"Do it," McKie said.
He had less than a ten-minute wait before two of Jedrik's special security troops brought up the first captive, a young Gowachin whose eyelids bore curious scars - scroll-like and pale against the green skin.
The two security people stopped just inside the doorway. They held the Gowachin firmly, although he did not appear to be struggling. The sub-commander who'd brought them up closed the door as he left.
One of the captors, an older man with narrow features, nodded as he caught McKie's attention.
"What'll we do with him?"
"Tie him in a chair," McKie instructed.
He studied the Gowachin as they complied.
"Where was he captured?"
"He was trying to escape from that building through a perimeter sewage line."
"Alone?"
"I don't know. He's the first of a group of prisoners. The others are waiting outside."
They had finished binding the young Gowachin, now took up position directly behind him.
McKie studied the captive. He wore black coveralls with characteristic deep vee to clear the ventricles. The garment had been cut and torn in several places. He'd obviously been searched with swift and brutal thoroughness. McKie put down a twinge of pity. The scar lines on the prisoner's eyelids precluded anything but the most direct Dosadi necessities.
"They did a poor job removing your Phylum tattoos," McKie said. He'd already recognized the scar lines: Deep Swimmers. It was a relatively unimportant Phylum, small in numbers and sensitive about their status.
The young Gowachin blinked. McKie's opening remark had been so conversational, even-toned, that the shock of his words came after. Shock was obvious now in the set of the captive's mouth.
"What is your name, please?" McKie asked, still in that even, conversational way.
"Grinik."
It was forced out of him.
McKie asked one of the guards for a notebook and stylus, wrote the Gowachin's name in it, adding the Phylum identification.
"Grinik of the Deep Swimmers," he said. "How long have you been on Dosadi?"
The Gowachin took a deep, ventricular breath, remained silent. The security men appeared puzzled. This interrogation wasn't going as they'd expected. McKie himself did not know what to expect. He still felt himself recovering from surprise at recognition of the badly erased Phylum tattoos.
"This is a very small planet," McKie said. "The universe from which we both come is very big and can be very cruel. I'm sure you didn't come here expecting to die."
If this Grinik didn't know the deadly plans of his superiors, that would emerge shortly. McKie's words could be construed as a personal threat beyond any larger threat to Dosadi as a whole. It remained to see how Grinik reacted.
Still, the young Gowachin hesitated.
When in doubt, remain silent.
"You appear to've been adequately trained for this project," McKie said. "But I doubt if you were told everything you should know. I even doubt if you were told things essential to you in your present position."
"Who are you?" Grinik demanded. "How dare you speak here of matters which . . ." He broke off, glanced at the two guards standing at his shoulders.
"They know all about us," McKie lied.
He could smell the sweet perfume of Gowachin fear now, a floral scent which he'd noted only on a few previous occasions. The two guards also sensed this and showed faint smiles to betray that they knew its import.
"Your masters sent you here to die," McKie said. "They may very well pay heavily for this. You ask who I am? I am Jorj X McKie, Legum of the Gowachin Bar, Saboteur Extraordinary, senior lieutenant of Jedrik who will shortly rule all of Dosadi. I make formal imposition upon you. Answer my questions for the Law is at stake."
On the Gowachin worlds, that was a most powerful motivator. Grinik was shaken by it.
"What do you wish to know?"
He barely managed the words.
"Your mission on Dosadi. The precise instructions you were given and who gave them to you."
"There are twenty of us. We were sent by Mrreg."
That name! The implications in Gowachin lore stunned McKie. He waited, then:
"Continue."
"Two more of our twenty are out there."
Grinik motioned to the doorway, clearly pleading for his captive associates.
"Your instructions?"
"To get our people out of this terrible place."
"How long?"
"Just . . . sixty hours remain."
McKie exhaled slowly. So Aritch and company had given up on him. They were going to eliminate Dosadi.
"Where are the other members of your party?"
"I don't know."
"You were, of course, a reserve team trained and held in readiness for this mission. Do you realize how poorly you were trained?"
Grinik remained silent.
McKie put down a feeling of despair, glanced at the two guards. He understood that they'd brought him this particular captive because this was one of three who were not Dosadi. Jedrik had instructed them, of course. Many things became clearer to him in this new awareness. Jedrik had put sufficient pressure on the Gowachin beyond the God Wall. She still had not imagined the extremes to which those Gowachin might go in stopping her. It was time Jedrik learned what sort of fuse she'd lighted. And Broey must be told. Especially Broey - before he sent many more suicide missions.
The outer door opened and the sub-commander leaned in to speak.
"You were right about the trap. We mined the area before pulling back. Caught them nicely. The gate's secure now, and we've cleared out that last building."
McKie pursed his lips, then:
"Take the prisoners to Jedrik. Tell her we're coming in."
A flicker of surprise touched the sub-commander's eyes.
"She knows."
Still the man hesitated.
"Yes?"
"There's one Human prisoner out here you should question before leaving."
McKie waited. Jedrik knew he was coming in, knew what had gone on here, knew about the Human prisoner out there. She wanted him to question this person. Yes . . . of course. She left nothing to chance . . . by her standards. Well, her standards were about to change, but she might even know that.
"Name?"
"Havvy. Broey holds him, but he once served Jedrik. She says to tell you Havvy is a reject, that he was contaminated."
"Bring him in."
Havvy surprised him. The surface was that of a bland-faced nonentity, braggadocio clearly evident under a mask of secret knowledge. He wore a green uniform with a driver's brassard. The uniform was wrinkled, but there were no visible rips or cuts. He'd been treated with more care than the Gowachin who was being led out of the room. Havvy replaced the Gowachin in the chair. McKie waved away the bindings.
Unfocused questions created turmoil in McKie's mind. He found it difficult to delay. Sixty hours! But he felt that he could almost touch the solution to the Dosadi mystery, that in only a few minutes he would know names and real motives for the ones who'd created this monster. Havvy? He'd served Jedrik. In what way? Why rejected? Contaminated?
Unfocused questions, yes.
Havvy sat in watchful tension, casting an occasional glance around the room, at the windows. There were no more explosions out there.
As McKie studied him more carefully, certain observations emerged. Havvy was small but solid, one of those Humans of lesser stature who concealed heavy musculature which could surprise you if you suddenly bumped into them. It was difficult to guess his age, but he was not Dosadi. A member of Grinik's team? Doubtful. Clearly not Dosadi, though. He didn't examine those around him with an automatic status assessment. His reactions were slow. Too much that should remain under shutters flowed from within him directly to the surface. Yes, that was the ultimate revelation. It bothered McKie that so much went unseen beneath the surface here, so much for which Aritch and company had not prepared him. It wou
ld take a lifetime to learn all the nuances of this place, and he had less than sixty hours remaining to him.
All of this flowed through McKie's mind in an eyeblink. He reached his decision, motioned the guards and others to leave.
One of the security people started to protest, but McKie silenced him with a glance, pulled up a chair, and sat down facing the captive.
The door closed behind the last of the guards.
"You were sent here deliberately to seek me out," McKie said.
It was not the opening Havvy had expected. He stared into McKie's eyes. A door slammed outside. There was the sound of several doors opening and shutting, the shuffling of feet. An amplified voice called out:
"Move these prisoners out!"
Havvy chewed at his upper lip. He didn't protest. A deep sigh shook him, then:
"You're Jorj X. McKie of BuSab?"
McKie blew out through pursed lips. Did Havvy doubt the evidence of his own senses? Surprising. McKie shook his head, continued to study the captive.
"You can't be McKie!" Havvy said.
"Ahhhhhh . . ." It was pressed out of McKie.
Something about Havvy: the body moved, the voice spoke, but the eyes did not agree.
McKie thought about what the Caleban, Fannie Mae, had said. A light touch. He was overtaken by an abrupt certainty: someone other than Havvy looked out through the man's eyes. Yessss. Aritch's people controlled the Caleban who maintained the barrier around Dosadi. The Caleban could contact selected people here. She'd have a constant updating on everything such people learned. There must be many such spies on Dosadi, all trained not to betray the Caleban contact - no twitching, no lapses into trance. No telling how many agents Aritch possessed here.
Would all the other people on Dosadi remain unaware of such a thing, though? That was a matter to question.
"But you must be McKie," Havvy said. "Jedrik's still working out of . . ." He broke off.
"You must've provided her with some amusement by your bumbling," McKie said. "I assure you, however, that BuSab is not amused."
A gloating look came over Havvy's face.
"No, she hasn't made the transfer yet."
"Transfer?"
"Haven't you figured out yet how Pcharky's supposed to buy his freedom?"
McKie felt off balance at this odd turn.
"Explain." "
"He's supposed to transfer your identity into Jedrik's body and her identity into your body. I think she was going to try that with me once, but . . ."
Havvy shrugged.
It was like an explosion in McKie's newly sensitized awareness. Rejected! Contaminated! Body exchange! McKie was accusatory!
"Broey sent you!"
"Of course." Offensive.
McKie contained his anger. The Dosadi complexities no longer baffled him as once they had. It was like peeling back layer upon layer of concealment. With each new layer you expected to find the answer. But that was a trap the whole universe set for the unwary. It was the ultimate mystery and he hated mystery. There were those who said this was a necessary ingredient for BuSab agents. You eliminated that which you hated. But everything he'd uncovered about this planet showed him how little he'd known previously about any mystery. Now, he understood something new about Jedrik. There was little doubt that Broey's Human messenger told the truth.
Pcharky had penetrated the intricacies of PanSpechi ego transfer. He'd done it without a PanSpechi as his subject, unless . . . yes . . . that expanded the implications in Tria's history. Their PanSpechi experiment had assumed even more grotesque proportions.
"I will speak directly to your Caleban monitor," McKie said.
"My what?"
It was such obvious dissimulation that McKie only snorted. He leaned forward.
"I will speak directly to Aritch. See that he gets this message without any mistakes."
Havvy's eye's became glassy. He shuddered.
McKie felt the inner tendrils of an attempted Caleban contact in his own awareness, thrust them aside.
"No! I will speak openly through your agent. Pay close attention, Aritch. Those who created this Dosadi horror cannot run far enough, fast enough, or long enough to escape. If you wish to make every Gowachin in the universe a target for violence, you are proceeding correctly. Others, including BuSab, can employ mass violence if you force it upon them. Not a pleasant thought. But unless you adhere to your own Law, to the honored relationship between Legum and Client, your shame will be exposed. Innocent Gowachin as well as you others whose legal status has yet to be determined - all will pay the bloody price."
Havvy's brows drew down in puzzlement.
"Shame?"
"They plan to blast Dosadi out of existence."
Havvy pressed back into the chair, glared at McKie.
"You're lying."
"Even you, Havvy, are capable of recognizing a truth. I'm going to release you, pass you back through the lines to Broey. Tell him what you learned from me."
"It's a lie! They're not going to . . ."
"Ask Aritch for yourself."
Havvy didn't ask "Aritch who?" He lifted himself from the chair.
"I will."
"Tell Broey we've less than sixty hours. None of us who can resist mind erasure will be permitted to escape."
"Us?"
McKie nodded, thinking: Yes, I am Dosadi now. He said:
"Get out of here."
It afforded him a measure of amusement that the door was opened by the sub-commander just as Havvy reached it.
"See to him yourself," McKie said, indicating Havvy. "I'll be ready to go in a moment."
Without any concern about whether the sub-commander understood the nature of the assignment, McKie closed his eyes in thought. There remained the matter of Mrreg, who'd sent twenty Gowachin from Tandaloor to get his people off the planet. Mrreg. That was the name of the mythical monster who'd tested the first primitive Gowachin people almost to extinction, setting the pattern of their deepest instincts.
Mrreg?
Was it code, or did some Gowachin actually use that name? Or was it a role that some Gowachin filled?
***
Does a populace have informed consent when a ruling minority acts in secret to ignite a war, doing this to justify the existence of the minority's forces? History already has answered that question. Every society in the ConSentiency today reflects the historical judgment that failure to provide full information for informed consent on such an issue represents an ultimate crime.
- from The Trial of Trials
Less than an hour after closing down at Gate Eighteen, McKie and his escort arrived back at Jedrik's headquarters building. He led them to the heavily guarded side entrance with its express elevator, not wanting to pass Pcharky at this moment. Pcharky was an unnecessary distraction. He left the escort in the hallway with instructions to get food and rest, signaled for the elevator. The elevator door was opened by a small Human female of about fifteen years who nodded him into the dim interior.
McKie, his natural distrust of even the young on this planet well masked, nevertheless kept her under observation as he accepted the invitation. She was a gamin child with dirty face and hands, a torn grey single garment cut off at the knees. Her very existence as a Dosadi survivor said she'd undoubtedly sold her body many times for scraps of food. He realized how much Dosadi had influenced him when he found that he couldn't raise even the slightest feeling of censure at this knowledge. You did what the conditions around you demanded when those conditions were overwhelming. It was an ultimate question: this or death? And certainly some of them chose death.
"Jedrik," he said.
She worked her controls and he found himself presently in an unfamiliar hallway. Two familiar guards stood at a doorway down the hall, however. They betrayed not the slightest interest in him as he opened the door between them swiftly and strode through.
It was a tiny anteroom, empty, but another door directly in front of him. He opened this with more co
nfidence than he felt, entered a larger space full of projection-room gloom with shadowed figures seated facing a holographic focus on his left. McKie identified Jedrik by her profile, slipped into a seat beside her.
She kept her attention on the h-focus where a projection of Broey stood looking out at something over their shoulders. McKie recognized the subtle slippage of computer simulation. That was not a flesh-and-blood Broey in the focus.
Someone on the far side of the room stood up and crossed to sit beside another figure in the gloom. McKie recognized Gar as the man moved through one of the projection beams.
McKie whispered to Jedrik, "Why simulation?"
"He's beginning to do things I didn't anticipate."
The suicide missions. McKie looked at the simulation, wondered why there was no sync-sound. Ahhh, yes. They were lip-reading, and it was silent to reduce distractions, to amplify concentration. Yes, Jedrik was reworking the simulation model of Broey which she carried in her head. She would also carry another model, even more accurate than the one of Broey, which would give her a certain lead time on the reactions of one Jorj X. McKie.
"Would you really have done it?" he asked.
"Why do you distract me with such nonsense?"
He considered. Yes, it was a good question. He already knew the answer. She would have done it: traded bodies with him and escaped outside the God Wall as McKie. She might still do it, unless he could anticipate the mechanics of the transfer.
By now, she knew about the sixty-hour limit and would suspect its significance. Less than sixty hours. And the Dosadi could make extremely complex projections from limited data. Witness this Broey simulation.
The figure in the focus was talking to a fat Human female who held a tube which McKie recognized as a communicator for field use.
Jedrik spoke across the room to Gar.
"She still with him?"
"Addicted."
A two-sentence exchange, and it condensed an entire conversation about possible uses of that woman. McKie did not ask addicted to what. There were too many such substances on Dosadi, each with peculiar characteristics, often involving odd monopolies with which everyone seemed familiar. This was a telltale gap in Aritch's briefings: the monopolies and their uses.
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