Psion (30 page)

“What did you expect, a parade?” She wasn’t going to give me a chance to ruin anything-or even to get any satisfaction out of it.

I frowned.
“Maybe just a chance to ask some questions.”

“You’re to turn yourself in at the spaceport, and let yourself be taken back to the mines. At an appropriate time you’ll begin a joining with Rubiy, who will be open for your contact. That’s your entire role and responsibility-and all you need to know.”

“If you say so.”
I shrugged. “One question-do I get time to put on my pants?”

She left the room.

We walked along the street toward the starport side by side, but it wasn’t like we were walking together: I was going there alone, and she was making sure I did. The clear afternoon air was bright and still; it gave me chills, but not because I felt cold. I stopped across from the ramp in front of the shining glass starport entrance and looked on past it into the wilderness. Green hills burned my eyes; I kept looking up until I saw the cobwebbed sky. I wondered how much of it I’d be seeing after today.

“You know what to do,” she said. “You’re being watched, always. And always remember . . . we’re your only protection. If you don’t do what you’ve been told, our plan will fail-and you’ll be a slave there until you die.”

I looked down again. “You don’t really want me to go, do you?” Saying that instead of what was filling my mind. “What’s the matter, you jealous? If you want to take my place . . .” I waved at the entrance, trying to force a laugh.

But sparks leaped from live wires in her mind. She did want to go in my place-wanted to hold the place of honor that belonged to her, do the final deed that would put the Federation Mines into Rubiy’s hands and secure the future. It was her
right, hers, not mine
: She’d spent the best part of her life working toward this triumph, working for Rubiy, with Rubiy; molding him, teaching him, serving him, worshiping him. He was her creation, and her god. She’d taken him out of the gutter when he was nothing but a hoodlum-angry, helpless, but burning with potential. She’d never known how to take control of her own life; he’d solved that problem for her. Soon he’d had her begging him to use her, any way he wanted. She’d devoted her life to helping him learn, helping him
succeed
. . . made herself his willing slave.

And this was how he repaid her: by deciding that she had outlived her usefulness, her ability, his need for her . . . his love for her. Letting
himself
be seduced, pushing her aside for this dirty half-breed with the morals of an animal. . . . Her control fell apart completely. For half a second I saw the raw heart of her betrayal, and I thought she was going to use her psi against me right there in the street.

But she got her control back almost before it was gone. She had put her life in Rubiy’s hands; it was his to use or throw away. She would accept his decision in this, gracefully, as she had always done. . . . No matter how much she detested it, and me. Her hands flexed inside her gloves, and her mouth trembled.

I let go of my own defenses, taking a deep breath. For a minute I almost felt sorry for her.

A couple of town psions pushed past us with sidelong glances. I turned and followed them up the ramp without saying anything.

I stopped once I got inside, letting her hate drain out of me. I had my own problems to worry about. I stood staring down at the mosaic of a star gone nova under my feet; thinking it fit the position I was in right now about as well as anything could. Now all I had to do was find somebody who was waiting to turn me back into a piece of property. I looked around, wondering how to start: I didn’t see any guards who looked like I was on their minds. I began to think it would be a laugh if I couldn’t find anybody who wanted me.

Then I saw Jule, through the light-fountain, leaning against a counter and talking to some woman. I started toward her, wanting to see her once more before I had to go; to carry her smile with me, to give me courage.

She was facing away from me, listening, as I came up to the night-blue counter. I put out a hand to rest on, not even thinking about it. And then suddenly my wrist jerked down and slammed flat against the counter edge. It startled me; my hand was trapped somehow and I couldn’t move it. The counter turned blood-red for a meter on either side of me.

The woman at the counter turned, and then she was backing away from me. I was jerking at my trapped hand; my eyes caught Jule’s staring back at me. I could see her fist pressing her chest, she was shaking her head. (Too late, it’s too late. . . .) I looked down at my own wrist and the world snapped back together: the bond tag. Suddenly it was all real, what I was doing here, and the thought hit me: What if this doesn’t work?

I quit struggling as a handful of port guards circled me with their stunguns out. I kept my eyes on Jule, and I said, “Help-
“ She
gave me a sad, helpless smile, while one of the guards put a lock on my hands. Then they told her to push a button. She did, and my hand came loose from the counter. They led me away. I could feel her thoughts following me; her mind filled with gratitude. She knew. Siebeling had told her everything. I looked back and smiled.

A couple of the guards led me to an empty office, and shut the door against the people still staring at us out in the lobby. They pushed me down into a chair and looked at me; one of them wiped the back of his hand across my face. “No dust. He hasn’t been at the mines long; or else he’s been out long enough to throw off the effects. You watch him; I’ll call in a report.”

He left the room. The other one sat behind the desk with his gun pointing across it at me. I shifted in the molded plastic seat and tried to get comfortable; but it was the wrong shape, and I didn’t feel much like relaxing. I thought about Jule, about trying to reach her with my mind. But the guard was a telepath, and a good one. I didn’t want him eavesdropping; he was too close for comfort. I made myself stop thinking about her. But then I started to think about the mines; and I didn’t want to think about that, either. I looked back at the guard. He sighed and shifted his gun. I said, “Nice weather,” because I had to do something.

“I suppose so, to you.” He looked at me kind of funny. “How’d you get loose, anyway? I thought that was impossible.” But he was a psion, and I couldn’t help feeling he should have known why I was here.

I said, “I teleported,” and he frowned. I kept my mind loose and empty, and watched him wonder. Galiess hadn’t even told her own people the truth about me, or what I was supposed to be doing. Making sure I didn’t get any special treatment-or any credit. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about her anymore. Only about me, about how I was going to make them listen to me at the mines. Joraleman would be there; he was all right, he knew what had happened. And when it was all over, they’d let me go, because they’d have proof that I’d been an agent. Sure, they had to. . . .

The door opened. The guard was back already, and Kielhosa was with him. I shut my eyes and wished I really could teleport.

The trip out from town and down to the snow was the same as before, except that this time my hands weren’t free, and this time Kielhosa had a stungun. He didn’t say a word; but I knew what he was thinking, so maybe it was just as well. He’d been in town on his time off, (Just his goddamn lousy luck). . . . And mine.

I hoped Joraleman would be there when we reached the snow-track, but he wasn’t. There were only a couple of bondies, loading supplies, and a guard sitting on an empty box watching them. Kielhosa came up alongside him and made me stop. “Got room for two more?”

“You’re going back early?” The guard looked surprised.

“Not by choice.” Kielhosa glared at me. “I’ve got a special delivery to make. How much longer is this going to take?”

“Nearly done.”
The guard stood up and stretched. I looked at the prod shimmering in his hand. “I had to wear out my arm, though. Your prize specimens don’t break their backs getting the job done. Where’d that one come from-a new recruit?” He laughed.

“To them it’s a holiday.
And no.
This rat thought he could resign.” His hand on my shoulder shook me. “They picked him up at the spaceport.”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the bondies look up. Kielhosa was making sure they heard. Their blue faces startled me; I’d forgotten what they looked like.

“Oh, yeah?
How’d he get away from you?”

“Long
story,
and I don’t even know all of it. He’s been out for a while. But they all turn up eventually, if they don’t starve or freeze.”

“And twenty lashes’ll convince anybody not to try it again.” The guard glanced back at me, snapping the prod with a jerk of his hand. He enjoyed thinking about it.

And I wondered how I could ever have been so stupid. The guard moved away, herding the bondies toward the back of the snow-track with the last of the supplies. I heard a door slam. Kielhosa pushed me toward the ‘track. I climbed up into the cab and sat in the backseat. It was too cramped for my legs. Kielhosa shoved me over against the far window, cursing, and sat beside me. The guard sat up front. The bondie who was driving now turned to stare past the seat at me. Then he started the ‘track and I looked out at the snow, feeling like I’d swallowed a stone. What did you expect them to do, shake your hand? Twenty lashes . . . my God, how much was that? All my
fingers,
and all my toes. . . . But I hadn’t been trying to get away. I was going back to tell them about the plot. I was on their side-I had to remember that. They wouldn’t give me a beating when they understood. I twisted in the seat. “Hey, Kielhosa-“

They didn’t believe me. Kielhosa took me to the Mines Directorate; I stood on the perfect white carpet and told them all I knew. They listened to every word. And then they started to laugh. Joraleman wasn’t even there to back me up; when it was too late, I’d found out from Kielhosa that he was still back in town. The directors called me a liar; all they saw was a scared kid, a trapped rat trying to save his own skin, and nothing I could do with words or even with my mind could make them see me any other way. The head director told Kielhosa to have me punished.

But instead Kielhosa said, “Sir, I think you should know this is the bondie who saved Chief Purchaser Joraleman’s life. If we could at least wait until Joraleman gets back . . .” He hesitated.

The director’s face darkened.
“Him?
This is him?
The psion, the mind reader?”
His own mind filled up with fear. “What the hell do you mean, exposing us to- Get him out of here! And add another dozen to his sentence, for wasting our time.”

And so I walked between two guards across the compound yard, where a hundred others stood waiting and watching. The white glare of light on the endless snow was blinding me, and I didn’t think I was going to make it to where the other bondies were standing. They’d brought out all the poor shivering blue faces
who
weren’t digging ore to watch what happened to me. So that they’d never try what I’d tried. (But I hadn’t!) One of the guards shook his head. I tripped over nothing; it seemed to take forever to cross the yard. I could see the faces of the others, like blue beads strung out across the glare, and all of a sudden I remembered Mikah. And I knew that if he was standing there, he’d think I’d lied to him about escaping. I didn’t want that; I felt bad about it, as if it really mattered. I couldn’t make my mind search him out, couldn’t even look along the line of faces. . . . It was too bright to see anything; I couldn’t think, couldn’t even feel.

But I could see the gray-silver metal post in front of my face. I tried to pull away but they fastened my hands up above my head, the metal pressed smooth and cold against my skin. The bitter taste of fright was in my mouth. Somebody’s hands tore my shirt down the back. I started to shiver. Someone else was speaking; the words fell on my ears without making any sense, words about me. I could see the guard waiting with the glowing arch of the prod out of the corner of my eyes. I remembered how being hit a full blow just once, for wising off down in the mines, had felt. I tried to believe that this wasn’t going to be twenty times worse; and a dozen more, for passing as human. . . . I tried to remember to count, so it wouldn’t be as bad, so I’d know there was going to be an end. . . . I wished to God they’d get it over with! I-

“Begin.”

The prod made a high song coming through the air, and when it struck my back, it went snap. A blistering pain like the burn of hot grease spread across my back, and I forgot the cold burn of the metal post against my cheek. I tried to count one, but it was just a gasp, my teeth gritted together. And two came, while I was trying to disappear into the metal, and laid another line of sticky fire across my back. I made a sound and choked it off. I heard the prod sing again, bracing myself; my stomach knotted, and then it was three. I bit my lip until it bled. Again, and that was five; no, wrong, four seven? And I couldn’t count on my fingers now because they were balled into fists. Again, and I knew I wasn’t going to be brave . . . again, and it didn’t matter anymore. I buried my face against the cold post and let the cry come, letting the pain out the only way I could. There was nothing I could do but let it hit me again, and again, until I thought I couldn’t hurt any more than I did; and then it would hit me again. I sagged against the post and my wrists bled as the cuffs cut into them. I barely knew it. I thought I was learning what it was like to be burned alive. I thought I was going to vomit. I thought I was going to pass out, but I couldn’t let go of the pain no matter how I tried. . . . My whole life was caught up in an endless loop; there was no beginning or end, it was going to go on forever, and I was going to see and hear and taste and feel it all. . . .