Phaze Doubt

6 - Hectare

It happened with stunning swiftness. Lysander and Alyc were in the Game Annex, between games, about to punch a beverage from the food dispenser. Jod’e approached. “May I join you?” she inquired, politely enough.

Alyc, having long since ascertained that Lysander had no sexual interest in Jod’e, was amenable to her company. It served to show every serf on the premises that she, Alyc, had nothing to fear from even the most beautiful competition. Jod’e had more of a taste for games than Alyc did, so often played them with Lysander, whose interest was insatiable. So the three of them were about to drink—when the announcement blared from all the speakers.

“This is Citizen Blue. An alien fleet has surrounded the planet without warning. It has the capacity to destroy all life and industry here. We have no choice but to yield to superior force. Hold your places for superior force. Hold your places for the announcement by the Coordinator of the Hectare.”

Jod’e stared at them, astonished. “Can this be a joke?”

“No joke,” Alyc said. Her face was assuming a more serious mien, unsurprising in the circumstance.

After a moment a harsh, computer simulated voice spoke.

“The Planet Proton is within the sector controlled by Alliance forces. Investment by the Hectare is proceeding. The following personnel will report to the central concourse for internment: all Citizens, Adepts, and government functionaries. If in doubt, report. Any eligible personnel who fail to report will be declared surplus. All interested in serving the new regime in a supervisory capacity report to the Game Annex. All others will proceed about normal business until directed otherwise. There will be minimal disruption.”

“Report for internment?” Jod’e said. There was a murmur all around; the other serfs were as amazed and confused.

“Exactly,” Alyc said. Now her bearing had changed completely; she was no longer the enthusiastic, slightly low intellect serf. “I am an agent of the Hectare, sent to perform advance reconnaissance. I will identify all the members of the leading Citizen’s household and family and see that they are apprehended. I advise you, Jod’e, to volunteer for service in the new regime; the Hectare will find compatible use for all who do volunteer.”

Jod’e shook her head. “I am amazed! I never figured you for a traitor, Alyc! I’m not about to become one myself. I’ll take my chances with the old order.”

Alyc shrugged. “As you wish.” She turned to Lysander. “But you, I am sure, are more sensible. You have expertise that the Hectare can use as readily as the Citizens could; the Hectare are game fanatics, and will want to correct the Game Computer malfunction promptly. I can guarantee you an excellent position—and it hardly needs clarifying that you will remain my paramour.”

Lysander was astonished. He had never imagined that Alyc could be a Hectare agent! But she was not the type of agent he was. His duty required a response she would neither understand nor appreciate.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s been fun with you, Alyc. But though I have been here only a month, I have come to respect this culture for what it is, and I shall not betray it to any alien usurper.” That was an outright lie, required by his mission. But what followed was the truth. “Had I known you were an enemy agent, I would have turned you in at the outset. You fooled me, and I am disgusted.”

“The Hectare do not employ incompetent agents,” she said. “The longer you take to change your mind, the less advantageous it will be for you.”

“I’ll take that chance,” he said, rising from the table.

Jod’e rose with him. “I think we had better vacate the premises quickly,” she said.

“It will make no difference,” Alyc said. “If the Hectare want either of you. they will find you and take you. But it will be better for those who volunteer.”

Why was she so sure? She was correct that the first and most sincere volunteers would be treated best; she, as one of the very earliest, would have her pick of lovers, so she didn’t need him. But she acted as if he himself would be rounded up immediately, when that was obviously impractical. Lysander didn’t have time to ponder; he wanted to get well away from her and this region. Already the serfs were milling, as the majority sought to get out before they were mistaken for volunteers.

He did not look at Alyc again. He had been true to her, but in a devious fashion he felt she had not been true to him. This was a foolish sentimentality, for she had offered him a good position in the new order. He had evidently assimilated more of the local culture than he realized.

Lysander and Jod’e joined the throng crowding toward the nearest exit. “I don’t like this,” he muttered. “Suddenly there’s an alien takeover, and we’re supposed to cooperate?” He was saying what he knew was on the minds of most serfs, testing her for reaction. It had occurred to him that Jod’e had been conveniently close—indeed, had been close to him throughout. Had she known this was coming? If so, what was her purpose?

“She worked for Citizen Blue,” Jod’e said. “It won’t be safe for you to go there. I can help you get outside.”

The jostling crowd gave them better privacy than could be had elsewhere. “Why? Why should you bother with me?”

“I’ve been trying to make a play for you throughout!” she said. “Now’s my chance.”

“I don’t buy that. You’re beautiful. You don’t need me. You know I’m no changeling. I can’t convert to bat form and fly away with you. If I go outside, I’ll just be a liability to you. Make your own break; I doubt they’ll want you. But Alyc may feel she has a score to settle with me.”

“Women do not judge on appearance alone.”

“You’ve been interested in me, but not because of any encouragement I gave you. I’m not messing with you at all unless I know your real interest. I’ve already been betrayed by one girlfriend!” This was not precisely the case, but his mission required him to say it.

She glanced at him sidelong. “Oho! You think I’m another foreign agent?”

“You could be. Exactly why did you come after me?” They had squeezed out the Annex gate and were now in the concourse. Lysander didn’t want to be there, either, though he saw no Citizens.

“Crowd’s thinning,” Jod’e said. “Can’t talk here.”

“Yes we can,” he said. He grabbed her arm and swung her into an alcove. He embraced her and put his mouth against her left ear. “Tell me.”

“How clever,” she murmured, her mouth beside his own ear. “You tell me you don’t want my love by getting fresh with me. I remember a similar technique in that first Fox and Geese game.”

“Never again, if you don’t stop stalling!”

“Very well. Citizen Troal sent me.”

“Troal! Your employer. Isn’t he close to Blue?”

“Very. And we vamps are close to the Adept Trool.”

“Does this have anything to do with the prophecy that Clef told me about?”

“Prophecy?”

She didn’t know about that? “Never mind. So Troal sent you to me as a favor to Blue?”

“Yes, I believe so. You had better kiss me or do something with your hands; someone’s looking.”

He slid his hands down her back. He remembered their first encounter, of which she had mischievously reminded him, when he had explored her torso so intimately, thinking it was a mannequin. The memory excited him now; she did have a perfect body. “Why, when I was already dating Alyc?”

“Maybe they knew what she was.” She shifted against him, bringing more of that body into play.

Suddenly it made sense. If Blue had known Alyc’s mission, he would not have said so. He would have sought quiet ways to nullify it. If he really believed that Lysander had a key role to play in the support of the planet, he would have tried to protect him from subversion by an enemy agent. So he could have arranged to send an attractive counteragent in. Unfortunately, Lysander had misunderstood the ploy.

“You don’t know why Blue might care about my corruption?” he asked, his hands stroking memory-familiar contours.

“No. My guess is that he really wanted the Game Computer fixed, and not for the aliens.”

He decided she was to be trusted, partly because she didn’t seem to know any more than a pawn in a chess game would know about the motives of the king. “Then let’s get out of here.”

“I know a way out,” Jod’e said. “Then maybe we can get Phaze help. The aliens may not know much about magic.”

Surely true, for he had been quite unprepared for it. He separated from her and started down the concourse—and stopped.

“Serves you right, lover,” Jod’e said, laughing. For he had gotten too involved in their diversionary activity, and his masculine member had responded.

But Alyc had shown him how to handle that. “Run; I’ll chase.”

She took off, and he pursued her with evident amorous intent. But such was the distraction of the other serfs that they paid no attention, this time. By the time Jod’e brought him to the exit she knew, his ardor had subsided.

They crouched by a machine service entrance. “Must wait for a robot,” she said. “Then walk out in its shadow, so the scanner doesn’t catch the human form. I’ll turn bat and perch on you.”

“Just don’t do anything on my shoulder,” he muttered.

She laughed again. “Speaking of which—did Alyc scratch you, when?”

“When what?”

“Some women get very excited, when. They can claw a man’s back.”

“No, she’s not that type. No scratches. Why should you care?”

“I felt a bandage on your back, when I was stroking you.”

“A bandage? I have no bandage!”

“Yes you do. A flesh-colored tape. Effectively invisible; if I hadn’t been touching you, I wouldn’t have known. Here, feel.” She took his hand, twisted his arm behind his back, and brought his fingers to the place. It was at the most difficult part for him to reach alone.

Now he felt it: a smooth section that was not his own skin. “She must have put it on me, when—I mean, there was a lot of physical activity, and she liked to touch me in the night.”

“I suspect she had some reason to touch you,” she remarked with the hint of a smirk. “Want me to take it off”?”

“Yes. No. It could be—“ He was abruptly angry, as the realization came. “An identifier. Something an enemy agent would use to mark someone.”

“Then you had better get it off!”

“No. These things—I understand they can be used as beacons. To show where a person is. I don’t want her to know I’ve caught on.”

“But how can I sneak you out, then?”

He sighed. “You can’t. Maybe you had better leave me; I think I’m dangerous for you.”

“But if the aliens want you that bad, you shouldn’t be allowed to fall into their hands.”

“It’s probably just Alyc who wants me that badly. I doubt the aliens care.”

She nodded. “She wants to hold on to you. Maybe she anticipated your reaction to the invasion, so made sure she could find you. If she’s truly their agent, they may give her what she wants. It would be a perquisite of the office.”

“Yes. I liked her, and I didn’t like you trying to cut in. But now—“ Again the irony: he was a spy for the Hectare himself, but had to argue the case of the opposition—and found himself believing it. His respect for Alyc had plummeted the moment he learned her nature. Now Jod’e was far more intriguing, and not merely because she represented a prospective route to the core of the true resistance that would be forming. She had been sent at the behest of Citizen Blue, so even if she didn’t know why, she would be able to make contact with the organization he needed to infiltrate. But she was also a true patriot for her culture, and that integrity of motive was appealing. Her beauty hardly diminished the effect.

“Me too,” she said. “You were just an assignment, but you are becoming a person.”

“Thanks.” He regretted that the loyalty she saw in him wasn’t genuine. “But we’re in a bind. If she claims me, she’ll make sure that you are in no position to get near me, now that we have declared ourselves united in opposition to this invasion. Now that I have taken notice of you. You can’t afford to associate with me.” This was a deeper truth than she could know at this point.

“But I can’t let you be taken by the enemy!” she protested. “If the Citizens knew the invasion was coming, and wanted to protect you from it, then it’s my job to do that.”

“But you can’t help me. You might as well save yourself—by disassociating with me.”

“And betray my employer? My culture?” She turned to face him, putting her arms around him. “Lysander, you took some liberties with me, when I was pretending to be a mannequin. Now I’m going to take one with you.” She drew him into her, her arms reaching around him.

He yielded to her, because he expected to send her on her way in a moment. It was true: he had handled her about as intimately as it was possible to do, short of all-out sexual engagement. If she wanted a kiss in return—

Her fingernails scraped across his back. They caught in the tape. They ripped it off. “Now we make our break!” she said. “The tape stays here; we go to Phaze!” She threw the bit of tape away.

“You bitch!” he said, half admiringly.

“Nay, I be no werebitch,” she said. “I be a vamp. Now tread in the shadow o’ yon rovot, Lysan, and I will guide thee out.” She became a bat, and leaped to perch on his hand.

Lysander found himself committed. He could not say it was wrong. He had simply wanted to spare her from being implicated in his break, and from being subsequently betrayed by him. But he had also known that she would not desert him, because she was as committed to her mission as he was to his.

The machine she had indicated was a walk-brusher, evidently going out to clean the walk to a garden at the edge of the dome. He ducked down and ran beside it, letting it shield him from the lens-eye that covered this exit. The machine ignored him; it was equipped only to do its job, not to inspect its surroundings.

The bat in his hand peered to the right. Lysander went that way, finding an offshoot from the main path. He ran through dwarf palms down to a tiny artificial stream that originated in a fountain. Then on into the channel of the stream, which turned out to be stone, not mud. Then he waded through a small pool and scrambled over a decorative wall.

Beyond was the wild vegetation of Phaze; they were now beyond the dome environment. The bat flew up, evidently searching for something. Lysander ducked down beside a tree whose leaves were in the shape of floppy stars, waiting for Jod’e to complete her reconnaissance.

Then he heard hoof beats. He looked—and spied an old horse trotting toward him. The bat was on its back.

Clear enough! He stepped out as the horse arrived. It was a mare with a dark, almost reddish coat. He got on her back, and she turned and headed directly away from the dome.

The problem with this was that they were exposed. Anyone who looked would be able to see them. But maybe nobody would care about a man riding a horse.

Then the horse changed. Now a shining spiraled horn projected from her forehead, and her mane was iridescent. Her coat had deepened into a deep purplish red.

“Belle!” he exclaimed.

There was a tinkle of assent. Then she picked up speed.

He hung on. Bareback riding was not his favorite mode, and the unicorn had more power than a horse might. They were zooming through the high grass at a dizzying pace.

He discovered something as the run continued. Belle was getting hot, but she wasn’t sweating. Instead she was dissipating the heat in her breath, which was turning fiery, and her hooves, which were throwing off sparks. So that was how unicorns cooled themselves!

Something caught his eye. It was a shadow in the shape of a disk. Oh-oh. He craned his neck and saw the origin: a small Proton flyer. The pursuit was on, already!

Belle dodged to the side, seeking the cover of a copse. But the flyer angled to intercept them, and it was much faster than any animal could be.

“They’ll use stun rays!” Lysander cried. “Change and scatter! They’ll only go after me!” He flung himself off the unicorn, taking a trained fall and rolling through the brush.

They changed and scattered, but not the way he had intended. While he ran for the cover of the trees, the bat headed straight for the flyer. The unicorn became a heron and also flew for the flyer.

The bat lighted on the top of the flyer. Then it was the woman again, her weight bearing the machine down. But it wasn’t enough; the flyer remained aloft.

Until the heron landed on it—and returned to unicorn form. Now the flyer crunched down to the ground.

Lysander was amazed, but not reassured. “Get away from that thing!” he cried. “It can send the rays in any direction, or detonate a stun bomb—“

Too late. There was a dull explosion, and a burst of radiation from the machine. Jod’e and Belle collapsed, and then Lysander, who was farther out and hit with less intensity, but still unable to escape it. He saw the ground advancing toward his head.

It seemed only an instant, but the sun had moved; it had been about an hour. Lysander woke to find a second, much larger flyer beside the first. A trainer robot was before him, its treads flattening the grass. “Identity?” it demanded.

Lysander knew that his retinal patterns would give him away soon enough anyway; there was no point in trying to give a false name. “Lysander. I work for Citizen Blue.”

“Confirmed. The identities of your companions?”

Were their patterns on file? Jod’e’s yes, but maybe not Belle’s. He might be able to help the unicorn go free. “Jod’e, employee of Citizen Troal. The mare has no human identity; she’s just a steed.”

“A unicorn steed,” the machine said. “They will be registered too.” It turned its lenses on Belle. “Stand, mare.” A beam touched her.

Belle, freed from the effect of the stun beam, climbed to her feet. She stood, uncertain what more to do.

The machine ground toward her. Suddenly another beam speared out. There was a sizzle, and a puff of smoke.

Belle screamed almost in the manner of a woman. She leaped up, but could not escape the pain. She had been burned on the flank. It was evident that though her hooves were adapted to heat, her hide was not.

She hit the ground running. In a moment she was far across the field.

“Why did you do that?” Jod’e demanded of the machine. “There was no call for—“

“All human forms will be registered by retinal pattern,” the machine said. “All animals will be branded. None will escape identification.”

“Branded!” Lysander exclaimed. But there was no more he could say; the deed was done, and he didn’t want to get Belle into any more trouble. It was better if they thought of her as only an animal.

“Enter the craft,” the machine said.

Jod’e hesitated. “Do it,” Lysander said. “We have seen that the invaders—or whoever is giving the orders now—have no compassion. They will stun us again if we don’t obey.”

She nodded. She knew it was true. They climbed into the flyer. There was barely room for the two of them, and none for the robot it had brought.

The panel closed. The flyer jerked aloft. They clung to each other to shield themselves from the buffeting.

“You can change form,” Lysander murmured in her ear. “Fly away. You’ve done all you could.”

“They know my identity,” she reminded him. “They’d only search me out, and punish anyone who helped me.”

He was silent. It was true. She was probably in for it, because she had tried to help him escape, and Alyc wouldn’t like that.

“I should have agreed to serve the Hectare,” he said. “And walked out when I had a chance.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” She leaned forward and kissed him.

“We’ll both pay for this break, as Belle did, but at least we tried.”

He kissed her back. “As romances go, this has been extremely brief. But if both of us should later find ourselves free...”

“Agreed,” she said. “Maybe this is just a temporary occupation, and the invaders will move on to another planet.”

“Somehow I fear not.” And such was his identification with his role that he felt real regret. He knew that the occupation was to be permanent. The Hectare needed the planet’s supply of Protonite, which was the finest known compact energy source, and they regarded the game setup as ideal for relaxation. They would desert the planet only when there was nothing remaining to make it worthwhile to exploit.

But his private requirement was clear: he had to escape the captivity of the Hectare and seek sanctuary with the native resistance movement. Once he had fathomed its nature and had identified all the key personnel, he would betray it to the authorities, and the planet would be secure. He was sure that there was such a movement; there always was. If the Citizens had known that Alyc was a Hectare agent and left her alone, it could only have been because they were hiding their true effort. Jod’e might have led him there, but they had been intercepted too soon.

That was surely Alyc’s fault. It was another irony that she had unwittingly allowed her personal desire to interfere with the larger plan of her true employer, the Hectare. If the resistance movement made mischief because the counteragent was nullified by a superficial agent—but it was his job to see that that did not happen. He had special training which would enable him to escape, but he would avoid drawing on that as long as he could, to maintain the semblance of untrained loyalty to the native culture.

Meanwhile he was truly regretful that he would be unable to have a fling with Jod’e. Alyc had been entertaining, in the human fashion, but Jod’e would have been delightful.

“I think I have fallen in love with you, this past hour,” Jod’e said.

“If you have, banish the notion!” he said, alarmed. “They could use it against you by threatening me!”

“Yes, that would be the way of the despot,” she agreed.

“But had things been otherwise, I think I could have returned the sentiment,” he said, kissing her again. That was probably true, if some very large allowances were made.

The flyer landed at the dome. A disciplinary robot was waiting for them. It herded them to a cell in the holding section adjacent to the spaceport, where fired serfs were normally held until deportation was arranged. There was a bunk and shower and video screen, and that was all.

“They left us together?” Jod’e said, surprised. “This is a cell for one.”

“Three conjectures,” Lysander said. “One: this is only temporary, until they dispose of us shortly. Two: no one told the machine otherwise, so it dumped its load in the nearest cell. Three: they are so crowded with new detainees that they have to jam us in double.”

“Four,” she said. “They want to give us a chance to talk together, so they can listen and learn what we were doing out there. Five: the thing you said.”

He nodded. He had warned her how one of them could be made to do what the captors wanted, if the other was threatened. Both her conjectures seemed good. Still, he was glad to be with her.

How should they play it? The moment Alyc received news of their capture, she would act. She knew the situation. So was there any point in pretending indifference to each other? Maybe a romantic motive would be better than a political one, as far as the Hectare were concerned.

He sat on the bed. “I think they don’t care about us, other than to ascertain whether there is any political significance to our attempted flight,” he said. “Since our association is romantic rather than political, we have no need to hide it.”

Her lips pursed appreciatively. “And we may not have much time together.”

She took three steps and plumped down on his lap, evidently intending to make their time count. He embraced her, finding her body just as intriguing as he had found Alyc’s. The nakedness of serfdom was asexual; it was the expression of sexual interest that made a woman appealing. He knew that Jod’e was a bat, in one of her aspects, but it didn’t matter; he had seen how genuine the mixedbreed folk of this society were. Had Jod’e been a full android, she would have been stupid; it was her vampire aspect that lent her both wit and sex appeal. He himself was a type of crossbreed, with his superior brain in an android body.

She grabbed his head and bent hers down to kiss him fiercely. His hands roamed as they had during the game of Fox and Geese, but this time there was no question about the nature of her body. “I wish we had understood each other better before,” he said, his pulse racing.

She lifted her head, then brought his face into her bosom. That was a move Alyc had lacked, and it electrified him. He no longer cared what other types of creatures they both might be; body to body was what counted at the moment.

The cell door opened. “Sure enough.”

Both Jod’e and Lysander jumped. It was Alyc!

Well, did it matter? He had broken with Alyc when she revealed herself as a traitor to the planet. Jod’e was next in line.

“I don’t suppose I could trust you anyway now,” Alyc said to him.

“I was true to you, until you were false to Proton,” Lysander replied. “If Jod’e had sided with the invaders, I’d have dropped her too. But she declared herself before I did.”

Alyc considered. “Very well. Have your fling. I shall see what can be done to make you both useful to the new order.” She stepped out of the cell, and the door slid closed.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Jod’e said.

“She’s jealous,” he agreed. “She can probably have me gelded and you put on permanent scullery duty.”

“But will the invaders support her, if it’s too much trouble?”

“Probably not. Her job is done. She has betrayed those who befriended her. But if she should find a way to continue being useful to the invaders, they might humor her.”

“So this may remain our only opportunity,” she said. “But if it’s all the same to you, the joy seems to have been deflated.”

“Yes.” He released her, and she got off his lap.

She turned on the video and tuned it to the news channel. They were abruptly locked into ongoing developments.

In the course of the rest of the day, and into the night, they absorbed reports of the landing and takeover by the Hectare. The investment of the planet, as they called it. There were human agents throughout, and these were handling the reorganization. Any Citizens who had not promptly reported to the concourse had been quickly hunted down by robots. The Hectare had evidently concentrated on the robot centers, and taken them over at the outset. But the real reason it was so easy was that the alien spaceships orbited the planet, and periodically blasted small craters out of the landscape, just to show how readily it could be done. Any such blast at a dome would burn thousands. Open resistance was pointless.

One item disgusted them both: the freeing of the two renegade Adepts, Purple and Tan. Lysander had not seen either directly, but had learned their history. They had been part of the Adverse Adept group that had tried to seize power from Citizen Blue (or the Adept Stile), and then they had betrayed even their own side and tried to become dictators. They had deserved execution, but Citizen Blue had been lenient. Now they were free and the loyal Brown Adept was prisoner, under house arrest in her castle. So the evil were being uplifted, and the good cast down. Lysander was a hidden agent for the Hectare, but this was hard to stomach.

What had happened to Tania, the beautiful woman Lysander had met, and her husband Clef? There was no report on them. Probably they had been driven into hiding. Lysander hoped that when he penetrated the heart of the resistance movement that they were not there; he did not want to have to be the one to betray them.

Finally, tiring of the dreary news, Lysander and Jod’e lay on the bunk. They had considered taking turns on it, but decided that if they were to be punished for being lovers, they might as well act like lovers. So they stretched out together, intending to sleep, but got interested so decided to make love—and then fell asleep before getting to it.

All next day they remained confined, with only each other and the video screen for company. A portable food dispensing machine was brought periodically so that they could select their meals, but they saw no living person or even a humanoid robot. They did hear faint sounds in adjacent chambers, and realized that the premises were indeed crowded. Any new regime had many enemies to contend with, and prison or the equivalent was about the only resort until they were all sorted out.

“If they get too crowded, they may have to let us go,” Lysander said. “After all, we haven’t done anything, and we’re hardly a threat to them.”

“Let’s hope,” she agreed. Then, curious, she assumed bat form and flitted out when the mealbot came, flying back unnoticed before it finished serving. “Jammed,” she reported. “They’re going to have to move us out soon.”

But it wasn’t until the following day that they were taken out. A guard machine escorted them to the main hall, where a small cargo transport waited. They climbed in and a sliding panel sealed them in. Then they suffered a fast, rough ride through the city transport system.

When the transporter stopped, they were at the entrance to an attractive estate. In fact, it was that of Citizen Tan; Lysander saw the marking at the entrance.

Indeed, Citizen Tan was there: Tania’s brother, not only freed from confinement but restored to his former status. No need to inquire what had happened to Tania; she must have been interned with the other true Citizens. The Hectare had acted with startling precision and speed to secure their base. The capture of Lysander himself had probably been just one of hundreds of such missions proceeding simultaneously. The Hectare were old hands at planetary subjugation; they allowed no leeway for problems.

They entered the main chamber—and Jod’e’s breath hissed in with shock. A monster stood there.

Lysander blinked and reconsidered. Monster? That was a Hectare! It stood somewhat above the height of a human being, with monstrous multifaceted eyes at the top, many stout little caterpillar feet at the base, and a hairlike greenish mantle covering much of the torso. A perfect specimen of its species. He, Lysander, had become so acclimatized to the human state that he had seen the creature through human perception.

It was probably well that he had done so, for his muted reaction would have been noted. A Hectare saw everything in its vicinity; that was the ability of the eyes. Each facet was individually lensed and controlled, an entire separate eye, and any several could focus on a particular object and perceive it with complete acuity. He had reacted normally, and so had not given himself away. For it was as important that the local Hectare not know his nature and mission as that the natives not know. That way, nothing could give him away.

The man stepped forward. He wore a headdress that looked like nothing so much as a squirming mass of little tentacles. “Serfs, meet your master,” he said. “This is the representative of the Hectare, whose private identity is irrelevant for you. You will henceforth obey any creature of this type as you would a Citizen, implicitly. However, the Hectare will normally work through intermediaries such as myself, identified by Hectare caps, whom you will also obey without question. Early examples will be made of any who cause difficulty.”

He frowned. “Indeed, the two of you, together with an errant unicorn, did cause minor mischief. The male is desired by one of our collaborators, and the female aided him in an attempted break. Examples shall therefore be made of you—but not unpleasant ones, for you. Each of you shall become the love slave of a collaborator. Do you find that appealing?”

There was no answer. Tan made a signal, and rays lanced down to sting both Lysander’s and Jod’e’s bare feet. Both jumped back with exclamations of pain.

“When questioned, you will answer,” Tan said.

“I find that appalling,” Lysander said quickly. His mind was racing. If Tan had the same power of the Evil Eye that Tania had, that meant he could look into the face of a person and compel that person to do anything he wished. Lysander was probably proof against such suasion, because he had been well prepared as a counter resistance agent, but if he showed that, Tan would know his nature, and his secret would be compromised. He had to avoid Tan’s effort.

“So do I,” Jod’e said.

Tan looked at her, his eyes narrowing appreciatively. “You have the vamp aspect, and you are extremely comely. You could have an excellent situation, if you cared to serve the Hectare.”

“I am loyal to the old order,” she said.

“And you, Lysander,” Tan said. “You are an expert games-man, and you have training in computer feedback circuitry. You too could have an excellent situation.”

“I prefer not,” Lysander said.

“The two of you are lovers?”

“Yes,” Lysander answered. They had not actually made love, but they would have soon enough, and wanted to. The cell’s spy lens would have recorded their start in that direction, before Alyc interrupted it.

“Let me make something plain to you both. The Hectare power is absolute. It will remain here indefinitely, until the planet has been exploited to the point that it is no longer worthwhile. You can not change that. But you can affect your own lives. If you join the Hectare, and give loyal service, you will be rewarded with an excellent life. If you do not, you will serve the Hectare anyway, but your position will be less advantageous for yourselves. You may make your choice now.”

Both shook their heads no.

“You are lovers,” Tan said. “Agree to serve, and you may remain so. You will work together, and your free time will be your own. You will work in your specialties, and not be asked to do anything against your consciences. This is a good offer.”

Lysander looked at Jod’e. “I think you should accept. I believe it is as he says.”

She turned to him. “Are you going to accept?”

“No.”

“Then I could not be your lover, because they would not grant you your wish.”

“This is true,” Tan said. “The reward for the cooperation of the two of you is yourselves. If one does not join, you will have lovers, but not each other.”

“I did not intend to accept anyway,” Jod’e said. “The most I could agree to is not to work against the bug-eyes if I am released. But I would never collaborate with them against the true culture of this world.”

“There will be a penalty for the pejorative term,” Tan said.

“Then I might as well make it clear that they will always be bug-eyed monsters to me. BEMs, exactly as in the old stories.”

The Hectare made no reaction.

“This has gone far enough,” Tan said. “Your penalty for failing to cooperate is to be compelled to be the love slave of a collaborator, as I mentioned before. Your penalty for the crass remark is to become my personal love slave. Does this appeal to you?”

“The prospect revolts me,” she said.

Tan’s aspect changed subtly. Lysander realized that the man had shifted to his Phaze identity. “Do thou look at me, vamp.”

She turned her face away from him.

A stun beam came down from the ceiling, evidently set at partial intensity. Jod’e slumped but did not fall.

Tan reached out and turned her head toward him. She was unable to resist. He stared into her eyes. “Thou dost be mine,” he murmured.

The beam shut off. Jod’e recovered. “Aye,” she said.

“Thou mayst kiss me.”

Lysander had expected either extreme reluctance, or a carefully faked effort. He was dismayed at what actually happened.

Jod’e flung her arms around Tan and kissed him passionately. “O thank thee, beloved!” she breathed.

Tan did not respond in kind. “Now kiss Lysander,” he said.

Jod’e froze. Then her head turned toward Lysander. “Needs must I?”

“I wish to demonstrate that thy orientation be completely changed. Kiss him.”

She grimaced. “An I must, I must,” she said with resignation. “I hate him not, but it be thee, sir, I long for.” She stepped up to Lysander and kissed him fleetingly on the cheek.

“That be not sufficient,” Tan said sternly. “Yield to him.” He looked directly at Lysander, and his eyes seemed huge. “And thou, Lysan—I compel thee not, yet. But take her in thine arms and do with her as thou wouldst. Make her respond to thee.”

It was a challenge Lysander was glad to accept. He enfolded Jod’e and held her close for the kiss.

Her body was stiff, and her lips mushy. Either she was a consummate actress, or she had no interest in his attention. She gave him no private signal. She merely tolerated his touch. As soon as he released her, she stepped back toward Tan, her stiffness fading.

“She be thine no longer,” Tan said to Lysander. “I can use my power but once on a gi’en person, but it be permanent. I would spare myself the effort on thee. Thou hast lost thy love, but canst still achieve a worthwhile position an thou accept allegiance now.”

Lysander was impressed. He didn’t think Jod’e was pretending. But his mission prevented him from collaborating with the puppet government the Hectare was setting up. “No.”

“Then needs must I prepare thee for Alyc, as she asked,” Tan said. “Face me.”

Lysander had delayed as long as he could. He had to act. He turned his face slowly toward Tan—then leaped for the Hectare.

He passed right through the creature—as he had expected. It was a holo image, not a physical presence. The Hectare were careful about personal exposure; only when they were quite sure of their company did they risk it.

But beyond the image was a decorative vase he had spied before. He swept it up, turned, and hurled it with precise aim at the lens complex in the ceiling. The vase smashed—and so did the lens. Now he could not be stunned from above.

He leaped back and grabbed Jod’e. He put a nerve hold on her shoulder. She stiffened, realizing that she was helpless; any effort to break free would be prohibitively painful. “Do not move,” he ordered Tan.

The man was not directly facing him, and remained in that orientation. “Thou canst hurt her, but thou canst compel me not,” Tan said. “In a moment will I turn and compel thee with mine Eye. I suggest thou dost desist before thou bringst upon thyself a type of punishment thou willst find really distasteful.”

But Lysander was already backing toward the exit panel. He kept his head behind Jod’e’s so that the Adept could not get a bead on him.

Tan stalked him. Whatever else might be said against the man, he was neither coward nor fool; he was yielding nothing. He was moving slowly but purposefully, closing the distance between them.

“You wouldn’t have bonded this woman to you if you didn’t desire her,” Lysander said as his back touched the panel. “You wouldn’t want her hurt.”

“I want thee hurt not either,” Tan said evenly. “In a moment thou willst be as loyal to the new order as she.”

Lysander squeezed the nerve in Jod’e’s shoulder. She screamed. Tan stopped advancing.

But Lysander wasn’t merely stalling for time; that was pointless. With his free hand he was tapping on the panel. He knew a way to make it open, if the Hectare had been true to form. Hectare, experienced at planetary subjugation, never left things entirely in the hands of the natives; they made sure at the outset that ultimate control was in the tentacles of the nearest Hectare. That meant rekeying the locks—all locks—to be responsive to Hectare hidden codes. One of the standard codes was auditory; a pattern of taps that few others could duplicate if any knew of their existence. Because Lysander’s brain was Hectare, he knew and could perform the cadences.

With one bare heel he tapped with one changing pattern. With his knuckle he tapped with another. As the two converged, interrelating, the Hectare code overrode the ordinary mechanism, and the panel slid open.

Lysander stepped back, hauling Jod’e with him. He saw Tan’s mouth open with amazement. The man had not known of this device, of course; he was merely a quisling, used without being trusted. Then the panel slid back, separating them.

Now he was out—but where was he to go? They were among serfs who were hurrying on their errands. The pursuit would commence in seconds. What was he to do with Jod’e?

That turned out to be easy. “Now you’re free,” he told her “Follow me; he’ll be out in a moment.” He let her go, and started down the hall.

“He’s here!” Jod’e cried, not trying to run. “He’s getting away!”

Lysander came to an intersecting hall and ducked into it. He could not try to conceal himself as another serf; all the serfs here would be checked. He couldn’t run far; the halls would be closed off any moment. The chances of any ordinary serf escaping capture were approximately nil.

But he was not an ordinary serf. He jumped to a private door panel and did a quick double tapping. It opened and he stepped in—just as the rumble of the larger hall-sealer panels commenced. All the serfs in that section of the hall were trapped, and would not be freed until their identities were verified.

He was in another Citizen residence, but it was empty. Its owner would have been interned. He ran through to the kitchen, where the food-delivery apparatus was, and the waste-disposal mechanism. He did not need to use the code tapping here; the conduits were not locked. He climbed onto a garbage cart and touched Us Go button.

In a moment he was zooming through the nether pipes of the city, heading for one of the central processing stations. When the cart slowed, approaching the first sorting stop, he jumped off, surprising the robot. “An error in classification,” he told it. “I will correct it.” The machine would not question a human voice of authority.

He got on the machine trundleway and walked to the human section. From there he exited to the main network of halls. He had escaped, for now; since the bit of beacon tape was gone from his back, they would have to do a citywide search to run him down.

They would do that, of course. No dictatorial government could tolerate dissent. But it would be awkward for them, because they would not want to disrupt the ongoing flow of business, and would not want to admit that any serf could give either a Citizen or a Hectare the slip. The Hectare whose image he had seen would not tell Tan about the code; it would keep that secret, realizing that Lysander was something unusual. Tan would just have to assume there was a defect in the door panel that had released Lysander by chance.

As for Jod’e: he had tested her, and verified what he feared. Tan’s Evil Eye had been effective, and she was now his creature. Had she been faking it, she would have run with Lysander; instead she had sounded the alarm the moment she was able. That had made no practical difference, but had shown him that it was pointless to be further concerned about her.

Perhaps it was for the best. Jod’e would probably be well treated. Had she fled with him, and had they made good their escape from the city this time, she would have lived the life of a fugitive. Eventually he would have betrayed her to the Hectare, along with the people of the resistance movement. It was kinder to have her taken now. He would let others know that it had not been voluntary, and they would respect her.

But it surely would have been nice to be with her for the interval of his penetration of the resistance movement. He had adapted so well to his human body that its delights had become his delights. Loving her. and being loved by her—how he wished that could have been true, for a time. As it was, he had lost his second woman.

But now he had not only to escape the city, but to make contact with the resistance. That meant he needed help to escape: the help of someone who had the appropriate contacts. He had no idea who that might be. This was the trickiest part of his effort. If one of them did not contact him, before the net closed on him, his mission would be cut short prematurely. No, the Hectare would not let him go; they had no tolerance for ineffective agents. His best fate if captured would be a return to Tan for the Evil Eye, and then assignment to Alyc as her love slave. If the Eye wasn’t effective, or if Alyc no longer desired him, they would simply melt him down for protoplasm.

He walked along the passage, back toward the concourse. He had to expose himself to as many serfs as he could, hoping that one of them would know how he had tried to escape, and would be looking for him. Any decent resistance network would have ways of keeping abreast of the news, and would know of the business with Tan. They would know that speed was of the essence.

Someone caught his arm. Lysander jumped, in a purely human reaction; he had been lost in his thoughts, which was another human trait. It was a woman, with feathery brown hair and black eyes. “ ‘Sander!” she said. “Remember me?”

In a moment he made the connection. “The harpy!” He had met her briefly, when little Flach had become a winged unicorn and flown him to the Purple Mountains. Actually, the cyborg, in her Proton form.

“You seemed interested in my legs, as I recall,” she said.

He had been trying to verify the nature of her form changing, by holding on to her as she shifted. “They were good legs.”

Despite their being metal and plastic, crafted to emulate living legs. On this planet, it was practically impossible to tell emulation from living flesh.

“I hear you’re in trouble.”

“You understate the case.”

“Will you trust me?”

“That depends whom you serve.”

“Citizen Powell.”

Not the Hectare. She must be his contact! “Yes.”

“This way.” She turned and led him through the thronging serfs.