Mute (51 page)

“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 Klisty. 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.

Finesse—her very name advertised her nature. A potent psi, masquerading as a normal until the enemy showed its hand.

Very well: was she doing it again? Suppose the lobos had an assassin squad lurking, just waiting for them to clear the premises of the well-set and politically potent Macho citizen, the gross one’s brother, so that the murder would not create a lobo-destructive commotion. For the lobos, as a despised minority, remained vulnerable to the wrath of the normal majority—should that majority ever be specifically aroused. So open murder was beyond the lobos’ range of tactics, while covert murder was practical and expedient. Suppose that squad was there, outside at this moment—and Finesse knew it? How would she react?

She would ignore it overtly, and make plans to deal with it covertly, playing this game by its deadly rules. She would not discuss the matter in words, because the lobos would naturally have listening devices monitoring the premises, as well as visual monitors. Finesse would talk freely of known plans, of past adventures, even of love—but never of escape or assassination. To lull the spying lobos.

What, then, of Hermine? The lobos did not use psi, though they were highly conscious of it. Where were the weasel and the crab? They had not been within range of him since the gross one’s wedding. What were they up to? Were they being kept away from him? If so, why?

Could there be a telepathist also monitoring them? No—even assuming the lobos would use one, there would be no point in Finesse being secretive if her mind were being motivated or read from outside. She might as well discuss her concerns openly. And he, himself—what profit in this line of thought, if an enemy telepathist was following it all?

On the other hand, with non-psi monitoring of this estate, the lobos could not know what was going on in any of their minds. But the lobos did know of Hermine’s and Mit’s powers now, surely; the episode of the bees and the truck would surely have given them the hint. As long as those two animals were out of range, there could be no hidden planning. So the lobos would not be forced to act precipitously. That gave some leeway.

But how were Knot and Finesse and Hermine and Mit and maybe the girl Klisty to escape this planet? The lobos surely would not let them go to make their reports to CC! Somewhere between the estate and the ship there was likely to be a most unfortunate accident. Finesse had to know that, and to be planning for it.

The trouble was, Knot did not trust this. He wanted to know personally that he could get off this planet intact. He needed to form his own plan, in case whatever Finesse had in mind failed.

At night, when things were quiet, Knot quietly got out of bed and slipped out of the house. His psi would protect him here; anyone he encountered would soon forget the meeting. Outside, he slunk into a convenient shadow and waited, watching. He did not spy any lobos—but of course they would be inconspicuous. Well, if they did not physically apprehend him, they would forget him, and he would slip through. That was the real advantage of his psi.

He moved on past an ornamental picket fence—and heard a motion in the night. It seemed to be a creature of moderate size, fast and sleek.

Knot stepped back and felt for the picket fence. Quickly he checked the pickets, locating one that was loose. He drew it carefully out of its frame, and ran his hand along its length; it was foam-steel, light but strong, its nether end shaped into a formidable spike. It would do.

The animal moved close. Now its outline showed. Sure enough, it was a houndcat, the common local guard pet, a pleasing cross between canine and feline that suited the Macho mode. Assorted breeds were suited for racing, fighting or household duties. This one surely was a fighter.

Knot held the stake before him, its point toward the animal. He did not speak, and the houndcat did not growl; it was a silent confrontation. In this respect, Knot thought, it paralleled the one between lobo and CC agent.

A trained attack animal was deadly—but so was a trained man. Knot, in another of CC’s little anonymous arrangements, had learned how to deal with the common animals. If this one pounced, it would meet the stake head-on. The thing had good night vision; it was not eager for that particular meeting. Knot was silently informing it that he had it under control. The thing prowled around, seeking an opening, finding none. Stalemate.