It would be an hour before the effects of the anaesthesia wore off
the Caligan girl. Jupiter prowled the laboratories, investigating
the extent of the research performed by the Anolyn. It was crude,
elementary.
Only with the breeding of specialized forms had they had any starting
successes and that had been a trial and error, hit and miss practice
that had taken literally thousands of years.
He was not impressed. Like all parasitic cultures, the Anolyn
civilization was rotten at the core, degenerate. One ship of the
Galactic Security Patrol could wipe them out of existence.
He found clothes in a locker, a kilt for himself and a length of some
black fabric which Tabak should be able to use in lieu of the boj.
When he returned to the dissecting table he saw that the color was
returning to the girl's cheeks. He unfastened her, sat down on a stool
and waited.
After a moment, Tabak's lids flickered. Her eyes opened; she gazed at
him in sudden terror.
"Feel the Anolyn," he said.
She sat up. Her hand went hesitantly to the back of her slender neck.
He saw the amazement spread over her face.
"It's gone! You--How? How did you do it?"
She slipped suddenly from the blood-stained dissecting table, seized
his hand, held it to her forehead. She was half laughing, half crying.
"You are the Wanderer! Forgive me for ever doubting. I'll atone for
my sacrilege." She was hysterical with relief and awe and hope. "I'll
never question your will again, never fail in obedience--"
"Rubbish!"
Jupiter regarded her startled expression with satisfaction.
"You're temporarily overcome by surprise," he went on. "You haven't had
a chance to think. I know you inside out--too well to believe I could
fool you for very long. And," he added ruefully; "you know me the same
way. There's the rub. But I need you--and you need me."
The girl was silent.
"Yes," she agreed finally; "that's true. You're a man. A strange man.
But you're not the Wanderer. You plan to use us to help you escape back
to your ship, then desert us. But I don't think you will. Desert us, I
mean."
It was Jupiter's turn to look disconcerted.
"Why not?"
"Because--" she began and started to smile. "You won't like this,
but you're too soft. Deep down on the inside you're too fine, too
idealistic to pull a trick like that. Your conscience wouldn't let you.
"You've been hurt. Many times. When I looked inside your mind, I could
see the scars. I could feel how you'd armored yourself with a harsh
shell to hide your true feelings. You have a saying among your own
people: 'Scratch a cynic and you'll find an idealist!'"
"Well, I'll be damned," said Jupiter. Then almost hesitantly, "But
you'll help. I need someone I can trust." He wiped the sweat off his
forehead. "Someone I can trust with my life to take the Anolyn from my
own neck."
"You'll trust me," she said; "because you must. You're really not
self-sufficient. No one is."
Jupiter regarded her silently, coldly. Then he picked up the
hypodermic, sterilized it, filled the barrel with exsrocain.
"This is a damned ticklish trick. The needle must be inserted between
the vertebrae so that it doesn't injure the spinal cord and yet--"
"Lie down," she interrupted. "I know as well as you how it must be
done."
"But--"
"Don't be alarmed. I'm in possession of all your experience, just as
you are of mine!"
Jupiter swallowed, laid face-down on the stained table. "For Heaven's
sake, be careful!"
Tabak ran her fingertips along his backbone, locating the spot to
insert the needle. It sent cold chills prickling through his skin.
"And you're sure you know exactly what to do?"
She laughed. "Of course, I know. Don't tell me you've forgotten
the girl on Betelgeuse XI--the one you used to put into a state of
suspended animation whenever you had to ship out so that she couldn't
be unfaithful between voyages."
Jupiter made a choking sound. Before he could think of anything to say,
he felt the needle prick his flesh. He winced, heard Tabak begin to
count:
"One ... two...."
* * * * *
Slowly Jupiter became conscious of a smart in the nape of his neck like
a bee sting. He opened his eyes, sat up, touched the base of his skull.
The hard little lump was gone.
Relief left him weak. He caught Tabak's eye, felt his face grow warm.
"About that girl on Betelgeuse XI--" he began uncomfortably.
"You don't need to explain. Under the circumstances you were entirely
justified."
He swore under his breath, slid off the table, began to throw his
equipment into the pack. "Have you any ideas about how we can get out
of here?"
"Don't be angry, Jupiter. I was only teasing. I--"
Tabak's eyes suddenly widened.
She was staring beyond him, Jupiter realized. He twisted around,
reaching instinctively for his carbine.
Not thirty feet behind them an adult Anolyn sprawled on the floor,
tentacles exploring the air. Its soft brown eyes were regarding them
intently. The gray doughy face was expressionless.
"Quick! Kill it!" Tabak screamed. "Kill it before it sends out a call
for help!"
The creature was obviously puzzled, unable to understand why the two
humans failed to respond to its control.
Jupiter shot it squarely between the eyes.
The hollow, pointed bullet, blew away the entire back of its head. It
slumped into a quivering heap. A pool of thin, pinkish blood made an
ever-widening stain on the floor.
"The cat's out of the bag now," he said in a tight voice.
Tabak nodded.
"There's a guard at the door. You'll have to kill him, Jupiter, before
we can get out of here. I only hope you're as good as you think you
are."
Jupiter took a short length of strong plastic cord from his pack, made
a loop in it. His face looked older, grimmer. His vivid green eyes were
dull.
"Where is he stationed?" he said.
* * * * *
The dissection laboratory occupied a long, hall-like room in one wing
of the temple. The pool of water was at one end, the main entry at the
other.
Tabak wound the black cloth about herself sarong-fashion, nodded
towards the arched doorway.
"There's a--a lobby of sorts through there. The guard stays just
outside on the street. He'll be a Nehogan, Jupiter. They're terrible
men--"
Jupiter brushed past her. He reached the lobby, crossed it swiftly.
"Open the door," he said to Tabak who had followed him.
She looked suddenly frightened.
"I can't, Jupiter. Not without the Anolyn on the back of my neck to
transmit my thought! We'll have to go back the way we came."
His eyes sought the door. The blank, solid panel mocked him. He ran
his fingers over its surface, but could find no slightest protuberance
anywhere.
"Look out!" Tabak suddenly whispered.
Jupiter sprang back like a startled cat.
The door was opening.
The thick, solid panel swung inexorably inward. He flattened himself
against the wall, the carbine clubbed in his hands. His palms were
sweaty.
Then an Anolyn appeared in the entrance, scuttled inside on its eight
tentacles. Jupiter swung the carbine.
There was a dull crunch as the stock connected with the creature's
head. Jupiter didn't give it a second glance, but sprang into the
doorway.
A tall, coppery Nehogan warrior lounged just outside. With a flick of
his wrist, he dropped the loop of plastic over the guard's head, yanked
him backward through the door.
Any cry the Nehogan might have uttered was cut off at its source. He
thrashed wildly, but Jupiter only tightened the noose, the muscles in
his arms and shoulders bunching savagely.
Suddenly he got a look at the man's distorted face.
"Reiloc!" he cried and immediately slackened the cord.
Reiloc sprawled on the floor, gasping painfully.
"Are you crazy?" Tabak cried. "Kill him, Jupiter! Kill him before he
can give the alarm." She suddenly snatched the carbine, aimed a blow at
the prone warrior's head. Jupiter tore it out of her hands.
Reiloc pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. He looked from the dead
Anolyn to Jupiter, his hand massaging his bruised throat.
"What are you?" he whispered painfully. "What manner of man are you who
can kill the Anolyn in their own temple?"
Jupiter's hesitation didn't show on his face. In a cold voice of
authority, he said:
"The Wanderer-from-Beyond!"
Reiloc's eyes widened. Doubt and hope struggled in his grim
countenance. Then the savage Nehogan dropped to one knee, held his
sword out to Jupiter, hilt first.
* * * * *
Jupiter sat beside the embrasure, staring out at the street below.
Behind him Reiloc was pacing back and forth in the bare little cell
like a caged wolf. The copper-skinned Nehogan was nervous, worried.
Action was his only emotional release.