by Larry Niven
Laney saw the point and slowed. Matt could guard the rear. If they tried to reach the front of the swarm, they'd be stuck in the middle, and the sonic would be useless.
But nobody came at them from the rear. There were noises ahead, and they passed sprawled bodies: one policeman, then a string of men and women in lab smocks. Matt found his stomach trying to turn inside out. The rebels' viciousness was appalling. So was Hood's grin: a tight killer's grin, making a lie of his scholar's face.
Ahead, more commotion. Two men stopped to lift a heavy sprawled figure and continued running. Harry Kane was out of the action. "Hope somebody's leading them!" Hood shouted.
A siren blared in the corridors. It was loud enough to wake the Mist Demons, to send them screaming into the sky for a little peace. It jarred the concrete; it shook the very bones of a man. There was a rattling clang, barely heard above the siren. An iron door bad dropped into the swarm, cutting it in two. One man was emphatically dead beneath it. The tail of the swarm, including perhaps a dozen men and women, washed against the steel door and rebounded.
Trapped. The other end of the corridor was also blocked. But doors lined both sides. One man took off, running down the hallway toward the far end, swiveling his head back and forth to look briefly through the open doors, ignoring the closed ones. "Here!" he shouted, waving an arm. Wordlessly the others followed.
It was a lounge, a relaxation room, furnished with four wide couches, scattered chairs, two card tables, and a huge coffee dispenser. And a picture window. As Matt reached the door, the window already gaped wide, showing sharp glass teeth. The man who'd found the room was using a chair to clean the glass away.
An almost soundless hum ... and Matt felt the numbness of a sonic beamer. From the doorway! He slammed the door and it stopped.
Automatics?
"Benny!" Laney shouted, picking up one end of a couch. The man at the window dropped his chair and ran to take the other end. He'd been one of Laney's escorts the night of the party. Together they dropped the couch across the windowsill, over the broken glass. Colonists began to climb over it.
Hood had found a closet and opened it. It was like opening Pandora's box. Matt saw half-a-dozen men in white smocks swarm over Hood. In seconds they would have torn him to ribbons. Matt used his sonic. They all went down in a lump, including Hood. Matt pulled him out, draped him over a shoulder, and followed the others over the couch. Hood was heavier than he looked.
Matt had to drop him on the grass and follow him down. Far across the lawn was the Hospital wall, leaning outward, the top laced with wires that leaned inward. Very thin wire, just barely visible through the thin fog. Matt picked Hood up, glanced around, saw the others running alongside the building with the tall man named Benny in the lead. He staggered after them.
They reached a corner — the Hospital seemed to have a million corners — stopped sharply, and backed up, milling. Guards coming? Matt put Hood down, hefted his sonic —
A gun and hand emerged questing from the broken picture window. Matt fired and the man slumped. But he knew there must be others in there. Matt ducked beneath the window, rose suddenly, and fired in. Half-a-dozen police fired back. Matt's right side and arm went numb; he dropped the gun, then himself dropped below the sill. In a moment they'd be peering over — The man named Benny was running toward him. Matt threw the first policeman's sonic to him and picked up his own with his left hand.
The men inside hadn't expected Benny. They were trying to fire over the sill at Matt, and to do that they had to lean out. In half a minute it was over.
Benny said, "There's a carport just beyond that corner. Guarded."
"Do they know we're here?"
"I don't think so. The Mist Demons have given us a mist." Benny smiled at his own pun.
"Good. We can use these guns. You'll have to carry Jay; my arm's out."
"Jay's the only one who can fly."
"I can," said Matt.
"Major Jansen. Sound 'Prisoners Loose.'"
The sound of the siren came instantly, even before Jesus Pietro could change his mind. For a moment he was sure, preternaturally sure, that he'd made a fool of him self. This could cost him much face...
But no. Keller must be freeing the prisoners. Keller wasn't here; therefore Keller was free. His first move would be to free the other Sons of Earth. If the vivarium guard had stopped him, he would then have called here; he hadn't called; hence Keller had succeeded.
But if Keller were harmlessly asleep in the vivarium? Nonsense. Why had the guards forgotten about him? They were behaving too much like Hobart had behaved last night. A miracle had been worked, a miracle of the kind Jesus Pietro was beginning to associate with Keller. There must be some purpose to it.
It must have been used to free Keller.
And the halls must be full of angry rebels.
That was very bad. Implementation had motives for using mercy-weapons. Rebels had none — neither mercy weapons nor mercy-motives. They'd kill whoever got in their way.
The steel doors would be in place now, vibrating in sleep-producing frequencies. By now the danger would be over — almost certainly. Unless the rebels had first gotten out of the halls.
But what damage had they done already?
"Come with me," Jesus Pietro told the two guards. He marched toward the door. "Keep your guns drawn," he added over his shoulder.
The guards snapped out of their stupor and ran to catch up. They had not the faintest idea what was going on, but Jesus Pietro was sure they'd recognize a colonist in time to down him. They'd be adequate protection.
One dozen colonists, two stunned. Seven captured guns.
Matt stayed hidden behind the corner, reluctantly obeying Benny's orders. With him were the two women: Laney and a deep-voiced middle-aged tigress named Lydia Hancock, and the two fallen: Jay Hood and Harry Kane.
Matt would have fought the carport guards, but he couldn't fight the logic. Because he was the only one who could fly a car, he had to stay behind while the others charged out onto the field with their sonics going.
The carport was a big, flat expanse of lawn, a variant of mutant grass, which could take an infinite amount of trampling. Lines of near-white crossed the green, outlining landing targets. The white too was grass. Cars rested near the centers of two of the targets. Men moved about the cars, servicing them and removing metal canisters from the underbellies. The mist hung four feet above the grass under diffuse sunlight, curling about the rebels as they ran.
They were halfway to the cars when someone on the Hospital wall swung a spotlight-sized sonic toward them. The rebels dropped immediately, like hay before a scythe. So did the mechanics around the cars. Unconscious men lay scattered across the carport field with the mist curling around them.
Matt pulled his head back as the big sonic-swung toward the corner. Even so, he felt the numbness, faint and far-off, matching the deadwood feeling in his right arm. "Shall we wait till they turn it off, then run for it?"
"I think they've got us," said Laney.
"Stop that!" Mrs. Hancock rapped savagely. Matt had first met her fifteen minutes ago and had never seen her without her present enraged expression. She was a fierce one, bulky and homely, a natural for any cause. "They haven't got us until they take us!"
"Something keeps people from seeing me sometimes," said Matt. "If you want to risk it, and if you all stay close to me, it may protect us all."
"Crack' inner strain." Hood's voice was slurred, barely comprehensible. Only his eyes moved to watch Matt. Harry, too, was awake, alert, and immobile.>
"It's true, Hood. I don't know why, but it's true. I think it must be a psi power."
"Wreebody who believes in psi things hee’s psygic."
"The sonic's off us," said Laney.
"My arm's dead. Laney, you and Mrs. —
"Call me Lydia."
"You and Lydia put Hood over my left shoulder, the pick up Harry. Stay right by me. We'll be walking, remember. Don't try to hide
. If we get shot, I'll apologize when I get the chance."
" 'Pologise now."
"Okay, Hood. I'm sorry I got us all killed."
" 'Sawrigh'."
"Let's go."
7: The Bleeding Heart
When they see this ... Jesus Pietro shuddered. He watched his own guards shrink back, unwilling to enter, unable to look away. They'll think a little less of their guns when they see this!
The vivarium guard had certainly had a gun. Probably he hadn't thought to draw it in time.
He'd get no second chance.
He was like something spilled from an organ-bank conveyor tank.
Hobart, dead near the back of the vivarium, was no prettier. Jesus Pietro felt a stab of guilt. He hadn't meant Hobart for such a fate.
Aside from the bodies, the vivarium was empty. Naturally.
Jesus Pietro looked once more around him ... and his eyes found the door and the dark scrawl on its bright steel surface.
It was a symbol of some kind; he was sure of that. But of what? The symbol of the Sons of Earth was a circle containing a streamlined outline of the American supercontinent. This was nothing like it, nor was it like anything he knew of. But it had unmistakably been drawn in human blood.
Two wide arcs, bilaterally symmetrical. Three small closed curves underneath, like circles with tails. Tadpoles? Some micro-organism?
Jesus Pietro rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Later he'd ask the prisoners. Best forget it for now.
"Assume they took the fastest route to the main entrance," he said aloud. If the guards were surprised to hear him thus lecture himself, they reacted as Major Jansen had long since learned to react. They said nothing "Come," said Jesus Pietro.
Left, right, down the stairs ... a dead policeman sprawled in the hall, his Implementation uniform as torn and ruined as himself. Jesus Pietro passed him without breaking his juggernaut stride. He reached steel emergency doors and used his ultrasonic whistle. As the doors went up, his guards tensed.
Two pitiful rows of maimed and dead, and another steel door at the other end. The dead were like an explosion in the organ banks. That was definitely the way to think of them. It would not do to consider that these having been human beings under Jesus Pietro's protection. Most had not even been police, but civilians: doctors and electricians.
What a valuable lesson the Hospital guards would learn from this! Jesus Pietro felt sick. It showed only in his unusual pallor; but that he could not control. He marched down the corridor with his expression held remotely aloof. The steel doors went up as he approached.
Colonists were piled against the steel doors at both ends, as if trying to escape the trap even while unconscious. One of the policemen spoke into a handphone, asking for stretchers.
Jesus Pietro stood over the piled rebels. "I never really hated them before," he said.
"K'llr, use gyrsco'."
"What?" Matt couldn't spare the attention. He was trying to fly with one hand, the wrong hand; his car bucked and weaved like a frightened stallion.
"Gy-rro-skko'!" Hood enunciated painfully.
"I see it. What do I do with it?"
"Turr' on. "
;Matt flipped the Gyroscope switch to On. Something hummed below him. The car trembled, then righted itself, going straight up.
"Shlatsh."
Matt used the knob. The car began to accelerate.
"Hel' me see ow', Laney." Hood was propped upright beside the left front window, with Harry Kane in the middle and Matt on the right. Laney reached from the back seat to hold Hood's head out the window.
"Turn ri'."
"How?"
"Shtee-ring nog."
"Knob? Like this thing?"
"Ye-ss i'iot."
"For the record," Matt said icily, "I flew a car all the way from Harry's basement to Alpha Plateau. It was the first time I'd ever been in a car. Naturally I don't know what all these gadgets do."
"Thass ri'. Now go strray' till I tell you."
Matt released the knob. The car flew on by itself. "We aren't going toward the coral houses," he said.
"No." Harry Kane spoke slowly but understandably. "The coral houses are the first place Implementation will look. I couldn't drag a hundred men where we're going."
"Where's that?"
"A large unoccupied mansion owned by Geoffrey Eustace Parlette and his family."
"And where will Geoffrey Eustace Parlette be all this time?"
"He and his family are swimming and gambling in a small public resort on Iota. I've got contacts on Alpha Plateau, Keller."
"Parlette. Any — "
"His grandson. Millard Parlette was staying with them,, but he's making a speech. He should be starting about now. The sending station on Nob Hill is far enough away, and his hosts here are gone, so he'll probably be staying with a relative."
"It still sounds dangerous."
"You should talk."
The left-handed compliment hit Matt like six dry martinis. He'd done it! He'd walked into the Hospital, freed prisoners, raised merry hell, left his mark, and walked out free and untouched! "We can hide the car till the furor dies down," he said. "Then, back to Gamma — "
"And leave my men in the vivarium? I can't do that. And there's Polly Tournquist."
Polly. The girl who'd — Yes. "I'm not a rebel, Harry. The grand rescue's over. Frankly, I only came here to get Laney if I could. I can drop this crusade any time."
"You think Castro will just let you go, Keller? He must know you were one of the prisoners. He'll hunt you down wherever you hide. Besides, I can't let you have the car. I'll need it for my grand rescue."
Matt grimaced. It was his car, wasn't it? He'd stolen it himself. But they could fight that out later. "Why did you mention Polly?"
"She saw the ramrobot come down. Castro probably found the films on her. He may be questioning her to find out who else knows."
"Knows what?"
"I don't know either. Polly's the only one. But it must be pretty damn important. Polly thought so, and apparently so did Castro. You didn't know there was a ramrobot coming, did you?"
"No."
"They kept it secret. They've never done that before."
Laney said, "Polly acted like she'd found something vastly important. She insisted on telling us all at once, night before last. But Castro didn't give her the chance. Now I'm wondering whether it wasn't the ramrobot that brought on the raid."
"She could be in the organ banks" said Matt.
"Not yet," said Harry. "Not if Castro found the films. She wouldn't have talked yet. He'll be using the coffin cure, and that takes time."
"Coffin cure?"
"It's not important."
Important or not, Matt didn't like the sound of it. "How are you planning to mount your rescue?"
"I don't know yet."
"Angle lef'," said Hood.
Houses and greenery rolled beneath them. Flying a car was infinitely easier with the gyroscopes going. Matt could see no cars around, police or otherwise. Had something grounded them?
"So," said Laney. "You came all the way to the Hospital to get me."
"In a stolen car," said Matt. "With a small detour into the void mist."
Laney's wide mouth formed half a smile and half a grin, half joy and half amusement. "Naturally I'm flattered."
"Naturally."
Mrs. Hancock spoke from the back seat. "I'd like to know why they didn't beam us down, back there at the carport."
"And you knew they wouldn't," said Laney. "How did you know, Matt?"
"Second the motion," said Harry Kane.
"I don't know," said Matt.
"But you knew it might work."
"Yah."
"Why?"
"Okay. Hood, you listening?"
"Ye-ss.
"It's a long story. I'll start with the morning after the party — "
"Start with the party," said Laney.
"Everything?"
"Everything." Lan
ey gave the word undue emphasis. "I think it might be important, Matt."
Matt shrugged an uncomfortable surrender. "It might at that. Okay. I met Hood in a bar for the first time in eight years . . . ."
Jesus Pietro and Major Jansen stood well out of the way as a stream of stretchers moved into the vivarium to deposit their charges in contour couches. In another part of the Hospital other stretchers carried dead and wounded into the operating rooms, some to be restored to life and health and usefulness, others to be pirated for undamaged parts.
"What is it?" Jesus Pietro asked.
"I don't know," said Major Jansen. He stepped back from the door to get a better look. "It seems almost familiar."
"That's no help."
"I assume a colonist drew it?"
"You might as well. Nobody else was left alive."
Major Jansen drew even farther back, stood bouncing lightly on his toes, hands on hips. Finally he said, "It's a valentine, sir."
"A valentine." Jesus Pietro glared intense irritation at his aide. He looked back at the door. "I'll be damned. It is a valentine."
"With teardrops."
"A valentine with teardrops. Whoever drew that wasn't sane. Valentine, valentine.... Why would the Sons of Earth leave us a valentine drawn in human blood?"
"Blood. A bleeding — Oh, I see. That's what it is, sir. It's a bleeding heart. They're telling us they're against the practice of executing felons for the organ banks."
"A reasonable attitude for them to take." Jesus Pietro looked once more into the vivarium. The bodies of Hobart and the vivarium guard had been removed, but the stains of carnage remained. He said, "They don't act like the usual sort of bleeding heart."
Thirty thousand pairs of eyes waited behind the teedee lenses.
Four teedee cameras circled him. They were blank now, and untended, as cameramen moved casually about the room, doing things and saying things Millard Parlette made no effort to understand. In fifteen minutes those blank teedee lenses would be peepholes for sixty thousand eyes.