"Let's not argue," Perry chimed in.
"Shit!" Donald shouted as he stormed around in a circle. "I should have decked her," Richard choked. Donald stopped his angry pacing. "We've hardly started this operation, and we've already got a crisis. There's no telling what she'll do. We've got to move and move fast! Michael, you get your ass back to the
Oceanus
and don't let anyone near it!" "Roger!" Michael said. He grabbed his crossbow and quiver and darted back out into the night. "We need hostages and we need them fast," Donald said. "What about Arak and Sufa?" Perry said. "They'd be perfect," Donald said. "Let's call them over here and hope Suzanne hasn't talked to them first. We'll have them come to the dining hall." "What about Ismael and Mary Black?" Perry suggested. "The more the better," Harvey said.
"Fine," Donald said. "We'll call them, too. But that's all the room we have in the
Oceanus.
"
Suzanne's pulse was racing. She'd never felt such anxiety. She knew she was lucky to have gotten away from the group and couldn't help wondering what would have happened had she not been able to. She shuddered. They seemed to have become strangers, even enemies in their single-mindedness to escape and their concomitant willingness to murder. Despite what she'd said on the spur of the moment back in her cottage, she wasn't sure how she felt about anything other than her abhorrence at the idea of being a party to more death. Yet despite her confusion, in order to flee by air taxi she'd had to come up with a destination quickly to get the craft to seal. The first place that had come to her mind was the black pyramid and the Council of Elders. By the time the air taxi deposited Suzanne at her destination, she was more composed. The transit time had given her an opportunity to think more rationally. She reasoned that the Council of Elders more than anyone should know how to handle the crisis quickly and without injury to anyone. As she mounted the causeway leading to the pyramid she noticed the entire area was deserted. As a major Interterran governmental center, she'd assumed there would be people available twenty-four hours a day. But this hardly seemed to be the case even after she'd entered the gigantic structure. Suzanne walked down the gleaming white marble corridor. She saw no one. Approaching the huge, paneled bronze doors, she began to wonder what she should do. Knocking seemed ridiculous given the scale of the surroundings. But she need not have been concerned. The doors opened automatically just as they had that morning.
Walking into the circular colonnaded room beyond, Suzanne advanced to the center and stopped in the
same place she'd stood that morning. She looked around at the empty chamber, wondering what to do
next.
The silence was complete.
"Hello!" Suzanne called. When there was no answer she called again, louder. Then she called out again, this time at the top of her lungs. Thanks to the dome, she heard her voice echo clearly. "Can I be of assistance?" a young girl's voice asked calmly. Suzanne turned. Behind her, framed in the huge portal, was Ala. Her fine blond hair was in disarray, as if she'd just been pulled from her bed.
"I'm sorry to bother you," Suzanne said. "I've come because of an emergency. You must stop my fellow secondary humans. They are about to attempt an escape, and if they do, the secret of Interterra will be lost."
"Escape is difficult from Interterra," Ala said. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. It was a gesture so childlike that Suzanne had to remind herself she was dealing with an individual of extraordinary intelligence and experience.
"They plan to use the submersible we arrived in," Suzanne said. "It is at the Earth Surface Museum." "I see," Ala said. "It would still be difficult, but perhaps it would be best if I send some worker clones to incapacitate the vessel. I will also call the Council for an emergency session. I trust you will be willing to stay and confer with us."
"Of course," Suzanne said. "I want very much to help." She thought about bringing up the tragic deaths that had already occurred but decided there would be time for that later. "This is an unexpected and disturbing development," Ala said. "Why have your friends decided to try to escape?"
"They say because of their families and because they have not been given a choice. But they are a very varied group, and there are other issues as well." "It sounds as if they don't yet realize how very lucky they are." "I think that's fair to say," Suzanne agreed.
An air taxi settled down and opened in the dark and deeply shadowed museum courtyard. Two heavily muscled worker clones disembarked. Both carried sledgehammers, but only one set out for the Benthic Marine submersible. The other kept the air taxi from leaving by maintaining a grip on the edge of the taxi's opening port.
The first worker clone wasted no time. Reaching the submersible he went directly to the housing for the main battery pack. With practiced hands he opened the fiberglass access panel to expose the main power connector. Then, stepping back, he raised the sledge over his head in preparation of rendering the unit inoperable.
But the heavy hammer did not come down in its normal arc. Instead it slipped from the clone's hands
and fell to the ground with a thud the moment a crossbow bolt pierced the clone's throat. With a gasping sound he staggered back, clawing at the imbedded missile. A mixture of blood and a clear fluid like mineral oil gushed forth, drenching his black coveralls. After a few awkward steps, the clone toppled over onto his back. Several twitches later, he was still. Michael cranked the crossbow drawstring back and positioned another bolt. Thus armed he stood up from his hiding place alongside the museum wall and cautiously approached the downed clone. Michael had neither seem nor heard the air taxi: it had landed just out of sight. He felt lucky he'd looked back at the submersible the moment he did, for he had been dozing on and off despite his efforts to stay alert. Keeping the crossbow trained on the clone, Michael reached out with his right foot and gave the body a kick. The clone didn't respond although there was another small surge of blood and fluid from the through-and-through neck wound.
Taking one hand away from the crossbow to give himself better balance, Michael gave the body one last, good kick to make sure there was no question about its status. To his shock, the crossbow was ripped out of his hand.
Startled, Michael whirled around to find himself facing a second clone, who'd tossed the crossbow aside and was raising a sledgehammer over his head. Michael instinctively put his hands up although he knew it would be no defense against the coming blow. Back peddling he tripped over the fallen clone and fell across the downed worker, losing his helmet in the process. Michael desperately rolled to the side as the hammer came down with jarring force, crunching the already incapacitated clone. As the second clone regained his balance and retracted his weapon for another blow, Michael pushed himself up on one knee and drew his Greek short sword. As the clone again lifted the sledge over his head, exposing his abdomen, Michael lunged forward. With Michael's full weight behind the thrust the sword buried itself to its hilt. A mixture of blood and clear oil gushed onto Michael's chest.
The startled clone dropped the sledge and grabbed Michael's head with his two hands. Michael felt himself being lifted off the ground. But it didn't last. The inordinate strength of the clone ebbed, and he toppled over, dragging Michael with him. It took almost five minutes for the worker clone's grip around Michael's head to relax enough for Michael to extract himself. As he got to his feet he shuddered through a wave of nausea at the smell of the fluid leaking out of the two downed clones. It was like a combination of a slaughter house and an auto repair shop.
Michael retrieved the crossbow. He had new respect for the danger the clones represented. He'd been surprised the second clone had attacked him, and he reasoned that they must have been given some blanket order. The episode also underlined the fact that the clones had no trouble with violence, just as Harv had warned.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
"Maybe we should have pulled this off after dinner," Richard said. "I'm starved."
"This is no time for humor," Perry said.
"Who's making a joke?" Richard said.
"This must be them," Harvey called from the door, where Donald had ordered him to stay as a lookout. "An air taxi has just dropped down outside." The group was in the dining room waiting for Arak, Sufa, and the Blacks. "All right, troops," Donald said. "This is it. Let's be prepared." Richard picked up one of the Greek swords. After his dunk in the pool he'd dispensed with the armor. Donald removed the clip from the Luger for the twentieth time, checked it, and replaced it. He made sure a cartridge was in the firing chamber.
Arak, Sufa, the Blacks, and four large worker clones swept into the room. "Okay," Arak said, slightly out of breath. "Everything is going to be fine, so please just relax." According to plan, Harvey pushed the door closed with a resounding thud. Arak ignored the noise. Harvey walked around the periphery of the room. Along with Perry and Richard he stood behind Donald.
"First," Arak said, "you must understand that you cannot escape. We cannot permit it." "Word travels fast," Donald said. "So Suzanne has already gotten to you." "We were informed by the Council of Elders," Arak said. "We heard from them just after you requested our presence. Now that we are here, we'd like to request that you return to your individual cottages. I repeat: you cannot escape."
"We shall see," Donald said. "For the time being,
we
are going to be giving the orders." "That is out of the question," Arak remarked. Then, turning to the clones, he said, "Restrain them without hurting them, please!"
Obediently the clones surged forward.
Donald brandished the pistol and took several steps back. His coconspirators did the same. "Don't come any closer!" Donald commanded. "I don't think they know what a gun is," Perry said nervously. "They are going to learn quickly," Donald said. While continuing to back up he raised the gun and aimed at the face of the clone coming directly at him. "Arak!" Ismael cried. "He's got a gun. Arak--" "Stop, please!" Donald ordered the clones.
Having been commanded by an Interterran, the clones ignored Donald and continued closing in on the
retreating secondary humans. Donald pulled the Luger's trigger and it fired with a roar. The slug hit the lead clone in the forehead. He wobbled and then collapsed backward to the floor. A clear viscous fluid flowed out of the wound onto the marble. Curiously his legs continued to move as if he were still advancing.
Arak and Sufa gasped.
Undaunted, the other clones continued to approach. Donald swung the gun around to the one closing on Perry and fired again. The bullet struck the second clone in the temple. He collapsed as well, though his legs, too, continued moving.
"Halt, please," Arak shouted with a quavering voice to the two remaining clones. The clones obeyed instantly. Arak's face had gone pale and he was shaking. Meanwhile, the scissoring motion of the legs of the two on the ground slowed, then stopped. Donald was now holding the pistol with two hands. He swung it around and pointed it at Arak. "That's better," he told the terrified Interterran. "Just so we understand one another, you are next." "Please," Sufa cried. "No more violence. Please!" "We're happy to oblige," Donald said without lowering the gun. "Just do as we say, and everything will be cool. Arak, I want you to make a few contacts with your wrist unit, then we'll be leaving here."
Suzanne was impressed with the equanimity the elders displayed despite the grave crisis. She, on the other hand, was growing progressively more anxious; the dispatches coming back to the council suggested that her former colleagues were succeeding. While the council had convened, Suzanne had been offered food and then returned to the colonnaded hall. Like that morning she was again asked to be in the center although on this occasion she'd been supplied with a chair similar in style though smaller than those occupied by the elders. She was facing Ala with the bronze doors at her back.
"The problem seems to be getting worse," Ala said after listening for a moment to her wrist communicator. Her clear, high-pitched voice was not hurried or harried. "The wayward group along with four human hostages are now approaching Barsama with their intact submersible. Arak is awaiting our orders."
"I've never dealt with such a situation as this in all my lifetimes," Ponu said. "Four worker clones have been prematurely dispatched. That is disturbing, indeed." "You can stop them, can't you?" Suzanne blurted. She was beginning to find the calmness of the council unnerving. "And you can do it without injuring them, can't you?" Ala leaned forward toward Suzanne, ignoring her questions. "There is one issue we must be absolutely sure of," she said calmly. "We have witnessed that your colleagues have surprisingly little compunction about damaging worker clones. What about humans? Would they really be capable of hurting a human?" "Yes, I'm afraid so," Suzanne said. "They are desperate."
"It is hard to believe they would do such a thing after they have had an opportunity to experience our
culture," Ponu said. "All our other visitors have unerringly adapted to our peaceful ways." "Perhaps they would, too, given more of a chance," Suzanne said. "But at this point they are dangerous to anyone who would thwart them."
"I'm not sure I believe that," another elder said. "It's contrary to our experience, as Ponu mentioned." Suzanne felt frustrated to the point of anger. "I can prove the iniquity they are capable of," she snapped. "They've left ample evidence in two of the cottages." "And what might that be?" Ala asked as serenely as if she were discussing gardening. "They have already caused the deaths of two primary humans." Suzanne's words clearly stunned the council. They sat dumbfounded. "Are you sure of this?" Ala asked. For the first time her voice reflected distress. "I saw the bodies a few hours ago," Suzanne said. "One was bludgeoned and the other drowned." "I'm afraid this tragic news puts the current situation on a different plane," Ala said.
I should hope so,
Suzanne thought to herself.
"I recommend we seal the Barsama vent immediately," Ponu said. A murmur of assent filled the chamber.
Ala raised her wrist communicator and spoke briefly then lowered her arm. "It will be done," she said. "How long will it take to connect the vent to the earth's core?" Ponu asked. "A few hours," Ala said.
The doors were enormous, about two stories high and nine feet thick. They began to open inward on silent hinges. Arak was directing the activity with his wrist unit. He was in direct contact with Central Information. Donald was standing behind him with the pistol pressed into his back. Perry, Richard, and Michael were off to the side, keeping Sufa, Ismael, and Mary under close guard. Michael was still in his Greek armor, refusing steadfastly to give it up. Harvey was in the passenger portion of the antigravity freighter, which was carrying the
Oceanus
as its payload. He was ready to direct the craft into the decon chamber behind the great doors. "That looks familiar," Donald said as he caught sight of the stainless steel interior. "It reminds me of the room where we had our unsolicited bath on our way into Interterra." A sudden rumble shook the ground, causing everyone to struggle with their balance. It lasted four or five seconds.