The Mind Pool Page 7

  “They don’t prick. Not any more.” Bester was peering around, in every direction. “That’s how it was done when method started, ages back. Way Margrave tells it, in early days, they were all biologists, playing around with female animals and producing offspring. No poppas.”

  “Parthenogenesis, you mean. Lots of organisms propagate that way.”

  “Yeah. Partho-that. Knew it was fancy long word. Biologists heated eggs, and put eggs in acid, and gave ‘em electric shocks or poked ‘em with needles. Sometimes egg developed, more often not. Then they got fancier and started new game. If you use hollow needle, real fine one, you can inject stuff into middle of cell. That way you get new DNA into nucleus.”

  “King, when they taught you standard Solar, didn’t they ever mention articles? Let’s talk Earth-lingo. You’re making my head ache.”

  Bester grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. “Fine by me, squire. Not many foreigners can talk Earth talk, so I tend not to use it with ‘em. Anyway, after they learned the DNA injection and gene splicing techniques, the Needlers never looked back. They learned how to put duck DNA in an eagle, or spider DNA in a mosquito, or anything in anything. It’s a tricky technology, of course—if you and me tried it, the egg would die. But some of them are hot-shot good at it, like the old Margrave there. If you want it, he can make it.” Bester stared at Luther Brachis with vast curiosity. “Did he say he can make it—what you want?”

  Brachis did not answer. He could see fairly well, and he started forward. King Bester grabbed him by the arm. “One minute longer, squire. Never rush it, at night on the surface.”

  “Wild animals?”

  “You might say that. Scavvies. They come up out of the warrens at night, see what they can find. If you ever meet Bozzie’s Scavengers when you’re up here, you run for it and don’t stop. They’re tough and they’re mean. They’ll cut you to pieces for your clothes—or just for the fun of it.”

  Luther Brachis was listening to Bester very closely, and taking in everything that he saw or heard. He was going to be visiting this place again, several times, and he had better learn how to operate here.

  The steady breeze on his face was already less disconcerting, but the smell of decay—it must be dead plants or animals, crumbling away to unplanned and uncontrolled dissolution—made his nose wrinkle with disgust. There was a strange, whispering sound on all sides. It was the sedge, leaf rustling over leaf. He stared upwards. The cloud layer above was not unbroken, and in the open patches of sky he could now see stars, strangely soft-edged and subdued. They seemed to move and flicker as he watched.

  Brachis saw the entry point to the lower levels, thirty steps ahead. “The work that the Margrave will be doing for me is none of your business.” The hook had been set back in the lab. Now it was time to strike. If King Bester could be caught anyhow, it was by the nose—his nose for curiosity.

  “Of course, King, things would be quite different if I could be sure you were on my side. I could tell you a lot of things, then, and you could really be involved in them. There could be lots of jobs for you.”

  “I can’t go to space, squire. It’s not safe up there.”

  “Forget space. I’m talking down here, on Earth.”

  Bester snapped his fingers. They had begun the descent now, in a slow, steady elevator that seemed to go down forever. “Try me, squire, just try me.”

  “I’d like to. But it seems to me that you’re already working for Mondrian. Anyone who works for him can’t work for me.”

  “I don’t work for him—swear I don’t.”

  “You were waiting for him, when we came out of the Link exit.”

  “Not true, squire. I wasn’t waiting for him, he came to me. I was waiting for anyone who came in from outside, because that’s where I get business. People want things—just like you wanted things.”

  “Maybe. But if you work for me, well have to start slowly, and carefully. You’ll have to prove you don’t work for Esro Mondrian. He’s smart, and he’s sneaky.”

  “He frightens me, squire, and that’s no lie. I don’t even like to look at his eyes.”

  “Then you stay that way. It’s safest. So you think you’re ready to do a job for me?”

  “You name it.” Bester was almost too eager. “You name it, and I’ll do it.”

  “All right. For a beginning, you can keep an eye on the product that the Margrave will be developing for me.”

  “I will. But I don’t know anything about it.”

  “You will—as soon as I have the full spec myself. I’ll send that to you, and I’ll want you to deliver it to the Margrave. Naturally, you don’t tell anybody one word about it. And I’ll want you to keep a close eye on it as it’s being developed.”

  “He thinks he can make it for you when you don’t even know what it is yet?”

  “I told him the basic idea. The Margrave will try, I’m sure of that. His pride won’t let him refuse. If you watch him closely, you’ll know how well he succeeds even before I do.”

  They were back at the level where Tatty Snipes lived. She had arranged sleeping accommodations for both of them, in large, luxurious apartments. King Bester had rolled his eyes when he saw them, and given thanks aloud that he wasn’t expected to pay for them.

  “One more thing,” added Brachis, as they came to his apartment door. “About the Needlers. Those products are wonderful. You could export them all over the Stellar Group. But you don’t.”

  Bester fidgeted in his patchwork clothes. “Yeah. Well, they would, you see—if they was allowed to. But there’s a problem.”

  “If it’s a question of export licenses—”

  “Not that. See, the Needler labs make all kinds of Artefacts, but all the best ones have something in common: The DNA in em is mostly human. That’s not permitted, but they all do it or they can’t compete. Remember Sorudan? Didn’t look human, I know, but there’s more human DNA in that Artefact than there is in the smart chimps in the transportation system.”

  Luther Brachis shook his head. He went into his apartment without speaking. And yet King Bester had the odd feeling that he could not have given the big security commander more welcome news.

  * * *

  An hour before sunlight touched the surface far above him, Esro Mondrian was waiting in total darkness. He had slept for three hours after midnight, and awakened shivering and perspiring.

  Tatiana lay at his side, one arm across his body. He eased away from her and moved slowly and carefully through into the next room. Once the door was closed he turned on a low-powered light and switched the communicator to whisper mode.

  “Captain Flammarion?”

  As Mondrian had expected, Kubo was awake. The wizened little man drank too much, ate almost nothing, and seldom slept. Both of them were awake twenty hours out of twenty-four.

  “I’m here, Commander. I’d been wondering how to get in touch with you. Nobody seemed to know, and I really needed to talk.” But even now Flammarion was cautious. He waited for receipt of Mondrian’s ID before he continued. “We made it up through the Link without any trouble, and we’re all on Ceres. But I think there’s a real problem, and I want you to know about it before anyone else does.”

  “Appreciated. Carry on, Captain.”

  “The woman is fine. Her name is Leah Buckingham Rainbow. Her title seems free and clear, she’s twenty-two years old, and considering where she came from she’s in great physical condition. Prime training material. Mass one twenty seven, training quotient—”

  “Skip all that, Captain. Get to the problem.”

  “Yes, sir. It’s the man. His name is Chancellor Vercingetorix Dal ton. He’s twenty years old, a wonderful physical specimen, and his title is clear, too.” Flammarion cleared his throat. “Only trouble is—he’s a moron.”

  “What!” Mondrian did not raise his voice, because he did not want to waken Tatty, but its intensity seared along the communications link.

  “A moron, sir. Literally. Remember when we fir
st saw them, the woman seemed to lead the action?”

  “I noticed that.”

  “Well, when we caught them she still did all the talking. But he seemed to be listening, and kept nodding as though he was following everything. He didn’t say anything, except his name when we asked for it. And now I know why. We gave him a standard test when we got up here, and his name’s about the only thing he can say, with any understanding. He takes all his action cues from her. Sir, did you know any of this already?”

  “No. But I should have guessed it when Bozzie was so happy to make the deal.” Mondrian sat hunched by the communicator. “Damn the man. He knew it, the fat fraud.”

  “I’m sorry, sir.”

  “Not your fault, Captain. Mine. Just how bad is Dalton? Did you get a complete profile yet?”

  “They’ll do more tests, but we have enough. It’s pretty hopeless. Mental age of maybe a two-year-old. See, him and the girl were raised together, and apparently she has always looked after him. That hasn’t helped at all—may have made him worse.”

  “Apart from you, who knows about any of this?”

  “Well, the psych tests on both the man and the woman are part of the general records. But I don’t see anybody bothering to look at them.”

  “Don’t you believe it. Commander Brachis will look at them if they’re anything to do with Pursuit Team candidates. We have a wager on it.”

  “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

  “He’ll think he’s won. Maybe he has. Captain, do you have the profiles with you?”

  “Right here.”

  “Take a look. Do you think we have a situation where we might be able to use a Tolkov Stimulator?” There was a long silence at the other end. “Captain Flammarion?”

  “I’m here, sir. I’m looking, but I just don’t know. His profile’s pretty good, so there might be a decent chance. But Commander—”

  “Captain?”

  “The Tolkov Stimulator. It’s not—I mean it is—isn’t it? It’s supposed to be for top security. Top security use only. It’s not—I mean it is—”

  “Don’t gibber, Captain. When I want a monkey on my staff, I can find one down here on Earth. I know the restrictions on Stimulator use better than you do. But this use is a top security issue—the security of the whole Stellar Group. Can you think of a more urgent use?”

  “But it’s not just that. I’ve seen the Stimulator used—it only works one time out of ten.”

  “So it’s a long shot.”

  “And if it doesn’t work, it kills the subject.”

  “Which would mean the wager with Commander Brachis was off. Captain, don’t waste any more time talking. Find a Stimulator. I’ll make sure we have all the approvals.”

  “Yessir.” From the sound of Flammarion’s voice, he was standing to attention. “I’ll do it, sir. But sir—”

  “I’m still here.”

  “Remember how the Stimulator works. Somebody has to be present to apply it to the subject. There’s a real strong bonding involved, and it can take months. And from what I’ve heard, it’s absolute hell for both of them. After the first few tries, the person applying the Stimulator usually wants to up and quit. It will be like that using it on Dalton. You’ll have to appoint somebody to stay with Dalton and the Stimulator, for weeks and weeks, and—”

  Kubo Flammarion realized where his line of speech was taking him. His tongue froze in horror.

  “Relax, Captain. You are definitely not a candidate. I appreciate your concerns, and I know all the risks of using a Tolkov Stimulator as well as you do. Let me worry about that.” Mondrian leaned back, studying a calendar on the desk in front of him. “Note your own orders. As soon as the tests are complete, take the man and the woman to the Horus confinement facility. Set up the maximum security environment there. Also set up a system for education, and one for Pursuit Team training. Allocate a chamber for a Tolkov Stimulator—I’ll arrange for the equipment to be shipped to you. Any questions?”

  “The person who will be applying the Tolkov Stimulator to Chancellor Dalton—”

  “Is no concern of yours. I will take care of that also.”

  “Any other questions?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then proceed.”

  Mondrian pressed the disconnect and walked quietly through into the bedroom. Tatiana lay flat on her back. She was still sleeping, but when he moved to her side she turned to him in the darkness. Mondrian touched her, caressing her slowly and gently. She pulled him close and muttered in pleasure at what he was doing.

  They made love quietiy, still in total darkness. Afterwards Tatty locked tight, rocked him up and down, and whispered in his ear, “That was different from anything we’ve ever done before. Usually you pull away at the end, but this time you stayed with me. Essy, that was absolutely wonderful!”

  “It was fantastic.” Mondrian was whispering, his breath touching the hollow of her neck. “Princess, you’re very dear to me. You ought to know that.”

  “I wish I could believe it. But it’s difficult. You come, and you go . . .”

  “I know. You told me not to make and break the same old promises, and I won’t do that. Never again. But I’ll make a new promise.”

  “Oh, Essy. Don’t. Not now. Don’t spoil it.”

  “Princess, I mean it. I have an important job that needs doing. It has to be carried out away from Earth, and it may take a long time.”

  “You’re telling me you’ll be away from me for a long time.”

  “No. The opposite. I’m telling you that I need help. I have to have someone that I trust totally. If you’ll agree to help me, we’ll leave Earth—together.”

  She jerked beneath him, trying to sit up under his weight. “Essy, do you mean it?”

  “I certainly do.”

  “I mean, after all this time . . . then you ask me to go, just like that. I can hardly believe it.”

  “I’m serious. We’ll go—if you want to.”

  She began to rock him again, tightening her arms and legs about him. “Of course I want to! Why wouldn’t I want to?”

  “What about Paradox? You won’t get a supply of that once you’re away from Earth. Its export is one of Quarantine’s strongest prohibitions.”

  “Ah.” She paused. He could hear her breathing through her nose, and the tiny sucking sound as she bit her lower lip.

  “I still want to.” There was fear and hunger in her voice, and she laughed nervously. “The stuff’s killing me anyway, I’ve known that for years. Will you help me kick the habit?”

  “Of course I will.”

  “Then when will we go?”

  “Very soon. I’ll have to get special permission from Quarantine, and an exit permit, but I’ll start working on that this morning. We could be leaving Earth in three days. Can you be ready?”

  “Ready?” Tatty was suddenly crying. “Ready! Esro, if you want me I’m ready this minute. I’ve been ready for ages. If you need me, I’ll go right now, without packing one thing.”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  Tatty had never heard such happiness in his voice. In the darkness, she could not see his face.

  Chapter 7

  The asteroids of the Egyptian Cluster form a solar system anomaly. The orbits of the cluster members share a common inclination and a perihelion distance of about three hundred million kilometers. That supports the idea that they are a cluster, although one now far dispersed spatially. They also share the common material composition of the smaller silicaceous bodies of the solar system.

  And yet they are, every one, anomalous. Instead of moving in the ecliptic, like all well-behaved planetoids, their common orbital plane is inclined at an angle of nearly fifty-nine degrees to it.

  The physical data for the Egyptian Cluster are given in the Appendix to the General Ephemerides of the solar system—a fair measure of their importance in the big scheme of things. But even within a minor group there is a natural pecking order. Horus, twenty kilometers ac
ross, is an asteroid low in the order, very much an undistinguished specimen. No more than a bleak wedge of dark rock, it lacks atmosphere, volatiles, regular form, useful minerals, easily accessible orbit, or any other interesting property.

  It is the perfect place for privacy. Mindful of this, an isolationist (and now extinct) religious sect long ago turned Horus into a worm-riddled cheese of black silicate, hollow and tunneled and chambered. The echoing inner cavities, with their entrance corridors paradoxically reflex and convoluted, were an ideal location for assured privacy and security.

  Or for incarceration.

  In one of the central chambers of Horus minimally appointed as living quarters sat two men and two women: Kubo Flammarion, Chan Dalton, Tatiana Sinai-Peres, and Leah Rainbow.

  Flammarion had been talking for a long time, while the other three listened with varying degrees of attention. Chan Dalton fidgeted and played with the plate and fork sitting in front of him. Tatty stared ahead with a dull lifeless face the color of muddy chalk, while her hands trembled whenever she lifted them from the table. Alone of the three, Leah was following every word that Flammarion said.

  “But you can’t.” Her face was frowning and furious, and she spoke standard Solar so badly and so angrily that Flammarion could only just understand her. “You absolutely can’t. Don’t you understand what I said? I’ve looked after Chan since he was four years old, ever since his mother sold him to Bozzie. If I’m not with him he’s lost—totally.”

  “He’ll be lost at first.” Kubo Flammarion looked no happier than Leah. “Just at first, see, but then he’ll get used to things and he’ll be all right. Princess Tatiana will look after him very well.”

  “Chan like Tatty,” said Dalton. It was the most complex statement he had uttered since they arrived on Horus.

  “How can she look after him?” exploded Leah. “Look at her, for God’s sake. She’s an addict, as bad as I’ve seen. She can’t look after herself.”

  Tatty braced herself in her chair and turned to face Leah. “How do you think I feel about this? Do you think I want to be out here? I don’t. I don’t want to baby-sit that—that overgrown moron you brought with you. I don’t want any of it. I just want to go back home—back to Earth, away from this god-awful, god-damned, god-deserted place.” She leaned forward and buried her face in her trembling hands.