Out of Phaze (37 page)

“But when we return to our own frames,” Bane said, “I love not the unicorn, friend as she may be, and Mach loves not Agape.”

Blue nodded. “There be matters yet to consider. But now we needs must spring thee free of this hole.” He had stripped Purple’s remaining clothing, leaving him naked, and under his busy hands Purple had assumed the appearance of a blob. Pseudoflesh covered his face, leaving only nose-holes for breathing, and his genital region now looked female.

“The Citizen’s minions will think he is Agape!” Bane exclaimed, catching on.

“Aye. And I shall play the part of a Citizen,” Blue said, donning Purple’s clothing. He had to wad and tie some of it underneath, to give the appearance of greater girth, and the loose-fitting shoes did not elevate him to the other man’s height, but the resemblance was becoming striking enough.

“The Game!” Bane exclaimed. “Thou didst learn such mimicry for the Game!”

“Aye. Mine other self was the expert, but I thought it meet for me to study it somewhat also, and teach it to my son.”

“Would I could learn that Game,” Bane said wistfully.

“Thou dost like Proton?”

“It is love of Agape that lures me,” Bane admitted. “But aye, I find this frame more challenging than mine own. It be foolishness, I know.”

“A foolishness I share,” Blue said, smiling. “Now, we both have parts to play. Thou dost remain prisoner, chastened by seeing thy love melt. I am taking thee to safer confinement.”

“That part can I play,” Bane said. “But surely Purple’s minions will not be fooled by thee!”

“There be some distractions,” Blue said with a small smile. “It was necessary for me to wait until I knew they were in place, before taking action here. Now shall we see how the magic of science performs.” He took some of his surplus pseudoflesh and molded it in the corner, against the locked panel. He set a tiny stick in it and pinched off the protruding end of the stick. “Shield me with thy body,” he said, retreating to the far side of the cell. “It be tougher than mine own.”

Perplexed, Bane stood as directed, standing between Blue and the pseudoflesh, facing away from it, bracing himself.

There was an explosion. It shoved him into Blue, and both against the wall. Bits of wall and panel were hurled like stones into the other walls. “What happened?” Bane cried.

They recovered their feet. “A trick of the trade,” Blue remarked, dusting himself off. “Follow me.” He hurried out of the smoking cell, through the shattered panel.

Serfs rushed up. ‘The alien bitch carried plastic explosive!” Blue roared in Purple’s voice. “Fetch my private plane! I’m taking the prisoner to safer confinement!”

When they hesitated, Blue paused to glare about. It was amazing how aptly he had picked up Purple’s mannerisms. “And find out who was supposed to guard against weapons being brought in here! Didn’t any numbskull think to check for plastic? Look at that cell! Every party responsible will be fired with prejudice!”

Hastily the serfs went about their business; the talk of firing made them extremely nervous.

Foreman hurried up. “Sir, the craft is ready,” he said. Then, startled, he opened his mouth again.

Blue’s hand snaked out and caught the serf’s wrist. Foreman stiffened in pain. “Speak no word,” Blue said. “Guide us there.”

It was obvious that the submission hold rendered the serf powerless to resist. He backed into an elevator, and they followed. The elevator took them up to a landing area, where the airplane waited. Blue and Bane got in.

‘The blob in the cell is your employer,” Blue informed Foreman as he took the pilot’s seat. “He may need your attention, before the ignorant serfs dump him in the trash.”

Foreman, about to cry the alarm, whirled and ran for the elevator. His first loyalty was to the physical welfare of Citizen Purple.

Blue started the airplane and piloted it into the air. It quickly rose high, flying above the mountains. He touched its front panel. “Blue here, in Purple’s private plane,” he said. “Escort me home.”

Three other airplanes zoomed in. But immediately half a dozen others appeared, closing in on the first three. Citizen Purple’s defenses were alert.

“If these be like dragons, we be in trouble,” Bane remarked.

“Like dragons indeed,” Blue agreed. “But human cleverness can do much.” He guided the airplane precipitously down. “There be much joy in machines, an thou dost have the temperament.”

And he had a wife and a son who were machines. Bane would have liked this man well enough, even if he had not been so exactly like Stile.

The three friendly craft ran interference, threatening to crash into any of the pursuers who came too close. “Ours be machine-controlled?” Bane asked.

“Aye. Sheen-controlled, by remote. Purple’s be manned by serfs, who have some care for their hides.”

They bumped to a landing by a marker in the sand at the foot of the mountain range. They piled out as the enemy craft dived for them, running to the marker and hauling up on a ring set in it. Blue was panting, for he had no suit to enable him to breathe the polluted atmosphere; Bane, seeing the problem, took over the job and hauled up a portal. A hole opened, and they scrambled in and shut the portal above.

“Service access,” Blue gasped. “Say the code!”

“Code?”

“Oh, that’s right; you don’t know it. Mach does. Damn!

We can’t summon the self-willed machines!” He was recovering as the good air here got into him.

“Self-willed machines? I have heard reference to these, and learned that Sheen be one, but I know these not.”

“Intelligent, motivated, self-directed robots of all types, but not granted serf status because that’s limited to those who look like serfs; I haven’t been able to overcome that bias yet. They don’t complain because they want the Experimental Project to prove itself first.”

“The Experimental Project—that allows androids and machines and alien creatures to be as equals?”

‘The same. Agape must have told thee.”

“Aye.” They were moving on down along a passage. Already there was noise back at the portal.

“Mach be one of them, of course; he gave Agape the code so they would know she came to them at his behest. I never sought to know that code; it was important that Mach grow unfettered by my domination. But now, if we don’t summon them, we shall shortly be captive again.”

Indeed, there was a swirl of air as the portal was opened above and behind them, and a clamor. Men were piling in.

Bane struggled with the logical brain he now had, as they rushed along. How could he get that code? It should be in Mach’s memory—but he had none of that. His own memories had come with him across the curtain between frames. Was there anything he could tap into?

They came to a dead-end. “Here there is a subway transport station for supplies,” Blue said. “I had thought to take it—but only the SW’s have access. No serfs or Citizens are expected to be here alone, and it isn’t watched. The machines have to be alerted.”

Heavy feet were thudding down the passage. Bane could tell by the sound that there were at least six men. The two of them had no reasonable chance to overcome that number.

Then something occurred to him. “If they accepted Agape—“ he said. “Where must the code be given?”

‘To one of these intercoms,” Blue said, indicating a small grille set in the wall.

Bane spoke to it. “Accept Agape’s code from Mach!” he said.

And the grille answered: “Accepted. What may we do for you?”

“Save us from those who pursue us!”

A panel slid aside, revealing a cargo capsule. “Enter.”

They climbed in. The panel closed behind them just as the first pursuer came into sight. The capsule began to move. It was cramped, as it was not intended for human beings, but satisfactory.

“You did it!” Blue exclaimed, dropping the Phaze mode of speech. “How did you know they would accept that? You have hardly seen this frame!”

“Principle of transfer. A message can be passed from one person to another, and if it be valid, it is accepted. They knew Agape’s code was valid, so when I invoked it by description, they understood.”

“You thought of something I did not—and thereby saved us some mischief,” Blue said. “I think you have an aptitude for this frame! Now I shall add my own wrinkle.” He addressed the capsule’s intercom. “Deposit us at the next station, then go on empty.”

The capsule slowed. “Why stop?” Bane asked. “They be surely in pursuit.”

“Exactly. They will also have men to intercept us at its destination.”

“Oops, aye!”

The capsule stopped. They hoisted themselves out. It went on. “Now they will be pursuing the decoy,” Blue said. “But we still have to get out of here, and they will be watching all the exits. In any event, we’re still under the desert, and I don’t care to breathe any more of this frame’s air. So we’ll go back.”

“Go back!” Bane repeated incredulously.

“Right to the Purple Estate,” Blue said, getting out of his clothes. “I have a little pseudoflesh left, enough to change our facial features. We shall become serfs.”

“Be that not risky?”

“Not as risky as our present course.”

To that Bane could only agree. Blue applied the pseudoflesh to Bane’s face, filling out his cheeks and chin, then did the same for himself. He adjusted their hair. Bane glanced at himself in the reflective surface of a panel, and found that the little bit of adjustment had changed his appearance drastically. Blue was good at disguises!

They took a capsule on the track going the opposite way. While they rode, they talked, and Bane found that he liked this man very well. Blue was, if anything, more open than his father, Stile, less guarded in what he said. He had indeed learned tolerance; Bane did not feel all like a machine in his presence.

They got out at the Purple Estate. This was a large station, with many supplies to be moved. They each picked up a box and carried it out of the station and into the Estate.

Things were in chaos there. It seemed that the Citizen had suffered burns and embarrassment, and was being treated. Foreman was furious, and taking it out on any lower serf he encountered. There had already been several firings, and more were in the offing. All this they gleaned simply by listening as they walked through the premises.

They carried their boxes on to the serf transport station. They waited their turn and boarded the ground shuttle, the boxes in their laps. No one questioned them. The shuttle filled with other serfs on errands, and started off. It left the dome and wheeled across the sand toward the main city of Dradom.

Thus they made it to freedom, the easy way. They left their boxes in the shuttle for return to the Purple Estate, and went to a phone. Blue called Sheen. “Come and get us,” he said, smiling faintly.

A private ship came for them. They boarded, and it took off. The seat belts released themselves, freeing them to walk about during the flight. Then the forward compartment opened, and Sheen and Agape walked into the main chamber.

Bane was not aware how they came together. Suddenly he was embracing and kissing Agape, and she was crying with joy. Then, embarrassed, they paused, looking around at the others.

“Sit down,” Citizen Blue said, donning a blue outfit that Sheen had brought along. They sat.

“My wife and I have known for some time that our son was not entirely satisfied,” Blue said. “He is a product of our most advanced technology. His circuits are more sophisticated than Sheen’s. His brain is capable of a type of consciousness that approaches the living standard so closely that we are not certain there is any significant distinction.”

“Very little,” Bane agreed.

“But he was not alive—and he wanted to be. That we could not give him—until he made contact with you. Now he has been able to experience that ultimate state. Do you think he will want to return?”

“Not if he loves Fleta,” Bane said.

“We like you, Bane,” Blue continued. “I was never able to sire a living son, even before I came to Proton. It was no sacrifice for me to marry Sheen. In fact the laboratory was the only way that I could have a child. And I am satisfied with Mach. But still I always wished that I could have a living child in Phaze. My inability to do so was part of what damaged my relationship to your mother, Bane. It put our love under stress. The Lady Blue desperately wanted a child. Now I see in you the son I might have had.”

Then Blue stopped speaking. “What he is trying to say,” Sheen said, “is that if you, Bane, care to remain in Proton, we would be glad to extend to you the same relationship we have had with Mach. If you should wish to marry Agape, we would be pleased.”

“But you hardly know me!” Bane protested, speaking to them both.

“You are the offspring of my other self, sired by this body,” Blue said. “You have been raised as an apprentice Adept in Phaze. You have come to Proton, as I did. I think I know you well enough. If you wish to remain, and undertake the necessary preparation for eventual Citizenship, you are welcome to do so.”

Bane knew he should have been overwhelmed by such an offer. But this body had better control over its emotions than did his own. He simply considered his own preference, and found no question. “I would like to do so,” he said. “An my other self be satisfied.”