Technos

Chapter Eleven

Dumarest woke to the sting of minor irritation, hearing the click of metal on glass, the regular breathing of a person very close. Opening his eyes he stared at a white ceiling barred with stripes of shadow. His mouth was dry and he had a throbbing ache behind his temples. Trying to rise, he felt the pressure of a hand on his bare shoulder.

"Be still," warned a voice. It was female and vaguely familiar. "I haven't finished yet."

"What are you doing?"

"Taking a series of samples. Your sweat, blood, lymph, spinal and seminal fluids-there are exactly fifty-eight of them. Do you want me to list them all?"

"No."

"You had a set taken when you were carried from the questioning. Now I'm taking another." Dumarest felt a slight prick at the lobe of his ear. "You've had slow-time therapy giving you the equivalent of thirty hours of sleep. How do you feel?"

"I'm thirsty and I've a headache."

"It's probably a hangover from visual strain. I'll give you something for it in a minute."

Instruments made small noises and Dumarest heard the sharp hiss of a hypogun as it blasted drugs through his skin and into his bloodstream. The pounding ache eased a little though the thirst remained.

"Can I get up now?"

"You'd do better to rest." He heard the rattle of movement as if vials were being shaken in a holder. "You recovered sooner than I expected. You must have strong powers of recuperation."

Quietly he said, "Yes, Elaine. I have."

He heard the soft intake of breath and sat upright, turning to look at the woman where she sat beside a medical trolley beyond the head of the bed. Elaine Delmayer was dressed all in white, the rich olive of her skin accentuated by the sterile fabric, the warm tones deepened by lack of contrast.

"Coincidence," she said calmly. "Well, it happens."

Dumarest rose. He was in a cube seven feet square, one wall completely barred. The cell contained the bed, a toilet and washbasin. He crossed over to it, turned on the tap, drank from the running faucet and then laved his face and neck. He was completely naked, droplets of water gleaming like pearls on the hard whiteness of his skin.

Turning, he looked at the woman. "Why?"

"Why did I drug you?"

"We can start with that, yes."

"I didn't know who and what you were," she said flatly. "All I was certain of was that I knew who you weren't the man you claimed to be. I know Major Keren. Jack and I are old friends and I was expecting to see him when you arrived. I couldn't understand why you used his name and so I gave you something in the tisane. I wanted to render you helpless while I called Jack and made inquiries." She lifted one hand and touched the side of her jaw. "You gave me no chance for that. Do you often strike women?"

"Only when I suspect their motives. And the men waiting outside?"

She frowned. "I know nothing of that."

"Never mind." Mada, of course. She must have had him followed from the train. "But why should you have been afraid of me?"

"I'm from Loame," she said evenly. "That makes me an enemy alien. A planet at war is inclined to become hysterical and to see spies under every bed. You could have been sent to test my loyalty, to trap me in some way. It was a risk I dared not take." She saw the movement of his eyes. "Don't worry. This place isn't fitted with microphones. We have other ways to learn the truth."

Dumarest was grim. "So I discovered."

"You had a bad session," she admitted. "Far more intense than anyone has ever had before. You were exhausted when they carried you from the chair. I had to give you intravenous feeding with saline and glucose together with restoratives to avoid total physical and mental shock."

He could believe it. The questions had become hammers beating at the naked surface of his brain, each answer becoming a greater effort as he struggled against fatigue. Twice, he remembered, they had paused to give him water. Well, it was over now. They had searched his mind and learned what they wanted to know.

"What are the charges and when is the trial?"

Elaine said, "I don't know what you mean."

"Do I have to explain?" Dumarest was curt. "I have been questioned. All right. Now they know all they wanted to find out. The next step is surely to try me for breaking the law. What are the penalties for landing without permission, escaping from custody, theft and assault?"

"I don't know," she said. "But it doesn't matter. I don't think they intend to try you."

"Why not? This is a civilized world, isn't it? A highly sophisticated culture which operates on the basis of law. Or are they going to release me now they know I had no criminal intent."

"Not that either. Vargas-"

"Is a man," he interrupted. "The head of the council. Or are you saying that he has set himself above the law? Is that it?" He stepped toward her, gripping her shoulders as she made no answer. "And you are willing to work for a system like that? A society in which the individual has no rights at all? Are you so in love with slavery that you run to meet it?"

"I work here." She responded to his anger with a rising fury of her own. "I am a doctor and a skilled pathologist. I have degrees in ecology, botany, economics, social science, psychology, chemistry-" She broke off, eyes hard as they met his own. "What's the difference? You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

"On Technos I am respected. I have a high position and live well. On Loame what would I be? The wife of a grower and a virtual serf. A-"

"A person who could entertain a guest without fear of a trap." Dumarest released her and stepped back. "You drugged me because you feared that very thing. And still you try to justify your blindness. Are you trying to climb higher still? To get a seat on the Supreme Council?"

"That's impossible! Only the native born are allowed to stand for the examinations."

"Not impossible. What about Mada Grist? She comes from Loame. She denied it but she lied. The color and texture of her skin is unmistakable."

"Mada Grist?" Elaine frowned, puzzled, her anger evaporating. "You know her?"

"Yes."

"And she looks like me?"

"Very much like you. You reminded me of her when we met. You have the same coloring and height, and even your figures are much the same. She is a little younger, perhaps, but that-" He broke off at the sound of her laughter. "Elaine!"

"You poor devil," she said. "Someone has been having a game with you. Mada Grist is eighty-seven years old."

Beyond the bars of the cell footsteps echoed from a point down the external corridor. As they grew closer Dumarest said, "Delay matters. We must talk."

"But-"

"Do it!"

He returned to the bed and lay supine, eyes closed and hands lax at his sides. He felt the woman lean over him and touch him with some instrument. The footsteps halted.

"Madam?"

"I am not finished. Leave me. I will call when ready." As the footsteps retreated she said, "What have we to talk about?"

"Mada Grist. Has she a granddaughter?"

"No. She has no children."

"The woman I am talking about wears a bracelet of gold on her left wrist. It is her identification. Does that mean anything to you?" He rose as she remained silent, turning to look into her face. "Well?"

"Members of the Supreme Council wear such a bracelet," she admitted. "But it could have been a forgery. How would you know?"

"I wouldn't, but the guards would, and could an impostor live in an apartment in the palace? And your friend saw her. Major Keron came looking for me. He seemed convinced she was genuine."

"No. It isn't possible. There must be some mistake."

"Such as?"

"Women are vain and old women more so. The wearing of masks has become fashionable. In a dim light you could have easily been mistaken."

It was possible, he had seen her only twice and both times the light had been poor. He remembered how she had prevented him from touching her face and his own suspicions that she wore a mask. But there had been no doubt as to the youth of her body.

"I told you that I knew her," he said. "I saw her naked. Her body is younger than your own." He saw the look in her eyes, the dawning comprehension. "You didn't know?"

"No. How could I have? I still can't believe it."

He was harsh. "You don't want to believe it because, if you do, it will shake your nice, tidy little world. But you work here. You must, have guessed. What do you do?"

"Tissue typing mostly. Taking cells to grow new organs in culture vats as replacement grafts for the war-injured."

"From the tributaries sent from Loame?"

"Mostly, yes. We have an extremely low rejection mechanism which makes culture growths ideal for surgical use. The donors aren't harmed, of course; they just lose a few cells which are quickly replaced by normal means. But the other-what you suggest-it's horrible!"

"But true. Mada Grist can't be the only one. There must be others, members of the Supreme Council wouldn't take the risk unless there was a reasonable chance of success." Or perhaps she had been desperate, he thought, her body so diseased that it was easier to give her a new one rather than a series of implants. The details didn't matter. The important thing was to convince Elaine of the inevitable consequences. "You are intelligent and must know what will happen. More and more old people will want new bodies and, for every one that does, one of your own people has to die. Technos will become a parasite on Loame. Your planet will be a farm for the production of young and healthy beasts. Their brains won't matter, only their bodies, fed and cosseted until they are needed. Cattle!"

Her hands tightened into fists. "No! It's too vile! It mustn't happen. It can't!"

"It will unless you stop it. The Technarch has everything in his favor. He can offer young bodies and extended life to those who are loyal. Already he has made himself the master of Technos, and soon he will be almost a god. And he has someone to help him do it. A creature of the Cyclan. My guess is that the cyber came here just before the wars started. Am I right?"

"I don't know. I've only been in the capital a short time. I was studying and-" She drew a deep breath. "That doesn't matter. What can I do?"

"Fight, what else?" Dumarest paused, listening. From somewhere down the corridor he heard the muffled slam of a door. "You have access to some of the tributaries from Loame. Set them free, fill them with chemical courage and turn them against the palace guards. How well do you know Keron?"

"Very well. We are to be married."

"Contact him. Use hypnotics if you have to but get him to act. He is in control of armed and trained men. Once Vargas is dead he could become leader of the planet. Damn it, girl, think! A culture like this is brittle, the people conditioned to obey the man with the big voice, the officials terrified to act of their own volition. Act now and Loame is safe. Mada Grist will cooperate because she has no choice now that Vargas knows she asked me to kill him. With her on your side others of the council will fall into line. Keron can retain control in the name of security and from then on it's up to you."

"You make it all sound so very simple."

"It is simple. All you need to do is to think and act for yourself." Dumarest tensed as he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. "The guard. Can you get me out of here?"

Elaine shook her head.

"Why not? He has to let you out and you can take me with you. Tell him that you have to conduct some special tests or something."

"It wouldn't work," she said regretfully. "You don't understand. They are afraid of you and there are guards posted beyond each end of the corridor. If we leave together they will incapacitate us both."

"Incapacitate? Why not kill?"

She glanced toward the medical trolley. "You seem to be very important and now I've a suspicion why. The samples I took are to confirm tests already made. Your tissues are sympathetic to those of the Technarch." She paused then added, "And Vargas is a very old man."

Dumarest said tightly, "Get me out of here."

"I can't. I told you, it's impossible."

"You've a stack of degrees and a headful of knowledge," he said sharply. "Use that intelligence you're so proud of. Help me or I'll ruin your life."

She studied his face, the hard set of his mouth, the savage determination of his eyes. "You mean it. You really mean it?"

"Yes," he said. "You'd better believe that."

* * *

The guard came running at her call. He halted beyond the bars, looking to where she stooped over Dumarest as he lay on the bed.

"Madam? Is anything wrong?"

"This man is ill," she snapped. "Dying. Summon help immediately. He must be taken to the hospital at once."

He hesitated. "My orders-"

"To hell with your orders! This is an emergency! Move!"

"I'll call a doctor."

"You stupid fool!" Her eyes blazed with impatient anger. "I am a doctor! I tell you this man is dying. He needs immediate surgery. Now do as I say. Quickly. If you delay and he dies, you will answer for it. Now hurry!"

Her tone, sharp with fear, spurred him to action. From the end of the corridor came a blur of voices and the sounds of movement. Elaine dropped her hands to Dumarest's chest, thrusting with the heels of her palms in the basic actions of heart massage. Her breath was warm against his cheek as she whispered quick instructions.

"Remain lax as if you were unconscious. Roll up your eyes in case anyone makes a simple test. Restrain your breathing if anyone comes close or, if you cannot hold your breath, make it ragged and irregular. It would be better if I drugged you. There will be other physicians."

"No. Have you slow-time?"

"Not with me. In the hospital, yes. Is that what you want?"

"Use it if you can. I-" He broke off, falling silent as men streamed down the corridor. They brought a wheeled stretcher, waiting as the door of the cell slid aside, entering to lift Dumarest on the vehicle. Continuing her massage Elaine walked beside him, shielding him with her body, maintaining the pretense, as they passed the guards. One of them busied himself with a phone as they headed toward an elevator, Dumarest catching his tone of frantic urgency.

Unable to hold his breath any longer he inhaled with a tearing rasp, forcing saliva into his throat to produce a liquid gurgling.

A man said, "He sounds bad, madam. What's the matter with him?"

"Syncopic failure coupled with internal seepage of lymphatic fluids into the lungs. Probably internal hemorrhage and a malfunction of involuntary muscular responses aggravated by extreme exhaustion and psychic shock."

The elevator came to a halt, doors opening, the wheels of the stretcher humming over a smooth floor. More doors, the sound of muted voices and the taint of antiseptics. The hands lifted from his chest and touched his mouth. Something hard and cold was thrust against his tongue.

Elaine whispered, "Yendhal is coming. I heard them notify him what happened."

Dumarest groaned and heaved on the stretcher. Through slitted eyes he saw the uniforms of watchful guards. Elaine stooped over him, the spatula hard against his tongue. Her eyes were anxious, afraid.

"What now?"

He relaxed, unable to answer, forcing the woman to think for herself. If she had sense she would think of an answer but it would have to be soon. At the moment she was operating on fear, caught in events over which she had little control, her intelligence numbed by the shock of recent disclosures.

The spatula left his mouth and he felt the touch of something cold on his chest. An electronic stethoscope? It rose and pressed against his throat. He spoke, sub-vocally, only a sighing murmur passing his lips.

"Get the guards out of here or get me somewhere out of sight."

The instrument left his throat, and he heard the sharpness of the woman's command.

"This man needs immediate operative surgery. You will leave the room while I have him prepared."

One of the guards said firmly, "We have our orders. He is not to leave our sight."

"I cannot work with you watching. For one thing you are medically unclean. If he should become infected because of bacteria carried on your persons I shall not be responsible." Her tone softened a little. "I appreciate your dilemma but he cannot walk let alone escape. You can wait outside. There is no other exit from this room. Now please hurry. Every second lost lessens his chances of recovery."

The door closed and she said faintly. "All right, Earl. You've had your way so far. Now what?"

He opened his eyes and rose from the stretcher looking around. The room was small and lined with cabinets containing medical equipment. The bright glitter of operating instruments shone from a tray: forceps, shears, scalpels of various sizes. He picked up the largest.

"You're a barbarian," she said contemptuously. "A savage. All you know is how to lie and kill."

"You think I lied?"

"I don't know. You threw me into a panic and I acted without due consideration. That was unscientific. I should have gathered more data, tested the truth of what you said, made my own judgments. I was a fool."

"You still are," he said harshly. "A fool and worse. You are a traitor to your own land."

"Loame-"

"Means nothing to you," he interrupted. "And it means even less to me. I came here to ask you for help and that is all. The rest simply happened. Now all I want is to get away from here. To take passage to another world. If I have to kill a dozen men to do it, I shall. The alternative isn't pleasant."

She was in shock, he decided; the even tenor of her life suddenly disrupted, her previous conviction now being replaced by doubt. He remembered the luxury of her apartment and the loneliness she had suffered when young. Here she was respected and her knowledge was valuable. The ability she owned gave a tremendous advantage in the peculiar competition of this culture.

"You told me that you had slow-time," he said. "Is it here?"

"A little. Enough for about thirty hours subjective time. You want it?"

He hesitated, tempted to take advantage of the offer. It would enable him to leave the building and perhaps reach the landing field. Certainly it would remove him from immediate danger. But he owed a duty to the girl.

"No, you take it. You've used it before?" He continued as she shook her head. "It will speed your metabolism to forty times normal That means you must be very careful how you move and walk. Don't hit anything and remember that, because of inertia, things will weigh forty times as much. Keep eating glucose because you'll be burning up a lot of energy. Use the stairs, not elevators, it will save you time."

She frowned. "Time for what?"

"To find Keron. To get him to prove what I say about Mada Grist To bring him back here and to put an end to this corruption. And," he added, "to save my life if I'm still around."