The Collected Stories of Frank Herbert (64 page)

“Well,” said Ren. He cleared his throat. “To get back to Jorj. To understand the original of this simulacrum…” He leafed through his notes. “Yes … to understand the original, we must understand the psychology of the world that bore him. There were two opposing Alliances of power in that world. They'd agreed to disarm, but for years they disarmed with one hand while arming with the other. The natural result was a sense of shame. This cavern complex is a perfect symptom of that shame. Look how they hid it. More than a hundred meters of dirt over us that has to be lifted off by explosive charges before the actual weapons tubes are exposed.”

“Are we sure it was shame?” asked Saim.

“Of course it was. Concealment is the companion of shame.” Ren shook his head, marvelling at the way the non-specialist could misinterpret. “And beyond this even,” he said, “beyond this cave complex and the others it hints at, think of what the opposing Alliance had. Another entire network of these weapons.”

“We've discussed all this before,” said Saim. He was beginning to feel impatient.

“But not the psychology of it,” said Ren.

“I'd rather talk about something more to the point,” said Saim. “First, what about the targets? These weapons were aimed someplace. Those targets must have changed in a thousand years.”

“It wouldn't make any difference,” said Jeni. “I found something horrible in dismantling some of the little guiding instruments.”

“Jeni!” said Saim. “You might have exploded one of those monsters!”

“No,” she said. “I didn't touch an actual weapon. I found a store of spare guidance systems. Some of them will follow lines of magnetic flux. Some can be set to go to a large area of heat or a small area of intense heat or a near bulk of metal. And you must keep in mind that all these systems are interlocking. They're made to go into a single package.”

“Tell him about the other one,” said Ren.

“It's a tiny version of the fear sensor,” said Jeni. “When it nears a large city, it assumes command of the total guidance system. It's attracted by massive waves of fear. The fear of a populace exposed to the weapon attracts the weapon.”

“There has to be some way to stop that Millennial Display,” said Saim. “The wave of fear…” He walked away from them, turned. “People will see fireworks, all right. And that's the last thing they'll ever see.”

“Maybe we should go to ó Katje and combine forces,” said Jeni, “Maybe she'd help us convince…”

“ó Katje!” barked Saim. “I don't trust her!”

“Now, Saim,” said Ren. “She's a renegade, a rebel just like ourselves. She's even transmitted pictures and data about the weapon they're studying.”

“Saim, the size of that weapon!” said Jeni. “It's fifty times larger than these ones we found!”

“I don't see how she could be a rebel,” said Saim. “You don't understand about the Ultimate Conditioning. I do. I've seen my uncle come out of the
kabah
room after his yearly renewal. Sometimes he looks like a man near death. We have to nurse him. You don't understand.”

“Accidents do happen,” said Ren. He spoke quickly, impatient to get back to his notes and the work as he saw it.

“ó Katje's done nothing except try to force us to reveal our hiding place,” said Saim. “That alone is enough to make me distrust her.”

A buzzer sounded on the panel behind Jeni. She whirled and knocked down a toggle switch.

“Was that the outside warning system?” asked Saim.

“Someone's approaching the old cave entrance,” said Ren. He glanced at Saim. “Are you sure you used that odour suppressor?”

“I smeared it all over,” said Saim. He lifted the hem of his robe. “You can see the stains. Besides, I came in the fault fissure, not the…”

Another buzzer sounded overhead. Jeni slapped another switch.

“Coming directly towards the entrance,” said Ren. “Saim, did you say anything to your uncle that…”

“Why don't you come right out and ask if I've betrayed you?” demanded Saim. He felt stirrings of unrest.
Anger?
Again, he tried to remember the emotions of childhood, and failed. The conditioning was absolute here.

“What's this?” asked Jeni. She stood up, tugged at the back of Saim's robe, removed a small disc of metal stuck there with adhesive. She extended it on her palm. “Why would you wear this decoration on the back of your robe?”

Saim shook his head, confused, feeling himself on the verge of a fearful revelation. “I … it isn't…”

“Did your uncle embrace you in greeting?” demanded Jeni. She stared at the disc on her palm.

“Of course. Family always…”

“That's it!” she enclosed the disc in a fist, jumped past him, ran to the door, hurled the object into the hall. Turning, she slammed and bolted the door. “Signal generator,” she said. “Has to be.”

“Your uncle was more clever than you thought,” said Ren. And he thought:
We should never have sent Saim. Jeni or I would never have made such a mistake.

Jeni returned to Saim, inspected his robe. “Turn around.”

He obeyed, moving with shocked stiffness.

“Nothing else,” she said.

A red light flashed on the panel beside them.

“They're forcing the perimeter door,” said Ren.

The idea of forcing such a door seized Saim with a sudden panic. He said: “They…”

“It means they're using metal detectors,” said Ren. “A signal generator would only give them the general area.”

“How did ó Plar know Saim would try to escape?” asked Jeni. “It doesn't…”

“He could've planted the idea,” said Ren. “We're wasting time. We'll have to run for it.” He strode to the door, flung it open.
This happened because I'm surrounded by fools!
he thought.

“But what about the simulacrum?” protested Jeni. “Can he travel?”

Ren turned in the doorway. “In the flying machine. Do you still believe you can operate it, Saim?”

“Well, I've only lifted it a little bit off the floor,” said Saim. “But … yes, I…”

“I'm as frightened at the thought as you are,” said Ren. “But there's no other way. Come on.” He turned, strode into the hall.

Saim and Jeni followed.

They could hear the hammering now, metal against metal.

They shouldn't try to force that door,
thought Saim.
That's dangerous.

“Hurry it up!” called Ren.

Everything's happening so fast,
thought Saim. He felt resentment at pressures he couldn't understand.

Jeni took his hand, urged him faster.

Their way led off the big hall, down a narrow passage single file. They barred doors behind them. Dim white exciter lights blinked on at their passage, surrounding them with a pale nimbus of illumination. The air grew cooler. They came out into a laboratory cut deep in the rock. A green light glowed above a cot where the simulacrum slept. He was a green shape within green within green …

Saim turned away. This was the room where Ren kept the stolen regeneration tank. Something about the place loomed in Saim's mind, a black image of terror.

Why?
he wondered.
Why? Why?

“I gave him a sedative,” said Ren. “We'll have to wheel the cot.” He pointed to the far wall. “There's a can of inflammable fluid over there, Saim. Some of the fuel from the flying machine. Get it, please.”

“What do you want with it?”

Saim's question touched a core of impatience in Ren. “The regenerative tank's in this lab. You know that!”

“But why…”

“We can't let them find what we've done,” said Ren. “There's too much evidence around. We have to destroy it.”

“What about your notes in the other lab?” asked Jeni.

“I have them in my pocket. The rest of the stuff up there won't mean anything without the evidence in here. Now, hurry it up.”

Yes!
thought Saim.
Destroy this place!
He said: “Where's this fluid you…”

A dull roar shook the room. The ceiling trembled, showering them with dust.

Ren said: “What was…”

“The main door,” said Jeni. “We should've known. The Elders must've built one of their diabolical devices into the door just as they did in the…” She broke off, staring at Saim.

“What is it? What's wrong?”

They whirled. It was George, speaking in Ancienglis. He stood beside his cot, staring up at the ceiling. “Are they attacking?”

Ren answered in the same tongue, wary that this might return the simulacrum to violence. “We have to escape, Jorj. We've been discovered.” Aside to Jeni and Saim, he said: “Watch him carefully. Shock awakened him from the sedative. I'm not too certain of his metabolism yet. He could do anything.”

“There won't be anyone alive up there at that door,” said Saim. “Whoever was…”

“Now it's certain we have to run,” said Ren. “The explosion will attract others, and the cave's wide open.”

“Where are the guards?” demanded George.

“Dead,” said Ren. He darted across the lab, returned with a yellow can that sloshed in his hands.

“What're you doing?” asked George. He rubbed at his head.

“Burning my records,” said Ren. “Please stand aside.”

“Bad as that, eh,” said George. He still spoke in Ancienglis. “The dirty, sneaking bastards!” Abruptly, he shook his fist at the ceiling. “We'll show you!”

A pungent odour filled the room as Ren poured and sloshed the contents of the can around.

“Use plenty of gas,” said George. “Don't leave anything for 'em.”

They retreated out of the door. Ren threw the can into the center of the room.

Jeni clutched Saim's arm. “Saim, I'm frightened.”

He patted her hand.

“Who's got a match?” asked George.

Ren took a firepill from his pocket, crushed it between his fingers, tossed it into the room. He slammed the door as a blossom of orange flame jumped up from the floor.

“To the big cavern,” said Ren.

Saim turned, leading. Jeni stayed close to his side.

Ren stayed beside George. “You feel all right, Jorj?” he panted. He spoke Haribic, testing.

“Fine, fine.” George answered in Ancienglis.

“He's in kind of a shock,” said Ren. “We must be careful.”

“Where're we going?” asked George. He felt turmoil at the edges of consciousness, but the action and need for it were central, demanding all attention. They'd been expecting the attack for a long time. Having it actually occur was almost a relief.
The dirty, sneaky bastards!
“Where're we going?” he repeated.

Ren searched in his mind for the Ancienglis word. “Helicopter,” he said.

“Hope they don't have much air cover,” said George. “A 'copter's a sitting duck for anything with firepower.”

They emerged into an echoing chamber, large and cold. Dim exciter lights emitted a pale green glow around the room at their entrance. Still, the place remained a mass of phantom shadows.

“Well, blow the charge!” shouted George. He darted to the right along the wall, pulled down a fluorescent handle.

A crackling roar deafened them.

“Never trust a damn' shaped charge!” shouted George. “But they always seem to work.” He threw another handle beside the first one.

Part of the ceiling creaked and groaned upwards, exposing a length of evening sky pale dove grey against dark green treetops. Something clanked and the ceiling stopped its movement.

Jeni pressed her face against Saim's chest, clung to his robe. “What's happening?” she whispered. “The noise…”

“Damn' thing's stuck!” said George. He punched a red button beside the handle. A sharp, crackling explosion shook them. The ceiling hurtled away and they heard it land in a thunderous crackle of broken trees and branches.

Jeni trembled. “What's…”

“It's all right,” said Saim. “You knew what the old instructions said about opening this chamber. That's all it was. The explosion…”

“I couldn't have done it,” she said.

Saim looked at Ren beside them. The Doctor's eyes were closed, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His lips were moving in the litany of peace.

“For Chri'sakes, come on!” yelled George. He turned, ran towards a squat black machine crouched in the center of the chamber.

Ren was the first to follow, moved by concern for his patient. Saim took Jeni's hand, pulled her towards the helicopter.

“You've been in the flying machine before,” he said. He found himself caught up by a growing sense of excitement at the thought of leaving the ground. There were remote feelings of fear, but so far away …

George opened the belly door, clambered into the helicopter. Ren followed, Saim pushed Jeni up on to the pipe step, clambered in behind her, slammed the door. Everything was suddenly caught up in George's urgency.

“Get a move on!” George yelled. He lifted himself up into the cockpit, slid into the left-hand seat.
Damn' civilian types,
he thought. His hands moved swiftly with an automatic sureness over the controls. “Come on! Hurry it up!”

Saim lifted up into the cockpit.

George motioned him into the right-hand seat.

Saim obeyed, watched George strapping himself in, lifted his own straps from beside the seat. There was still a smell of the preservative gas in the cockpit, disturbed by their movements.

Ren climbed up between them, stared at George. “Is
he
going to operate this machine?”

“Who'd know better how these machines work than one who actually flew in them?” asked Saim. “And I'll be right here.”