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"Child no longer," intoned Mabuchi. The words that began pouring from him now
sounded like a quotation from some secret ritual that Elly had never heard
before: "Flesh of man and woman no longer, though still in a fleshly garment
robed& "
Stal chimed in: "Lord of force and metal, Lord free of life and death alike& "
It was impossible to tell if his harsh voice held mockery or struggled to
restrain true feeling. Watching Stal, Elly was suddenly struck with the idea
that the man looked the way he did because of a deliberate attempt to
cultivate a metallic appearance. This idea in turn suggested something else to
her, something that made her abruptly begin to feel faint. Stop that, she
ordered herself.
And made herself interrupt the chanting men: "Where are you taking me, and
why?"
Mabuchi deferred to Stal, and it was the white-haired man who answered: "We
are taking you to meet the entity who was your son, Ms. Temesvar. That means
going out to the new military proving grounds, out in the Uranian system."
That was an answer that explained nothing, that in fact seemed to make no
sense at all.
"Why should he be there?" Before leaving the service Elly had heard of the new
proving grounds, but she had no idea of what might be going on there now.
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"He is there because the badlife seek to use him." The epithet was frightening
enough to bring on a new surge of faintness, all the more frightening because
it slipped from Stal's lips with such unselfconscious ease. At the moment Elly
could not remember ever hearing anyone use the word in real life before. It
was a word from fiction, from the stage, on which the actors who played
goodlife tended to emphasize it, striving for maximum shock effect.
Mabuchi too was moved, though for another reason. "The Savior should not be
called 'he,' "
he protested to his colleague.
"I beg your pardon," the tall man responded stiffly. "But to this woman, the
Savior is still her child. And we must try to attune ourselves to her
psychology.  Ms. Temesvar, the badlife have grasped at least the fact that
your offspring is unusual, and they mean to use him as part of a weapons
system. Have you ever heard the code name Lancelot?"
"No," she answered weakly. Of course there were innumerable code names that
she had never heard. She was trying to imagine what kind of weapons system
might have her eleven-
year-old plugged into it. Frank's child too, of course, and she could well
imagine a boy of unusual ability. The whole idea still seemed insane to her,
which did not mean that desperate men and women, Frank Marcus one of their
number, were not going to come up with something like it for their next effort
in the war. Elly's imagination presented her a picture of her child, amputated
somehow to fit a set of Frank-like boxes, and fired off into the void&
"From what we know of Lancelot it is a horror," Stal was saying. "And we
intend to save
Michel from it. Michel, that is what his adoptive parents named him. Here,
Elly, I have a picture."
Metal-steady in Stal's wiry fingers, there appeared a photograph that had been
taken somewhere out of doors. On a second-story porch on the front of a log
building, a young boy stood gazing upward toward the camera. His hands, large
and square-looking like a workman's, were on the railing and he squinted into
a wind that pulled at his long, fair hair.
Above his head the roof was steep and Elly, thinking Alpine, knew a chill of
beginning conviction.
The clarity of the boy's face had been somehow enhanced, at the expense of
peripheral details. He was good-looking, Elly thought, in a rather
sharp-featured way, and in his forehead and in his eyes she involuntarily
discovered something of herself. What there might be of Frank Marcus was not
so easy to discover.
Both men were obviously waiting for her reaction. "Michel what?" she finally
asked them.
"Geulincx," said Stal. "An eminent Alpine family you may have heard of. Folk
art.
Woodcarving."
"I haven't been paying much attention to art of any kind." At last she had
produced a sentiment for which Mabuchi's face could register approval. "I
still don't understand except that you must think this kid is the Savior. And
you think I am his mother. If so, is this the way you honor me?"
The men exchanged glances, after which Mabuchi went out, evidently controlling
struggling emotions with a great effort.
"I expect you will be of great help to us," Stal explained then. "When we have
Michel on board
here, and when both you and he have truly grasped the situation. What happens
when we liberate him from the badlife may very well be traumatic.
Therefore Savior or not a mother's care may be important."
"You expect to simply land this ship at the proving grounds somewhere and load
him on board, assuming he's really there? Without "
"Without resistance from the badlife? No, lady, I do not expect that. But
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provisions have been made." His stiff lips moved a trifle, almost smiling.
"Are you the captain of this ship, Stal?"
"I? No."
"I demand to see the captain, then."
"Your chance will come."
"Now."
"I have no orders to arrange such a meeting. But perhaps in this case I should
use initiative."
After staring at Elly a thoughtful moment longer, Stal suddenly bent and
reached under her berth. His hand emerged holding a heavy metal case, and she
was reminded at once of the thing she remembered seeing him carry in the
Temple. There, to the degree that she had thought of it at all, she must have
assumed that it was some kind of holography equipment, a common piece of
tourist baggage.
Stal swung the empty berth opposite down from the wall. Then, with the care of
one handling a valued object, he hoisted the case up into the berth, securing
it there deftly with the common acceleration restraints. Then there was a
click, as Stal opened a small door on the front of the case or perhaps the
door had opened automatically, Elly was not sure.
Something very thin and snakily metallic drew itself out of the case, almost
like a line sketched in the air. It reached across the space between berths
for one of Elly's almost immobilized fingers, and stung her briefly.
"What ?"
The sinuous limb withdrew. Then, just above the place where the arm had
disappeared, a new opening in the case revealed what looked like the subtle
vibration of a broad-spectrum liquid lens. Elly had the uncomfortable
impression that her whole form was being scanned intently.
"Just a little blood test, I should imagine," Stal said, in a voice that was
possibly intended to be soothing. "The Co-ordinator will wish to make
absolutely sure that you are who we think you are. And perhaps to confirm some
details of Michel's genetic inheritance."
"You imagine?" Elly had never before seen a robot medic that looked very much
like
From the small case issued words. They came in a ridiculously squeaky voice,
which under other circumstances might possibly have offered her at least
momentary amusement. The voice said sharply: "You will tell this life-unit
nothing more without further orders."
Stal bowed at once. Stammering, he made humble acknowledgement of the
Co-ordinator's command. But Elly could no longer see or hear him.
EIGHT
SOME TEN STANDARD YEARS AGO, OPERATIONS HEADQUARTERS for the new proving
grounds had been established on the surface of the Uranian satellite Miranda.
Under one dome the structure offered room for a hundred humans to work and
live; some of the quarters could be called luxurious, and all were at least
reasonably comfortable. At the order of the President of Earth provision had
also been made for housing members of any of the very few known non-Earthly
intelligent races. So far none of these had ever appeared as guests.
"Told 'em when they built it that we'd never see a Carmpan here." This from [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]