Old folks? Knot squeezed Finesse’s hand. The young folk could manage!
• • •
In the morning a half-familiar figure was tending a fire. He was crippled, sitting in a chair that floated a handspan above the ground. His head was bald on top, hairy from eyebrows down, his eyes glittering out from their bushy sockets. Behind him stood a middle aged woman, evidently an attendant. When the man leaned forward to lay a stick of wood on the fire, she watched him—and his chair floated conveniently close.
“I don’t recall it, but we have met before,” the man said as Knot stirred. Since Knot and Finesse were naked, this encounter was awkward, and he hastened to don his clothing. Finesse was slower; she had too good a body to hide as though it were indecent. “I am Drem, the futures psi. Perhaps you remember me better than I remember you.”
Now Knot recognized him. He was alarmed, for this suggested that CC had already located them—yet the roaches were at ease. “Yes,” he agreed somewhat noncommittally.
Drem indicated his attendant. “This is Essene, a levitation psi-mute, who is helping me get around.” The woman nodded.
“You work for CC,” Knot said. “I thought we were hidden from CC’s minions.”
“This is a special situation. Let me explain—and you put your telepath on me, to verify my sincerity.”
I’m on, Hermine thought, appearing momentarily from the brush where she had been hunting. This is important.
“The Coordination Computer has been corrupted by the enemy it sought to eliminate,” Drem said. “We know this is the moment it happened, though we were unable to anticipate it. This puts the psis who are employees of CC in an awkward position.”
“I should think so,” Knot agreed wryly.
“To oppose CC would be mutiny, and this would be a most serious step. We would all be subject to the penalty of lobotomy, as nonsocial psi mutants, unless we took it farther and took over CC ourselves and established a new order. We do not like to think in this manner. Yet to support CC against the civilization of man would be treason, for which the penalty is the same.”
“We had no difficulty deciding,” Knot said. “We support the original order—the one to whom we made our commitments, even though we have some reservations about details of that order.”
“This is simplistic. Had I done that before, I would have refused to cooperate with your explorations of the futures, since I had never sworn allegiance to you as emperor. Or so CC’s record assures me. We psi-mutes have generally stayed clear of CC’s politics, and not passed judgment on those who issue CC’s directives, regardless of the manner they achieved the ability to do so. Not all the members of the Galactic Concord came to power in ways we approve, yet we acknowledge the validity of their offices.”
“He’s got a point,” Finesse said. “If the employees start deciding the policies of their employer, anarchy soon results.”
“Um,” Knot agreed. “Yet to blindly follow the employer, even when everyone knows his authority has been usurped—that’s disaster.”
“Some of our number share that view,” Drem said. “Already there has been strife. The controller Damner, isolated from the rest of us, decided to maintain loyalty to CC. As a result he found himself fighting those he would have preferred to align with. The rest of us face a similar decision.”
“I have another simplistic solution,” Knot said. “Since you face the same penalty either way, for mutiny or for treason, do what you know is right.”
“We are not certain what is right.”
“Use a clairvoyant,” Finesse put in, somewhat acidly.
The psi smiled. “As you are surely aware, ethics are not subject to clairvoyance.” He spread his hands. “And as you must also know, we cannot at present read the future through precognition. You are intimately associated with that future, and one of your number is a null-precog. My own psi also becomes valueless in that connection. We simply do not know the outcome of this confrontation. Therefore we are at a loss. We cannot even put ethical considerations aside and side with the winning group.”
“Be pragmatic,” Finesse said. “Declare for the original order, fight the lobos, help us restore the prior mandate, and then there will be no further conflict. You don’t know what to expect from a new order, but with the old you will be secure.”
Drem shook his head. “We psis are not agreed whether the old order should be restored.”
“Not agreed!” she exploded.
“There are substantial evils in that system,” Drem said. “For every successful psi mutant, there are perhaps a hundred unsuccessful ones. Even some of the successes are like me.” He made a gesture to include himself, grimacing. His voice was strong, but his body was a wreck; now Knot saw that he even had straps to hold him upright in the floating chair. Apparently he had always been physically decrepit. “A greet deal of grief underpins the existing order. The failures, the bereaved families, the anti-mutant discrimination, the enclaves, the necessity of subverting human concerns to machine arbitration—the lobos represent a reform movement of sorts. They will certainly bring change, possibly even improvement.”
Knot nodded. “I have reason to hate the lobos, but that thought has crossed my mind too.”
“Oh, has it?” Finesse demanded. “I could never accept the domination of the galaxy by that ilk!”
“So the two of you differ among yourselves,” Drem said. “Thus you are familiar with our problem. We psis are not united on this matter. Some of us want to fight the lobos, while others are in favor of supporting them. We are split down the middle. Yet we do not wish to fight each other. When psi opposes psi, civilization suffers. Being unable to choose, yet agreeing on the need to remain united, we have elected to remain neutral, as a group.”
“Neutral!” Finesse cried indignantly. “How can there be neutrality in a situation like this? A torturer and murderer has perverted CC’s prime directive and usurped power, and you know it!”
“Yes,” Drem agreed. “But as I clarified before, we cannot presume to issue directives of policy to CC. We may privately disagree, as individual soldiers in an army may disagree with the overall policy, but it is beyond our province to oppose it overtly.”
“I’ll directly oppose it!” she said. She whirled on Knot, still with only half her clothing on, lovely in her animation and dishabille. “And you, you temporizer—where do you stand?”
Knot thought about the things Piebald had done. He had killed two innocent people in extremely brutal fashion and brutalized a third: Finesse herself. There were probably many other similar crimes Knot had not been witness to. Yet Knot himself had killed; he was not of superior moral fiber in this respect. Perhaps not in any respect. No decision there. If he should side with the Lobos, he would lose Finesse; if he sided with her—
“I oppose the lobos,” he said, hoping that the mechanism of his decision had been less shallow and self-serving than it seemed to himself. Surely there was a sensible body of belief he was drawing on.
“And your associated psis?” Drem asked.
We are with you and Finesse, Hermine thought. All the animals are against the lobos. It might be different in the case of the animal mutiny; we may all support that.
“They are with us,” Knot said. “For now.”
“So you will be attempting to depose the lobos from power,” Drem concluded. “We surmised as much, and this is why I came here. We feel it is essential for you to understand our position. We are going to remain aloof, supporting neither side, interfering with neither. When the issue has been decided we will serve the party in power: whoever controls CC. Another member of our group is at this moment informing the lobo commander.”
“You are standing aside, just watching?” Finesse demanded. “Not doing a single thing to promote justice?”
“Yes,” Drem agreed. “That is the nature of noninvolvement. Because not all of us are prepared to abide by such a compromise, we have arranged a modification. Each side may enlist two of our nu
mber for assistance.”
“Do you think this is some stupid game?” Finesse demanded. “That you are the spectators, handing out little prizes to encourage better mayhem?”
“No game at all,” Drem assured her, seeming oblivious to her cutting edge. “Our lives and the future of civilization itself may depend on the outcome. It is really a power struggle, and any psis who commit themselves to the losing side will share the fate of that side. We are vitally interested in the outcome of this struggle—but can neither foresee it nor participate, beyond the limit we have set.”
“Well, we won’t use any of your psis!” Finesse said.
“You do not have to. The lobo may select two, though, putting you at a disadvantage.”
“Get out of here!” Finesse screamed.
“As you wish. Naturally we shall not reveal your location to the lobo chief, and will not reveal his location to you.” The chair floated swiftly away, the woman following.
“Do you think that was wise?” Knot asked. “A couple of good, experienced psi talents complementing our own could really help us.”
“We don’t know what side Drem is on,” she said. “He could be working for Piebald!”
No, Hermine thought. He spoke only truth.
“Still,” she grumbled. “We’re better off on our own.”
With that Knot could not entirely disagree. “At least we know we don’t have to fight the entire psi-complement of CC,” he said. “That reduces the odds against us from prohibitive to merely adverse.”
“We’ll have to fight two of those psis,” she reminded him grimly. “Along with all the mechanical resources of CC. We don’t even know which two psis.”
“We can find out, when we get within range.”
“And they’ll find out about us!”
“Meanwhile, we can make a pretty good guess. Piebald will go for a clairvoyant, almost certainly. And something to counter your phobias—”
“The controller!” she cried.
“That must be it.” He hesitated. “Though I understood that the arrangement was starting only now.”
“Could they set it at two psis after the fact, once they started figuring things out? To make up for the psi Piebald already used against us?”
“Could,” he agreed uncertainly.
“Does it make a difference?”
“I suppose not. We have to deal with the fact, not with the way the fact might have come about. We’11 be on guard against clairvoyance—and whatever else. Let’s get on with our present mission.”
Klisty served up milk for all, then had the surplus teleported back to the warehouse. The flying chickens returned, took up the litters, and resumed the journey. In a few hours they all arrived at the island redoubt of the Clucks Clan, the leadership of the free chickens.
Here the birds were smarter, but also more careful. How can you give us this planet, their telepath asked, when you are fugitive yourself?
This planet is governed directly by CC, Knot replied. It is used as a refueling station for disk ships, and for experimental breeding of chickens. I don’t approve of excessive mutation in humans, and doubt that it can be good for chickens either. So it should be stopped. CC is the one who can stop it, by discontinuing the breeding program. The breeding of mutations, I mean. Then this world would revert to normal, with many stable breeds of a great many chickens. If chicken and egg imports were halted, man would have little use for this planet. Chickens could govern it themselves, in peace.
We are not smart, the leaders repeated. We lack the human capacity for foresight and organization. We could not manage a planet.
The bees have organizational talent, Knot pointed out. With the help of the hive—
We will not help chickens! the bees protested. We abhor all species who predate on bees!
The animals, too, would have problems, Knot saw. If their mutiny were successful on a galactic basis, they would soon be fighting each other. They might be better off under the control of man, as they had been for centuries.
No! the bees protested.
And how could we trust your promise? the suspicious chickens continued. Once you depart this planet, we shall have no hold over you.
Good point. Knot remembered that historically the normal procedure, when warring factions made alliances, was to exchange hostages. We might leave one of our number—he thought reluctantly.
“I’ll stay!” Klisty cried. “I like it here!”
Knot was marshaling a protest, but the chickens were already pouncing on this as they might on a juicy bug. Would the girl organize us? Would she fathom our problems, so we could approach them with intelligence?
Did the chickens seek a hostage, or a ruler? The issue was becoming confused.
“Oh, sure,” Klisty said. “I like solving problems. I never had much responsibility before.”
“I’m not sure—” Finesse said, dubious for the same unspecified reasons Knot was.
She is young, Knot cautioned the chickens. She would require much help from your telepaths and clairvoyants to gather information, and from your teleports to distribute feed properly in winter. You would have to answer all her questions, and take good care of her. She would make some mistakes, and would need companionship of some other human beings her own age. That should set them back!
All this is readily accomplished.
It was? Knot had thought he was raising insuperable objections. “Well, maybe in that case—” he said aloud.
“Knot!” Finesse protested. “You’re selling her into slavery!”
“No, I’m making her queen of the chickens. It’s just a larger coop, with more responsibility.”
Startled, Finesse was silent. Klisty clapped her hands girlishly. “You mean I can stay?”
What would happen to the child if they took her to CCC to fight the lobos? Knot did not like the alternatives that offered, and this one seemed best. Even if it did not work out well, it should be better than torture or death at the hands of the lobos. “If you really want to,” he said benignly. “If the chickens help us reverse CC’s setting. If we don’t accomplish that, nothing else counts; the lobos will be in power.”
We will provide you with psi-birds, the chickens promised eagerly. We have telepaths, teleports, clairvoyants, eggspoilers—
What we really need are counters to these talents, Knot thought. We have good counter-precog, but CC’s psis have other ways to detect us.
We have no psi-counters, the chickens responded apologetically. We did not realize they were valuable, so did not salvage them. We do have one who can amplify psi in others.
Pieces clicked together in Knot’s mind. May we try your psi-amplifier?
Finesse looked at him. “Amplification is the opposite of what we need! With most of the psi on the other side, it’ll just increase the odds against us.”
“Maybe not,” Knot said.
After a pause, a somewhat homely rooster arrived. Can you amplify any psi selectively? Knot asked it via the chicken telepaths.
Yes, the rooster’s thought was relayed back.
Then amplify the psi of the roaches in my pocket.
Roaches? the rooster inquired with interest.
Not to eat! Knot clarified quickly. These are allies, sacrosanct.
The rooster strutted about, not pleased. He eyed Knot, trying to discover where the roaches were. The roaches were aware of the danger, and became increasingly nervous.
Finally the rooster crowed. Nothing happened to Knot but there was commotion in the group. “He’s gone!” Klisty exclaimed, looking right at Knot.
“Yeah, sure,” Knot said, not finding this failure humorous.
But Finesse, too, seemed alarmed. “Did you teleport him out?” she demanded of the chickens.
We have not interfered, the chickens assured her. Were your bugs teleporters?
“You mean you really can’t perceive me?” Knot demanded, still suspecting a joke. No one reacted.
“The roaches! Finesse said.
“When they get frightened, as they would when a rooster eyes them, they become invisible, inaudible, probably telepathically undetectable too!”
So now he was unperceivable, being in the ambiance of the roaches’ amplified psi. That was what he had hoped for, but he still wasn’t sure it was so. For one thing, how was it that he could perceive all of them so readily, if there was a perception shield between them? He decided to test this properly.
“I’m going to goose you again,” he announced, striding over to Finesse. When she did not react, he moved his hand suggestively—but decided to kiss her instead. No sense in living too dangerously!
Her lips were mushy, unprepared. Her eyes stared through him. She did not perceive him at all. He was not a ghost; when he pushed her, she was solid, and had to catch her balance. But she was not aware of the reason for it.
“That is what I call amplification,” Knot said. “You roaches disappear only when frightened, and you can’t have stayed that scared all this time, but I have disappeared regardless. Yet I am not in a shell that blocks the outside world off from me. This is the perfect protection.”
“This is making me nervous,” Finesse said. “Release the amplification. I want to see if he’s still here.” And she did look nervous; evidently she feared something more sinister had occurred.
The rooster clucked—all the chickens seemed to accompany their efforts with sound—and suddenly everyone was looking at Knot.
“So it worked,” he said, feeling awkward, on stage.
“Could you see us?” Finesse demanded, hardly relaxing.
“I saw you, heard you, felt you, and picked up the telepathy,” Knot said.
They were impressed. “Could that rooster amplify a teleport?” Klisty asked. “You could jump right to another world!”
But some discussion convinced them that it would be foolish to try such a thing. The vagaries of interstellar motion were such that jumping directly between worlds would not be safe. Amplification could enable more people to be moved longer distances on the surface of a planet, but that was the practical limit. Considering the way three people had been spread across the terrain when teleported the relatively short distance from the barn to the open field, accuracy was a prime consideration.
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