Cybernetic Controller

by A. V. Clarke

  “You—” he choked on blood. “Lin! You traitor! I told Victor no good would—would come of you.” His voice was a panting rattle. “But your little playmate Merryl is done for. Her scientists are no match for Vi— Victor’s army.”

  Lin glanced triumphantly up.

  “That proves all I’ve said is true!”

  Brush’s red beard jerked uncontrollably as he fought for breath.

  “We would have caught you, traitor, but the mutants—” He stopped, his eyes widened in sudden nameless horror. His voice rose, breaking on a scream. “No! No! Get away, you monster—aah—”

  Brush fell back limply, red beard pointing stiffly upwards.

  Lin rose to his feet slowly, hating the clash of creeds that brought men like Brush to their deaths. He had caught glimpses of the man Brush might have been had the CC not rigidly ironed him into a cramping artificial mould.

  The silver-furred leader spoke, his voice gentle in the stillness.

  “We are ready to help you, friend Lin. You will forgive our doubts, but—”

  “Of course,” Lin’s mind flashed to Merryl. “But we must hurry! The rocket control-post cannot hold out for ever.”

  Mutants gathered swiftly, clashing weapons, flushed with their victory. Their strange fighting technique had proved a deadly weapon, and Lin was trusting to it to outweigh the advantage in guns possessed by Victor’s gang.

  “The rocket control-post, at the rocket site, is on the far side of the city-block. We will have to detour the city, then I can find the way. But we must hurry!”

  Lin was running up the steps, out of the arch, before he had finished speaking. The mutants followed closely, and Wray, stopping only to repossess the heat rifle, dashed after them, struggling up beside Lin’s frantic figure.

  Black clouds banked the sky, obscuring the moon. A chill wind moaned across the ruins as the band of mutants, a grotesque procession from a nightmare, scrambled across broken masonry and twisted girders. The city-block loomed up starkly across their path. A single splattering drop of rain fell, kicking up a spurt of dust, making a starred ring of mud.

  Rain!”

  Voices raised in horror, and the mutants stopped their headlong rush, peering helplessly at black, swollen clouds.

  “Acid Rain!” Wray’s.face was white and the panic in his voice roused elemental fear in Lin.

  The drops were slow and measured, but soon those menacing clouds would open, and the deluge would strip flesh from bones, then dissolve the very bones themselves.

  “We haven’t a chance, we’re done for!”

  Chapter Twelve

  Lin looked around desperately as a scaled mutant screamed and scrubbed at a spot of acid rain. Even scales could not withstand acid.

  Ahead the city-block lay square across the ruins, the narrow trail that Lin had intended using traversing the concrete apron. It was too far back to hope to regain shelter in the ruined arch. Some mutants broke and began burrowing under debris.

  Frantically Lin jerked at the nearest, seizing furry arms, shouting above the clamour.

  “Hold it! Don’t panic! Follow me, there is a way to shelter.” He flung himself forward, directly at the city-block. “Come on, prove yourself men!”

  Wonderingly, fearful, yet recognising that their only chance lay with this madman, the mutants rallied round Lin and they bounded the last few yards to the concrete city-block. The familiar lock opened to Lin’s urgent manipulations and they all bundled inside.

  Wray stepped to the front, heat rifle ready, and as the inner valves opened-burst through with a snarl.

  There were no guards. Lin guessed that Brush had collected every available man to follow the fugitives Outside. The main body of Victor’s gunmen were at the rocket-site.

  “Now we are here, in the city, what do you intend?”

  The four-armed mutant leader turned his brown eyes on Lin questioningly.

  “If the Acid Rain stops us from going round the city-block, we’ll have to go through it.” Lin snapped. “And pray that the rain has ceased by the time we get to the other side.”

  Before any could voice a protest Wray raised his hand.

  “Someone’s coming!” He looked around, pale eyes wide. “I can’t sense the direction—ah. Up the elevator.”

  As he finished speaking, elevator number six slid into view and the grilled opened. Before the occupant could emerge he was seized by scaly hands and then dragged out and thrust to his knees before Lin.

  “A First!” Lin was surprised. He had been certain that all the Firsts not killed by Victor had escaped to the Outside. The man was wearing working clothes, his hands grimy. His face was ashen as he surveyed his captors. Lin was struck with a sudden idea that perhaps this man had been collaborating with Syme at the guided-missile site.

  “Where is Victor?” said Lin, roughly.

  “At. the rebel scientists’ rocket base superintending an attack,” gobbled the First. His eyes rolled fearfully at the band of mutants.

  “And Syme?”

  “He is putting the finishing touch to our work on the guided missiles. They are due to blast off in eight hours.” There was a hint of pride through the terror in the First’s voice.

  “Bind and gag him,” ordered Lin. “And hurry, we must get to the rocket site as soon as we can, Merryl is still holding out, but she can’t last much longer.”

  Lin’s mind was in a turmoil. That Syme should have succeeded so rapidly in making the atomic missiles ready for action had not occurred to him. Now his two antagonists were each about their own devilry, in two separate places, miles apart. His conscience claimed an immediate dash to the missile site to thwart Syme’s launching of the guided atomic missiles. If they landed on the next city-block, the moral repercussions would rock the civilised men of other city-blocks into violent action. Victor could not hope to win against a combination of powers.

  But Merryl, with her laughing face, her night-black hair, was in mortal danger. Lin knew that he could never live with the knowledge that he had allowed her to be murdered when there had been the slightest chance of help. His decision was already made for him and savagely he urged the mutant band into the elevators, riding down to the First Level, praying they would not be too late.

  It had come quite naturally to him to use the First Level. It would be quieter and led directly into the Hydroponic Gardens. The grotesque throng poured through disinfected corridors, their exuberance hushed at the realisation that here Firsts had lorded it over known creation. But they fingered their weapons and eyes were savage.

  The great arched door slid upwards and they struck into the riotous growth of vegetation. They clambered with appalling ease up the giant tree, swung confidently along the vine-clad ropeway, the noise of their passage frightening any giant cats that might have lurked ready to pounce. Lin and Wray had to exert themselves to the utmost to keep up with the mutants whose eagerness hurled them on, completely at home in the overgrown hydroponic jungle.

  They took the two elevators in relays. Lin stepped out cautiously into the open, seeing the ruined cinema black against the sky, waiting to hear the deadly rustle of rain drops.

  Wind soughed through rusty ironwork, a few drop6 of acid moisture swept off exposed ledges, the ground was damp with menace. But the rain had stopped. A few last cloud fringes like tattered banners fluttered against the moon and then were gone. Lin breathed deeply.

  “It’s safe. Careful where you walk. When we are near the rocket site I want no noise. We must surprise them if we are to have a chance.”

  “Lucky these Muties have had experience of acid rain,” grunted Wray. “Their boots ace tough enough to last years. Let’s hope that ours hold out.”

  “It’s not far,” Lin said. “The helicopter almost went straight up and down.”

  The luck that had held with them did not desert them now. Lin forged ahead, Wray cuddling his heat rifle close behind. Groups of Mutants fanned out, all pressing on, scaled, furry, feathery forms leaping p
iles of debris, detouring pools of rain, carefully avoiding contact with the ground, with anything except their sturdy boots. They knew what acid could do.

  Away to the East, faint fingers of gold groped over the horizon. Lin could begin to see his companions more clearly as they scurried along, and objects took on colour.

  “We must make a first attack before it’s light!” Lin shouted across to Wray. “Victor’s gunmen will cut the mutie down if we attack too late.”

  “Look!” yelled Wray, in answer, and pointed exultantly ahead.

  Spearing into the sky, needle nose lit by the glow of the still-hidden sun, the upper portion of the rocket towered over shadows, floating like an enchanted aerial minaret.

  “The rocket!”

  Lin felt fresh strength flow through weary limbs. Almost there, by Sissy! Merryl must have held out! Otherwise, Victor would never live to savour his triumph. Lin felt a surge of sheer hatred overcome him, and shook his head. Must keep thalamic processes out of this. Keep it on the sheerly logical level that Syme had contemptuously denied existed for Fifths.

  The repair work had evidently gone on apace since Lin’s last visit to the site. The rocket was once more erect. The technicians must have been working on the interior when Victor’s attack caught them flat-footed. They would have been killed like flies. Lin swore.

  “Keep silent now,” Wray commanded. “Surprise is our first weapon. You muties will go in with all you’ve got. I’ll cover you with the rifle.”

  “Right, Wray, that’s the plan,” said Lin. “Whilst you attract the attention of Victor’s bully boys I’ll make straight for the control post. Merryl will need help there badly.”

  Wray looked for a second at Lin, then ran on, lips pursed. Lin knew that he was thinking that Merryl had probably not held out, that she was dead or a captive. Lin forced his aching legs to a quicker pace.

  Eight hours, the captured First had said. Then the glided missiles would blast. Lin had no idea of the amount of time that had elapsed since then. Things had moved too fast. He slid panting into a ditch on the edge of the site and stared through narrowed eyes at the mad inferno beyond.

  Standing silent and ponderous, the rocket rose from a melee of fire and slaughter. Flames were shooting fiercely from hangars, Victor’s men, black imps against the glow, running and firing at the massive control post. The smell of burning and the acrid tang of smoke caught at Lin’s raw throat. He coughed and motioned savagely for Wray to attack.

  Then, in the instant that Wray rose and fired his first blast from the heat rifle, Lin saw thankfully a similar blast flare from the control post. Some of the scientists still lived! Pray Sissy that Merryl was still alive, too.

  The mutants poured from the ditch—a savage, silent horde of death that struck into Victor’s gunmen with horrible ferocity. Men screamed as clawed horrors tore out their lives, tried to scream and could not as their throats were ripped apart in powerful jaws.

  Lin rose and sprinted with straining lungs across the site, angling in towards the concrete pile where Merryl was holding out. Then with shocked eyes he saw a file of mutants, racing towards a group of Victor’s gunmen, then vanish abruptly in the coruscation of a heat rifle. Triumphant yells burst from the group and they swung towards more mutants. The heat rifle blasted again.

  “Syme!” gritted Lin. “The dirty traitor has given Victor the heat rifle!” Then he recalled with a pang of guilt his own rifle, confiscated when he had been arrested.

  A brawny figure humped from the ditch, a searing blast lashed out, and the group of Victor’s men disappeared.

  “Good old Wray.” Lin flattened himself in the shadows behind the control post, crawled rapidly to its rear, leaving the holocaust of battle to rage viciously all over the site.

  The problem now was to get into the place. The scientists would certainly not open up at a knock. That is, Lin corrected himself sombrely, if any remained alive. In the shadows of the western side Lin stumbled over an outstretched body. Another lay twisted beyond, then fragments that could only be the result of a heat rifle.

  Lin glanced upwards. A narrow iron staircase was silhouetted against the pale sky, zig-zagging up the sheer face of concrete. Evidently the attackers had tried this method of entry and been discouraged. Could Lin chance it now?

  Before he could think about it, Lin mounted the staircase. The metal struck chill. As he climbed higher, he felt like a silhouetted target. He was breathing heavily when at last he reached the tiny door wedged half open.

  The wedge was the body of an elderly scientist, hanging half over the iron stairway, half inside the concrete door. Lin stepped over and stood waiting for his eyes to adjust. Gloom shadowed the hall, dust festooned an arching roof; he was standing on a small gallery running round the walls, overlooking the maze of instruments and control panels.

  Scientists were scattered haphazard over the floor, some dead, some still living. A group were frenziedly flinging boxes, machinery, anything movable, into a barricade across the door directly opposite to Lin. He did not see her at once.

  Then he was running in mad leaps down the inside staircase.

  “Merryl!”

  She turned, her face white and drawn, smudged and burnt from powder fumes, and in her hand was a pistol, pointing at his heart.

  “This is as far as you go, traitor.” Her voice held no passion, only an intense weariness. Her finger tightened on the trigger.

  “No, Merryl! It was Syme! I’m here to help you!” Lin’s shout was a frantic appeal, and the closing finger slackened.

  “Please, Merryl, you must believe me. I've brought your band of mutants, they’re fighting Victor’s men now. There’s no time—Syme is sending off the missiles to destroy the southern city-block. We have to stop him!”

  Merryl s face remained expressionless. The pistol dropped to her. side as though too heavy a weight for her arm to support. .

  “How can we stop him? We’re nearly done for ourselves—”

  Lin strode rapidly to the control master panels. He fought to still the trembling in his hands, wiping away sweat from his forehead he gazed fixedly at the control circuits.

  “Can the rocket take off?’*’

  “Yes—”

  A sudden fierce shout of triumph cut off Merryl, with a gasp of dismay she turned to the door. In a crashing avalanche of boxes and equipment the main door burst inwards. Figures struggled through like imps from the mouth of hell, brandishing guns. Smoke and flame billowed in like battle flags. The control post shuddered under the onslaught.

  Lin whirled back to the control panel, twisted dials to new settings, set switches and reached for the master lever.

  A roaring giant, black beard flying, clubbed Lin mercilessly over the head, sent him reeling away from the lever, to fall full length along the floor.

  Lin regained consciousness to find Victor regarding him sardonically from blazing blue eyes. Merryl and the scientists had been herded into a corner under the guns of Victor’s men.

  “So, traitor Lin, we meet again! You fool to think you could win against me. At this minute Syme is launching the atomic missiles that will bring another city-block under my heel.”

  Lin only half heard the madman's rantings. His whole being, every last nerve and fibre, was concentrated on one thing. He had to stop Syme, and he had to deal with a paranoiac in a killing rage. And Lin’s anger foamed up, spilling out in a great wash of power that his brain channelled towards the master lever on the control settings.

  It must move, by Sissy, it must—drops of sweat burst out on Lin’s forehead. Then his uncanny power of telekinesis inched the lever over, a steady, remorseless pressure that bedded it home.

  In the moment that Lin collapsed limply backwards, a hissing turmoil of sheer noise bellowed into being. A lurid glare shone briefly through the door, the ground trembled, and Lin knew the rocket had blasted off at last, hurled on mighty pinions of flame as his hand and brain had commanded.

  Victor spun towards the doo
r, face chalky.

  “That rocket is aimed at Syme and his missiles,” shouted Lin, exultantly. “The controls have been set. Nothing will remain—”

  Lin stopped as Victor reeled backwards, a striped furry ball clinging to his throat. Victor had time for one horrible scream, before his life bubbled out through a torn throat, and his massive body dropped soggily to the dirt. The mutant laughed and plunged for another man and the doorway was suddenly filled with mutants shrieking their ages-old hate.

  It was all over very quickly.

  Wray stepped towards Lin as Merryl flung herself down, sobbing, arms around Lin.

  “By Sissy, Lin,” he said, pale eyes haunted. “What caused the ship to take off then?” *

  Merryl gave Lin no time to answer.

  “Lin set the controls to aim it at the missile site. But how you knew that, and how you set it off, 1 don’t know,” she finished, looking strangely at Lin.

  “When I’ve stopped shaking I’ll tell you,” Lin said. So it was all over. He tightened his grip on Merryl, seeing her tear-stained face bending low above him. And Victor —Lin looked once, then looked away rapidly.

  Wray saw his glance and said with dry irony: “That little bundle of furry devil had herself fun. She and I have quite palled up.”

  “Wray,” said Lin, grimly. “We must take over control of the city-block now. It will be quite easy. We must see that the Cybernetic Controller is used logically and in accordance with certain new ideas that have come to light.”

  “Yes, yes,” said Wray, impatiently. “But how did you set off that, rocket?”

  “Telekinesis,” said Lin. “Wray, your power of Extra Sensory Perception and my power of Telekinesis and the almost inhuman ability to trace and comprehend circuits, these powers, Wray are—”

  Lin found he could not go on. The conception was too big. He couldn’t tell Wray what he was, and what Lin was also.

  Then Merryl stirred in his arms, and Lin remembered that he had been graded a Fifth.

  “The reason that the Cybernetic Controller graded you as a Fourth, Wray, and myself as a Fifth, is that it was presented with two types of human it had never been designed to cope with. It selected me as a Fifth because my strange powers are more developed than yours. It was confused. You, it graded as a Fourth, your ESP still allowed some function of the CC freedom.”