by E. C. Tubb
"You are a stranger on Technos?"
"Do you have friends on the planet?"
"No."
"Have you been here before?"
"No."
Check questions repeated at irregular intervals and in different phraseology. Standard procedure to catch a liar but now it was even more than that. The relentless barrage would numb the consciousness and induce a hypnotic condition in which the answers would come mechanically from the lower regions of the brain, thus bypassing the censor. Dumarest was being conditioned to answer without conscious volition.
"An unusual man, sire." Yendhal turned from the observation screen. "I have questioned Major Keron as to his activities. Apparently he reacted most violently to routine interrogation, attacking the guards at the threat of violence and making good his escape despite formidable obstacles. The incident is even more remarkable when we realize that he knew nothing of our culture and could not fully assess the difficulties he would have to overcome."
"Are you saying that he reacted instinctively?"
"Yes, sire, I am. Almost as an animal would react, sensing danger and taking action to avoid it, gauging situations as they arose and taking steps to elude capture. An intelligent animal, naturally, and one with a highly developed sense of survival. He must have spent much time on backward worlds among primitive cultures in which personal survival depended on individual strength and quickness. His reflexes are amazingly fast. So fast that they must operate independently of conscious thought. Logically it would have been wiser for him to have accepted Keren's punishment and bided his time. He must have reacted on a purely subconscious level, assessing the situation, judging the chances of success and moving into action all in the time it took for him to see the upraised club and realize its significance. A truly remarkable performance."
Vargas was thoughtful. "Would you say he was unique?"
"I would."
"Isn't it possible to get him to volunteer information?"
"No, sire, not under the present conditions. Lying is a form of preservation, and he will lie if given the chance. As it is his monosyllabic answers are a form of protection. He will answer each question truthfully but will volunteer no truth. Our job is to make certain that we ask the right questions. I'm afraid that it will take some time."
* * *
A weak sun had thawed the snow turning the slush into water and filling the air with a damp chill. Huddled in her furs Mada stepped from the cab, dismissed the driver and stood looking down the street as it drove away.
It was an uninviting place. A quick-teach palace blazed with light and the promise to quick-feed education by means of the latest techniques. A store displayed shoddy goods from the occupied worlds together with an invitation to step inside and learn about the wonderful new settlement offers now available. A toyshop offered the latest in educational pastimes. A child, crying, was dragged from the window by its harassed mother.
"I keep telling you we can't afford it," she scolded. "With your father in the army it's all I can afford to put food on the table. Now shut up before I give you something to howl about!"
A man called softly from where he leaned against a wall. "Help a man with a limited wife, lady? She can't do better than the fourth level."
Another approached, limping. "Spare a few coins for study, madam? One more degree and I'll be able to get my leg fixed."
Mada glared her dislike. "How did you get hurt?"
"In ambush on Hardish, madam. A bunch of us got jumped by some locals one night."
"You're lying. If you were in the army you can get free medical attention."
He shrugged, unabashed. "Sure, but you know how it is. A man likes to get the best that's going."
Dirt, she thought as she pushed past him. Scum. The dregs of Technos and a disgrace to the planet. Why didn't they get themselves some education and find decent jobs?
The irritation was misplaced; she had more important things to do than worry about beggars and slums. With quick strides she walked down the street into a place selling educational tapes and out of a rear door. A narrow alley opened on a wide boulevard. Two hundred yards along a soaring sheet of glass and metal protected a display of gold and jewels. A uniformed attendant glanced at her, at the bulky bag she carried, then stepped forward to open the door. Inside, a wave of scented air warmed away her chill.
"Madam?" A man, sleek and well groomed, rose at her side.
"I wish to sell some items."
"Certainly, madam." He led the way toward an inner door. "If you will be so good as to wait inside?"
The buyer was a plump man with a pink scalp and veiled eyes. He looked at the contents of the bag, resting his fingers on scaled miniatures, an elaborate clock, a set of chessmen carved from solid crystal, two statuettes, a handful of cameos, some filigree work of silver and gold, a fragment of tapestry, a meditation light of skilled workmanship and historical interest.
Quietly he said, "You will pardon the question, madam, but can you give me proof that these things are yours to dispose of?"
For answer she held out her left wrist. Gravely he studied the engraving on the bracelet.
"My apologies, madam, but you can appreciate our concern. There has been a great deal of theft in the city recently."
"I understand. Can you accommodate me?"
"Certainly, madam. If you will permit me to make a closer study of these items?"
She nodded, relaxing as he produced a jeweler's glass and fitted it to his eye. Her precautions, though simple, should have been good enough. She had used three different vehicles and had walked the last few yards. Had anyone been following her, he must have lost the trail.
Removing his glass the buyer said, "You have excellent taste, madam. These items are truly works of art."
"You will take them?"
"Naturally." He mentioned a price. "It is not as high as you may have expected but the market is slow and the cost of storage high. If you would prefer us to sell them on commission you would probably get more but it would take time."
"I accept your valuation. Can you give it to me now?"
"Of course, madam. I will arrange for a check immediately."
"Not a check, jewels. Small stones easily negotiable. I will shortly be traveling to various primitive worlds," she explained. "I want something I can use to purchase local products."
He was too polite to display surprise. "In that case I suggest unmounted gems. The tax is lower and they should meet your requirements."
For travel, for bribes, for escape. She still retained enough influence in the palace to be able to get information. Dumarest had been captured and was being questioned. Vargas would not be gentle and would learn everything he knew.
And she had asked him to assassinate the Technarch!
If nothing else, his testimony would damn her. Without support she wouldn't stand a chance. Even with it the crime was enough to send her to trial as an enemy of the state.
Her only hope lay in flight.
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 rea
sonable 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?"