* * *
On the way out, Angharad removed evidence of her unusual means of entry. She walked a ways down the hall, stopped, and leaned against the wall, stunned. What she had seen could not have possibly been true. It was… incredible.
She just hoped that she’d not aroused Ort Eath’s suspicions. Her own, suspicions had certainly been confirmed to an incredible degree.
Things were about to happen—and she needed all the help she could get. It would be well to get to know the person inhabiting that MacGuffin much better ...
* * *
Todd Spigot dropped his magnetic key twice as he tried to fumble into his cabin. When the door finally gave way he staggered drunkenly in the darkness, weaving about unsteadily. He groped for the light, flicked it, and then plumped down to the couch with a resonant belch.
Feeling better, he decided he’d have just one more brandy. However, before he could stand, his leg came off.
“Oh, shit,” he mumbled, trying to focus blearily on it as it went through its nimble robotic dance: out came its arms and legs, up went its eyes. “Not you ...” He hiccoughed. “’cuse me. Not you again. Go get me a drink, huh.”
“Sorry. I’ve been having enough trouble regulating your metabolism,” replied the leg in a good humored chirp. “Another drink and there’s no way you’ll avoid a hangover tomorrow.”
Todd sagged dejectedly. “Don’t care. Need a drink.” His head wobbled a bit as he pointed an unsteady finger at the thing. “And if you don’t get me one,” he made to stand. “Then I’ll jus’ get one myself!” He tried to rise, but fell flat on his face. The image of the upright severed leg swam hazily in front of him. “Jus’ a teensy weensy drink?”
“Sorry, old chap,” pronounced the leg in bright good spirits. “You haven’t a leg to stand on!”
“Goddamn smartass machine!” cursed Todd. “Who do you think you are? I can do what I want, stupid little twerp!” He commenced crawling toward the drink machine.
“What a way to speak to your leg. Listen, Todd, you owe me! What’s more you need me. This was all settled—and now, now, I’m saddled with you on my most important mission,”
“Shut your amps, Cog. I didn’t ask to get this body. You’re just damned lucky I haven’t told the authorities about you.”
“Look, I don’t want you to have another drink for your own sake,” said the leg sullenly. “Let’s be reasonable.”
“Reasonable!” shouted Todd, sitting up. “Who’s the one who’s been playing games? I told you I’d cooperate with you all the way. Alexandra is safely locked away. Man, it’s been your show all the way. I’ve played along with you, Cog!”
“And I with you, Todd Spigot. You’ve been having your jollies, just like I promised if you’d cooperate. You think I want to shut you out of control of that body?”
“You certainly haven’t hesitated!”
“Sometimes it was necessary.” The leg leaned over, shook a little metal digit, its oculars rising as though for added emphasis. “But I warn you, you can carry things too far. In which case must butt in! No more drinks tonight!”
“Okay, okay,” murmured Todd. “I’m just making up for lost time. Like I said, I’ll play along. Shunting down to that planet is simple enough but I’d like to have the whole story.”
“In time. In good time.”
“Wish you wouldn’t keep coming off, Cog.” Ever since the advent of the little intelligent machine—or whatever it was—the only way they could talk was for Cog to detach himself. This, after all, was damned awkward. True, he’d been most convenient from time to time—and an interesting companion— but this had to stop.
“That can be arranged,” replied Cog. “Besides, it’s time you’re clued in. You’ve been disporting yourself most recklessly lately. It’s time you learned that there are more important amusements—many of them.”
“To tell the truth, one thing does have me puzzled. How come Amber doesn’t know about you if he was walking around with you in one of his limbs for such a long time?”
“The time wasn’t ripe, I’m afraid. Do you think I enjoyed playing dumb? I was much in the same position as you when I was in charge. Admittedly I got carried away a bit when I finally took over but I have great goals in sight. Great goals!”
“Right. But I want to know how we can talk if you don’t come off.”
“Well—I mentioned, didn’t I, that a cortical connection is possible between your brain and mine?”
“Yes—Amber controlled your computer that way.”
“Exactly. Now I just have to arrange a few things but I need your trust and cooperation. You’ve got to relinquish certain natural psychic barriers you’ve built up. So, how about it? You game?”
“Sounds suspicious.”
“Remember, you need me.”
“Look. I don’t want you inside my head.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that ESP bullshit. I’m not going to control you and you won’t control me, except for my computer information segment, which will always be at your disposal. No, what I’m saying is that this way we can talk sometimes. Without speaking. But only when we want to—I won’t be intrusive.”
Todd collapsed woozily onto his back. “Oh, hell. Why not? Tried everything else lately. What’ll I do?”
“Just relax. Relax and accept. Open your mind.” The leg hobbled over. Its hands touched Todd’s forehead gently. Todd could feel a tickle, like electricity. He seemed to pass out—no, pass in—into something.
And, slowly, Todd realized he was losing grip of his consciousness.
* * *
When he woke it was mid-morning. He had slept a solid nine hours, by his reckoning.
“Cog’?”
Almost immediately he heard a voice in his mind. It owned none of the brashness, the nasality of the previous voice. It seemed cultured—almost English. Soothing. “Yes, Todd. Here I am. Whenever you like—or when I have something to pass along.” No discomfort at all. In fact the internal dialogue was pleasant, almost pleasurable. “As promised, I will not interfere. And I’m sure we’ll get along together quite well.”
“Yes,” he said. In listening to his own voice, it too seemed less uncertain, more self-assured. More experienced. “I’m sure we’ll get along fine. What now?”
“That is your decision, Todd,” answered the voice in his mind. “That is your choice.”
* * *
Cog seemed to thrive in partial mind-meld with Todd. Just as Todd was growing in awareness of the complexities of the body he wore, so Cog seemed to grow in his understanding of the young man he had come to share a body with. And with understanding, there was more room for friendship. Often the two had long inner talks, discussing, planning, jawing over the adventures Todd had. Cog, it turned out, was a natural philosopher, ever-ready pundit, and sometimes a good friend.
* * *
The summer L.A. night was smoggy, greenhouse hot. Breathing was like smoking a bad cigarette.
I cased the joint quickly. Spanish stucco walls. A rich man’s hacienda. The lawns would be green by day, kept fresh by stainless-steel sprinklers. But now only shadows sprouted, murky as the future.
“You’re sure this is the place?” I asked Lucy Andrews.
The seepage of light from the bright long porch fell like frazzled tape across her rolling blonde hair. Her curls were like Malibu surge at midnight. I could stare at her for a long time and not smell my stale sweat from too many Olympia beers.
“Yes. He’s got to be here.” She grabbed my arm, and her face came out of shadow. “But if Chancellor sees me here, he’ll kill me. You too.”
I reached for the thing that bulged my back pocket. A hip flask, filled with Jack Daniels. I took a long sip. “Yeah. So what’s new?” Then I reached for the thing that bulged just under my arm. My .32 special, snug in its holster. “We want the proof of your in
nocence. We gotta take some chances, babe.”
She sighed, and I could see her angel hair bouncing with her nod.
I led her through the darkest of the shadows to the rear.
Beneath an ivy-covered balcony was a door into blackness. Patio gravel crunched beneath our feet.
Some fumbling with my lock pick, and we were in the enclosed blackness, A pocket flashlight guided us through the ritzy furniture obstacle course, past the playroom pocket billiard arrangement, to where Lucy indicated the study and the wall safe were. It was funny. Harry Clews, former L.A. cop, about to rob a safe.
I laughed a whole bunch.
The safe was right under a teakwood desk with big brass handles on its drawers. The combination was fresh in my mind; still chill with Moravia’s dying gasps as she lay in a bath of her own blood. It was the last thing she had said: “39 left ... 34 right ... 23,” beside, “Get the bastard, Harry.”
Philip Chancellor’s bullets had ruined her evening dress.
Click, click, click. The door opened. I flashed the light inside. Lucy sucked in breath. The safe was bare as Mother Hubbard’s Cupboard.
The overhead light switched on. Philip Chancellor, immaculate in a vermilion smoking jacket, stood one hand on the switch. The other hand held a black .45 the exact size of death.
“Drop whatever you’ve got,” he said. “Both of you, and then try and touch the ceiling.” He waved the piece. He didn’t have to say a word. I’d gotten the sign language.
“Well, such a pleasure to have late guests,” he said. He checked his watch. “Well, not really late ... yet.”
“You killed Marvin Harris, so he couldn’t go to the DA about you, didn’t you, Chancellor?” It seemed like the right thing to say at the time, when the only thing between the last sleep and me were words. “And then you tried to pin it on Lucy here. Well, whether or not I end up on the wrong side of the Bay Shore, they’re not going to buy it. You’re going to rot in Alcatraz.”
“Not likely, when I’ve got the next ticket to Rio. But I have a few things to take care of first, Clews.”
“Like getting through the police roadblocks.”
“You’re bluffing, smart man. The police are days away from the truth.”
I couldn’t keep my eye off the gun. It was like looking down into your own open grave. “Haven’t you forgotten just one little thing, my friend?”
“I’m a chess master, Mr. Clews, as you well know. I don’t make mistakes in that game if I can help it ... and this game is much simpler, if a little deadlier.”
“What about Rico?”
“That punk? What about him? He’s a two-bit punk ... with change back.”
“You hire a killer and don’t pay him. That adds up to big trouble, Chancellor. Capital T.”
There was a pause of uncertainty. I could have played a game of checkers before he spoke again. “Joey Rico’s a long way away.”
“I saw him in Ferdie’s,” said Lucy, almost triumphantly. A lot of good that would do us.
“He know you’re coming here?” asked Chancellor.
“I sure did,” said a voice behind Chancellor. “And I followed.”
Chancellor twirled around with a curse on his lips and surprise on his face like a dripping cream pie someone had smashed there. He spun to the left, bringing his gun around. A bang exploded from the other room. Blood flowed freely down Chancellor’s left arm. The impact pushed him back, but not until his own gun spoke loud and dear.
A gurgling cry came from that other room like a voice from the tomb. Chancellor’s solid frame lost balance, staggered and fell against the wall, sliding down like a thrown overripe tomato.
Joe Rico stumbled in, a hole in his gut you could drive a tank through. He fell to his knees before us, looked up, winked and said, “The two-bits is on me, Clews.”
“You’re priceless in my book, Rico,” I said, picking up my gun. “Thanks. I’ll call a doc.”
“Save your nickel.” He wilted slowly to the floor and his open eyes got real blank. Like pennies.
“Quick,” said Lucy, pointing excitedly over at Chancellor against the wall. Bloodlust and revenge were painted all over her. “Kill him, Harry. I wanna see him dead.”
Chancellor was leaning against the wall like a crippled mannequin. The .45 had dropped to the floor. The man was still alive, staring off into space, his usual scowl pasted on his face, his pencil mustache accentuating his upper class disdain. I hated it. I hated him. He’d killed my best friend. I wanted to see him planted under some sod.
KILL! KILL! KILL! cried a voice within him. KILL!
Bums like Chancellor didn’t deserve to live.
“Harry, plug him!” said Lucy. “He ... he raped me once.”
KILLKILLKILLKILL! said the voice. It wasn’t from the real-fic computer interface with the disbelief suspenders. No, Amber thought. No.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, sweetheart,” I said, taking a cigarette from the desk, lighting it, and taking a relieved drag. “That way the real truth wouldn’t come out.”
“I ... I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, all innocent-eyed.
“You didn’t kill Murdock. But you killed Cranston, didn’t you? My buddy.”
“No, no!” she cried. “I loved Willie.”
“But he was walking out on you. I just figured it all out. And I can prove it.” I went over and picked up Chancellor’s.45 off the floor in case he got any ideas.
Then I strolled over to the phone.
“No,” she said, holding her hand out imploringly. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” I said, picking up the receiver. “Blow the whistle on you?”
She got real loving, real sexy. She let me know the kind of stuff she had under her clothes just in the way she moved toward me. “I’ll do anything you want me to, Harry. Look, I’m falling in love with you, know that?”
“Sounds a bit deadly to me. Was for Will.”
“He pushed me too far. He was blackmailing me, you know?”
I looked at her. At her pouting red lips, her fiery, sultry green eyes. At the way her face was the most alive and beautiful thing I’d ever seen in this ugly world. And it could be mine ...
But I thought about my dead buddy, and I thought about a badge I used to wear—and an oath I took, not to any city, but to myself.
“Tell it to the judge, sweetheart,” I said, and started dialing.
The story was over.
The computer interfaces through the disbelief suspenders dialed themselves off. The holo-blood disappeared. The character of Chancellor just lay there. A robot. No one had wanted to be a villain for this one, so an actor had to be employed.
“That was fun,” said Blicia, eyes bright and enthusiastic. “I’d never been to the twentieth century before.”
Philip Amber sat in the chair at the desk. The man who had been Joey Rico waved goodbye. Amber said, “I didn’t kill him.”
“What?” said Blicia.
“I didn’t kill Chancellor.” Amber waved his arms excitedly. “I was going to kill him, I wanted to kill him ... it seemed like habit, despite the detective personality overlay. But I restrained myself. And nothing else happened. I think I’m learning to restrain my curse.”
“Well. Aren’t you glad I bullied you into doing the real-fics!”
“Yes. Yes, I am. And you remember yesterday? In that historical romance you wanted. I was the hero?”
“Of course. You were marvelous.”
“Right. And I killed that French soldier, when I really didn’t have to.”
“You mean it wasn’t in the programming?”
“Uh-uh. Call it improvisation ... and the computer compensated.”
“But why did you kill him then?”
“Dear. You know all about me. It was habit I guess
. Something inside me told me to do it. Like just a while back something said KILL! Maybe I’ve been some kind of freak of nature ... its eradicator. People cheat death as long as they can these days. Maybe death finds other ways. Like assassins. War.”
“Sounds very unscientific. Let’s go eat.”
But on the way out, they were confronted by an Azinatin. “Philip Amber?” grumbled the thing.
“Yes.”
“The commander of this ship, Ort Eath, would like to speak to you immediately.”
CAPSULE GUIDE TO FELORIA,
WORLD OF THE ANCIENTS
INTRODUCTION
Welcome to Feloria. Since its discovery in the Terran year 2350, tens of thousands of archeologists, scientists and tourists have visited the planet some have termed, “home of delight.” Ten million colonists have made it their home, careful to preserve all the natural wonder of the world, and all the monuments and relics of the extinct race, the Crem.
The Tourist Board of the Felorian Confederacy hopes you have allowed yourself sufficient time to enjoy and benefit from your stay.
Feloria orbits the G-Class star Phaedra, the fourth of ten planets—the only inhabitable one of the system. Because its axial tilt is almost a perfect 90° (which scientists speculate was caused by the highly technological Crem themselves), there are no seasons. The climate worldwide is uniformly mild and most of the Felorian year (.91 Terran) is full of spring-like days.
This is your souvenir guide for your stay. Further information may be obtained from your flitter guide computer.
The flitter had lighted on a field perhaps a hundred meters distant from the entrance to an aging monolith, one of the world’s major points of interest. It waited patiently. There was no regular tour of the ruins tonight, and they had to return to the Oracles starport within eight hours to catch the shuttle back to the Star Fall.
Star Fall Page 19