Brion hurled himself backward and sprawled flat in the dust and filth
of the road. No poison dart sought him out, the empty silence still
reigned. Telt's murderers had come and gone. Moving quickly, using the
bulk of the car as a shield, he opened the door and slipped inside.
They had done a thorough job of destruction. All of the controls had
been battered into uselessness, the floor was a junk heap of crushed
equipment, intertwined with loops of recording tape bulging like
mechanical intestines. A gutted machine, destroyed like its driver.
It was easy enough to reconstruct what had happened. The car had been
seen when they entered the city--probably by some of the magter who had
destroyed the Foundation building. They had not seen where it had gone,
or Brion would surely be dead by now. But they must have spotted it when
Telt tried to leave the city. And stopped it in the most effective way
possible, a dart through the open window into the unsuspecting driver's
neck.
Telt dead. The brutal impact of the man's death had driven all thought
of its consequences from Brion's mind. Now he began to realize. Telt had
never sent word of his discovery of the radioactive trace to the Nyjord
army. He had been afraid to use the radio, and had wanted to tell Hys in
person, and to show him the tape. Only now the tape was torn and mixed
with all the others, the brain that could have analyzed it dead.
Brion looked at the dangling entrails of the radio and spun for the
door. Running swiftly and erratically he fled from the sandcar. His own
survival and the possible survival of Dis depended on his not being seen
near it. He must contact Hys and pass on the information. Until he did
that he was the only offworlder on Dis who knew which magter tower might
contain the world-destroying bombs.
Once out of sight of the sandcar he went slower, wiping the sweat from
his streaming face. He hadn't been seen leaving the car, and he wasn't
being followed. The streets here weren't familiar, but he checked his
direction by the sun and walked at a steady fast pace towards the
destroyed building. More of the native Disans were in the streets now.
They all noticed him, some even stopped and scowled fiercely. With his
empathic awareness he felt their anger and hatred. A knot of men
radiated death and he put his hand on his gun as he passed them. Two of
them had their blowguns ready, but didn't use them. By the time he had
turned the next corner he was soaked with nervous perspiration.
Ahead was the rubble of the destroyed building. Grounded next to it was
the tapered form of a spacer's pinnace. Two men had come from the open
lock and were standing at the edge of the burnt area.
* * * * *
Brion's boots grated loudly on the broken wreckage. The men turned
quickly towards him, guns raised. Both of them carried ion-rifles. They
relaxed when they saw his offworld clothes.
"Savages," one of them growled. He was a heavyplanet man, a squashed
down column of muscle and gristle, whose head barely reached Brion's
chest. A pushed-back cap had the crossed-sliderule symbol of ship's
computer man.
"Can't blame them, I guess," the second man said. He wore purser's
insignia. His features were different, but with the same compacted body
they were as physically alike as twins. Probably from the same home
planet. "They gonna get their whole world blown from under them at
midnight. Looks like the poor slob in the streets finally realized what
is happening. Hope we're in jump-space by then. I saw Estrada's World
get it and I don't want to see that again, not twice in one lifetime!"
The computer man was looking closely at Brion, head tilted sideways to
see his face. "You need transportation offworld?" he asked. "We're the
last ship at the port, and we're going to boil out of here as soon as
the rest of our cargo is aboard. Give you a lift if you need it."
Only by a tremendous effort at control did Brion conceal the destroying
sorrow that overwhelmed him when he looked at that shattered wasteland,
the graveyard of so many. "No," he said. "That won't be necessary. I'm
in touch with the blockading fleet and they'll pick me up before
midnight."
"You from Nyjord?" the purser growled.
"No," Brion said, still only half aware of the men. "But there is
trouble with my own ship." He realized that they were looking intently
at him, that he owed them some kind of explanation. "I thought I could
find a way to stop the war. Now ... I'm not so sure." He hadn't intended
to be so frank with the spacemen, but the words had been topmost in his
thoughts and had simply slipped out.
The computer man started to say something, but his shipmate speared him
in the side with his elbow. "We blast soon--and I don't like the way
these Disans are looking at us. Captain said to find out what caused the
fire, then get back. So let's go."
"Don't miss your ship," the computer man said to Brion and started for
the pinnace. Then he hesitated and turned. "Sure there's nothing we can
do for you."
Sorrow would accomplish nothing. Brion fought to sweep the dregs of
emotion from his mind and to think clearly. "You can help me," he said.
"I could use a scalpel or any other surgical instruments you might
have." Lea would need those. Then he remembered Telt's undelivered
message. "Do you have a portable radio transceiver--I can pay you for
it."
The computer man vanished inside the rocket and reappeared a minute
later with a small package. "There's a scalpel and a magnetized tweezers
in here, all I could find in the medkit. Hope they'll do." He reached
inside and swung out the metal case of a self-contained transceiver.
"Take this, it's got plenty of range, even on the longer frequencies."
He raised his hand at Brion's offer to pay. "My donation," he said. "If
you can save this planet, I'll give you the whole pinnace as well. We'll
tell the captain we lost the radio in some trouble with the natives.
Isn't that right, Moneybags?" He prodded the purser in the chest with a
finger that would have punched a hole in a weaker man.
"I read you loud and clear," the purser said. "I'll make out an invoice
so stating, back in the ship." They were both in the pinnace then, and
Brion had to move fast to get clear of the take-off blast.
* * * * *
Sense of obligation, the spacemen had felt it too. The realization of
this raised Brion's spirits a bit as he searched through the rubble for
anything useful. He recognized part of a wall still standing as a corner
of the laboratory. Poking through the ruins he unearthed broken
instruments and a single, battered case that had barely missed
destruction. Inside was the binocular microscope, the right tube bent,
its lenses cracked and obscured. The left eyepiece still seemed to be
functioning. Brion carefully put it back in the case. He looked at his
watch.
It was almost noon. These few pieces of equipment would have to do for
the dissection. Watched suspiciously by the onlooking Disans, he started
back to the warehouse. It was a long, circuitous walk, since he didn't
dare give any clues to his destination. Only when he was positive he had
not been observed or followed did he slip through the building's
entrance, locking it behind him.
Lea's frightened eyes met his when he went into the office. "A friendly
smile here among the cannibals," she called. Her strained expression
gave the lie to the cheeriness of her words. "What has happened? Since I
woke up, the great stone face over there," she pointed to Ulv, "has been
telling me exactly nothing."
"What's the last thing you can remember?" Brion asked carefully. He
didn't want to tell her too much, less this bring on the shock again.
Ulv had shown great presence of mind in not talking to her.
"If you must know," Lea said, "I remember quite a lot, Brion Brandd. I
shan't go into details, since this sort of thing is best kept from the
natives. For the record then, I can recall going to sleep after you
left. And nothing since then. It's weird. I went to sleep in that lumpy
hospital bed and woke up on this couch. Feeling simply terrible. With
_him_ just simply sitting there and scowling at me. Won't you please
tell me what is going on?"
A partial truth was best, saving all of the details that he could for
later. "The magter attacked the Foundation building," he said. "They are
getting angry at all offworlders now. You were still knocked out by a
sleeping drug, so Ulv helped bring you here. It's afternoon now--"
"Of the last day?" She sounded horrified. "While I'm playing sleeping
beauty the world is coming to an end. Was anyone hurt in the attack? Or
killed?"
"There were a number of casualties--and plenty of trouble," Brion said.
He had to get her off the subject. Walking over to the corpse he threw
back the cover from its face. "But this is more important right now.
It's one of the magter. I have a scalpel and some other things
here--will you perform an autopsy?"
Lea huddled back on the couch, her arms around herself, looking chilled
in spite of the heat of the day. "What happened to the people at the
building?" she asked in a thin voice. The injection had removed her
memories of the tragedy, but echoes of the strain and shock still
reverberated in her mind and body. "I feel so ... exhausted. Please tell
me what happened. I have the feeling you're hiding something."
Brion sat next to her and took her hands in his, not surprised to find
them cold. Looking into her eyes he tried to give her some of his
strength. "It wasn't very nice," he said. "You were shaken up by it, I
imagine that's why you feel the way you do now. But--Lea, you'll have to
take my word for this. Don't ask any more questions. There's nothing we
can do now about it. But we can still find out about the magter. Will
you examine the corpse?"
She tried to ask something, then changed her mind. When she dropped her
eyes Brion felt the thin shiver that went through her body. "There's
something terribly wrong," she said. "I know that. I guess I'll have to
take your word that it's best not to ask questions. Help me up, will
you, darling? My legs are absolutely liquid."
Leaning on him, with his arm around her supporting most of her weight,
she went slowly across to the corpse. She looked down and shuddered.
"Not what you would call a natural death," she said. Ulv watched
intently as she took the scalpel out of its holder. "You don't have to
look at this," she told him in halting Disan. "Not if you don't want
to."
"I want to," he told her, not taking his eyes from the body. "I have
never seen a magter dead before, or without covering, like ordinary
people." He continued to stare fixedly.
"Find me some drinking water, will you Brion," Lea said. "And spread the
tarp under the body. These things are quite messy."
* * * * *
After drinking the water she seemed stronger, and could stand without
holding onto the table with both hands. Placing the tip of the scalpel
just below the magter's breast bone, she made the long continuous
post-mortem incision down to the pubic symphysis. The great, body-length
wound gaped open like a red mouth. Across the table Ulv shuddered but
didn't avert his eyes.
One by one she dissected the internal organs and removed them. Once she
looked up at Brion, then quickly returned to work. The silence stretched
on and on until Brion had to break it.
"Tell me, can't you. Have you found out anything?"
His words snapped the thin strand of her strength, and she staggered
back to the couch and collapsed on to it. Her blood-stained hands hung
over the side, making a strangely terrible contrast to the whiteness of
her skin.
"I'm sorry, Brion," she said. "But there's nothing, nothing at all.
There are minor differences, organic changes I've never seen before--his
liver is tremendous for one thing. But changes like this are certainly
consistent within the pattern of Homo sapiens as adopted to a different
planet. He's a man. Changed, adopted, modified--but still just as human
as you or I."
"How can you be sure?" Brion broke in. "You haven't examined him
completely, have you?" She shook her head now. "Then go on. The other
organs. His brain. A microscopic examination. Here!" he said, pushing
the microscope case towards her with both hands.
She dropped her head onto her forearms and sobbed. "Leave me alone,
can't you! I'm tired and sick and fed up with this awful planet. Let
them die. I don't care! Your theory is false, useless. Admit that! And
let me wash the filth from my hands--" Sobbing drowned out her words.
Brion stood over her and drew in a shuddering breath. Was he wrong? He
didn't dare think about that. He had to go on. Looking down at the
thinness of her bent back, with the tiny projections of her spine
pushing through the thin cloth, he felt an immense pity--a pity he
couldn't surrender to. This thin, helpless, frightened woman was his
only resource. She had to work. He had to _make_ her work.
Ihjel had done it. Used projective empathy to impress his emotions upon
Brion. Now Brion must do it with Lea. There had been some sessions in
the art, but not nearly enough to make him proficient. Nevertheless he
had to try.
Strength was what Lea needed. Aloud he said simply "You can do it. You
have the will and the strength to finish." And silently his mind cried
out the order to obey, to share his power now that hers was drained and
finished.
Only when she lifted her face and he saw the dried tears did he realize
that he had succeeded. "You will go on?" he asked simply.
Lea merely nodded and rose to her feet. She shuffled like a
sleep-walker, jerked along by invisible strings. Her strength wasn't her
own and it reminded him unhappily of that last event of the Twenties
when he had experienced the same kind of draining activity. Wiping her
hands roughly on her clothes she opened the microscope case.
"The slides are all broken," she said.
"This will do," Brion told her, crashing his heel through the glass
partition. Shards tinkled and crashed to the floor. He took some of the
bigger pieces and broke them to rough squares that would fit under the
clips on the stage. Lea accepted them without a word. Putting a drop of
the magter's blood on the slide she bent over the eyepiece.
* * * * *
Her hands shook when she tried to adjust the focusing. Using low power
she examined the specimen, squinting through the angled tube. Once she
turned the substage mirror a bit to catch direct the light streaming in
the window. Brion stood behind her, fists clenched, forcefully
controlling his anxiety. "What do you see?" he finally blurted out.
"Phagocytes, platelets ... leucocytes ... everything seems normal." Her
voice was dull, exhausted, her eyes blinking with fatigue as she stared
into the tube.
Anger at defeat burned through Brion. Even faced with failure he refused
to accept it. He reached over her shoulder and savagely twisted the
turret of microscope until the longest lens was in position. "If you
can't see anything--try the high power! It's there--I know it's there!
I'll get you a tissue specimen." He turned back to the disemboweled
cadaver.
His back was turned and he did not see the sudden stiffening of her
shoulders, or the sudden eagerness that seized her fingers as they
adjusted the focus. But he did feel the wave of emotion that welled from
her, impinging directly on his empathic sense. "What is it?" he called
to her, as if she had spoken aloud.
"Something ... something here," she said, "in this leucocyte. It's not a
normal structure, but it's familiar. I've seen something like it before,
but I just can't remember." She turned away from the scope and
unthinkingly pressed her gory knuckles to her forehead. "I know I've
seen it before."
Brion squinted into the deserted microscope and made out a dim shape in
the center of the field. It stood out sharply when he focused--the
white, jellyfish shape of a single-celled leucocyte. To his untrained
eye there was nothing unusual about it. He couldn't know what was
strange--when he had no idea of what was normal.
[Illustration]
"Do you see those spherical green shapes grouped together?" Lea asked.
Before Brion could answer she gasped "I remember now!" Her fatigue was
forgotten in her excitement. "_Icerya purchasi_ that was the name,
something like that. It's a coccid, a little scale insect. It had those
same shapes collected together within its individual cells."
"What do they mean? What is the connection with Dis?"
"I don't know," she said, "it's just that they look so similar. And I
never saw anything like this in a human cell before. In the coccids, the
green particles grow into a kind of yeast that lives within the insect.
Not a parasite, but a real symbiote--"
Her eyes opened wide as she caught the significance of her own words. A
symbiote--and Dis was the world where symbiosis and parasitism had
become more advanced and complex than on any other planet. Lea's
thoughts spun around this fact and chewed at the fringes of the logic.
Brion could sense her concentration and absorption. He did nothing to
break the mood. Her hands were clenched into fists, her eyes staring
unseeingly at the wall as her mind raced.
* * * * *
Brion and Ulv sat quietly, watching her, waiting for her conclusions.
The pieces were falling into shape at last.
Lea opened her clenched fists and smoothed them on her sodden skirt. She
blinked and turned until she saw Brion. "Is there a tool box here?" she
asked.
Her words were so unexpected that it took Brion a moment to answer.
Before he could say anything she spoke again.
"No hand tools, it would take too long. Could you find anything like a
power saw--that would be ideal?" She turned back to the microscope, so
he didn't have any opportunity to question her. Ulv was still looking at
the body of the magter and had understood nothing of what they had said.
Brion went out into the loading bay.
There was nothing he could use on the ground floor, so he took the
stairs to the floor above. A corridor here passed by a number of rooms.
All of the doors were locked, including one with the hopeful sign TOOL
ROOM on it. He battered at the metal door with his shoulder without
budging it. As he stopped to look for a way in he glanced at his watch.
Two o'clock! In ten hours the bombs would fall on Dis.
The need for haste tore at him. Yet there could be no noise--someone in
the street might hear it. He quickly stripped off his shirt and wrapped
it in a loose roll around the barrel of his gun, extending it in a loose
tube in front of the barrel. Holding the rolled cloth in his left hand,
he jammed the gun up tight against the door, the muzzle against the
lock. The single shot was only a dull thud, inaudible outside of the
building. Pieces of broken mechanism jarred and rattled inside the lock
and the door swung open.
Lea was standing by the body when he came back, holding up the small
power saw with a rotary blade. "Will this do?" he asked. "Runs off its
own battery, almost fully charged, too."
"Perfect," she answered. "You're both going to have to help me." She
switched into the Disan language. "Ulv, would you find some place where
you can watch the street without being seen. Signal me when it is empty.
I'm afraid this saw is going to make a lot of noise."
Ulv nodded and went out into the bay, climbing a heap of empty crates so
he could peer through the small windows set high in the wall. He looked
carefully in both directions, then waved to her to go ahead.
"Stand to one side and hold the cadaver's chin, Brion," she said. "Hold
it firmly so the head doesn't shake around when I cut. This is going to
be a little gruesome. I'm sorry. But it'll be the fastest way to cut
the bone." The saw bit into the skull.
Once Ulv waved them into silence, and shrank back himself into the
shadows next to the window. They waited impatiently until he gave them a
sign to continue again. Brion held steady while the saw cut a circle
completely around the skull.
"Finished," Lea said and the saw dropped from her limp fingers to the
floor. She massaged life back into her hands before she finished the
job. Carefully and delicately she removed the cap of bone from the
magter's head, exposing his brain to the shaft of light from the window.
"You were right all the time, Brion," she said. "There is your alien."