Mute

  “Yes, Mit could do that. I never thought of it last night. I can help you, through my psi-friends. Of course there would be no way to make that man do it, if he did not feel inclined.”

  “Just knowing would be enough. I could take it from there, one way or another. I have not had difficulty before, making men feel inclined; in fact if I were not able to swim better than they—” She made one of her excellent shrugs. Knot could not see it, this time, but he heard the little slop-slop of the water as her anatomy struck it. “I’ll be happy to show you the way to the ocean, for that information.”

  Knot was glad to agree. “We will find you that man!”

  Thea became quite friendly, fetching them succulent water plants for breakfast and chatting merrily about her cave and water domain. She had a niche for wastes that Knot availed himself of, so as not to pollute the water. They did not re-light the fire; it was pleasant talking in the dark.

  Now they made plans for the journey. “It is no easy trip downstream, even for me,” the mermaid warned. “The rapids are bad and at certain hours the piranha fish are foraging. You would not be able to pass, in the river. So we must schedule carefully.”

  “Mutant fish?” Knot asked. “Were they bred in space?”

  “No, these are Earth-normal fish, imported from Earth as pets for the richer Machos. Someone must have thought it would be a good joke to stock them in the enclave river.”

  Knot remembered the outhouse perched above the enclave. The fish were merely another example of the Macho attitude. On two levels: Machos liked to prove how tough they were, by associating with vicious creatures, and they also were completely careless of the rights or convenience of the less fortunate elements of society—such as the mutants of the enclave. So they dumped bloodthirsty fish in the river and let the misfits worry about it.

  “So we’ll go around those sections of the river,” Knot said. “Short hikes—”

  “I cannot walk on land,” Thea said. “I will swim through quickly during the piranha’s quiescent hours. I have done it before. We can meet again, below.”

  “No. Unless it is a short swim, you will forget me, and we’ll never rendezvous. I fear we might separate beyond Hermine’s range, so she could not keep your memory current. Her sending range is short.”

  Thea considered. “Maybe your crab could stay with me, to remind me. He is a water creature.”

  “He cannot communicate well enough with you, and he, too, could forget me. He does not like fresh water. He must be with me, to locate your cross-fertile man from among the mutants of the land.”

  “You make appalling sense,” she admitted. “Then I will simply have to come with you on land. Can you carry me?”

  “For a short distance, probably. I’m not the sturdiest person on foot, because—” He paused, indicating his differently sized legs and feet. This was inadequate, since she could not see him in the darkness, but she seemed to understand. This was getting complicated. “How long a hike is it around the rapids and fish, do you judge?”

  “It is hard to estimate land distances. I don’t know the terrain away from the river’s edge. Perhaps a day.”

  A day—just to pass a couple of troublesome sections of the river! Was he ever going to get out of here? But he seemed to have no choice. Had he only accepted Mit’s advice, and waited that half hour for the lobo pursuit to abate... But what use were recriminations? “Let’s a get moving.”

  Knot had removed some of his sodden clothing the night before, and saw no reason to don it now, since he would be spending much of his time in the water. He thought of carrying it with him, but that seemed like more trouble than it was worth. Better to leave it here, and worry about what to wear outside once he got outside the enclave. He was no longer sensitive about being exposed before Thea; she had been up against him all night without evincing any distress. The only problem was how to carry Hermine and Mit.

  Mit says we must cling to your hair, the weasel thought.

  That seemed sensible. Knot put them on his head.

  He dived down and out and up, following Thea and Hermine’s instructions. Knot’s head broke water in the bright light of day. “Will it be all right for me to walk the shore, here?” he inquired. “I can make better time.”

  “Yes,” Thea said. “I see few brutes in this region, which is another reason I made my home here. Above is the many-armed croc, and below are the piranha, but here it is safe, unless the max-mutes come on a foray. But then you can jump into the water.”

  True, Hermine agreed.

  It was good to get back on his feet, though the morning air was cool. Knot wondered now whether he should after all have brought his clothing along. Still, what warmth would soaking clothing have provided? He would have to generate some body heat by running, awkward as that was.

  Trouble, Hermine warned. She was clinging to his hair as he bounced along. Mit, with both claws firmly anchored, was better off.

  Knot looked about, stepping toward the water. “Where?”

  The fish. The school has migrated upstream.

  “Thea!” Knot called. “The piranha!”

  “Don’t be silly,” she called back. “They never come up this far.”

  “Humor me. Get out of the water.”

  She shrugged, wriggled to the bank, and drew herself out to sit on the rocky ledge, her tail-feet remaining in the river. “If this is one of your crab’s notions, I don’t have much confidence in it.”

  Then she peered closely at the water. There was a stirring developing, not obvious, but definite. “He’s right. Piranha! That’s some crab!” She lifted her foot section out of the water with alacrity. “I’ve never seen them this far up before. Something must have happened.”

  “Could be natural expansion, or better hunting upstream,” Knot said. “This makes it more difficult. I can carry you initially, but will tire soon.”

  More trouble, Hermine thought. Mutants coming, unfriendly.

  “Problems compounded,” Knot said, “We can’t stay here, and we can’t re-enter the water.”

  Mit says you can save us. Communicate with the gross one.

  “I think we can manage,” Knot said. “Be silent and I’ll try.” Thea’s brow furrowed, so he reassured her. “I didn’t mean you were talking too much; I just need to handle this myself, following Mit’s instructions exactly. Trust us.”

  Already the mutants were arriving, clambering over the rocks and ledges. They were worse than Knot had seen before: Their limbs and features were extremely deformed, misplaced and misnumbered. One man scuttled like a huge crab, with five or six legs sprouting from odd points of his torso. Another had eyes down his neck—glassy, blinking things, several of which oozed discolored pus. A female had breasts like those of an animal, five sets, from chest to crotch, some larger than others. Another had two misshapen heads growing from a bump on her back. A man had a snout that twisted down like that of an anteater. But most of the deformities were straight mutilations: limbs severed part way down, eyeless sockets, teeth growing reversed to poke out of the jaw below.

  They don’t like you or Thea, Hermine thought. You are both too normal. They intend to tear you apart.

  “Where is the gross one?” Knot asked desperately.

  Behind. He hates you too.

  That was all he needed! But Knot had to trust Mit’s perception. He leaned down, put his arms under Thea’s knees and shoulders, hefted her up and staggered toward the horde. “Growrrh!” he screamed, baring his teeth.

  The bluff worked. Accustomed to all manner of freaks, both physical and psi, the mutants tended to back away from aggressive strangers. Their ranks parted as Knot charged on through—but in a moment the mutants closed in behind him. A double-elbowed male reached for Thea’s tail-feet, drool dribbling from the sagging center of his mouth. It was unclear whether his appetite for food or for sex predominated.

  Hermine: relay this to him, Knot thought, and formed a stunning mind detonation. The mutant fell away, and the ot
hers gave ground again, temporarily.

  Now Knot spied the gross one. It was no false description: this mutant was large to the point of giantism, and grotesque to the point of revulsion. Its torso sagged between short, gnarled legs, and dragged behind, a tail like a hernia. The body tapered upward as though deprived of much of its substance by gravity, until the upper arms seemed almost as massive as the body they anchored to. The head was little more than a knob, eyeless and earless and noseless, possessing only a large sloppy mouth and several crevices and protuberances that seemed to be a scandalized nature’s wild guess at what the missing organs were supposed to resemble.

  Like a lame dinosaur or a beheaded chicken, the gross one bumped along. From its maw blew out ludicrously inadequate squeaks and a few bubbles. It seemed to be aware of Knot—perhaps it had trace ESP—and its formidable talon hands reached out.

  You may have to relay another nova, Knot thought nervously to Hermine.

  Mit says no—its mind is toughened against psi. A nova would only make it angry. You must communicate directly, at least until it becomes more receptive to telepathy.

  This thing could neither see nor hear—yet Knot had to get in touch. Is it sapient?

  Yes. Smart and lonely and bitter, but a moderately nice person once its respect is won.

  Nice person? This quality was hardly evident at the moment! Yet Mit must know.

  Now they confronted each other. The other freaks formed a closed circle around them, as though this were an arena. They dared not snatch prey from the gross one, but would dive in should Knot try to escape. Knot was reminded of Hermine’s encounter with the rats. Was there really much distinction between savage people and savage rats?

  Knot set Thea on the ground, carefully. His arms were tired already; she was not unduly heavy, but he was not geared to such a burden. He thought of the laser pistol, but had left that with his clothes. He had to handle this barehanded. Mit was not offering advice; probably the ways of human combat were too foreign to the crab’s experience for him to relate.

  The gross one lunged. Knot stepped aside, letting the nearest arm shoot by him, clutching at nothing. It seemed the gross one simply snatched up its prey and ate it, kicking and screaming. Knot jumped in behind. He reached out to grab the thing’s right arm from behind, twisting to immobilize the limb. But he did not apply pain-pressure; instead he squeezed the flesh with his hand in a rhythmic series. It was one of the touch-codes used to communicate with blind-deaf individuals; Knot had used it often in his business. In fact, he was privately proud of the fact that he could communicate with any educated mutant, once he found the particular mode that mutant knew.

  TALK, Knot squeezed, with an accent of request, not threat.

  The gross one started to fight him, wrestling its arm forward with such power Knot was jerked half off his feet. The watching freaks made exclamations of excitement. But then the gross one paused.

  TALK, Knot re-signaled. WE NEED YOUR HELP.

  Amazed, the gross one tensed the muscles of that arm, in an almost forgotten cadence. YOU FRIEND?

  Success! He had established communication, and that meant an agreement of some kind, almost certainly. Knot knew that lonely mutants would do almost anything for the sake of compatible company, to be able to hold meaningful dialogue with other parties. This was in large part responsible for his success as a placement officer; the communication-limited mutes could converse freely with him. It was a little like restoring sight to the blind, or hearing to the deaf.

  But he had to answer honestly. NOT FRIEND YET. STRANGER. OFFER DEAL FOR HELP.

  The gross one seemed doubtful. Perhaps it was weighing the value of the immediate meal in hand against the intangible satisfaction of communication. WHAT DEAL?

  HELP TRAVEL DOWNRIVER. WE WILL HELP YOU. TELL US HOW.

  WHERE GO FINALLY?

  WE GO OUTSIDE ENCLAVE.

  I NOT GO, the gross one responded firmly.

  To the watching freaks, this looked like a continuing struggle between them, with Knot clinging desperately to the powerful arm. They could not understand why it was taking the gross one so long to prevail.

  What can we do for it? Knot demanded desperately of Hermine. He knew he had to win the favor of the creature now, or forever lose the chance. His life and Thea’s hung in the balance, and suddenly his confidence was waning.

  Carry a message, Hermine responded.

  WE WILL CARRY A MESSAGE, Knot relayed. FROM YOU TO ONE OUTSIDE, WHEN WE ESCAPE HERE.

  The gross one considered, seeming surprised. TO MY BROTHER, THE NORMAL.

  AGREED, Knot squeezed with relief.

  I HELP. ONE MOMENT. LET GO.

  Knot released his communication hold. “It has agreed,” he murmured to Thea. “It will help us.” He still did not know the gender of the mutant, and doubted it retained any concept of sexual identity. There were, of course, sexless mutants, while others were grossly sexual in impractical ways. He was lucky this one remembered the squeeze-code. Someone must have taught it as a child, before it was incarcerated here.

  The gross one took a step forward. The half-circle of mutants in that direction retreated a similar step. The gross one raised both arms high, then brought them down together as though throwing something violently to the ground. Its squeak-voice became a shrill scream.

  The freaks scattered. They had been told to get out, and they obeyed with alacrity. No question who had power here!

  See? No trouble at all, Hermine thought. Mit knew it all the time.

  Yeah, sure. Had the communication ploy not worked, Knot could have been smashed against the rock wall, then eaten. Next time kindly provide a little more advance detail.

  The gross one was waiting. Knot rejoined it and put his hand on its arm again. WE NEED THE WOMAN CARRIED DOWNSTREAM, PROTECTED. WHAT IS YOUR MESSAGE? WHO IS YOUR BROTHER? WHERE DOES HE RESIDE?

  The gross one shrugged him off without answering. It oriented on Thea. Then the arms descended.

  Thea screamed and tried to wriggle away. “It’s all right!” Knot cried. “It will carry you!”

  The mermaid got a grip on herself and stayed still. The gross one’s arms found their way under her, and picked her up as Knot had, but far more easily. The creature hoisted her to chest level and started walking.

  Knot could only follow. Mit felt this was all right, so it probably was.

  The gross one seemed indefatigable. It marched as long as the shore ledge held out, then halted. Knot touched it to pick up the muscle flexures. NOT KNOW WAY.

  “Where do we go from here?” Knot asked Thea. “Not into the water. We should be past the piranhas, but the rapids are coming up. I could navigate them, but you could not. But I don’t know the land route.”

  Does Mit know? Knot asked Hermine, who still perched on his head. It occurred to him now that the max-mutes had probably mistaken the weasel for part of him. A man with a furry bump on his head, and a couple of small green claws—why not?

  Hermine was chuckling mentally as she answered, enjoying his conjecture. Mit says there is a route, but it is difficult. We need more help.

  We’ll have to take it. Where is the help?

  Back the way we came.

  Oh, no! More time lost. Why hadn’t the little crab made that plain before? But Knot knew why: there had been too many variables. Only now that the problem had simplified could Mit fix on a more tangible program. “We must backtrack a little, to pick up more help,” Knot told Thea. And to the gross one he squeezed: BACK. WE SHALL FIND WAY.

  The gross one did not object. He turned about ponderously, his squat legs slow but sure, and plodded back upstream. One small problem, Hermine thought. Mit says if we add another person to our party, one will soon die.

  Knot felt a sinking feeling. She thought of this as a “small” problem? Who?

  Mit cannot tell. There will be a fight. Too many are involved. One will fall.

  And if we don’t add another to our party?

  Mit says he
can read that more easily. Three will die.

  Three—of the four or five members of their present party. So there really was no choice. Knot decided not to mention this matter to Thea or the gross one. He would bear the burden alone, keeping the losses to a minimum.

  But I know, and Mit knows, the weasel reminded him. And Mit cannot foresee his own death.

  So if Knot and the two animals remained together, they all might be safe. That did not make him feel very much better. Was he condemning Thea to death? She was the most likely to take a fall, since she could not walk. If she got stranded on a high ledge—

  In due course Mit signaled a turnoff. This led through a wilderness of sculptured rocks to a shack-city, a settlement of mutants situated beneath a Macho-normal garbage dump. Apparently there was considerable food value in the organic refuse—enough to sustain this colony in what amounted to upper class enclave style. Practically all the shacks had metal roofs, fashioned from fragments of junked vehicles, and there was a fair amount of cloth in evidence. Knot was no longer appalled; obviously the mutants had to scramble for anything available.

  However, these mutants, like the rest, were unfriendly. Either they did not know of the gross one, or had no respect for his combative prowess. A motley group of freaks charged out, bearing refuse-weapons: pieces of pipe, tool handles, brick fragments, and buckets of urine. “Out! Out! Out!” their leader cried. He was a furry man with bird-like talons at his extremities and a nose overgrown with gristle, resembling a beak, and his voice was a squawk. These were coincidental mutilations, of course; true animal-people did not exist. It was just that, of the myriad deformities that occurred, some were bound to resemble natural attributes of animals. “No share! No share!”

  The gross one could not hear, but was aware. It issued its squawk-scream.

  The garbage salvagers did not heed the warning. They clustered around in a group, enclosing Knot’s party, gesticulating threateningly.

  The gross one lowered Thea to the ground. Knot rushed up and took her, supporting her so she could stand. What do we do now? he asked Hermine.

  These mutes are not much trouble. Gross will handle it.