Android at Arms (6 page)

“And if Turpyn's suspicions are true and an android is acting out your role?”

“Then I will learn enough to be able to present the Emperor with the truth.”

“Let us hope so.”

There sounded a sharp signal they could not mistake. The ship was about to pass out of hyper. They were that near to their journey's end. Andas's hands shook a little as he made fast his safety belt. Inyanga—they were home!

4

They landed. Andas aroused from the effects of a hard fin-in to see the visa-screen providing a view of what lay beyond the ship walls. But—

Not Inyanga!

At first he could not believe what he saw pictured there. They had not set down in any port. As the screen slowly changed to give them bit by bit a view of the surrounding land, he saw that there were the scars of deter rockets, yes, but old—no recent burns to show a recent visit.

The vegetation, which appeared a massively thick wall beyond the edge of the open land, differed in shade from that he knew. It was a lighter green, broken here and there with splotches of a pallid yellow.

Not Inyanga! Then the tape—why had the tape been listed wrongly? Andas had the same disoriented feeling he had had when he first came to his senses in that unknown prison.

“I can guess that this is not what you expected.” Yolyos's voice broke through his bemusement.

“Yes. I—I never saw this before.”

“Instructive,” was the Salariki's comment.

Instructive of what, wondered Andas. He could not have been mistaken—it had been the tape marked with the symbol of his home world that had landed them here. Perhaps—perhaps those had been purposely mislabeled to prevent the possibility of just such an escape as the storm had made possible for them! Perhaps it had landed them in an unknown port where they could be easily recaptured.

“Bait in a trap—” Either Yolyos had read his thoughts from some change in his expression, or the Salariki's suspicions matched his. “If so, the one for Naul might also have delivered us here. But it would be of some value to know where ‘here' is.”

He worked an arm out of the protective belting of his pilot's seat and thumbed a button on the control board. Moments later the unaccented reply of the vocalizer reported atmosphere and gravity near to normal for at least two of them.

“We can survive. And we aren't going to take off again until we know more about where our choices will land us.”

“They could all be for here—those tapes.” Andas voiced his suspicion.

“Ingenious.” Yolyos unlatched the protect-straps. “Worthy of a master of trade.” There was honest admiration in his voice. “If that is true, we can look forward to being collected—by someone—sometime. I would suggest we make that collection as difficult as possible. Have you noticed one thing—”

“That there are no recent ship-burns? No one has been here—for years maybe.”

“But at one time this field had been steadily visited. Yet”—Yolyos's extended claw indicated the visa-screen—“if this was a regular port, where are the buildings? Beyond the burns, that looks like deep vegetation which has never been penetrated.”

“Fast growing, maybe.” But even fast-growing vegetation would have taken some years to swallow up all port buildings. In the first place, even at a small way station, the buildings were generally made of resistant-to-vegetation materials. Such a precaution was standard when they had to have buildings that could be erected with a minimum of effort on worlds differing greatly. Either the time since this port had been in use was so far in the past that the vegetation had finally conquered or there had never been any standard equipment here to begin with.

A semi-secret landing place—only one type of ship would use that. Jacks!

He said that and heard an answering rumble from Yolyos.

“And”—the Salariki put the finishing touch on danger—“the Guild has been known to make common cause with the Jacks.”

Normally the Jacks were the “peasants” of the crime confederation. They raided frontier worlds, selling the best of their loot to Guild fences. Now and then they were used by some Veep of the Guild for a project in which he needed easily discarded help.

“A Veep of the Guild!” Again Yolyos's thoughts matched his. “Turpyn” growled the Salariki.

“Then he knew—about the tapes!”

They could handle Turpyn among them. Why, Andas could take him alone probably. Somehow they must choke some information out of him. Andas got to his feet, ready to seek out the Veep and begin the job at once. His furious disappointment was chilling to that cold rage notorious in the House of Kastor.

“The tapes—” As if unconsciously, the Salariki moved between Andas and the ladder that would lead to his prey. “I am wondering about those tapes, Prince. A Veep of the Guild is a master at his craft. And I have seen Guild men who could lift a jeweled ring from a man's thumb without his knowing it. It could be that your Inyanga tape landed somewhere else than in the autopilot—that Turpyn was able to substitute another.”

“He couldn't have! I was watching while he did it.”

“As was I,” Yolyos agreed, “but I do not say that I can better any master in his own trade. And how many encounters with Guild experts have you had in the past, Prince?”

“None. But if he could do that—” Andas drew a deep breath. If Turpyn could so cheat while they watched him!

All those tales about the legendary exploits of the Guild! It was said that they bought up, or took by darker means, new inventions that even the Patrol could not counter. But Turpyn had been a prisoner, possessing nothing but his garments. He could not have worked any hallucinatory tricks on them—or could he? At that moment Andas's belief in his own sense of sight, his own ability to outthink an opponent, was badly shaken.

“So we have two answers,” Yolyos continued. “Either those tapes were left as bait, perhaps all of them, in spite of their markings, set to deliver us here. Or else Turpyn, for reasons of his own, made the switch. He took no part in our debate over Naul and Inyanga. Perhaps he did not need to, seeing that he could have his own choice after all.”

There was a sharp ping of warning. Above the visa-screen flashed a signal.

“The ramp!” Andas jumped for the ladder. Someone was leaving the ship, had been ready to depart almost as soon as they completed fin-down. And he had no trouble in guessing who that was. They must prevent Turpyn from reaching whomever he had come to meet, get him first and learn what danger lay ahead.

Andas swung down at top speed, Yolyos so close behind that once or twice the Salariki's heels almost bruised his fingers.

“What is it—where are we?” Elys asked. Behind her stood Tsiwon.

Andas, unwilling to lose a minute, did not take time to answer, pushing past the girl, heading for the ramp hatch.

They had made good time. As their sandals flapped upon that bridge over the ground, still hot from their rockets, they saw Turpyn out in the middle of the landing area. Andas had expected to see him running, heading for the protection of the growth. Once in there, the prince feared, they would have little chance of finding him.

But the Veep had slowed to a halt and was looking about him like a completely bewildered man. If he had left the ship with a goal in mind, it would seem he had lost his guides. He turned first this way and then that, shading his eyes against the strong sunlight, searching the vegetation wall for some break not there.

Andas pounded down the ramp, Yolyos still behind him. He expected Turpyn to hear, to turn and see them, to run. But the Veep continued to look about as if nothing mattered save to find what he sought.

He did not turn to look at them, even when they came pounding up. Andas caught at his shoulder and jerked him half around, ready to demand answers. But he never asked them, for he had not seen such an expression on the Veep's face before. Blank astonishment was as easy to read as if Turpyn had spent a life time cultivating the mobile features of a tri-dee actor.

“It's—it's gone!” He spoke as if to himself, trying to impress the fact of a loss on his own mind.

“What did you expect to find?” Andas kept his hold and now gave the other a quick shake to break through the maze of bewilderment that held him.

“But it can't be gone!” Apparently Turpyn was shattered. It was as if, up to this point, he had been armored by some certainty that he need fear nothing. Now that certainty had been reft from him.

“What is gone?” Andas began to wonder if the man had been shocked out of his full senses. He spoke slowly, spacing his words, in an effort to get through.

“The—the port. Wenditkover—the port!” Turpyn sounded impatient, as if he expected Andas to know already.

The name meant nothing to the prince. He glanced at the Salariki who made a gesture signifying like puzzlement.

“What is Wenditkover?” Andas asked again.

But then came a call from the ramp. Grasty was plunging down it at a pace that might be fatal for his footing unless he slowed.

The councilor's voice shrilled higher and higher as he ran, but Andas could not understand the words he sputtered. He had apparently in his excitement abandoned Basic for the tongue of Thrisk. His face was red under the muddy, greasy surface skin, and he pounded one fat fist against another as he spat forth what could only be abuse—aimed at Turpyn.

The Veep stood very still. That cloud of shocked amazement lifted from his face. He was once more the disciplined, enigmatic man of the prison. Andas could have cursed Grasty. If the councilor had not arrived at just that moment, they might have been able to learn something from Turpyn. Seeing the man now, he was sure it would take more than any art he possessed to force the Veep to talk.

Still half screaming, Grasty reached them. He paid no attention to Andas, but aimed a wild blow at the Veep, who avoided it easily. Then, not quite sure what or how it had happened, Andas found himself spinning away. He would have hit the ground had not Yolyos's arm, sturdy as a city wall, steadied him.

Grasty, though, had hit the ground with force enough to expel the air from his lungs in an explosive grunt. Turpyn stood over him, rubbing the knuckles of one hand. He was as impassive as one who had watched Grasty take a tumble from a clumsy stumble.

The councilor wheezed, clutching his protuberant belly with both hands, his mouth working, but soundlessly as if he had run out of words as well as breath in that short encounter. Turpyn stepped away. He looked at Andas, at Yolyos, and then at that wall of green. Then he turned toward the ship.

It was then that the Salariki took a hand. Though the Veep had handled both Andas (who had prided himself on his skill in unarmed combat) and the clumsy Grasty with contemptuous ease, he learned that the warrior from Sargol was different. Yolyos's move was made so swiftly that his body, big as it was, seemed to be a blur. There followed an instant of struggle, and Turpyn again stood still as Yolyos loomed over him, his extended claws digging into the Veep's shoulder muscles.

So holding him, Yolyos shook him gently, or what seemed gently. Yet Turpyn's mouth twitched, and Andas did not miss the two telltale red spots beneath a couple of claws.

“So this place is Wenditkover. You must excuse our ignorance, Turpyn. Not having had your advantages, we do not know the name. I think that you will explain a few matters. First, where is Wenditkover—not in relation to us at the moment, of course, but rather in relation to where we thought we were going? Second,
what
is—or was—Wenditkover? At present you must admit it is very little. Third, who—or what—did you expect to find here? We have a great deal of time, since there is no use trying to lift ship until we know why we came here in the first place.”

“And in that time, Turpyn”—the Salariki's voice was a rasping purr of promise that made Andas glad he did not stand in the Veep's place—“there can be more than one way of asking questions. Politely in this fashion, or more roughly. That you have tried to betray us in some manner is very evident. So there is no reason why we should treat you gently.”

Andas believed that Yolyos would do exactly as he hinted. The Salariki's voice carried complete conviction. And it must have impressed the Veep, because talk he did, in short, toneless sentences. Nothing he said had any reason to make them happier.

“Wenditkover is a Jack port—or it was. I don't know what has happened. Or”—emotion touched his voice fleetingly—“how everything could have gone
this
way—” He shook his head. “It doesn't make sense. You'd think no one had finned down here for years. And it is a regular refit and unload station.”

“With a Guild fence in residence?” suggested the Salariki. “Like that pirate's hold of Waystar?”

“Smaller, but like, yes.

“I tell you,” the Veep continued then, “I don't understand this at all! There should be buildings here—maybe a ship refitting. It couldn't all just disappear!”

“Suppose”—Yolyos did not loose his hold on the Veep, rather propelled the man ahead of him toward the green walls—“we just go over and see what is behind this growth.”

Andas matched them stride for stride. But Grasty remained where he was on the ground, breathing easier now, but watching the Veep with a murderous glare, a glare that perhaps included the rest of them, too. Had the councilor been armed, Andas would never have turned his back on him. But the prince did not believe the fellow was dangerous now, not at least for a while.

It was when they approached the green wall more closely that they saw buildings were still there, at least in part. But they had been taken over by a jungle of growth so that only small vestiges were visible.

“It might be fast-growing vegetation,” Andas suggested. But that shadow in the back of his mind was darker. No matter how fast growing that vegetation was, it could not have taken such a stranglehold in less than years. Yet Turpyn had been confident that this was a well-known Jack port, important enough for Guild connections.