Mute (59 page)

Damner had been abraded by Knot’s precipitous passage. He leaned against the wall, gathering his will. Knot found himself no longer afraid of hay. He charged into the man, hitting him with his left shoulder, trying to knock the wind from him, then whirling into a combat throw. But his left side was small, and the leverage was wrong; he could not complete his throw effectively. He struggled to force the man over—

And froze, then let go. Damner’s will was on him again, forcing him to relax. The mutant’s psi was irresistible.

Then Damner screamed. Finesse, released, had struck with her own psi, invoking another terror. Damner fled down the hall, heedless of the fighting animals. Three cocks and a houndcat were hurled to the side to clear his way. He was berserk, as Knot had been. Then he was gone.

“I gave him claustrophobia, the most intense case,” Finesse said breathlessly as she came to Knot.

“Keep on him! Don’t let him recover equilibrium until we can set the cocks on him!”

She nodded and ran after Damner, keeping him in range. Should the controller’s range be larger than Finesse’s he might otherwise control her from beyond her ability to affect him, and he would surely not let her go again. She had to stay close. She was no longer needed here; the cocks had countered the houndcats.

That left one job for Knot. It was possible that Piebald had forgotten him now, at least for the moment, and that set up a critical opportunity. He thought to Hermine:
Get the override code for me again. I’ve got to change CC back before Piebald realizes what I’m doing.

Mit says it won’t work.

But Knot moved on inside. He was glad he was no longer afraid of hay, and found it hard to imagine how he could have been, a moment ago. That demonstrated the power of Finesse’s psi, that overrode reason.

Finesse was right: she was not the same woman she had been. She would not be able to settle down with a normal man. Suppose she got mad and used her psi on him? It would not require many episodes of that to damage his love for her. She belonged with another psi mutant, who would respect her talent and understand her situation. She had used her psi on Knot, devastatingly; he still loved her. Would always love her. But he hoped she wouldn’t tease him with any more hay phobias.

Just give me the data,
he thought to Hermine.
Mit’s precog isn’t operating, is it? He doesn’t know whether this will work.

Hermine relayed the data reluctantly. Knot walked up to the terminal. The holograph of Piebald still stood above, watching him. No chance to be forgotten, then, but still it could work. As he understood it, the override code was preemptive; the most recent application of it would be the one in force. As with a chess piece taking over a square from the opponent’s piece occupying it.

“You’re one tough opponent,” the lobo said. “But I have already summoned reinforcements.”

Naturally Piebald would try to distract him, to prevent him from applying the code. Knot ignored him, and began tapping out the code pattern that Mit and Hermine provided.

“You will not be able to complete that override command,” Piebald said. The holo could do nothing now except talk; he could not interfere physically.

Knot kept tapping. “Why not? It takes time for reinforcements to arrive—several minutes, I happen to know—and there are a lot of aggressive birds in the way.” He was rather enjoying the lobo’s discomfiture. Once he achieved control of CC, he would act against Piebald immediately, to prevent any recurrence of this mutiny.

“Because I shall stop you.” The image raised its fist.

Knot laughed, almost losing his code-beat. “Strike, holo-lobo! You can’t touch me!”

Piebald took impressively careful aim, bracing himself exactly as though he expected substance to meet substance, putting on an excellent dramatic show. But Knot refused to be bluffed; he kept tapping, smiling.

The lobo struck—and the blow connected to the side of Knot’s face. It was no knockout strike, but its surprise made it devastating. Knot reeled back. “You’re real!” he gasped.

“I stepped onto the platform while you were occupied,” Piebald said, stepping down. “I thought you might try something cunning, like this; that’s the way my own mind works. I never depend on others to do my job for me; I use them only as front-line diversion. I don’t remember exactly how you got here, but I certainly know of you through my researches, and have been careful not to underrate you. Sure enough, you nullified both the psi mutant and the animals, and came here to finish the job. So I anticipated you, and acted to prevent it. You acted exactly as I would have acted, in your situation.”

So the lobo had begun to forget, when he had removed himself from Knot’s vicinity—but had come prepared for that. Knot’s code recital was forgotten; the unexpected blow had entirely disrupted that. His head was hurting. Had he realized—but the fact was this time the lobo had outsmarted him. To be lobotomized was not to lose intelligence or force of will; that was coming clearer the longer he interacted with Piebald.

Knot realized that his dream had abruptly been realized: he was alone with his archenemy, indulging in fair individual combat. His prior wounds still weakened him somewhat, but he knew he could do what he had to.

Knot launched himself into Piebald. He caught the man by the arm and swung him around. “I will refresh your memory,” he said, pausing before making his heave. “I blew up your volcano redoubt on Planet Macho. I set the bees on you, and burned up your arsonists and put your solar power plant on the blink.”

Then he heaved—but Piebald counterbalanced, dropping low and sticking out his hard stomach, making the throw impossible. Now his arm closed about Knot’s neck as he went into a stranglehold. The man knew combat technique.

“I appreciate that information,” the lobo said. “Now I shall destroy you and your girl and your two animals here; you are all too dangerous to allow to live, handy as you might otherwise be for our research program.” He tightened his grip, drawing Knot off balance.

Knot struggled, but was helpless. He could not get his feet under him to restore his balance, and could not reach any part of the lobo’s body. It was a fundamental principle: break a man’s balance, and you control him. Piebald had applied it expertly.

Knot’s consciousness was already fading, as the pressure on his neck transmitted to his carotid arteries. The sharp bones of Piebald’s arm pressed against the muscles of Knot’s neck, forcing them aside, making the arteries beneath vulnerable. Some people thought the jugular vein was the key spot, but it was not; the hidden carotids were the target of choice. The flow of blood to his brain was being cut off. In moments he would pass out.

Knot’s struggling feet hit something. A pitchfork, brought down by his prior manhandling of the bales. He hooked his feet about its handle and heaved up with all his remaining strength. Piebald was drawn slightly off balance himself, and had to let Knot lower to the floor. The strangle remained tight, however, and Knot’s head was being shoved forward cruelly. Not only was he losing consciousness, his neck seemed to be getting near the breaking point.

Yet he had a slight advantage. His body was uneven, and this made the strangle less tight than it should have been. Thus he had a few extra seconds to fight. His flailing, long-armed right hand found the shaft. He grasped the pitchfork, hauled it up, and wrestled the tines upward toward his enemy’s face. His grip on the weapon was awkward, but both Piebald’s hands were occupied with the stranglehold, and the man could not block those long, sharp points. Knot shoved.

Piebald let go, avoiding the menace. Knot was free—but unable to rise. His consciousness was still too faint. The lobo snatched the pitchfork from his weakened grasp, lifted it high—

Cocks burst into the chamber, half winging, half running toward the lobo. Hermine had directed them to victory in the hail, and now was coming to Knot’s rescue.

Piebald drew back, swinging the pitchfork around to cover the cocks. “Terminal self-destruct!” he yelled.

The CC terminal, obedient to the command of the override master, exploded. The flash and concussion blinded and deafened Knot, and he relinquished consciousness at last.

•  •  •

Knot was roused in only a few minutes. “We won the battle, lost the war,” Finesse said sadly as she stroked his hair. “I made Damner so scared he knocked himself out against a wall. The two houndcats are dead. But Piebald escaped. There’s an access passage for CC serviceman.”

“Yes,” Knot agreed. “Piebald’s just as slippery as I am. He hid there, then came out. He must really have done his homework on CC before he came here. The lobos always make sure to know their enemy. He played every card on cue.”

“That means he’s still emperor. He didn’t destroy CC, just this terminal. We can’t override through this terminal, now, and it’s the only critical one on Planet Chicken Itza. We’re lost, unless we can trap Piebald on this planet.”

“Monstrously fat chance of that!” Knot muttered.

“True,” Finesse agreed morosely. “He’s the master, as far as CC is concerned. Any lesser CC outlet will honor his personal code, and there are plenty of those terminals around. So he can communicate with CC, and so can we, but we can’t override him. Not from this planet. In fact, he’ll soon have us arrested. We have to hide—again.”

“With all the resources of CC after us, this time,” Knot finished. “The lobos have really taken the advantage.”

“Yes. CC is now our enemy. We support the ousted program.” She lifted her head, her small chin firm. “But we’re not entirely helpless. CC does not yet know about our extended animal alliances. Klisty had the sense to keep all the creatures except Hermine and Mit clear of the action. Maybe it was Mit’s advice that was responsible. Piebald either knows or will soon learn about Hermine and Mit through CC, anyway.”

“He knows about Klisty and Harlan,” Knot said. “He used the null-precog effect to get through to CC himself.”

“Oh, no!” she cried, chagrined. “Then we’ll have to make that alliance with the hive.”

“Exchanging one evil for another,” Knot said. “The hive is just as much mutinous as the lobos.” He climbed to his feet, still feeling lightheaded. “Let’s not make that deal yet. Maybe the lobos and animals will cancel each other out.”

“I still have the feeling there’s something important we know,” she said. “I wish we could get hold of a power-clairvoyant, one who grasps fundamental social forces.”

“I know what you mean. I’ve had the feeling for days. There is some force operating that we have not perceived, directly.” He shrugged. “For the moment, let’s gather what we have and get out of here. This is unsafe territory for us.”

Mit directed them to Klisty and the other animals. The little girl was cleaning away tears with her free hand, holding the sleeping baby in the crook of the other arm. “I wanted to help, but Hermine and the bees told me we all had to stay out of it, no matter what. They didn’t know if you’d survive.”

Finesse put her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “They were right, dear. We are playing in an extremely rough league now. It was essential that no person or machine see those animals. That may save all our lives in the next few days.”

“But I thought the animals had questions to ask CC, to get their status.”

“The Coordination Computer has turned against us,” Finesse explained. “The lobos got to it and changed its basic directive. Everything it knows about us is now our liability, but it doesn’t know about the bees, roaches or rats—we hope.”

“Then it’s not over,” Klisty said grimly.

“No—it may never be over,” Finesse agreed. There was a pause while they all considered that. How could they fight the full resources of CC? The single compulsion-psi mutant, Damner, had been almost more than they could handle.

“We have to get out of here before the CC forces seal off this barn,” Knot said. “And we’d better get off this planet before they ship in a good clairvoyant or broadscan telepath.”

“Yes,” Finesse said. “Before we were up against non-psis; now we must overcome the whole of the psi forces CC can bring to bear against us. We’ve got some of the best available psi-mutes in our own group, right here, but let’s not fool ourselves. We’re grossly overmatched.”

“We need more,” Knot said grimly. “We need enough psi to put up a decent front against CC, and that’s virtually impossible.”

More animal psis?
the bees inquired, buzzing back to his shoulder.

Animal psis! He had been thinking human, for no good reason.
Yes. We need psi-powers to oppose the human psis that will be brought to bear against us. Psi-blocks against clairvoyance, telekinetic attack, telepathy, compulsion—the only defense we have now is against precognition.

We have read the minds of some chickens,
the bees thought.
We had to do this, to be sure they were not going to eat us. We learned they are hiding psi-mutes.

Real hope flared. Of course! On an experimental chicken-breeding world there would be many unsuccessful mutants—and some successes the breeders weren’t looking for. CC did not register chickens the way it did people; comparatively few psi animals came to its attention, such as Hermine and Mit, while the rats and roaches escaped its attention. Who would interview a chicken for its mental powers? Simple, rapid inspection by handlers sufficed. Chickens that looked normal to such handlers, that seemed fit for laying or eating or combat—such birds could have all manner of psi talents, unregistered. If the chickens themselves quietly acted to preserve these psi mutants, there could be a considerable collection now. And the chickens
would
act—for the first chicken precog who saw the fate of those who did not act would react automatically. This did not require intelligence, any more than fleeing from a wolf did; it was simple gut-level survival.

“I think this planet too may be ripe for mutiny,” Knot murmured. “This may be the mutiny we want to join.”

Finesse looked at him, surprised, grasping it. “If they can use psi the way they fight—”