Greg didn't know. How could they think he was psycho?
Drakeson licked his lips. "I don't want to go under the brain-probers,
Greg. Nobody does. I don't want to be re-conditioned. I want to stay
like I am. I'm not psycho. And they'll brain-probe us sure if we don't
turn around and go back. And even if we do--"
The audio's cold impersonal voice said:
"This is the last order. The neuro-guns are ready to fire."
Greg's mind ran in mad circles. He tried to think. He felt Drakeson
move, and then he saw Drakeson's hand with that infernal injection
solution jiggling around in a big hypodermic syringe.
"I've just given myself another shot, Greg. You'd better have another
right now. If we land down there we'll need all the adrenolex we can
get."
Greg hardly felt the injection as he tried to think, clarify his
situation. I'm not psycho, he thought desperately. I'm doing something
a little bit different, but it isn't psychosis.
But good integrated citizens would not fight against the orders from
Control. All right. He would submit to brain-probing. But he'd get
Pat out of that trap she was in first. He might be able to talk her
out of it if he could get to her personally, be with her a while. The
Controllers certainly couldn't. They'd drive her away into space as
soon as she saw them.
The solution. A legality. He knew the Codes didn't he?
He yelled back at the pursuing sky-cars via the audio:
"Don't fire those neuro-guns. This is Greg Dalson speaking. There's
a law against any aggressive destructive action on the part of any
Citizen."
The audio replied. "The neuro-guns aren't destructive. Temporary
paralysis."
Greg said. "This cruiser is at a high altitude and traveling fast. If
you paralyze us now, the cruiser will crash. By using the neuro-guns on
us, you will be destructive, homicidal."
A dead silence greeted this statement. Greg went on. "I'm a Stage Five
citizen. Legally, there's no restriction against going outside the
Cowl. I'll report your action and attitudes to the Council if you fire
those neuro-guns."
Drakeson choked something unintelligible. His face was deathly pale.
"Clever," he whispered. "But that clinches it. When we do go back, it's
psychometry for us, Greg."
Finally the audio answered. The voice was not so cold. It had a tinge
of emotionalism. It said. "A technicality, but it does prevent us from
firing the neuro-guns. However, we feel it our duty to remain with you
until you do return to the Cowl. Because of the recent epidemic of
psychosis, we find this authorized by the Control Council...."
Greg savagely flipped off the audio. Drakeson said. "If they stay on
our trail, we'll lead them right to Pat. They'll scare her away before
you get a chance to talk with her, and try to prevent her from going on
the ship."
"I know," Greg said. "I know. We've got to figure something--"
He looked down at the fantastic semi-organic flora below. "How far to
go yet, Drake?"
"About three minutes."
"All right. We'll set the cruiser down here, and walk to where Pat is."