The Caterpillars Question

Chapter 15

Jack kept moving, knowing that time was critical. The Gaol captain had to know that the security of the ship had been breached. He would be ruthless in the defense of his command. The honkers were following a meandering trail around, over, and through the trusses and pipes of the skin of the ship, evidently seeking to lose themselves so that no guards inside could spot them. This was no innocent camping hike!

Yet now Jack was suffering significant second thoughts. Doubts which had been nagging him were now threatening to overwhelm him. It wasn't that he was afraid for his life, though he was, or that he was concerned that the odds were against this mission, though he was. It was that now, belatedly, the scattered bits of wrongness he had felt were coalescing into a more solid structure. He was no longer vaguely concerned; he was quite specifically alarmed.

He followed the honkers automatically while he put it together, making sure of his notion. Because if he was right, there might be worse trouble ahead than behind. Not physically, but in terms of Tappy's destiny.

Item: Tappy was the host of the Imago, an ethereal entity who could cause any living creature to have great empathy for all living things. The Imago could destroy the galactic empire of the Gaol by causing all living creatures, including the Gaol themselves, to have empathy for others, instead of oppressing them. Therefore the Gaol intended to capture Tappy and lock her away in isolation for life so that the Imago could not spread its harmony.

Item: Tappy had led Jack to the planet of the honkers, who were only vaguely manlike, and this planet had extensive ancient artifacts. These had been constructed by the Makers, who seemed to resemble centaurs whose nonhorselike portions were bearlike rather than human. Some of these artifacts were enormous, and seemed to be still operative, such as the metallic band around the crater wail, about fifty miles in diameter. What had happened to the Makers, whose power must once have shamed that of the present-day Gaol?

Item: A honker had somehow drugged both Jack and Tappy, and planted the egg-seed on Tappy's chest. Hormones or something similar from that egg had nullified the effect to the volition paralysis the Gaol had used on the two of them, so that Tappy was able to get them free, so that they could reach the Agents of the Imago and get help. This indicated that the honkers were not the primitives they had at first seemed to be.

Item: The egg had in due course hatched, producing the Imaget, a creature who could facilitate or enhance the qualities of the egg's host. The Imaget had the power to enhance or facilitate the powers of its original host, so that the effect of the Imago could be transferred in an hour instead of a day. It also was a telepathic transmitter, at least between creatures with whom it had had close physical association, or whom it had helped convert.

Item: Despite the empathy which had transformed him, cyborg-Gaol Garth had gone to his former ship and slain its living guards, equipment operators, and true-Gaol captain. He had shown no compassion; rather, the opposite, becoming an efficient killer. This could not have been because of reversion and loss of empathy in the absence of the Imaget, because both Tappy and the Imaget had been with him. Jack himself, just minutes ago, had participated in the honkers' savage attack on the human minions of the Gaol. Where was his empathy for those living creatures, which were his own kind? He should not have been able to do it. Only now, in retrospect, were his qualms manifesting. This suggested that the Imaget had another property: the ability to reverse what it had enhanced. It was a phenomenally potent little creature!

Put these items together, and what larger picture emerged? Imago, Makers, honkers, Imaget. All of them seemed to have powers beyond what first showed. All of them were working together to oppose the Gaol. But what were they working for? It wasn't enough merely to say that the empire of the Gaol was evil; one empire was probably similar to another, when it came down to it. Maybe it would be a better galaxy if every living creature in it had empathy for every other creature. But it might also be anarchy. Now, with this realization of what else the Imaget could do, Jack realized that he might not be working for a future Utopia. He might be just another tool for some shadowy alien force whose ultimate purposes might be just as nefarious as those of the Gaol.

How could he be sure he was on the right side— assuming there was a right side? That he and Tappy were not mere patsies for some player in a galactic game of intrigue and power? That their honker allies were their friends and not their enemies? That they were not working for the restoration of the Makers to power, if any still existed, regardless of the welfare of the galaxy?

But his thoughts were cut off by an outside event: They had been walking through what appeared to be the space between the outer and inner shells of the ship. There was surely an aperture to the main portion. But the defenders of the ship must have located them, and were now counterattacking. There was a hiss of gas.

Jack and the honkers quickly donned simple gas masks that the honker leader passed around. These consisted of spongelike objects. They simply held them in their mouths and breathed through them. Jack realized that these could be living creatures, or could be infused with microscopic entities, that detoxified the gas biologically.

Similarly they plugged little pieces of sponge into their ears and nostrils and clapped flexible transparent shells over their eyes. None of Jack's senses seemed to be impaired by this. Then they brushed damp sponges over their bodies, covering them with somewhat sticky goop that quickly thickened. Jack painted his face, neck, arms, and ankles. They were now completely protected against poison gas— Jack hoped.

They moved on, breathing through their sponges. Jack found that the air through his was slightly flavored, not unpleasant. But his legs began to itch, and then his crotch.

He realized that he should not have assumed that his clothing would protect him. Of course it wouldn't! So he stopped to do what he should have done before. He ripped off his clothing and jammed the sponge into all the itchy areas, vigorously swabbing them. The discomfort eased immediately; the honkers did know what they were doing, here.

But his pause had caused him to fall behind; the honkers hadn't waited for him. They evidently did not suffer fools gladly. He would be lost in this labyrinth if he didn't catch up quickly. He didn't have time to put his clothing on again, so he settled for his shoes, and wadded the rest up into a knotted ball. Naked, he charged along the route he had seen them go.

For a while he feared he was lost anyway. Then he spied a honker, waiting for him. As he came up to it, the honker loped ahead, showing the way to the others. They had not after all left him to be lost. That was nice, since he was the nominal leader of this raiding party.

They came to a flat wall that might be the back side of a control panel. Many lumps and strands projected from it: the wiring of the ship? One honker brought out a little sac of paste. He rubbed this carefully on the metal wall, in a disk about two inches across. The wall became translucent, then transparent there. The honker peered through it. He nodded, then brought out a thin strawlike tube with a bulb on one end. He poked this at the transparent section, and it penetrated the metal. When it was through, he squeezed the bulb. There was a faint hiss of gas being forced through.

Then there was a thump on the other side of the wall, as of a guard falling to the floor. Gas was a two-edged weapon.

Another honker did something, and a panel swung open. They piled into the ship proper, jumping over the body of the guard or technician there. Jack saw that it was a human female, halfway pretty. But he felt no sympathy; she was a minion of the enemy. And realized that he could no longer trust his feelings; he carried the Imaget, which seemed to be immune to the gas, and it had reversed his emotion.

But now that he realized that things were not exactly as they seemed, he might be able to compensate. Regardless, he had to take this ship, because if he failed, it would soon attack and reduce the honker defenses on the planet, and Tappy would either be captured or killed. Of the two, capture was the worse risk. So his understanding could have little effect on his immediate actions, but perhaps much on his longer term strategy.

There were a number of creatures in sight, but they paid no attention to the intruders. Apparently they were androids, programmed for specific tasks, not for defense of the ship. However, when the authorities realized that their gas attack had not succeeded, they would send a more competent contingent to do the job.

The honkers had gone about as far as they could, without direction. They had breached the shell of the ship and gotten him inside. Now it was time for Jack to do his thing.

He had had a foolish notion of carving his way through the ship with a giant curving laser-edged sword, protected by some kind of magic armor, lopping the heads from any who opposed him. But of course that was unrealistic. The Gaol had lost one ship to a surprise attack, and would not allow another to go the same way. There would be attack robots marshaling right now, to come and cut him down. Sword and sorcery was not for this realm. There was a more subtle but effective procedure. He was prepared in a less foolish, less dramatic, but more realistic way.

He felt in his bundle of clothes and brought out a tiny tightly sealed jar the honkers had given him. He unscrewed the cap and lifted it off. There was a little puff of dark vapor that quickly dissipated in the air. That was all.

"Now find us a hole we can defend," Jack said around his sponge.

The honkers were already doing that. The interior of the ship was a labyrinth of passages and tubes ranging from twenty feet in diameter to less than an inch, and cables of many sizes twining like serpents through and between. Some seemed to be for air, others for mechanized delivery systems, and others for the passage of robots or living creatures. But spread around in it were glassy bubblelike chambers, evidently little command centers, which could be sealed off. Most of them contained creatures, but some were empty. The honkers brought him to one of these bubbles, sealed him in, then dispersed.

This ship was, Jack realized, like a giant living thing. He had seen it, or one like it, healing itself after he and Tappy had cut through its wall with the radiator. Now that he was inside it, he thought of the tubes as blood and lymph vessels, arid the tunnels as part of a vast alimentary tract, and the cables as nerves. That would make the robots and androids and living creatures serve the function of the cells of the blood, circulating to every part of the whole. This chamber must be a temporary storage place for blood, so that it could be routed where needed in a hurry. Maybe antibodies were robot warriors with blasters.

Now a screen lighted in the bubble. The human woman Malva appeared. "So it is you, Jack," she said, eying his naked torso. He moved his bundle of clothes to cover what counted. "Evidently the job of disposing of you was bungled."

"So it seems," he agreed. He had to spit out his bit of sponge so as to talk clearly. It didn't seem to matter; there was no longer hostile gas here.

"But you are now sealed into a containment capsule. You will die when your air is exhausted."

"The ship will die soon after me," Jack replied evenly.

"You are of course bluffing. This ship has taken off and is now orbiting the planet. Your friends can not help you."

Jack had not felt the takeoff, but that meant nothing; the drive was inertialess. "I suggest that you put me into direct contact with the Gaol captain immediately, so that we can negotiate the surrender of the ship before it is destroyed."

"The Gaol do not surrender their ships. Nor do they negotiate with inferior life-forms."

"Have it your way. Meanwhile, let me clarify our threat. I have released a funguslike cloud of spores which is circulating throughout the ship. The spores' first priority is to multiply, which they do rapidly, feeding on the elements of the air and the substances of the ship. They are omnivorous, with appetite for metals, plastics, and organic things. Everything except living tissue. They even feed on poisonous things. Their effect is almost imperceptible at first, but increases exponentially as their number multiplies. Their life cycle is complete in a matter of seconds; they have a very high metabolic rate. Soon you will notice an impairment of the functioning of the ship, as they festoon and clog the smaller channels. Later you will notice that their waste products are highly corrosive, dissolving all the substances on which they feed. Indeed, that is part of their mode of operation: they dissolve things in order to feed on them. The effect will accelerate, until the ship is rendered inoperable and everything in it dies."

"You and your party along with it," she said.

"Yes. So no threats will prevail against us. We are a suicide mission. Only your surrender, in time for the antidote, will save any of us. Now put me in touch with the captain, because I will not negotiate with you. You have demonstrated your lack of integrity."

Malva's picture was replaced by that of the ratcage that was the captain. "What is your offer?" the Gaol's words came, translated.

So the Gaol did negotiate, when they had to! The captain must have verified the effect of the fungus, and realized that there was not time to bring an antidote from a far system, assuming they were able to devise one. Of course he could not trust the captain any more than Malva. But he didn't need to. Orient, he thought to the Imaget. Convert.

Suddenly Jack remembered the body of the young human woman the honker gas had killed. He had never known her in life, but he knew she had been a living, feeling creature who had done what she had to do to survive. If she served the Gaol, it was because they were the available employers, not because she was a bad person. In fact, there were no bad people, only differing agendas. There were no bad living creatures. Everything deserved its chance. He felt grief for all whose chances were denied.

The Imaget had focused on the captain, channeling its full power, as Jack had told it to. It was bringing empathy to the Gaol. But that meant it could no longer serve Jack, and so the full force of his empathy for all living things had returned. He had never lost it, only had it temporarily blotted out so that he could perform ruthlessly. Just as the Gaol cyborg had performed when taking over the other ship.

However, he had to hold the captain's attention while the Imaget made enough of an impression to maintain the contact. After a while, the captain would not object to the conversion, if he was even aware of it. It hardly mattered what Jack said, as long as it kept the dialogue going. "Surrender your ship to me. Then I will arrange to have the counteragent delivered, so that the ship survives without crippling damage."

"This is not acceptable. Make another offer."

"Wait it out. Then the ship will crash, and all of us will die. But you will not have the Imago or its host, and so your mission will be lost."

"There is always an intermediary course. Make another offer."

"I don't seem to be getting through to you," Jack said. "I don't have to dicker for terms. I have the controlling hand. Your only choices are to surrender the ship or die. I will let you live if you yield." Because he had empathy even for the Gaol. He did not like the idea of hurting any living thing, but knew that he had to in order to win this encounter or many more would suffer.

"I will demonstrate the intermediary course. You will save yourself considerable distress if you issue a message for your associates, to the effect that the situation is in order and you require the antidote immediately. If you do not, you will be captured and required to do so under duress."

"Fat chance, ratcage."

"This is negation?"

"Right."

The screen faded to blank. Then fully mechanical robots appeared around the bubble, using tool appendages to sever and seal off the various tubular connections it had to other parts of the ship.

The captain had distracted him with the dialogue while he set up his attack on the bubble! Who had been fooling whom? It was ploy and counterploy, in a deadly game. But the Imaget was still oriented on the Gaol. How long would it take, telepathically? If they broke in and killed him and the Imaget, the fungus would still disable the ship. But they did not intend to kill him. They were going to torture him to make him give their message. Could he resist that?

The robots severed and sealed the last outside connection. Then they simply rolled the bubble to a larger chamber. A coating of dirt was forming on the outside, which was odd; where would there be dirt in a sealed ship like this? Now Jack saw that similar bubbles enclosed the honkers who had accompanied him. All of them had been captured.

They were going to have him out and under duress very quickly. Too quickly? Time was his ally, but how much time did he need? Did the process of conversion take longer by telepathy? How could he stall, to get enough time?

The robots used what looked like lipstick applicators to mark lines on the outside of the bubble. But when they completed a circle, a panel fell out. Jack's protection was gone.

But he refused to give them any help. When a robot reached an appendage in, he knocked it aside. It was a futile gesture, but one that had to be made.

The robot swung its appendage back toward Jack, but slowly. Now he saw that it was encrusted with furry growths. The fungus!

Jack avoided the appendage, and it was unable to catch him, even in this confined region, because the fungus interfered with its mechanism. Now he saw that the other robots were similarly overgrown. They might be able to ignore fungus on their exteriors, but it probably was growing in the joints, too, and inside. Wherever it could reach. The same thing would be happening all over the ship.

Now he realized that the dirt on the bubble was also fungus. It was on the walls and floor, too. It was doing its job of spreading. How long would it be before it interfered with the major systems of the ship, bringing it down?

Then another robot came. This one was spraying something. A fungicide! It sprayed the other robots, and they then resumed faster motion. Maybe there wasn't enough of the stuff to douse the whole ship, but that wouldn't help Jack.

Then the motion slowed again. The fungus was growing even faster; he could see it appearing as a thickening film on all the sprayed surfaces. The fungus was now feeding on the fungicide!

But Jack was not yet out of trouble. Human minions came Fungus was growing on them, too, or at least on their clothing, but they were functioning. They spoke to Jack in the highly accented English that seemed to be the class-taught second or third language here. "Come out! Or we drag you out!"

Jack was about ready to come out anyway. He climbed through the hole in the bubble. "Now what?" He noticed that there was no fungus on him, not even his inanimate portions, such as hair and nails. It seemed that the same paint that had protected him from the gas was effective against the fungus. The honkers were not about to be hoist in their own petard.

But coated or not, these human minions meant business. One brought out what looked like a set of electric probes. Jack felt a chill, that could be exactly what they were. He knew that electric shock could make a lot of pain that didn't show. He didn't know whether he could handle it.

So he made a break for it. He shoved the man with the probes against the one beside him, and charged through the gap in their circle this made. He had no idea where he was going. Just so long as it was anywhere but here.

There was a faint flash. Then he lost his volition. The honker paint did not protect against that device! But why hadn't they used it before?

Jack had stopped where he was, not losing his balance, just having no power to go anywhere on his own initiative. He stood facing away from the other men.

"Turn," a voice said from a hidden speaker

Jack turned to face the others— and saw that all of them were turning away from him. What was going on?

"The intruding human being only will respond," the voice said.

Then Jack understood the flash had nulled the willpower of all of them. That was why they hadn't wanted to use it. It did not differentiate; it affected any human being in the vicinity, making them almost useless. He had forced them to use it, and that had been a reasonably good move.

"Walk. Follow the blue line." A line appeared before him.

Jack walked. The line wound a devious course through the ship. Soon Jack was lost, he would never be able to find his way out on his own, even with the good chart of the ship the honkers had provided. Not that he was likely to be given the chance. There was a lot of walking, in a mile-diameter ship! But if he did get his will back, then he could follow the line back to his starting point.

Was there any way to break the hold of the null-volition? Before, Tappy had been immune, because of the Imaget egg, and then she had gotten him free of it by writing Malva's name as a Gaol symbol on a piece of paper and having him eat it. He still wasn't sure how that worked. But he couldn't do that now. No pencil. No paper. No Tappy.

But wait! Tappy had been free because of the Imaget egg she earned. Surely the Imaget itself had the same power? So why wasn't he free?

Because the Imaget was otherwise occupied at the moment. But when it finished that job, it would revert its attention to Jack, and then he should be free. Probably he could get its attention with a strong thought, if he had to. So he had a secret weapon. Maybe.

Meanwhile, he followed the blue line. At one point it spiraled up a curving ramp, and he happened to see behind him. The line had disappeared. It faded out as he moved along it, being clear only ahead. So much for following it back! However, he also saw his footprints in the furry gray coating of fungus on the floor. Maybe he could follow them instead, if they didn't disappear too rapidly under new growth.

Finally he reached a region he judged to be somewhere in the center of the ship. There was a huge bubble, opaque because of its coating, with an enormous number of connections. It was as if this were the central cell of a living entity, to which all others reported.

And of course it was, he realized. This was the abode of the Gaol captain' He was about to face his reckoning.

"Wipe a section clear," a loudspeaker said.

Jack realized that he was still carrying his bundled clothing. He used this to rub on the available surface of the sphere. It was like scraping snow off a windshield. Now a window of clarity appeared.

Inside the bubble was the Gaol captain. For the first time Jack saw such a creature with his own eyes, from up close, instead of by telepathic projection through other eyes.

The thing was horrible. All the details were as he had been shown before, but now they were in sharp ugly focus. The great external rib cage, as if it had once been fleshed but now was a carcass. The sacful of body organs, as if the guts had been wrapped in membrane and hung inside the stripped rib cage to cure. The legs and neck projecting from the general region of that internal mass, emerging from the cage. What a monster!

Yet perhaps it was in keeping with the spaceship the Gaol used. For this huge ship had riblike projections reaching up to join at the top. It was surely the kind of structure the Gaol would feel comfortable with, because of their own skeletal structure. Just as human beings felt comfortable with devices that had their controls at the top and their propulsion at the bottom, emulating the human head and feet. Maybe the nature of the originating species could be derived by inspecting their spaceships, if one knew how to interpret the signals.

"I did not know that the Imago could strike at this range," the speaker said. It was obviously translating for the Gaol inside the sphere.

Jack did not reply, because he had not been directed to. But he felt a thrill of excitement. Had the Gaol been converted?

"What is the mechanism?"

Now Jack could speak. But he did not have to speak, because the null effect did not extend to his mind. Would he be better off to refuse to, so that the Gaol would not learn what was going on? The null did not allow him to lie; he had either to tell the truth or say nothing.

He decided to respond with limited candor. "The Imago's power extends beyond its host. This enabled the minions of the Imago to take charge of the other Gaol ship."

"This one, too. But our tracers show the host of the Imago to be on the surface of the planet, and our experience of prior millennia indicates that the direct range of the Imago does not extend to interplanetary distances, and that of the Imago's converts does not extend beyond immediate personal contact. How has the Imago reached me?"

Had the Imago reached it— Jack assumed the creature was neuter for convenience— or was it merely saying so to fool Jack into betraying critical information? If he told of the Imaget, and the Gaol had not been converted, it could take the Imaget from him and destroy it, thereby achieving victory. But if the Gaol had been converted, the Imaget would be an even more useful tool for the conversion of other key entities aboard this craft, giving Jack the victory.

Jack decided not to gamble. He remained silent.

"We are at a temporary impasse," the Gaol's translated voice said. "I control your actions and can cause you to be extinguished. But you may be the only available creature who knows the agency by which the Imago is reaching me. If I do not ascertain this mechanism and abolish it promptly, I will be subverted by the Imago. Death is preferable. However, if I die without ascertaining the mechanism of corruption, there is a significant risk that the Imago will succeed in corrupting some other Gaol, as it did our cyborg, and that would put the empire at risk. This is not desirable. Speak."

"You are correct that the Imago is reaching you, but I do not regard that as subversion. I call it liberation. I prefer to wait for your conversion to be complete before giving you information that might enable you to interrupt it."

"I appreciate your point. But at the present rate of progression, my conversion will not be complete before the mold destroys the key mechanisms of this ship. Then all of us will die, regardless who is ascendant. This seems to be no more to your interest than to mine. Speak."

The fungus! Jack had forgotten about that. The Gaol was right; the ship was being destroyed while they talked. If they all died, so would the Imaget, depriving the Imago of its most useful immediate tool. It would also deprive Tappy of Jack, and that was apt to be a disaster of another kind. The Gaol empire might very well succeed in prevailing, if Jack and the Imaget perished together.

But the Gaol captain, by its own statement, had not yet been converted. He could not let it know about the Imaget yet! So what was he to do?

"I agree that we are at an impasse. I prefer to save the ship and all our lives. But I can not allow the Imago to be placed in jeopardy by trusting you. What is your offer?"

"Our loyalties are opposed. I must ascertain the detail nature of the Imago's threat, and survive to report it to my authority. You must subvert me so that you can eliminate the threat to the freedom of the Imago that I represent. We must come to a decision immediately. I offer a trade: give me the information so that I may relay it to my authority, and I will free your will, and turn myself and my ship over to you. Speak."

That was a considerable offer! The empire would know exactly what it faced, but this ship, under competent command, would be at me service of the Imago. That would allow a fair fight, as it were. It was devilishly tempting. But there was a flaw in it. "How can I trust you to keep the deal?"

"How can I trust you to provide accurate information?" the Gaol countered. "It is evident that neither of us has a guarantee, but that we can establish a guideline for action that will serve both our purposes. This must serve in lieu of trust. Speak."

Could he believe this? Jack wished he knew whether the Gaol were creatures of honor. Presumably they would not be able to maintain an enduring empire if they were not consistent in their statements and actions. But was that enough?

He flipped a mental coin and decided to gamble. "Agreed. The honkers provided the host of the Imago with an Imaget, which facilitates conversion. That Imaget is now facilitating your conversion."

"I restore your free will. Is this Imaget the creature Malva's projection perceived near the Imago host?"

Jack found that he could move and speak on his own. The Gaol had honored part of the deal. "Yes. It was planted on the host by a honker, and later developed and hatched. It identifies with her and enhances her power, which is that of the Imago."

"I will direct this ship as you command. I suggest that you take it aground so that the antidote can be obtained, or your life can be saved if the antidote is too late."

The Gaol was honoring more of the deal. "Do the four guard satellites have any living creatures on them?"

"None. They are robot controlled."

"Destroy them."

A screen lighted on a nearby wall. It showed the planet, with its satellite guard stations. Suddenly all four exploded.

"Where is the Imaget now, and how does it reach me?" the Gaol asked.

This was the critical point. If all this was a lie, and the satellites had not really been destroyed, the captain could renege and Jack would be lost. But the Gaol seemed to be playing it straight, and Jack had to do the same. "It is here on my body. It has been broadcasting telepathically to you."

"The ship is now descending to ground. We were not aware that this creature operated in such manner."

"Perhaps it's a new model," Jack said wryly.

"Where do you wish the ship to settle?"

Jack remembered how Tappy was waiting in the grove, hiding. He wanted to be back with her as soon as possible. "Right where it was before. Then open the hatch or whatever so the honkers and I can return to the ground. They'll get the fungus antidote."

"The ship will be at rest at that site by the time you have followed the blue line to an exit. I will hear any further directives you speak."

Jack looked around. There was the blue line again, leading away. "Good enough."

He followed the line. It was not the same route as before, but that could be because it was more direct. They had entered via the landing structure and would exit from a regular portal.

He turned a corner. There before him stood Malva, looking so real it was hard to believe she was a mere holograph. He stopped. He knew he should just walk through the image, but she was in a dress which revealed so much breast and thigh that he was afraid to touch it even vicariously. "What do you want?"

"The captain has made a deal with you," she said. "This places me in a precarious situation. I do not wish to be subverted by the Imago."

"You don't have much choice. All of the members of this ship's complement will be converted. I presume you will be useful in some way." He did not bother to conceal his distaste.

"Agreed. All will be subverted, unless they arrange to avoid it. That is what I wish to do. Agree to set me free, in mind and body, on the planet, and I will provide you with significant information of interest to you."

"No deal. I don't trust you. I may not trust you even after you're converted. Get out of my way."

She did not move. "Please, Jack. I am desperate. You have done what I thought impossible, and subverted the captain. The victory is yours. I will offer you anything you desire. Only guarantee my freedom."

"No." Now he resumed motion, intending to walk though her image, as he should have done before.

But he collided with her. Her lush torso pressed against him from breast to thigh as he tried to recover his balance, astonished. She was here physically!

Now he remembered that he was still naked.

He started to speak, but she cut him off with a kiss. "I can be extremely accommodating, if that is your desire," she murmured, glancing down. "I beg you to free me, whatever the price of it."

Jack got his hands up and pushed her away. "I don't want your body! I don't like you or trust you. I refuse to make any deal."

She disengaged, offering no resistance. "Will you at least listen? I believe you will find it worthwhile."

Jack started scrambling into his clothing. "Look: the captain is listening to everything we're saying. You must be guilty of treason already, trying to deal on your own. Anything you have to tell me, I'll learn when you are converted. This is pointless."

"The captain can not overhear us here; I selected this place because I know it is between monitors. Our dialogue is private. As for treason: he became guilty of it when he made his deal with you. I serve the empire, not the captain. I wish only to return to the empire, and to continue my opposition to the depredations of the Imago. Listen to me, then decide whether the information is worth the price of my freedom. Isn't that fair?"

Jack sighed. "All right. Tell me, and if I think it's worth it, I'll free you. You will be set loose on the surface of the planet and not pursued. But if you make any attempt to interfere with the Imago in any way—"

"Understood. Here is my information. Though the Imago you serve may be benign in principle, the tool it is presently using is not. The thing you call the Imaget has no necessary affinity for the Imago; it was pressed into service by the honkers for a reason of their own. I researched it, after spying it before. Bear in mind that I was the only person present at that encounter who was not subsequently corrupted, because I used the holo image. I alone remained objective. I discovered that the Imaget has gone by many names over the millennia, and that there is a pattern that is far from benign. It has formed empires in the past—"

"Now wait a minute!" Jack exclaimed. "This little thing could hardly—"

She glanced at his hair, where the Imaget nestled. "Do you suppose that any creature in its hatchling stage is the same as it is in its maturity? All babies are charming. What do you think its powers will be when it has grown to a mass greater than your own?"

She was making sense. He had been suspicious of the Imaget himself. Malva was independently confirming that suspicion. "Go on."

"The Imaget, by whatever name, enhances the properties of other creatures so effectively that they inevitably become dependent on it. It encourages this. When they can not function without it, the power passes from them to it, and they then serve the Imaget. Only the Imago has been proof against this, and in the past it has been the Imago who has brought down empires of the Imaget, as it has brought down those of the Gaol or other dominant entities. It is an irony that the Imaget is now serving the Imago itself, but perhaps the Imaget has found a way to add the power of the Imago to its own. If so, the empire that it forms this time will be truly impregnable."

Jack was appalled. "I can't believe—"

"Naturally, because you are already subverted. But you were subverted by the Imago before you encountered the Imaget, so you serve the Imago, and may be objective enough to appreciate the danger. The Imago itself is uncorrupted and incorruptible, and this extends to its host. Perhaps the Imaget will simply cast the Imago aside when its usefulness is done, or confine it in the manner the Gaol wish to. One empire is very like another, in the acquisition and preservation of its power. If you are prepared to risk the exchange of one master for another and all that implies, ignore this threat."

Jack was silent, realizing that she had raised a question which he could not afford to leave unanswered. "Still, a single Imaget could hardly—"

"When the Imaget is grown, it will reproduce by having its minions plant its eggs on converted creatures, and these new hatchlings will ultimately serve the eldest one," Malva continued. "Once that stage is reached—"

"Enough!" Jack said. "I will give you your freedom. I will verify this by researching myself, and act as I see fit."

Malva smiled. "Thank you. May I take a weapon with me, to defend myself from wild creatures when I go into the wilderness?"

"Yes, take it," Jack said absently. The honkers— how much did they know of this? Were they working for the Imaget instead of the Imago? Could the Makers have been a benign empire, overthrown by the Imaget? Something like this was all too plausible.

Malva stepped to the side and reached into a recess in the wall. She brought out what looked like a twisted pistol and tucked it into her waistband. Then she followed Jack as he resumed progress along the blue line.

It led to a nether portal, with a ramp to the ground. The honkers of his raiding party were already there, waiting for him. Jack's dialogue with Malva had delayed him.

"Fetch the antidote," he told the honkers as he descended. Immediately one went to the ventilation shaft and picked up another small jar. "Release it inside the ship," Jack said, and the honker ascended the ramp and opened the jar.

Tappy emerged from hiding and ran to Jack's embrace as he reached the ground. "You won!" she exclaimed joyfully.

"Maybe," he agreed, hugging her. But he would have to do his research on the Imaget soon, because if what Malva had told him was true, they would have to get rid of the Imaget.

He turned to Malva. "You are free," he told her. "As long as you do no mischief on this planet."

"I think not," she said. There was a flash, and Jack lost volition.

Malva drew her pistol and pointed it at Jack and Tappy. "You are of course a fool," she said. "Did you think that if I researched the Imaget, I did not share my information with my master? We knew about the telepathy and were prepared. The Gaol captain simply compartmentalized his mind, so that only one section was subverted, while the dominant section remained independent. It was risky, letting you invade the ship, but it promised to lure the Imago into our control. So we landed the ship as bait, and waited for you to take it."

Jack could not answer, because she had not told him to. Tappy could tell him to— but she was covered by the pistol. In any event, mere words were pointless in the face of his disastrous misjudgment.

It hardly mattered at this stage, but he wondered whether she had told the truth about the Imaget. It seemed like a pretty involved story to make up, just to persuade him to accept her. It had a certain ring of authenticity. Maybe it was both true and false: true research, false motive.

Malva gestured with the weapon. "The two of you, enter the ship," she said.

Jack started walking toward the ramp. Tappy followed. The honkers remained unmoving. He did indeed feel like a fool. He should have known! Malva had never turned against the Gaol; she had been their agent throughout. She had used the pretext of her seeming wish for freedom to lull him into thinking it was safe for Tappy— and now Tappy and the Imago were prisoner of the Gaol again. What a cunning trap; they had even saved the ship from destruction by the fungus. But if they had anticipated the raid, they might have had it fungus-proofed anyway, and pretended to be suffering the effects so as to complete the deception. It was obvious that Jack was an amateur up against professionals.

But Malva had forgotten the Imaget! Whatever the truth about it, long-range, it served him and the Imago in the short range.

He concentrated, reverting it to orient on him. As he did so, he lost his stasis; it had nullified the null, as it were. He also lost his empathy for living things.

He acted immediately. He grabbed Malva's pistol and wrenched it from her hand as he shoved her back. Then he pointed it at her. It had a trigger, so he hoped he could fire it. If it had a safety, she had probably unlocked it, since she was not the kind to bluff. "Get to safety, Tappy!" he cried.

Tappy hesitated. He knew why: she didn't want to leave him.

"It's no good," Malva said. "Robots are coming. They will obey me, not you. They will break your bones if the host of the Imago does not obey me."

"You forget that I have the pistol," Jack said. Then, more urgently: "Tappy, get out of here!"

Tappy started to walk back down the ramp. But Malva went after her. "I'll be destroyed anyway, because of my contact with the Imago, but I can secure my mission. You won't fire, because of your empathy." She brushed by Jack.

"There may be something you don't know about the Imaget," Jack said. Then he fired the pistol at her chest.

A strike of lightning came from it. It bathed Malva in sparks. Then she fell, her face a mask of astonishment.

Jack turned and charged down the ramp after Tappy. But already the robots were arriving. They were roughly humanoid, except that they had three legs, so that they didn't have to worry about balance. They moved down the ramp in pursuit.

Jack started for the ventilation shaft. But already the robots were spreading out and forming a circle to close the two of them in. Jack fired at one, and scored, but the lightning had no effect on the metal. The robots were not likely to hurt either of them, just to immobilize them and carry them into the ship, because the Imago had to be alive and Jack was still a living lever to use against Tappy. But how could the robots be avoided?

Then he saw the stump of the ghosted tree, the one that the radiator had destroyed but whose upper structure remained as a shadow outline. The honkers had warned them not to go near that shadow. But it was within the closing circle of robots, and the alternative was to be captured by the Gaol. Maybe it was death to enter it, but it was their only chance.

"The tree!" Jack said. "Into the shadow!"

The two of them dived for the shadow.