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by Farmer, Phillip Jose


  "The captain has made a deal with you," she said. "This places me in a precarious situation. I do not wish to be subverted by the Imago."

  "You don't have much choice. All of the members of this ship's complement will be converted. I presume you will be useful in some way." He did not bother to conceal his distaste.

  "Agreed. All will be subverted, unless they arrange to avoid it. That is what I wish to do. Agree to set me free, in mind and body, on the planet, and I will provide you with significant information of interest to you."

  "No deal. I don't trust you. I may not trust you even after you're converted. Get out of my way."

  She did not move. "Please, Jack. I am desperate. You have done what I thought impossible, and subverted the captain. The victory is yours. I will offer you anything you desire. Only guarantee my freedom."

  "No." Now he resumed motion, intending to walk though her image, as he should have done before.

  But he collided with her. Her lush torso pressed against him from breast to thigh as he tried to recover his balance, astonished. She was here physically!

  Now he remembered that he was still naked.

  He started to speak, but she cut him off with a kiss. "I can be extremely accommodating, if that is your desire," she murmured, glancing down. "I beg you to free me, whatever the price of it."

  Jack got his hands up and pushed her away. "I don't want your body! I don't like you or trust you. I refuse to make any deal."

  She disengaged, offering no resistance. "Will you at least listen? I believe you will find it worthwhile."

  Jack started scrambling into his clothing. "Look: the captain is listening to everything we're saying. You must be guilty of treason already, trying to deal on your own. Anything you have to tell me, I'll learn when you are converted. This is pointless."

  "The captain can not overhear us here; I selected this place because I know it is between monitors. Our dialogue is private. As for treason: he became guilty of it when he made his deal with you. I serve the empire, not the captain. I wish only to return to the empire, and to continue my opposition to the depredations of the Imago. Listen to me, then decide whether the information is worth the price of my freedom. Isn't that fair?"

  Jack sighed. "All right. Tell me, and if I think it's worth it, I'll free you. You will be set loose on the surface of the planet and not pursued. But if you make any attempt to interfere with the Imago in any way—"

  "Understood. Here is my information. Though the Imago you serve may be benign in principle, the tool it is presently using is not. The thing you call the Imaget has no necessary affinity for the Imago; it was pressed into service by the honkers for a reason of their own. I researched it, after spying it before. Bear in mind that I was the only person present at that encounter who was not subsequently corrupted, because I used the holo image. I alone remained objective. I discovered that the Imaget has gone by many names over the millennia, and that there is a pattern that is far from benign. It has formed empires in the past—"

  "Now wait a minute!" Jack exclaimed. "This little thing could hardly—"

  She glanced at his hair, where the Imaget nestled. "Do you suppose that any creature in its hatchling stage is the same as it is in its maturity? All babies are charming. What do you think its powers will be when it has grown to a mass greater than your own?"

  She was making sense. He had been suspicious of the Imaget himself. Malva was independently confirming that suspicion. "Go on."

  "The Imaget, by whatever name, enhances the properties of other creatures so effectively that they inevitably become dependent on it. It encourages this. When they can not function without it, the power passes from them to it, and they then serve the Imaget. Only the Imago has been proof against this, and in the past it has been the Imago who has brought down empires of the Imaget, as it has brought down those of the Gaol or other dominant entities. It is an irony that the Imaget is now serving the Imago itself, but perhaps the Imaget has found a way to add the power of the Imago to its own. If so, the empire that it forms this time will be truly impregnable."

  Jack was appalled. "I can't believe—"

  "Naturally, because you are already subverted. But you were subverted by the Imago before you encountered the Imaget, so you serve the Imago, and may be objective enough to appreciate the danger. The Imago itself is uncorrupted and incorruptible, and this extends to its host. Perhaps the Imaget will simply cast the Imago aside when its usefulness is done, or confine it in the manner the Gaol wish to. One empire is very like another, in the acquisition and preservation of its power. If you are prepared to risk the exchange of one master for another and all that implies, ignore this threat."

  Jack was silent, realizing that she had raised a question which he could not afford to leave unanswered. "Still, a single Imaget could hardly—"

  "When the Imaget is grown, it will reproduce by having its minions plant its eggs on converted creatures, and these new hatchlings will ultimately serve the eldest one," Malva continued. "Once that stage is reached—"

  "Enough!" Jack said. "I will give you your freedom. I will verify this by researching myself, and act as I see fit."

  Malva smiled. "Thank you. May I take a weapon with me, to defend myself from wild creatures when I go into the wilderness?"

  "Yes, take it," Jack said absently. The honkers— how much did they know of this? Were they working for the Imaget instead of the Imago? Could the Makers have been a benign empire, overthrown by the Imaget? Something like this was all too plausible.

  Malva stepped to the side and reached into a recess in the wall. She brought out what looked like a twisted pistol and tucked it into her waistband. Then she followed Jack as he resumed progress along the blue line.

  It led to a nether portal, with a ramp to the ground. The honkers of his raiding party were already there, waiting for him. Jack's dialogue with Malva had delayed him.

  "Fetch the antidote," he told the honkers as he descended. Immediately one went to the ventilation shaft and picked up another small jar. "Release it inside the ship," Jack said, and the honker ascended the ramp and opened the jar.

  Tappy emerged from hiding and ran to Jack's embrace as he reached the ground. "You won!" she exclaimed joyfully.

  "Maybe," he agreed, hugging her. But he would have to do his research on the Imaget soon, because if what Malva had told him was true, they would have to get rid of the Imaget.

  He turned to Malva. "You are free," he told her. "As long as you do no mischief on this planet."

  "I think not," she said. There was a flash, and Jack lost volition.

  Malva drew her pistol and pointed it at Jack and Tappy. "You are of course a fool," she said. "Did you think that if I researched the Imaget, I did not share my information with my master? We knew about the telepathy and were prepared. The Gaol captain simply compartmentalized his mind, so that only one section was subverted, while the dominant section remained independent. It was risky, letting you invade the ship, but it promised to lure the Imago into our control. So we landed the ship as bait, and waited for you to take it."

  Jack could not answer, because she had not told him to. Tappy could tell him to— but she was covered by the pistol. In any event, mere words were pointless in the face of his disastrous misjudgment.

  It hardly mattered at this stage, but he wondered whether she had told the truth about the Imaget. It seemed like a pretty involved story to make up, just to persuade him to accept her. It had a certain ring of authenticity. Maybe it was both true and false: true research, false motive.

  Malva gestured with the weapon. "The two of you, enter the ship," she said.

  Jack started walking toward the ramp. Tappy followed. The honkers remained unmoving. He did indeed feel like a fool. He should have known! Malva had never turned against the Gaol; she had been their agent throughout. She had used the pretext of her seeming wish for freedom to lull him into thinking it was safe for Tappy— and now Tappy and the Imago were prisoner of the G
aol again. What a cunning trap; they had even saved the ship from destruction by the fungus. But if they had anticipated the raid, they might have had it fungus-proofed anyway, and pretended to be suffering the effects so as to complete the deception. It was obvious that Jack was an amateur up against professionals.

  But Malva had forgotten the Imaget! Whatever the truth about it, long-range, it served him and the Imago in the short range.

  He concentrated, reverting it to orient on him. As he did so, he lost his stasis; it had nullified the null, as it were. He also lost his empathy for living things.

  He acted immediately. He grabbed Malva's pistol and wrenched it from her hand as he shoved her back. Then he pointed it at her. It had a trigger, so he hoped he could fire it. If it had a safety, she had probably unlocked it, since she was not the kind to bluff. "Get to safety, Tappy!" he cried.

  Tappy hesitated. He knew why: she didn't want to leave him.

  "It's no good," Malva said. "Robots are coming. They will obey me, not you. They will break your bones if the host of the Imago does not obey me."

  "You forget that I have the pistol," Jack said. Then, more urgently: "Tappy, get out of here!"

  Tappy started to walk back down the ramp. But Malva went after her. "I'll be destroyed anyway, because of my contact with the Imago, but I can secure my mission. You won't fire, because of your empathy." She brushed by Jack.

  "There may be something you don't know about the Imaget," Jack said. Then he fired the pistol at her chest.

  A strike of lightning came from it. It bathed Malva in sparks. Then she fell, her face a mask of astonishment.

  Jack turned and charged down the ramp after Tappy. But already the robots were arriving. They were roughly humanoid, except that they had three legs, so that they didn't have to worry about balance. They moved down the ramp in pursuit.

  Jack started for the ventilation shaft. But already the robots were spreading out and forming a circle to close the two of them in. Jack fired at one, and scored, but the lightning had no effect on the metal. The robots were not likely to hurt either of them, just to immobilize them and carry them into the ship, because the Imago had to be alive and Jack was still a living lever to use against Tappy. But how could the robots be avoided?

  Then he saw the stump of the ghosted tree, the one that the radiator had destroyed but whose upper structure remained as a shadow outline. The honkers had warned them not to go near that shadow. But it was within the closing circle of robots, and the alternative was to be captured by the Gaol. Maybe it was death to enter it, but it was their only chance.

  "The tree!" Jack said. "Into the shadow!"

  The two of them dived for the shadow.

  Chapter 16

  Light dazzled Jack as his head passed through the faint dark of the shadow-tree. It blinded him and filled his head and his body. Every one of their cells seemed to glow as if they were thermite and had caught fire. He cried out with pain and terror as he fell forward and his hands and knees struck the ground. Behind him, Tappy shrieked. He had shut his eyes, but that did not help at all in making the light less intense.

  He sat up and groped around, encountering nothing until he put his hands on the ground. Since the gloves hindered his sense of touch, he took them off and put them in a back pocket of the jeans given to him by Candy. The net over his head also went there.

  The ground was fairly soft, as if it had rained recently. It was covered with a short thick grass. At least, the blades felt like grass, but they were softer than that which grew on Earth.

  Something moved along his cheek, a gentle tickling thing which went down his neck, then was gone. It must be the Imaget. It had been on Tappy but, for some reason, had just leaped to him. Then it had crawled down from the top of his hair to his shoulder. Now that his shirt was between the creature and his skin, he no longer felt it. Or had it jumped back to Tappy?

  The Imaget, he supposed, must be as blind as he. Unless its lack of eyes protected it. Whatever its state, it was not projecting telepathically so that he could see the land around him. If, that is, mere was anything surrounding him. There might be nothing but this painful light here.

  Here? A different "dimension"? Certainly, a different world, and one that might destroy him and Tappy. The warning the honkers had given them about the shadow had been short and simple. Do not enter! That was almost all the information the honkers could give. They had no idea of what would happen if you did go through it. But they knew that the few who had ventured through it had never returned. The last one to do so had, like Jack and Tappy, used the shadow as an escape from deadly enemies. That, however, had been over a generation ago.

  Jack opened his eyes briefly, then closed them again. Though it made no difference in the brightness whether or not he closed his eyelids, he could not keep them open. His reflexes were ruling him.

  He called out to Tappy as he groped around for her. He could hear his own voice within his head, but it made no sound outside of it. That swelled his fright. But it subsided somewhat when his hand felt cloth and solid flesh beneath it. He ran his fingers over the cloth until he felt a shoulder. The net covering her head and shoulders had been removed. When he moved his hands down to close over hers, he found that she had also taken off her gloves.

  A second later, she was embracing and kissing him. Still in their sitting position, they rocked back and forth, their arms around each other. Her face, held against the side of his cheek, was wet with tears.

  He tried to tell her to take it easy, that they would be fine once they mastered their terror and confusion. Again, he could hear his voice circle around in his head without moving the air outside his lips. Nor could he hear Tappy, though he could feel her body as it was shaken by sobs. And when he released an arm to touch her lips, he could feel them moving, surely trying to talk to him.

  After a while, he got to his feet and pulled her up to stand by him. He took her hand and pulled her along after him as he began walking. He did not know where he was or where he was going, but they just could not stay in one place. They would die of thirst if they did. And if there was relief from this light or somebody who could help them, they had to look— though "look" was not the right word— for refuge and rescue. That would be slow going since he had to slide his forward foot along and feel with its toe for drop-offs.

  His face felt as if it were in sunlight. Though he was sweating, no doubt from stress, he was not too hot. The air was a mild breeze, and it slightly cooled him.

  They had gone perhaps a hundred yards when he jumped, and he swore a soundless oath. Something had flicked against his cheek. It was soft and momentary, but it had felt like the end of a finger. The sensation was not caused by the Imaget moving across his face. It had been too solid to be that. The Imaget had been like lightweight velvet sliding across his skin. Also, its body had been too broad to be a fingertip.

  Tappy squeezed his arm and moved so close to him that she seemed to be trying to melt her cells into his. She was no longer racked with sobs, but she was trembling. Had she felt that soft touch, too?

  "For God's sake!" he said. "Whoever you are, whatever you are, speak to us!"

  It was useless to speak; his words were imprisoned in his head.

  He still had Malva's beamer-pistol, stuck in his belt, and the beamer-rifle, strapped to his back. But it would do no good to fire blindly. Besides, whoever had stroked his cheek probably did not intend to harm him. If the toucher did, he or she could have done so long before this. On the other hand, the person— or thing— might just be biding his time. For what?

  It was then that he smelled a pleasant odor. Flowers? Wherever it came from, it was carried by the breeze from behind him. He turned around, sniffing, and then pulled Tappy along in the direction from which the odor seemed to come. I can't see, he thought, and I can't hear, but I can feel and smell. I'm not completely helpless.

  Brave words. He was whistling in... not the dark, though this light was no better than complete blackness.
If he tried to whistle, he probably wouldn't hear that.

  The odor, which reminded him of tiger lilies, became stronger, He shuffled on until his leading foot suddenly felt a change in level. Carefully moving the foot, he determined that he was on the edge of a hill. Or a slight declivity. He began going down the gentle slope. After a hundred feet, he stopped. His left hand, held out at a downward angle before him, felt a stalk. He moved it around and encountered many stalks. The odor was so powerful that he knew he stood before a mass of flowers— if the stalks had flowers.

  They did. His hand, sliding up a stalk, found the head. It was sunflower size, had nine big petals and a soft spongy center. Beneath the surface was a slight pulselike throbbing. Groping around, he found others like it. Then he let loose of them as something long and soft, too narrow to be the Imaget, slithered across the back of his hand. An insect? A caterpillarlike creature?

 

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