02. The Shadow Dancers (15 page)

Still, they didn't waste no time gettin' me to the surface and off to what could only be called their big medical center. It was out in the boondocks just like Mayar's place, but it was an enormous complex of buildings, rounded, cubed, A-framed, and everything else, and it went up and out for a long ways.

They finally gave me a shot for the pain, though frankly I was too keyed up emotionally and physically to feel much, and I dozed in spite of myself for most of the trip.

It was still kinda weird and frightenin' to be rushed into this place with all these golden perfect people around talkin' away in that singsong language and not bein' able to talk to them or understand what they was sayin' or doin'. They put me in some kind of pack and treated the wound almost by remote control, but the itching and pain stopped almost at once and when I had the thing taken off there was a kind of feltlike bandage over it and just about no feelin' right there at all. Some kind of anesthetic in the bandage, I guessed.

I kept tryin' to get some word on Sam, who I knew had to be brought to this place, but all I got were shrugs and apologetic looks. They took me to a small room with a bed and a window that didn't look out on much, as well as a sink and bathroom, and kinda signed to me to stay there. I didn't have much choice, really.

I had had one hell of a day. I'd gone from despair and surrender as a damned slave on that Nazi world to complete joy and relief at bein' rescued to even worse seein' Sam get it like that-and in the head, too. Thing was, he was blockin' the finish-off shot to me. He got it savin' my life. That made me feel even more miserable.

After a couple hours of just layin' there, Bill Markham came in, lookin' like death warmed over himself. He needed a bath and a shave and he looked like he hadn't slept in a week, but he'd come as soon as he'd got the word and could get in here. I was relieved to see somebody, anybody, I could talk to.

"Sam's here," he told me right off, "and he's still alive. That's the good news. The bad news is that the slug took a chunk out of his skull on the right side and we don't know just what damage there is. He's in what passes for brain surgery here now, and will be for some time. There's nothing to do but wait." He sank down tiredly in the one little chair near the bed. "I'm really sorry, Brandy.
I
should have guessed!
I feel like a complete idiot!"

"No, none of us seen it, Bill. Now dat dey gon' and done it, it be de only thing dey could do. When dey go bad, dey go
weal
bad."

He looked up, but he didn't really believe a word of it. Fact was, I was kickin' myself over it, too. Damn it, we'd had a runnin' gun battle through the Labyrinth and into another world once. Only made sense that what you could do one way you could do the other-if you had the information. We was all too smug. Even Bill admitted that Vogel's getaway substation was unknown to security. This whole thing was just too damned complicated and the Labyrinth itself had just too many entrances and exits to ever secure it. No wonder they was able to run this drug or whatever back and forth for a while without gettin' caught -and then only by lucky accident.

He looked over at me. "Look, there's nothing to see in the surgery, and all your medical records were transferred here by Jamispur. They tell me you lost some blood but that your wound's a lucky one and it should heal completely in a week to ten days. Maybe you should think of using this waiting time to get them to restore you. Get rid of Beth, get your teeth and jaw back on so you talk normally, that kind of thing. You want to be ready when Sam wakes up."

I knew he was just tryin' to divert me. Yeah, when Sam wakes up.
If
Sam wakes up ... Still, I sure as hell didn't want to stay this way any longer than I had to.

They used Jamispur's hypnoscan records to fix that first, since that was the biggest headache, and while I was under they used the time to do some of the corrective dental work needed. Beth wasn't erased, exactly, but she became a memory, not a personality, like somebody you once knew real good and close. I liked it that way. I wanted to remember Beth, and all the Beths in all them worlds out there. Anytime in the future when I was feelin' sorry for myself or wallowing in self-pity I'd just think of Beth and the others and know just what blessin's I had.

I couldn't talk at all after the dental and facial stuff, but by then several English speakers were around for my benefit. That hypnoscan could be damned useful as well as dangerous.

They told me that Markham had simply passed out and was sent to bed with a sedative to sleep it off, but then they took me down to see Sam. He was in a special wing just for head injuries, the most common and still the hardest things to deal with.

They understood a hell of a lot more about the brain than we did. I think they knew just how it worked and could do tricks with it, but head injuries were no less tragic here for all that. They could even grow new brain tissue, something the body has problems with, but they couldn't replace what you lost, only give a replacement place for something else to be written. Sam might have lots of problems, even memory problems, when he woke up-
if he
woke up.

He wasn't much to see. They had him floatin' in a tank covered in some kinda liquid that sure wasn't water, his head down to his big nose encased in a special kind of bandage, all sorts of tubes leadin' to and from his body to big machines. I was afraid he'd drown, but they assured me that he was gettin' all they could give. Even they didn't know if it'd be enough, though.

In that chamber I couldn't even kiss him or talk to him or hold his hand. It was tough.

He had plenty of brain activity, so he wasn't brain dead, but they didn't know much more. He might be out for days, for weeks, for months, even forever. There was no way of tellin' now 'cept to monitor and wait.

Within a day I could talk again, and I got to admit that from that point on I never again was the least bit self-conscious or embarrassed about how I talked. Anybody didn't like it, piss on them. In fact, that whole experience really changed me for the better in a lot of ways. I was a lot more humble now 'bout my own strong will. Damn, just
bein'
in that damned world started breakin' me. The technicians at the Center-that's what they called the medical place, just the Center-told me that, yeah, it was
true, if they'd started torturin' me or used hypnoscans or drugs on me while I was in control I'd revert to Beth, but just the fact that Vogel knew that kept him from doin' it. He loved breakin' people. That was his hobby and his fun. No fun in trippin' somebody over when you don't figure she really knows what you want to know anyhow.

But he was lyin' through his teeth 'bout me turnin' into Beth slow and on my own. Fact was, the Beth personality was there, but it was real weak compared to mine.
He
planted that seed, and I swallowed it, and just 'cause I swallowed it Beth was able to get control. Vogel was right when he said anybody can be broken, but in the end
you're
the one that breaks you. He didn't really want Beth; he wanted an obedient slave girl who had all my knowledge and talents and abilities. And just 'cause his kind was the bosses on that Nazi world didn't mean we didn't have 'em just like him on our world, or most any world.

I was stronger, too, because of that mission. More self-confident, I think, but also knowin' my limits. I was ready now to not worry what anybody else thought about me and just be me and cope with whatever came along.

I didn't have them put me back all the way, I admit. I never was able to grow or keep straight hair before, and with my own more rounded face I kinda liked the look. They told me it would keep growin' straight so long as I only cut it at the ends. If I ever shaved my head it'd come back the old way. I also kept that creamy complexion. Folks spend millions tryin' to get a nice, even, perfect complexion like that.

My body was toughened by those days I spent with no clothes in all weather. I found it damned hard just to wear shoes and so went barefoot most of the time. The golden people's saris felt okay, but I knew I was gonna haveta ease back into more normal clothes.

Fact was, I was ready to go out and enjoy life and conquer the damned world, and I didn't care if I was starvin' and shunned so long as I was free, but it just didn't mean a damned thing without Sam.

The trouble was, I couldn't imagine life without Sam, and at the same time I was already easin' into just that. All that stuff I spouted to him about risks and gettin' hit by a truck-I didn't really believe that. Besides, we was talkin'
about if somethin' happened to
me.
I just never even imagined that anything would take Sam from me 'cept'n my own death.

After a few days, I met Bill Markham and Aldrath Prang for a debriefin' and brain session.

"You set us up," I told them. "One of you, anyways, with that damned dinner meet. Whichever one it was was handed the time, place, and all the rest on a platter-and you
still
didn't catch him!"

"It was one of Mayar Eldrith's schemes," Aldrath told me. "He is a senior vice president and chairman of the Security Committee. In other words, he is my boss. I was powerless to prevent it, although I recommended strongly against it."

"Yeah," I said, "and what's he say now that he's lost Vogel and maybe killed Sam and the others?"

"The usual," the security chief replied with a shrug. "He is blaming it on me and on security in general."

Bill grunted. "He
is
on our list, isn't he?"

"Near the top," Aldrath admitted. "But he is also near the top in both social, class, and corporate power. You see the problem. These are all high-ranking, extremely powerful men."

"Who would know enough 'bout security's ways and all that would be needed to have set up this thing?" I asked them. "I mean, not all of 'em could pull this off, could they?"

"Any of them might," Aldrath replied, "although some are more likely than others. Certainly the vice president could do it effectively without even touching it himself, and Mukasa Lamdukur is in charge of day-to-day operations."

"The one with the airhead mistress."

He nodded. "Alas, so. And Basuti Alimati, who is something of a fanatical personality but whose office handles much of the routine business communications between our many divisions. I cannot rule out the other two, since Dringa heads Research and Development and Hanrin holds the security purse strings, but neither of those two have as much day-to-day interaction with operations. They would need a good number of support and managerial personnel to do the actual work. Neither is particularly technically oriented."

Even Bill was surprised. "You mean the head of R & D isn't technically oriented?"

"He authorizes a lot of things depending on what his advisors, both technical and political, recommend, but he understands little. He is a typical executive. What can I say? Basuti and Mukasa, on the other hand, are both inquisitive and highly intelligent and make a point of learning as much as possible about their responsibilities. Mayar understands almost nothing, being a politician, but if he wished he could through his vast power and position arrange practically anything."

None of that helped much. We still had five big, fat suspects, no real motive, no real clear knowledge of the plot, and while two was most likely suspects and one was in the best position to do just about anything, the fact was the least likely suspects couldn't be ruled out. Back to square one.

"Listen, like I told your men, I didn't get much out of Vogel, but whatever else that bastard was I don't think he was no traitor. He was real surprised and real upset when he learned that it was the Company after his hide, and the reason he didn't face us was 'cause whoever he got his orders from was high enough up that it woulda been his neck in a noose. He was had, though, by this dude. I think he got routine orders from somebody to set this thing up and he didn't think it was crazy 'cause he had the perfect setup to experiment on people, and he didn't ask no questions not only 'cause it was from so high up but also 'cause he was gettin' payoffs for it, like that hypnoscan in the basement. Imagine a paranoid like him with a hypnoscan!"

"Agreed. He knew and we blew it," Bill said. "I mean, our computer simulations actually said that an attempt within the Labyrinth was a likely thing, but that was if the whole plan went down pretty much as it was. When he escaped with you and then lost us for over a day and a half, all our resources went into locating and then tracking you. I was constantly shifting people inside the Labyrinth from one track to another to cover all the possibilities. The fact was, the other dangers just weren't important if we didn't have Vogel alive in the first place. When we got him, we were just so damned happy and smug we forgot to put
everything else in place before moving him. It really was our fault, and I don't know any way around that."

"All right, I'll buy that," I told them. Hell, if they wanted the guilt trip, let 'em have it. Their lapse was understandable but, damn it, it
was
their fault. I had my own problems to worry about-I couldn't do their job, too. "The thing is, what happens now?"

The question seemed to catch both of 'em off guard. "What do you mean?" Aldrath asked.

"You got a skunk, a traitor, high up. Somebody who makes even Vogel look human. That skunk's gone to a whole lotta trouble to set somethin' up that is definitely aimed at the Company, maybe at its heart, and it comes right out of the Security Committee."

"But we lost Vogel!" Bill protested.

"Yeah, so you lost Vogel-
but so did he!"

That seemed to hit the both of 'em like some new concussion grenade. I guess in a way they was just like Vogel-you get so much power, you get so arrogant and self-confident, you can't see your damned nose in front of your face.

"Go on," said Aldrath Prang.

"Look, how long you figure this has been goin' on? This drug thing, I mean?"

"Two, maybe three years so far. Why?"