He had to try. It was the only chance.
Hermine, he thought intensely. Hermine, receive me. I am Knot, your companion of the chasm enclave. Hermine, I need help. Was he getting through? He had no idea. Hermine was beyond her sending range; she could not answer him. Now he appreciated the extent of the faith Finesse had had, to keep making such detailed sendings, without response. He had to show something similar.
Light erupted behind them. Knot was facing part way back, his vision mostly obscured by Klisty’s body. But the intense light had to be from the volcano. Even as he realized that, the sound came—a great, body-quivering boom. Then a series of lesser sounds, as of debris falling.
Would the detonation trigger the volcano? Knot didn’t know. Perhaps it took time for the released lava to rise; the full process of eruption might take days or weeks. It really didn’t matter; that villa would no longer be usable. Its destruction was only a token; the lobo threat to CC continued. The lobos would keep on lobotomizing CC psi-agents, until either there were too few to function, or they achieved the lobotomy—reversal breakthrough—in which event they would pose twice the threat to CC as before. Unless someone exposed the nature of the threat before the point of no return.
It was like the villa volcano destruction, he thought; once the key wires of the detonator sequence were crossed, the result was inevitable. Once the key lobo connections were made, CC was doomed, even though there would be a period of months or years before that became incontrovertible. Precognition had told the story, and Knot’s mission was precognitively obscure. No one knew the outcome of this struggle, and perhaps that was because it was as yet undecided. The fate of the galaxy might hang on what he accomplished now.
Hermine! he thought desperately. Finesse is with me and unconscious. She will perish if not rescued soon. You must bring help, somehow. We are near the volcano, in a truck, driving—he paused to calculate his orientation—driving roughly north now, at fairly high velocity. If you can intercept the truck—
Of course she couldn’t intercept the truck, he realized with dismay. Hermine was only a weasel. Unless Mit had an insight—
Hermine! If you are near, and Mit can tell where this truck will stop—if you can bring the gross one—
But it seemed to be useless. The weasel probably could not receive him, and could not act in time if she could. What could a little telepathic creature do? Even buttressed by Mit’s clairvoyance and precognition, her resources were limited. She might be far away; he could be lobotomized before she reached him. Yet all he could do was try. Hermine! Hermine!
The truck continued north interminably, then made a turn west. Finesse stirred but did not revive. The lobos had made sure she was out for the duration, knowing she was the dangerous one. Knot himself seemed to be recovering some use of his limbs—but his injuries and fatigue kept him nonfunctional. Hermine—we are turning west. Maybe near our destination. They will stop soon to drug us again, I’m sure, and I won’t be able to send any more. If you are receiving me, get help quickly. Any kind. We’re desperate.
A loud buzzing fly came up and perched on the wooden side of the truck. Knot was afraid it would bite one of them, but it only waited.
The truck turned north again, then slowed and stopped. They were where they were going.
Piebald came around to the back. “I trust you three are comfortable?” he inquired. He swatted at a stinging fly. “I would have arranged better accommodation, had I had more warning about the necessity for this journey. We would not want you to wake too soon, now, would we!” He swatted again.
The other two lobos came around. “Ow!” one exclaimed. “Something stung me!”
Then all three of them were waving their arms about as a small swarm of large flies or small wasps attacked them. “What possesses these bugs?” Piebald demanded.
Possession! Hermine, is this your doing? Knot thought. Did you send flies?
A fly buzzed across to land near Knot’s face. It seemed to be a cross between fly and bee, solid but fast, with yellow on its body.
Its faceted eyes seemed to orient on him.
Bee, are you telepathic? Knot thought. Can you receive me?
The bee buzzed up as though brushed away, then settled back in the same place.
If you receive me, come sit on my head.
The bee buzzed across to perch on Knot’s head.
So Hermine was responsible! The weasel herself might still be out of range, but the fast-flying bees had arrived in time. I’m glad to see you. Try to stop the lobos from knocking us out again, and in due course we’ll recover. Finesse can handle the lobos when she wakes, even if she can’t move well.
But now he heard the rumble of another truck. Oh, no—more lobos? Piebald could have radioed for reinforcements from some other lobo station, gathering a new nucleus about him. Knot struggled to throw off his remaining paralysis, but his limbs only quivered; it was still too strong. The bee buzzed off.
The other truck slowed and stopped. Someone got out, thumping heavily on the ground.
“Look at that!” a lobo cried, pausing in his arm-waving to stare.
Then Knot heard the squeak of the gross one. Hermine—you made it! he thought.
Yes, Knot, the weasel’s welcome thought returned. I received you. We came as fast as we could. We had not gone far from the villa, for the gross one was having difficulty managing the truck, and also we hoped we could help you somehow. Mit thought we might succeed, if you got out of the mountain.
Now the sounds of combat developed. The gross one was wading in.
Bless you! Knot thought with overflowing gratitude. Then, at last, he let himself lose consciousness.
PART III:
Mutiny
CHAPTER 12:
Knot woke in a comfortable bed. He had confused half memories of waking and hurting and lapsing out again several times; of nightfall, and bright day, and night again. This time, however, he was clear-minded.
Finesse was in a bed next to his. She was already awake. She raised an inquiring eyebrow at him. “Who are you?” she asked.
Laboriously, he began to explain, as he had so often before, with so many people. But she was smiling, then laughing. “Shut up, Knot! Hermine updated me!”
Knot smiled ruefully. “You know how it is.”
“I forget,” she said. She got out of bed and crossed to him. “But I have another reminder.” She picked up a placard that hung at the foot of his bed, and turned it for him to read.
It said: THIS IS WHATSHISNAME.
Knot tried to laugh, and felt his gut wound.
“I wasn’t really badly injured; it was mostly shock,” she said. She showed her left shoulder, covered by a bandage. “But you—it’s a wonder you could move at all! You were in terrible pain, yet you did all that.”
“No, I just kept going, because I had to.”
“Hermine said she never felt such agony. It came through when you sent to her. You had minor surgery to put you back together, two days ago when we brought you here. You could have killed yourself!”
Knot smiled. “I thought I was trying to save my life.”
She leaned down and kissed him. She had always had excellent technique in this sort of thing, and had not lost her touch. “You know, I wondered why CC would team high-powered psi-animals up with a normal person and a passive-psi double-mute. I found out about the normal. I really didn’t know I was psi, Knot, you must believe that.”
“I believe,” he said.
“But still it seemed that for this mission a more aggressive psi-power than yours would have been in order. But now I know; it wasn’t just the insidious nature of your psi, that enables you to slip through the best enemy nets—and, incidentally, you performed some escape feats that would make the record books, if anybody could remember them—it was you. You’ve got courage and determination in adversity like none other.”
“I was worried about you,” he said defensively. “You were being tortured, and—”
/> She turned her lovely green eyes on him. “Yes?”
And what could he say? That he loved a married woman? Better to change the subject. “Where are we?”
She readily accepted the change. “At the alternate home of the gross one’s brother. He has leased it to us for the nonce for a nominal fee.”
Knot came alert. “What fee?”
“Don’t worry; it’s been paid. He doesn’t really believe the precog warning about the threat to him. But he’s glad to see his brother again, and is humoring him by changing his itinerary so that he will not be anywhere near the place and time of his predicted death.”
“That’s the best course,” Knot said. “I was a skeptic about precognition, but now I have seen it happen.” he shrugged. She was so pretty, and it was so nice talking with her, that he wanted to extend the conversation. That, at least, he could do without feeling guilty about her marital state. “I’m sure the gross one’s brother is a good man.”
“An excellent man. A true Macho, in the best sense. He doesn’t think much of the present social system, doesn’t like the enclave, is working for reform, and is trying to see that his brother doesn’t have to go back.”
“But the gross one wants to go back! It—uh, he—for so long I didn’t know whether it was male or female, but in the light of the third prediction—”
“The gross one is male,” she assured him. “I had quite a conversation with him in squeeze-language. He has a high opinion of you, but says he tends to forget the details.”
“Naturally,”
“So he’s a he, genetically. The physical appurtenances are mutilated, of course, like the rest of him.”
“So that prediction can’t came true.”
“Wrong. He’s marrying a rich normal this afternoon. That’s one reason we took you off the sleep-heal drug; we knew you’d want to be awake for the occasion.”
“Please don’t make me laugh. My abdomen hurts.”
“Remember that diamond? He delivered it to Strella’s friend. She is now a rich normal, thanks to that gift. But she’s getting on in years, and is frail, and doesn’t quite know how to handle it. She’s afraid someone will beat her up or kidnap her for the wealth. So—”
“She’s marrying the gross one!” Knot exclaimed. “He can sure as hell protect her from physical violence!”
“Yes. She’s well beyond the age where appearances or sex appeal count; she’s almost blind herself. What she craves is loyalty and strength. She doesn’t like idle chatter.”
“The gross one is virtually mute.”
“Yes. So he’s actually about right for her. And as the spouse of a normal, he can’t be deported to the enclave. So it’s a marriage of convenience, and everyone knows it—but they’ll both have better lives than before. She’s the one who paid the nominal fee for this residence; she wants the gross one’s friends to be taken care of.”
Oh. Knot had been on the verge of a dark suspicion, and was glad to have it relieved. “The gross one is not a bad person,” he agreed. “He adapted well to the conditions of the enclave, but he remembers the gentler life before, and he’s smart enough. There’ll be problems, but—”
“They’re being worked out,” she assured him. “His brother has considerable clout in the Macho government.” She stroked Knot’s hair with her delicate fingers. “Now you just settle back and rest, and in a few hours we’ll put you in a wheelchair for the wedding.” She began to rise.
“Hold!” he said, catching her arm, “What happened to the lobos? Are they under arrest, or still after us?”
“Neither. When the gross one arrived, Piebald got out of there, and we had to let the other two go. It was just a private altercation. We agreed on that, because I can’t afford to advertise my real mission, and the lobos can’t afford to advertise theirs. So it’s mutual hands off, for now.”
“But—”
“Believe me, Knot, it’s best. The Macho authorities are friends to neither side. So just relax.”
After all that torture and killing, she was letting bygones go! But he was too weak to protest effectively at the moment.
“I like your company,” he said after a pause. “Will you stay with me?”
“I thought you’d never ask!” And she made a place on the bed to join him. He was still too weak to do anything dramatic with her, but her presence was excellent medicine. Except—
This time he would do it, instead of stalling. “Finesse, do you remember that you are married?”
“I remember,” she said, lying beside him. “When Piebald told me, it all came back. CC’s erasures aren’t permanent, which is one reason they won’t do to curb criminals in lieu of lobotomy. I have a husband I love, and the sweetest little boy—”
“So what has been between us—I’m sorry. I didn’t know, until we reached Chicken Itza. Since then there hasn’t been anything. I know you can’t remember, but I assure you—”
Her head turned to face him on the bed. “My memory was blanked by CC,” she said. “I didn’t know I was married, any more than I knew I was a psi mutant. You were the only one.”
“You knew originally,” he said. “But CC didn’t like my reaction to the news, so it erased the information from both our minds. But now we both know, again. I only wanted to save you from the lobos, and now you’re safe. So that ends it.”
“In an oink’s eye!” she snapped. “I forgot, but you remembered some time back, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” he agreed faintly. “But I couldn’t leave you in the hands of the lobos.”
“And you fought your way out of the chasm enclave and tackled the lobo stronghold, to rescue me.”
“It had to be done.”
“Instead of reporting directly to CC the way you should have. You put the whole mission in peril.”
Knot nodded, abashed.
“Admit it: you did it because you love me.”
“I have no right to—”
“So now you’re trying to do the noble thing, after all that danger and pain, and are ready to send me back home.”
Knot remained silent. She made it sound both callous and ludicrous.
“Knot, you aren’t the type. When the choice is between nobility and love, you love.”
“Yes, usually.”
“I would say,” she said slowly, “that you have earned me.”
“I didn’t mean it that way!”
“Knot, I told you I remembered it all. That includes the pro tem, ad hoc temporary convenient practical divorce, and his remarriage to another woman. I do love my husband, but I know he and my child will not be safe if they have anything to do with me during this period. I have a whole separate life here—a life with you. If I had remembered my marriage before, I would have told you this before. In two years I will be back with my family, and glad of it; right now I am with you.”
“You don’t have to—”
“And glad of it,” she concluded, and kissed him. “You did so much, at such cost, selflessly, expecting not even to be remembered for it. You shall be rewarded—”
“That’s not—”
“And you have indeed won my heart. My eyes are open, I know where I’m going, and I know what is right for tomorrow and what is right for today.”
“You—”
“Will you stop interrupting?” she exploded, and in that instant her eyes reminded him of the volcanoes, novas and planet buster bombs he had joked about with Hermine, so long ago. “I’m telling you I love you too!”
Knot was silent. She had pretty well destroyed his halfhearted attempt to do what he thought was right. Her definitions differed from his, and hers had become dominant.
She was correct about his nobility. It generally did lose out to expediency and sex appeal. But he also wondered; was she doing this because, at heart, she did not really believe she would ever escape Planet Macho and rejoin her husband?
“And in a few days, when you can travel, we’ll take a ship to CCC,” she said. “You and I and K
listy. That should enable CC to handle the problem of its scheduled demise.”
Knot could not believe it could be that easy. Not with the lobo Piebald out there loose. But he wasn’t inclined to argue at the moment.
• • •
Planet Macho medicine was good, and Knot recovered nicely in days, physically. Klisty played cards and board games with him, and he found her just as likable a girl as Finesse did. She seemed basically happy, whatever her situation; her thermostat was set for joy, and that made her a minor pleasure to be with.
But he also had time to think, while confined, and he was not at ease. This convenient resolution with the lobos—each side leaving the other alone... Finesse had expressed satisfaction, but Knot could not accept it. Neither Piebald as a person nor the lobos as a group were of the forgiving-and-forgetting persuasion. True, by this time they should have forgotten most of their interactions with Knot himself, because of his psi, and most of their notes on him should have been destroyed with the volcano villa. But they would remember Finesse, and correctly associate her with the destruction of their fortress. Piebald probably had been canny enough to retain some note about Knot on his person. The lobos should be crazy for revenge. Just to let the known CC agents go, to report the lobos’ secret and bring the emotionless wrath of CC down upon them—that did not compute. There should be an assassination squad on duty.
Surely Finesse was aware of this. Why did she so blithely ignore it? She was proceeding as if there were no threat at all.
He thought about it more, between sleeps. Finesse was neither stupid nor cowardly. She could manipulate people in the most innocent-seeming manner, as she had when she recruited him for CC, and later when he came to Planet Macho with his memory of that recruitment blanked. He had cleared a drug interrogation, because he had not remembered his real mission—until Hermine’s communication had evoked it. Finesse had been the decoy, occupying the lobos’ attention, while Knot had done most of the damage. CC had finessed the lobos, holding back its potent ploy until the lobos’ own ploy had been evoked.