Eternity's End (23 page)

Legroeder blinked in amazement; with the anesthesia, the action occurred in slow motion. "You've been to Earth?" Earth, to him, was hardly more than a legend. He had never been within a hundred light-years of the place.

"Indeed I have. I did my post-post-training on Earthhome," said Com'peer. "Columbia Interspace Medical Center, in Old America."

"Huh..." said Legroeder. He wanted to ask more, but just then the surgeon stepped away, humming softly. A moment later, his thoughts were obliterated by a sudden rush of sensation from the inner network construction...

It was a little like feeling a spiderweb being pulled through his nerves, veins, and sinews. The sensation was partly physical, and partly an
image
being drawn through his consciousness. It was growing and he had no power to control it, to slow it or stop it. He had a sudden feeling of being caught in traffic in a city, trapped and choked, and forced to move where traffic moved him, or held where it held him, caught in a living web that was part of something greater than himself.

And then darkness flared over him, and all sensation flickered out, and he no longer knew whether time was passing slowly or quickly. But he knew that it was somehow
altered
... and he retained just enough awareness to realize that the new network was somehow integrating itself with brain centers associated with time perception...

...and then without warning there was a jarring sensation, as if his own inner system were being
reset
. Immediately a rush of information followed, to and from the implants. He had no idea of the actual content of the information; it was as though the system were testing itself, and felt no need to involve him in the process.

And then, just like that, the physical alteration was done. But not the readjustment; that was only beginning. There were things linked to his brain now: knowledge systems. It was a little like being hooked into a rigger-net; but the kinds of data he sensed were very different, more like a library connection.` He was dimly aware, as he lay motionless, of the Narseil medics moving around nearby, but most of his attention was drawn inward; the knowledge systems were stirring, and offering their services to him. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do.

A series of connections flickered open briefly, in succession. Some were to databases, others to analysis engines. Still others, to the outside—or would be, later, when he needed to join with ship systems, or libraries. Or... the pirates' intelnet.

He became conscious of Com'peer moving around, humming. When the surgeon leaned over to peer into his eyes, he yelped involuntarily; there was a mutant iguana staring at him. His vision squirmed for a moment, then refocused to reveal the Narseil's face.

"Good," said the surgeon.

Legroeder struggled to make his mouth work. "Wha' d'y' mean,
good?
" he managed. "You scared... living b'jesus... out 'me."

The Narseil laughed, the sound of a zipper going up. "I was applying a small input to your vision system to see if you would react. I was not disappointed."

Legroeder closed his eyes, praying it would all go away.

"Don't worry if all this seems a bit disconcerting," Com'peer went on. "We'll have you trained before you actually go into action."

"How're you—?" Legroeder started to say, but before he could complete the thought, a new rush of inputs came over him. He was suddenly swimming in a surrealistic landscape, floating over glowing orange lava beneath a blood-red sky. He felt a rush of fear, and then annoyance and confusion. Finally it occurred to him that perhaps he could control this the way he would control a rigger-net. He tried to wish the volcanic landscape away. When that didn't help, he tried to command it away. There was still no effect, except that the lava seemed to glow hotter, rising toward him with its sulfurous fumes. With a silent mutter, he focused his thoughts more sharply. In his mind's eye, he formed his right hand into a painter's brush. He stroked at the sky. The blood-red softened to pink, and then to a pale violet.
Ahh
... With a sweep of his brush, he erased the lava and turned the surroundings into a cool blue place with a ceiling over his head... and finally back into the Narseil medical center.

He glared up at the Narseil surgeon.

"Very good," said Com'peer. "You seem to have a knack for this. Of course, as a rigger, you should."

"As a rigger," Legroeder growled, "I don't like having my mind messed with. If I don't know where input is coming from, and I can't control it, I can't rig. That's why I didn't
want
these damn things!"

"I understand," said the surgeon, in a tone of sandpaper, probably meant to be soothing. "That's why we're training you—so you
will
be in control. You're off to a good start. I expected it to take you far longer to pull out of that image just now. My congratulations."

Legroeder swore under his breath. "You might have given me some warning."

Her laugh sounded like crinkling cellophane. "Next time. Next time we will give you warning. Now, would you like to rest before we move on to phase two?"

Legroeder rolled his head on the padded table. "Phase two?
Phase two?
Yes, I would like to rest! Can I get off this damned table?"

The surgeon helped Legroeder sit up. "You are feeling well enough to walk? Good! Then my associates will take you to your room and get you something to eat before you sleep. Try to make yourself at home and I'll see you tomorrow."

Legroeder wobbled as he slipped off the table onto rubbery legs. "Thank you."

The surgeon acknowledged with a nod, then motioned to one of the medical assistants to come forward. "Now, do not be surprised if you find yourself... interacting... with your new implants as you sleep. It is nothing to worry about."

"Nothing to worry about?" Legroeder asked suspiciously.

"You may have dreams."

Sleep proved hard to come by, and when he did drop off, Legroeder found himself on a roller coaster of night visions. His inner world flickered with images and movement; he ran in his dreams, trying to find his way down a maze of corridors, trying to escape from he knew not what, or to catch up with something very much like it. His breath became ragged; his pulse raced.

He woke up, alone, in a small room. He was lying on a pad on the floor. The Narseil had worried that he might fall off one of their high beds, and his tangled bedclothes suggested that they were right. He sat up, dazed, trying to bring back the confusing welter of dream images that had preceded his awakening. He felt a need to identify them before he could push them aside—to clear his mind of them before he could trust his senses in the waking world.

A Narseil aide appeared, calling him to breakfast. Already? It felt like the middle of the night. He dressed and followed the aide to a nearby room, where he sat alone and ate cereal with rice milk, and drank something like coffee. Finally he was taken back to the medical center. Com'peer greeted him cheerily, asked how he'd slept, and led him to a console. "Please study," she said.

On the display were six faces. The first snapped to full screen as he sat down. It was his own face: dark, olive-tinted skin in a narrow, slightly pinched face. All right—he knew what he looked like. He could stand to be a little handsomer, but he'd lived with this face for a long time, and figured he could keep on living with it. The screen flicked to the second face, and it was... his face, but different. It was longer and thinner, almost more like a Narseil. His features were recognizable, but only because he was looking for them. It was a very good disguise. It was also a remake of his entire facial structure. "Just how would you do this—by putting my head in a vice?" he asked, looking up at Com'peer.

"Nothing so crude," said the surgeon. "But in a sense you are right. We would have to redo the bone structure of your face. It would involve some pulverizing and reconstituting."

"
Jesus
," Legroeder said, feeling faint. "What else have you got?"

The next image was just the opposite effect: it looked as if an anvil had been dropped on his head. The face was recognizably human, but barely. "Oh, that's great," he said. "Christ Almighty."

"All right, no need to worry," said Com'peer, beginning to sound just a little tense. "We'll keep showing you possibilities."

"I can just imagine!
Christ!
"

Com'peer was quiet for a moment. "Could I ask you a personal favor? Could you not curse in those terms, please?"

"What?" He looked up at her, startled.

The Narseil's voice changed in tone. "I am a Christian," she said, "and it troubles me to hear His name used in that manner."

Legroeder stared, open-mouthed. "You're kidding."

"No, I am not." The Narseil looked at him oddly. "Why would I kid?"

"You're a
Christian?
I thought you Narseil were all Three Ringers."

Com'peer's neck-sail quivered a little. "The Three Rings is the predominant faith on my world. But not the only one, no. Forgive me for the digression. About these images—"

"I'll be damn—I mean—"

"It is all right. Now, if you will look at the images again... I think you worry too much about these changes. If you do not want us to alter your fundamental bone structure, we will not. There is much that we can do, short of that."

Legroeder shifted his gaze from the surgeon to the screen. The next image looked like a face that had stood in the path of a desert sandstorm. The features were scoured and smoothed, the eyebrows almost entirely missing, the angularities of his nose and cheekbones rounded and softened. It seemed almost feminine.

"Next!" he grunted.

The next was a lot more like his real face, except that at first he scarcely saw it, because his hair was so drastically altered. It cascaded out in a thick, overhanging umbrella, and was cut sharply inward at the bottom, in a downward angle to his head. The eyes were changed, too—dulled from the dark intensity that he normally saw in the mirror. "
Ug-g-
ly," he grunted. "But better than any of the others, that's for sure."

"This would require far less in the way of organic change to your facial bones," Com'peer said. "But we're not sure that the change is sufficient to disguise you." She hesitated. "At the risk of offending... I must confess that most human characteristics look universal to most Narseil. Even after considerable exposure. So we must depend somewhat on your judgment in the matter."

Legroeder tried to look more offended than he actually felt, then realized that the expression was probably lost on the Narseil, anyway. "It would fool me," he said. "You got any others?"

There was one more, which looked like his face molded from putty. Legroeder shook his head. "Nope. If it has to be one of these, give me the umbrella-head."

Com'peer and several other Narseil conferred, then Com'peer said, "Very well. That is what we will do. Do you have any requirements before we begin the procedure?"

Besides packing my bag and leaving?
Legroeder sighed heavily. "I guess not. You mean,
now?
Let's get it over with, then."

They put him back on the padded table, and this time put him under a light sleep. He started to protest—did he trust them to do this right without his oversight?—but it was already too late. The sleep-field slipped over his thoughts like a fine, downy comforter and his thoughts drifted away.

He dreamed of rows of corn growing on the top of his head, and the wind sighing through his hair.

Chapter 13

Mission Away

He awoke feeling clear headed, and asked to see a mirror.

"Dear God, how long was I asleep?" he gasped, when they led him to a seeing wall. His face was white, and his hair had turned light grey and been shaped into a wide, snub-topped cone, extending about four inches out from the sides of his head. It was at least ten inches longer than it had been when he went to sleep. He touched it hesitantly; it felt synthetic. But it wasn't; it tugged at his scalp roots as he moved his head from side to side.

"About fourteen hours," said Com'peer, walking into the room. "How do you like it?"

Legroeder was having trouble breathing. "My skin! I'm bleach white!"

"Well, it's not quite that—"

"Fish-belly white! You didn't tell me you were going to do that to me!"

Com'peer waved her hands. "We felt that it was necessary."

"For
what?
"

"To ensure your anonymity. The other changes seemed insufficient, when we saw them."

Legroeder patted his skin, scowling at himself and at the surgeon in the reflection. What the hell was wrong with this mirror, anyway? Then he realized that the surgeon, who was standing to his right, was also to his reflection's right. It wasn't a mirror; it was a projection of his image, without left and right reversal. Damned disorienting. He shut his eyes for a moment. "What else have you done?"

Com'peer made a husky sound. "Well... we did change your DNA slightly—just enough to fool a scan."

Legroeder gulped. "You changed my—"

"Only in your gonads. According to our reports, that's where the raiders like to do their testing."

"What?"
His hands went instinctively below his belt.

One of the other Narseil said, "Apparently it is more accurate there."

"Not more accurate," corrected Com'peer. "Just more humiliating. It is a method of theirs." She lowered her gaze as she studied her human patient. "That is something you needed to be warned about, in any case. You must be ready."

Legroeder stared at her, appalled.

Com'peer seemed to relax a little, having delivered the bad news. "We can change you back if—forgive me,
when
—you return safely. And we only changed genome segments listed as inactive or cosmetic. So it's not really a big thing."

Speak for yourself
.

"Good," said Com'peer. "Now, if we're through with the inspection and everyone's happy, let's get started with your training. Shall we?"

Shaking his head, Legroeder followed the others out of the room.