Cerberus: A WOLF IN THE FOLD (39 page)

 
"So he switched during the night."

 
"Uh-huh.
Clever bastard, but hold tight.
We got him."
His move.
No countermove.

 
A little over an hour later they wheeled the body back out and went through the wakeup routine again. At least this time we held our ears when the cymbals clanged. The man on the table went through much the same experience as Samash had the day before, and when he jumped to the floor, he looked around wonderingly. "Well, 1'U be damned!"

 
Merton went up to him. "Activation Code AJ360," she said to him.

 
The man paused, smiled, and shook his head.
"Nope.
There's a little tingle when you say it, like something inside wants to be let out, but it's suppressed, all right." He sighed. "I can see now what Samash must have felt. Like a godl" He turned back to Merton. "You have no
idea
what it's like—oh, of course you do. I forget
It's
—un-.
believable
!" He turned to us.

 
"Well," he said, "it works. It really works! You have no idea of the
power I
feel. It's almost a strain to slow myself down to your speed just to converse with you. Every cell in my body's
olivet
Alive and sentient! Sentient—and obedient! The- power in each is phenomenal! Even I had no idea until now just how powerful and versatile these bodies were. And
no paint
Every
single body has some pain at all points after they're born. We live in it. The rush of freedom—to be totally immune to it—is almost awesome!"

 
"I wonder, though—if these aliens are so smart, why did they allow this loophole to slip by?" I commented. It was a genuine question that really bothered me.

 
He shrugged. "I don't know. That bothered me, too— but not now. Nothing," he added darkly, "will ever bother me again.
Nothing and no one."
He looked back at us. "Now, tell me. Give me one reason why I should allow either of you to live one moment longer."

 
Dylan looked up at me questioningly, as if to ask, are you
sure
this isn't Laroo?

 
"Trust me," I whispered beneath my breath,
then
turned to Laroo once more—the fake Laroo, I was convinced. "Insurance," I told him aloud, hoping his superior hearing would mistake her glance and my comment for reassurance and nothing more sinister. "Remember Samash. And that robot they caught in Military Systems Command.
Hard to kill—yes.
Superior
? Yes.
But immortal?
No. Not only that, but I think I know, or can at least guess, the alien's insurance policy."

 
Both Merton and "Laroo" looked startled. "Go on," he urged.

 
"They—these robot bodies.
They'll wear out They have to, no matter how good they are. What's to prevent a little bit of that programming we dared not touch, the autonomic
system's
, say, from suddenly stopping at some predetermined point in time?"

 
He looked nervously at Merton. "Is this possible?"

 
She nodded. "But not insurmountable. Remember, I have recorded your and other kef people's imprints. As long as you update them periodically, as they do in Confederation Intelligence, you can die over and over again —and still live again."

 
That explanation satisfied him, and also me. "Might I point out, though, that if somebody's not there to clear the next robotic programming, you'll have to go back into a human body
again.
"

 
"Never!" he snapped. "Once you've been in one of these you can never go back. Not for an instantl Never!" He realized the implications of what he was saying. "Yes, all right. You're right. But you will remain here on the island as my permanent guests.
For all time, and from body to body.
You say you want to keep your children, raise them yourselves. Very well, do so here, in the midst of luxury."

 
"Luxury prison, you mean," Dylan responded.

 
He shrugged.
"As you wish.
But it's velvet-lined and gold-plated. You'll want for nothing here. It's the best I can do. You and I both know the Confederacy will quickly know that you played false with them. They'll want you at all costs, to erase that information which is probably easily done with a simple verbal trigger—so I can afford you no contact except with my own."

 
"And if they fry the island?" Dylan asked pointedly.

 
"They won't," he responded confidently. "Not until they're
sure.
And we'll give
them
corpses to look at and a really convincing story, not to mention obviously dismantling Project Phoenix.
Everything back to normal.
They'll believe something went wrong, all right—but it'll be convincing. Believe me."

 
I sighed and shrugged. "What choice have we got?"

 
"None," he responded smugly. At that point I noticed he was alone in the center of the room. The laser cannon opened up, and after an incredible tune he too was melted. I looked over at the brownish patch left from Samash, still there despite a strong cleanup effort.
My move—success.
And check.

 
. Dylan gasped and whispered, "You were right!" Then she hesitated. "How will we know the real one?"

 
"We won't," I told her. "Just trust me."

 
We went through three more acts, each one as or more convincing than the first. Each time the robot was suddenly melted. I kept wondering if they'd all be so confident if Laroo told them what had happened to their predecessors.

 
The fourth one, though, another civilized worlds standard like the others and equally nondescript, was different at the end. He finally smiled when we finished the interminable wonderment conversation and sighed. "All right, that's it.
Enough fun and games.
I'm convinced." He turned, gestured, and we followed nervously, avoiding the puddles and eyeing those cannon suspiciously. But, this time, we all walked out of the lab.

 
Bogen awaited us, and bowed. "Did all go well, my lord?"

 
"Perfectly.
Hard as it is for me to believe, it seems as if our friends here really delivered. Take good care of them, Bogen. Give them anything they want—except communication with the outside world. Understand?"

 
"As you wish, my lord," he responded respectfully.

 
We all began walking down die corridor and I started singing, softly and lightly, a ditty I neither understood nor had known before, but one I knew the function of quite well.

 
"
'Twos
brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mirnsy were the borogoves, And mome roths outgrabe
..."

 
Laroo stopped and turned, curious. "What's that?"

 
"Just a little light song from my childhood," I told him. "I've been under a hell of a lot of tension the past few weeks, remember, and it's gone now."

 
He shook his head in wonder.
"Umph.
Crazy business."

 
"Well see you again, won't we?" Dylan asked him innocently.

 
"Oh, yes, certainly. I have no intention of leaving just yet"

 
"Maybe a month from now," I suggested helpfully. "At least then we could talk about our lives here."

 
"Why, yes, certainly.
In a motith."
And wjjh that we went up to die quarters level while he and Bogen went elsewhere.

 
Freed at last of the constant guard, we walked out onto the lawn and sat in the middle of it, basking in the sunlight and warmth, stripping down and lying next to each other. For a while we said nothing. Finally Dylan spoke. "Did we actually just take control of the Lord of Cerberus?" she asked, wonderingly.

 
"I'm not sure. Well know in a month, certainly," I replied. "If he lives to get off this island, he's the real one. If not, we'll just do it again and again until we get it right But I think he was the right one/'

 
She giggled.
"In a month.
We have a whole month. Just
us
, here, with every wish catered to. It'll be a relief. And then..."

 
"It's all ours, honey. All Cerberus is ours. Good old Dr. Dumonia."

 
She looked startled.
"Who?"

 
"Dr. Du—now why did I bring
him
up?"

 
She shrugged. "I don't know. We sure won't
be needing
a psych any more.
Except maybe to get that implant to report out of your head."

 
"Yeah, but I suppose that Dr. Merton could do that as well. I hope so."

 
She turned to me. "You know why I love you? You did it all yourself! Without
any
outside help! You're incredible!"

 
"Well, the Confederacy had to go along with the plan, you know."

 
"Pooh. You knew it all along. Every single one of your crazy, mad, nonsensical schemes worked. In a little more than a year you went from exile to true Lord of the Diamond."

 
"And you're the Lady of the Diamond, remember."

 
She lay idly for a moment,
then
said, "I wonder if we'd shock anybody if we made love out here?"

 
"Only robots, probably," I responded, "and we know what they're worth."

 
She laughed.
"Shocking.
You know, though—remember when they suggested we put ourselves in each other's minds? Who was that, anyway?"

 
I shook my'head.
"Too long ago.
I can't remember.
NoK important, anyway.
But why do you bring
that
up?"

 
She laughed. "It wasn't necessary. I'm a part of you "anyway now. And you, me, I believe. At least I can't get you out of my head."

 
END REPORT. REFER TO EVALUATION. STOP TRANSMISSION STOP STOP.

 
Epilogue

The observer leaned back, removed the helmet, and sighed. He looked weary, worn, and even a little old beyond his years, and he knew it.

 
"You are still disturbed," the computer noted. "I fail to see why you should be upset. It was a splendid victory, perhaps a key one for us. We will henceforth have our own spy in the ranks of the Four Lords."

 
He didn't reply immediately. The computer irritated him, and he couldn't quite explain that either. Computers and agents were well matched to each other, and before he had always somewhat identified with the machine.
Two of a kind.
Cold, emotionless, logical, a perfect analytical working team.
Was he in fact irritated at the computer, he wondered, or was U that the machine was such a reflection of.
his
own previous ego and^elf-image that he couldn't bear the mirror it presented? He wasn't site, but his mind did seize for a moment on the word
preyi-vious.
A curious word.
Why had he used it?
Had he changed that much?

 
/
haven't changed!
he
told himself, banging a clenched fist down on the armrest.
They changed. Not
mel

 
But they
are
you,
his mind accused.

 
What was so different about their missions, anyway? The planets, to be sure, Were far more exotic than the majority of plastic and steel worlds he was used to, but not as different as a few on the frontier. Never before had that changed him. What had—down there?

 
Perhaps it was the fact that they—his other selves-knew that they were down there for life. No check back in, debrief, and lay off until the next mission. No return to the good life and the best the Confederacy could offer.
A last mission.
No more responsibilities to the Confed-acy, no more working for anyone
except
yourself.

 
All his life he'd been trained to think in the collective sense.
The greatest good for the greatest number.
The preservation of the civilized worlds from internal forces that threatened it.
As long as humanity in the mass was bettered, they'd taught him, it hardly mattered that a few had to die, innocent or not, or even an entire planet Bettered.
Protected.
Saved.

 
Did he really believe that any more?
he
asked himself.