own conclusion? That Dumarest was possessed of more than luck; that he had some psychic ability which granted him favorable outcomes. And yet, even so, what could he do now?

Avro glanced at the discarded gun lying well clear of the couple. At Weitz his laser held at the ready. Batrun was no problem, old he seemed stunned by what was happening. The woman bore no obvious arms. Dumarest?

"You've got me, cyber," he said. "But if it hadn't been for this traitorous bitch I'd have been well away."

"You were a fool." Avro was dispassionate. "It should have been obvious to you that the avian could not support your weight for long. It could lift a child, perhaps, but never a grown man."

"It was a chance. A gamble."

And one Dumarest had lost as, now, he would lose everything. A loss countered by the cyber's gain and Avro's mind glowed as he considered it. The actual proof of his efficiency delivered to the Council, Marie forced to relinquish his position, all the power and resources of the Cyclan his to command. And all so easily gained.

Too easily?

On the face of it nothing seemed wrong; Dumarest's thwarted escape attempt, the woman an opportunist eager for reward, the old captain forced to accompany her in case it became necessary to shoot Dumarest in the legs. Fear of the Ypsheim had gained them entry to the vessel; angered at Farnham's death they could have attacked and smashed Dumarest's skull with a stone. But such an accident would have lost the precious secret his mind contained. A logical assessment of events followed by appropriate action and yet, he sensed, something was wrong.

If all had been planned, how better to gain entry to the Seldah?

And none of them had been searched!

A cyber's face portrayed no emotion, being unable to mirror what the man did not feel. Always it was a bland mask shielding inner thoughts, but Dumarest saw the sudden, reactive twitch of the hands, sensed the radiated tension as Avro realized his mistake. One born of the rush of events but, even so, inexcusable.

"Weitz." Avro lifted his hand to point at Dumarest. "Cripple him."

A command Dumarest had anticipated and his hand was reaching for the knife in his boot as Avro spoke. To snatch it out, throw it, kill the acolyte and lunge to grip the cyber and use him as a hostage against further attack. A plan depending entirely on his speed-one he knew had failed as his fingers touched the hilt.

Weitz was more than ready. Fawning, eager to please, to regain his lost station, he had held the laser aimed and ready. A man needing to prove his efficiency, the gun needing only the pressure of his finger to release a shaft of burning energy.

"No!" Ysanne screamed as he saw the hand, the closing finger. "Dear God-no!"

She ran forward to shield Dumarest-and screamed again as Weitz fired.

The beam caught her in the stomach just above the buckle of her wide belt then slashed an opening over her lower torso, parted the mound of her left breast, caught a thick braid as she went down and turned it into a flaring torch to sear the flesh of her cheek.

Then Dumarest was on him, diving low, rising to lift the gun-arm on his left shoulder, his knife poised to slash at the elbow, to cut at the throat, to slice the joint again and to send the severed forearm and laser to the deck. As Weitz staggered back, blood spouting from the stump to join the fountain gushing from his throat, Dumarest turned, the knife a crimson-dappled blur as it left his hand to bury itself to the hilt in the breast of a crewman about to fire.

And fell as Amrik shot at his knee.

"Hold!" Batrun shouted before the acolyte could fire again. "Hold or we all die!" He stood backed against the bulkhead, right hand lifted, a bright gleam showing through his fingers. "A bomb," he said. "One with a pressure-fuse. If I release my grip it will blow and kill us all."

Words which washed over Dumarest like a sea as he rolled on the deck to come to a halt beside Ysanne. She lay on her back, blood dappling the bright metal of the buckle holding her belt, a redness he touched as he dragged his right leg beneath him. The left was useless; the knee numbed from the blast of the laser, the bone seared, tissue charred, the limb intact only because of his protective clothing.

In the silence following Batrun's warning he moved, balancing his weight on his good leg, looking up to judge position and distance. Amrik stood before the cyber, his laser leveled at the old captain. Avro was motionless and, against the far bulkhead, the captain of the Seldah with the rest of his crew had leveled their guns.

After a moment Avro assessed the situation and ordered them to fire. To char Batrun's hand, the box it held. To sear the container and fuse it solid.

A moment in which to act.

Dumarest reared, standing balanced on his right leg, his right arm a blur as he threw the short, broad-bladed dagger Ysanne had carried in the buckle of her belt. As it tore into Amrik's chest he threw himself forward, hopping, reaching the cyber just as he was about to fall. To grip the scarlet-robed figure, to wrap his arms around the skull, to press with the flat of his left hand.

"Freeze!" He snarled the command as he applied pressure to the side of the shaven head. "Move and I'll break his neck!" Bone creaked as he emphasized the warning. "Drop those guns! Andre!"

Batrun lowered his hand, the snuff box vanishing into a pocket, stopping to pick up Ysanne's discarded gun. As it leveled he said, "Got it, Earl!"

"Good." Dumarest eased the pressure a little. Amrik was dead, steel buried in his heart, the others helpless beneath the threat of Batrun's weapon. In his arms the cyber stirred, muscle bunching beneath the fatless layer of skin.

"Kill me and you die. You must know that."

"I know it." Dumarest stooped, the fingers of his left hand delving into his hair, to reappear holding a green ampule tipped with an injection needle. "You won't die, cyber. On the contrary-you will experience life in a manner you never imagined possible. You know what this is?" He held the green ampule before Avro's eyes. "The affinity twin," he whispered. "The dominant half. The secret you came so far to get. How far, cyber?" His grip tightened. "How far, damn you? How far?"

A question Avro would never answer and he had wasted time in asking. Dumarest looked at the Seldah's captain, his crew.

"He will collapse," he said. "Drugged but not dead. Take care of him-take him home." The green ampule poised above the cyber's throat. "The secret, Avro-I give it to you."

The green ampule plunged home. As Avro slumped Dumarest threw him toward the captain of the Seldah and turned to the woman on the deck.

Ysanne was dying.

She tried to smile as he knelt beside her, ignoring the pain of his injured knee, a trace of blood edging the corners of her mouth, more welling from the deep wound in her stomach, the slash across her torso. Heat from the charred braid had seared her cheek as heat from the laser had cauterized the wounds, but they had been too deep for total stanching.

"Earl!" Pain made the smile a grimace. "Did we-"

"It's over. We won."

"I'm glad." She coughed and carmine accentuated the paling hue of her lips. Color Dumarest wiped away with reddened fingers. "I interfered," she said. "Blocked your aim. If I hadn't moved-"

"I'd be dead. You saved my life."

"Good." Her eyes, in their smudged sockets, held a liquid tenderness. "Then it wasn't a waste. Earl!"

"Easy!" His hand moved to her throat, fingers finding the pulse of the carotid arteries beneath the skin. A pressure and she would be free of pain. "Easy, now."

"It's gone. The pain, I mean." Her eyes were suddenly clear, sharply direct. "I love you, darling. I love you."

"And I you, Ysanne."

"Kiss me, darling." She sighed as he lifted his stained mouth. "I wanted to give you so much; sons, daughters, children of your body. Too late now, but at least I gave you what you wanted most of all. I found Earth, darling. I gave you that."

"Yes, Ysanne, you gave me that."

He stooped to kiss her again and, when he straightened, she was dead.

The day was ending with swaths of red and orange, gold and amber, dusty yellow and pale lavender streaming from the western horizon. A display which painted the sky with glory; banners to herald the coming splendor of the night.

Dumarest watched it as he stood beside the mound, the board at its head bearing a seared and stained tunic, one of leather ornamented with beads and symbols and patches of once-bright ornamentation. The rustle of grass lowered his head and he saw Belkner and Ava Vasudiva walking toward him.

"Earl!" She came on ahead, eyes moist with a woman's understanding. "Earl-I'm sorry." The hand she'd dropped on his arm tightened with sympathy. "You must have loved her very much."

"She saved my life."

"I know. I heard." She looked back to where Belkner was waiting. "The loading is almost finished, Earl. Can we help you back to the ship?"

"I can manage." Limping on the leg she had treated, the joint immobilized with splints and bandages. Given time it would heal. "Are you sorry to leave?"

"No." She looked at the sky, the distant shimmer of darting wings. "We could have been friends," she said. "Worked together or at least cooperated. Farnham put an end to that. This is their world, Earl, let them have it."

The land, the sky, the vast and empty spaces. Moving slowly back to the Erce Dumarest looked at the abandoned settlement. The last of the Ypsheim were mounting the ramp, some holding small possessions, most empty-handed. The graves of their dead ran in a line from north to south. Too many graves in a line too long.

"We tried," said Belkner. "And we failed. But we also learned. The next time we'll make it. And there will be a next time-thanks to you."

"Forget it," said Dumarest. "Get aboard."

"And you?"

"Leave him." Ava was more discerning. "Don't worry about him, Leo, he'll follow us."

Alone Dumarest looked at the sky, the distant hills, the expanse of rolling sward. Already night was working its magic, the fading light creating softening shadows and patches of mystery. Touching the area with a haunting enigma so that, for a moment, he imagined it peopled with ghosts.

As stars showed their pale glimmers in the firmament he slowly mounted the ramp.

Batrun was in the control room, housed in the big chair, the instruments around him signaling the readiness of the ship to depart. A warm, safe, comfortable world all the more secure now the Seldah had left, gun-mechanisms wrecked, the vessel far distant on its homeward journey.

As Dumarest leaned his weight on the back of the chair Batrun lifted his open hand. Lying on the palm was a red ampule, needle-tipped, the surface grooved.

"Some things I know, Earl. Others I can guess. A few I'd be better knowing nothing about. This, maybe, I found it in the angel's cabin."

The submissive half of the affinity twin, used on the angel, dropped when Dumarest had led it to freedom.

Taking it he said, "You know why the cyber had to be kept alive?"

"Sure, the crew would have killed us had he died."

"It's more than that. Somehow he can communicate with others and they would have known had he died. Known and come running. This way we buy time."

The opportunity to run, to hide, to get lost in the vastness of the galaxy. But alone-a ship left too marked a trail.

"We'll drop the Ypsheim," said Dumarest. "On a world as far as you can make in safety. Then we move on to another. One with plenty of shipping. That's where we part company."

"Part? But-"

"You keep the Erce. Find partners and pay me what you can. As much as you can." Dumarest paused then added, "I can't ask for more but I'd appreciate it if you covered my trail. Move to a variety of worlds in a random pattern. The longer it takes the Cyclan to find you the better chance I'll have."

"And when they do?"

"Tell them the truth. You have no reason to lie."

Batrun looked at his hands. They were quivering and he reached for his snuff, opening the box and pinching up the last of the powder it contained.

"You've got a deal, Earl. Anything else?"

"The coordinates of this world. Forget them. Erase them from the computer. I don't want anything else to come here."

"Your world, Earl, I understand. And the angels-the Ypsheim wouldn't be the only ones to want their wings." Batrun snapped shut the box in his hand and stared at its bright ornamentation. "A bomb," he said musingly. "They thought it was a bomb. And Ysanne an agent-you had it all worked out. A bluff and you got away with it. A damned shame she had to die."

"Yes."

"One of the finest navigators I ever had. And fun to be with. I'll miss her." Batrun shook his head and then, remembering, said, "I'm sorry, Earl. I guess I talk too much at times. But, at least, she died happy. She'd given you Earth."

"No."

"But you said-" Batrun broke off. "You lied," he said. "She was dying and you lied to make her happy. But are you sure?"

Dumarest nodded, staring at the screens, the stars now thick in the sky. Too many stars and the moon, though large, lacked the skull-like image he remembered. Things which could have been blurred by the passage of time but one thing brooked no argument.

"Here." He drew a slip of plastic from the hollow of his belt. "You took a spectrograph of the sun, right?"

"Of course, Earl. It's standard procedure."

"Compare it with this."

The spectrum of a forgotten sun found on a world far distant in time and space, one he was convinced bore the unique pattern of Earth's sun. Dumarest watched as Batrun busied himself with an instrument. On the screen two patterns of color showed; rainbows traced with lines of varying density. Fraunhofer lines which the captain tried to match.

"It's close," he said. "Damned close, but they aren't identical. But if this world isn't Earth then what the hell is it?"

"Heaven," said Dumarest, and tasted the irony of a bitter jest. The trick used to lull the Ypsheim had been nothing but the simple truth. "Remember the mnemonic?" He began to repeat it as Ysanne had. "Thirty-two, forty, sixty-seven- that's the way to get to Heaven. Heaven, Andre. This world. That's what the Terridae called it."

Heaven-with angels.

One of which was now Cyber Avro. His mind within the creature's skull, the body his own by the magic of the affinity twin. Sensing what it sensed, feeling the emotions which burned through it, the euphoria of flight, the frenzy of mating.

Batrun said dully, "Ysanne was so certain. So sure that she was right. And you-Earl, what can I say?"

Nothing, for the woman was dead and a hope had been lost and all that was left was to head into space where, somewhere, Earth was waiting.