Kiln People Part 46

At last, here was my nemesis, my Moriarty, walking beside me in the dark corridor, s.h.i.+vering with both dread and shame in her dark eyes. How long did this secret personality alternation go on before Ritu finally grew suspicious, then fully aware of her gangster other half?

Was that why she first decided to hire me? In order to have Beta's expert adversary on retainer? Finding her missing father probably had little to do with it, at first. Not till Yosil Maharal was found dead on the highway.

And yet, there had had to be more of a connection than that. to be more of a connection than that.

Shaking my head, I found it hard to concentrate because of sheer emotion. Because by this point I was positively boiling with anger!

Ritu had known what was going on -- the potential for extreme danger -- by the time we set out together Tuesday evening. So why didn't she warn me? So why didn't she warn me? All those hours and days in the desert, then underground, and never once did she mention the pressure that must have been building up inside her. The clutch of demon's eggs that she carried, ready to hatch as soon as there was an opportunity. All those hours and days in the desert, then underground, and never once did she mention the pressure that must have been building up inside her. The clutch of demon's eggs that she carried, ready to hatch as soon as there was an opportunity.

d.a.m.n her selfish, self-centered -- Something in my att.i.tude may have crossed the short s.p.a.ce between us. Or maybe the fierce reality of our situation tore away Ritu's last illusions. For whatever reason, after minutes of silent walking my companion spoke at last.

"I'm ... so sorry, Albert," she whispered.

Glancing at her face I could see what tormented courage it took to form that simple apology. Yet I was in no mood to let her off the hook so easy. Because we both knew what Beta would do -- what he had had to do -- in order to survive. to do -- in order to survive.

If Ritu got away now, she might finally acknowledge the gravity of her condition and seek cloistered refuge at a hospital resort while Beta's supply of secretly cached ditsicles slowly expired, their memories growing ever more useless and obsolete. Under expert therapy, her secondary personality would be summoned forth, challenged, forced to justify itself or else face drastic treatment.

Even if denial set in again and Ritu avoided getting help, I'd surely report the situation to both her employer and her personal physician. Anyway, with or without therapy, Beta would be washed up as a criminal mastermind. Because notoriety would subject Ritu Lisabetha Maharal to ongoing scrutiny by the World Eye ... by free networks of amateurs who'd never let her dittos out of sight. Not for years to come. Underworld figures hate that sort of illumination. They find it hampering, as we learned in the years following the Big Heist.

To avoid that, Beta couldn't let either of us go free. He must find a way to keep Ritu prisoner, a slave to this weird reproduction cycle forever -- a kind of self-rape that would have given me utter w.i.l.l.i.e.s, if I weren't even more worried about myself.

Because my old foe Beta had no reason to keep me alive at all.

Trying to fit the pieces, I thought, Beta must've been the one who tried to kill me with that missile strike on my home. Did he realize I was hot on the trail of Beta must've been the one who tried to kill me with that missile strike on my home. Did he realize I was hot on the trail of ... ...

... but that makes no sense! Wasn't a copy of Aeneas Kaolin nosing around the Maharal house, late on Tuesday? He was skulking about, looking for stuff while eager to avoid being caught in the act by Ritu's gray. but that makes no sense! Wasn't a copy of Aeneas Kaolin nosing around the Maharal house, late on Tuesday? He was skulking about, looking for stuff while eager to avoid being caught in the act by Ritu's gray.

And it was Kaolin who shot at Ritu and me, as were drove through the desert.

He must have grown wise to the link between Ritu and Beta, maybe even earlier than she did.

Was he the one "taking over" Beta's operations?

I remembered my first meeting with Ritu and her boss in that fabulous Yugo limousine. They had both seemed united and sincere about hiring me to help find the missing Professor Maharal. Under the surface, each of them must have also been thinking about using my expertise to help control the Beta persona ... and maybe to exploit it ...

But all that changed by Tuesday evening. Something spooked Aeneas. Was it the prion attack at Universal Kilns? Or maybe something else, having to do with Ritu's father.

That could explain why he sent one of his platinums to attack us on the highway. Ritu and I were both disguised as grays. Kaolin might have thought that I was making an alliance with Beta, and we were both on our way to rendezvous with -- My mind was thras.h.i.+ng about, grabbing threads from all directions. But before these floundering thoughts could coalesce into a new picture, I abruptly noticed something far more pressing. Something offering a ray of hope that our luck had changed.

On the left appeared a branching pa.s.sageway. A possible way out.

This smaller tunnel cut backward at a sharp angle, close to the one we had been following till now. My impression -- it seemed aimed toward another part of the nearby military base we had just departed. Professor Maharal must have had more than one target when he delved for hidden treasure down here, helping himself to a nation's h.o.a.rd of secret, high-tech marvels.

This new hole looked even more dank and narrow than the first. But it offered a slim chance and I took it without hesitation, grabbing Ritu's arm and tugging her after me.

She made no complaint, coc.o.o.ned again in her blanket of pa.s.sive resignation. No wonder Ritu could be bullied around by a figment of her own imagination, No wonder Ritu could be bullied around by a figment of her own imagination, I thought -- admittedly a churlish remark. I thought -- admittedly a churlish remark. How strange that the aggressive, stronger-willed part of her was suppressed, only to be released through dittoing. She must have had a strange childhood. How strange that the aggressive, stronger-willed part of her was suppressed, only to be released through dittoing. She must have had a strange childhood.

Progress grew difficult. This tunnel was much rougher and so cramped that we had to stoop much of the time. Less effort had been taken to flatten the floor, as if the builder didn't expect to need this pa.s.sage very long. Glowbulbs were fewer and most seemed to have been shot out in recent fighting. Fragments of robotic c.o.c.katrice guardians lay everywhere, mingling with pools of recently dissolved golem slurry. Surrogates of clay and silicon had waged a brief, bitter struggle down this narrow lane.

Were there survivors? More important, were they still tuned to avoid injuring beings made of flesh? Or did such legalistic distinctions matter anymore?

I lost track of time and distance. (My implant wasn't working down there, of course.) Still, a sense of hope grew as Ritu and I hurried. We must must be getting near the base again -- whatever part of it Yosil spent so many golem-years digging to reach. Once inside, I'd waste no time making that phone call -- be getting near the base again -- whatever part of it Yosil spent so many golem-years digging to reach. Once inside, I'd waste no time making that phone call -- Suddenly, I tripped over something in the shadows, stumbling past a squishy obstruction. A body body groaned and reached for me with ma.s.sive arms, but I managed to jump out of the way. And the supine battle-golem couldn't pursue because three quarters of it had been blown away. groaned and reached for me with ma.s.sive arms, but I managed to jump out of the way. And the supine battle-golem couldn't pursue because three quarters of it had been blown away.

That was the good news.

The bad news: now Ritu and I were on opposite sides of the crippled warrior-doll, which turned what was left of a smoldering head to peer at us at us before it asked -- "Making a break for it, Morrissss?"

The raspy, s...o...b..ry voice wasn't too bad, for someone with just half a face. Most dittos would disintegrate after such injuries, their Standing Waves unraveling like spun candy in a thunderstorm. But gladiatorial models are st.u.r.dy.

"You don't want to go that way." The head nodded in the direction I had been heading.

"Why not?" I asked. "Were the defenses too strong, Beta? Couldn't blast your way through?"

The fractured figure shrugged. "No, we made it. But Yossie had already grabbed the stuff. He's holding out in his lab. I shudder to think what he plans to do with -- "

"Whoa! What are you talking about? Maharal is dead!"

A dry chuckle. "You think so?"

I spat to get rid of a sudden foul taste. "The police coroner was thorough. Yosil Maharal died in that car wreck. And by now any ghosts would have -- "

"Any ghosts would still be around, Morris. But Alpha never told you about that, did she?"

Alpha. Beta's nickname for Ritu, naturally. In the dim light her face seemed gaunt, sickened by the figure on the ground, by its injuries and flippant att.i.tude, but above all by the Mirror Effect -- disgust at seeing a reflection of yourself that you despise. She had it bad. Beta's nickname for Ritu, naturally. In the dim light her face seemed gaunt, sickened by the figure on the ground, by its injuries and flippant att.i.tude, but above all by the Mirror Effect -- disgust at seeing a reflection of yourself that you despise. She had it bad.

"What's he talking about?" I demanded. But Ritu only backed away two steps, shaking her head.

The shattered golem laughed. "Go on, tell him! Tell Morris about Project Zoroaster and its multifaceted a.s.sault on the status quo. Like the new method to replenish dittos, so they last weeks or even months -- "

"But that would ... "

" -- or the research into making better imprints from one ditto to another. That's the part I was interested in professionally, of course, to make piracy really pay. I needed details that Ritu never learned at her day job, way up in the UK management dome, and for some finicky reason she refused to go down to R&D, no matter how hard I prodded. So I came up with a nifty espionage plan instead ... one that used you, Morris.

"Only it must've backfired, I guess. Seems I finally offended somebody powerful. Someone with the resources to track me down and -- "

"Powerful. You mean Kaolin?"

A shrug. "Who else? He was already upset when Yosil vanished, taking all his records and prototypes. Maybe Aeneas decided it was time to clean house, to purge Project Zoroaster ... and get rid of all his enemies while he was at it.

"But your guess about that is as good as mine. This is the first chance I've had to incarnate for weeks! When it comes to recent events, all I know is what Ritu's seen and heard. If only I had time, I'd put out feelers. Verify what I think panicked Aeneas. Maybe plan some revenge.

"But now -- "

Tremors shook the remnant golem. Clay skin that once seemed nearly as supple as the real thing now cracked, rapidly mimicking the onset of age. Struggling, ditBeta grunted a few words at a time.

"Now ... there's a much ... more critical matter ... to deal with."

I shook my head.

"You mean Yosil's ghost is trying to do something -- "

" -- that must be stopped!" The clay soldier used its good arm to grab at at Ritu. "Go on ... Tell Morris ... what it's about. Tell him what ... Father is trying to do.

"Tell him!"

A wild look filled Ritu's eyes. She treated two more steps the way we came, back toward Urraca Mesa and the hidden sanctuary of Yosil Maharal. I could only make out the whites of her eyes as I called.

"Wait! Beta's trying to spook you ... to herd you back among the others. But this one's harmless, look!" I struck with my foot and the arm flew off, shattering as it hit the ground.

"Come this way," I urged, holding out my hand to help her to step over the decaying war-doll. "We can escape -- "

"Eshcape!" Beta's putrefying ditto was down to a corroded half-face and part of a torso, yet it maintained enough force of will to emit guttural laughter. Beta's putrefying ditto was down to a corroded half-face and part of a torso, yet it maintained enough force of will to emit guttural laughter.

"Jussst go to the end ... of thiss tunnel ... Morrissss ... and see your esh -- cape esh -- cape!"

The golem's final cackle was the last straw for Ritu. With a moan of dread and self-revulsion, she swiveled about and ran back the way we came, toward the main tunnel. None of my shouts availed.

You can't reason with blind panic. Not that I blame her.

Soon -- predictably -- I heard Ritu's despairing cry as she ran headlong into our pursuers. More Betas, no more pleasant than the version at my feet. Only these would be intact.

I couldn't help her now. My sole chance was to turn and flee as the nearest Beta liquefied at last. His final laughter flayed at me, driving my haste as it had Ritu's, even after the last audible echoes faded.

A real battle must have raged here, I observed. Machines set up by Yosil Maharal fought bitterly against clay automatons bearing one aspect of his daughter's many-faced personality. The treasure they vied over must be important! Hurrying, I heard a distant drum of pursuing footsteps, drawing closer from behind.

At last, the crude tunnel came to an abrupt end. A metal wall stretched left and right before me -- armor that was clearly meant to keep trespa.s.sers out. The barrier should have worked. It might might have, if the base guardians had listened for approaching moles. They meant to, I knew. They established all the proper instruments and vigilant watch programs. Only someone much smarter managed to hack the defense system, fooling the mechanical wardens of this secret redoubt into ignoring blatant sounds of digging. have, if the base guardians had listened for approaching moles. They meant to, I knew. They established all the proper instruments and vigilant watch programs. Only someone much smarter managed to hack the defense system, fooling the mechanical wardens of this secret redoubt into ignoring blatant sounds of digging.

A broad face of high-tech steel had been exposed, then a jagged-slanted section removed, carefully avoiding embedded continuity detectors. More evidence of an inside job, planned by someone in the know. Of course this was all short term. It wouldn't take long to track down the culprit, once Base Security services were roused. The thief had only a little time to execute his plan, whatever it was.

Approaching the wall fissure -- a centimeter thick, I noted -- the implant in my left eye scanned for ambush by any leftover c.o.c.katrice-bots, though all I saw were fragments. It also got busy trying to put through that phone call to Base Security, but no link was in line-of-sight yet. I'd have to step inside and hope ...

Then I saw the emblem: BIOHAZARD.

EXTREME DANGER TO ORGANIC LIFE.

The armored room was supposed to have just one entrance. I saw it opposite from me -- a heavy airlock with ma.s.sive, overlapping closures. Almost as imposing were a dozen bulky refrigerators, each of them triple-locked and covered with ribbon seals to show any trace of tampering.

Somebody had had tampered, though, carefully bypa.s.sing the alarm wiring on two storage units, then slicing new openings to avoid the locks. Frosty condensation exhaled from the gaps as laboring heat pumps strove to keep up. But that cold was nothing compared to the chill pa.s.sing through my heart as I glimpsed all the burglary detritus strewn across the floor -- abandoned metal trays and torn plastic coverings showing more of those frightening BIOHAZARD symbols. Without any conscious will on my part, the implant zoomed till I could read some ripped tags, carrying names like tampered, though, carefully bypa.s.sing the alarm wiring on two storage units, then slicing new openings to avoid the locks. Frosty condensation exhaled from the gaps as laboring heat pumps strove to keep up. But that cold was nothing compared to the chill pa.s.sing through my heart as I glimpsed all the burglary detritus strewn across the floor -- abandoned metal trays and torn plastic coverings showing more of those frightening BIOHAZARD symbols. Without any conscious will on my part, the implant zoomed till I could read some ripped tags, carrying names like Airborne Saringenia and Tum.o.f.ormia Phiddipidesia: Advanced Strain. Airborne Saringenia and Tum.o.f.ormia Phiddipidesia: Advanced Strain.

Clara once told me about Saringenia Saringenia -- a truly nasty organic plague that had been tested during the Fizzle War. As for -- a truly nasty organic plague that had been tested during the Fizzle War. As for Phiddipidesia, Phiddipidesia, a mild version that escaped ten years ago caused the SouthWestern Eco-Toxic Aquifer Plume. I shuddered to imagine what an "advanced" strain could do. a mild version that escaped ten years ago caused the SouthWestern Eco-Toxic Aquifer Plume. I shuddered to imagine what an "advanced" strain could do.

According to solemn treaty, stocks were supposed to have been destroyed long ago.

Naturally, web cynics have always spun lurid tales about dark conspiracies. Vaults like this one had to exist, they claimed. It just isn't in human nature to throw away a weapon.

I stood there, half-astride the gap in the metal wall, gazing into whistle-blower's paradise, pondering the huge tattler's bounty if I reported all this to the open nets ... and wondering how the Dodecs ever managed to keep it secret in this day and age. That is, I would would have pondered such things, I'm sure, if I weren't paralyzed with mind-numbing terror. Especially when I noticed a spray of glittering slivers on the floor ... bits of gla.s.s from vials that had fallen during the hurried robbery. have pondered such things, I'm sure, if I weren't paralyzed with mind-numbing terror. Especially when I noticed a spray of glittering slivers on the floor ... bits of gla.s.s from vials that had fallen during the hurried robbery.

It was already way too late to start holding my breath.

How long I stood there, blankly staring at death's s.h.i.+ny frosting, I cannot imagine. What finally stirred me from blank fixation was a sound -- drumming footbeats announcing the approach of a more familiar and tangible threat. One the mind could grasp.

"Well, Morris. Here you are." Beta's voice rocked me off the cusp of fear. "Now you see what's at stake. So why don't you be a good little shamus and back away from there, hm?" From the shadows behind me emerged half a dozen of the burly war-dittos Beta had hijacked from the reserve armory, advancing under the tunnel's low ceiling in a stooped crouch.

As they drew near, I felt something precious start to vanish -- my power to act. To affect events. I don't know about you, but to me that power can mean more than one measly life, even a real one. In this case, a whole lot more.

I jumped the rest of the way into the storage room and began running for the door at the other end. "No!" the nearest Beta cried. "Let me handle this! You don't know what you're doing. Your body heat could set off -- "

I strained to turn the big wheel controlling eight big steel pins that sealed the hatch shut. No codes or locks should be needed to turn it from the inside, inside, right? I felt it start to move ... right? I felt it start to move ...

Battle-golems are fast, though. They were on me before the wheel turned thirty degrees. Implacable hands pried loose my grip, further abusing my sore thumb, then a jumbo-sized Beta slung me under one arm -- a sensation I was really starting to hate. Writhing and kicking, I flailed frantically as he carried me away from the big hatch, till we pa.s.sed the cool surface of a storage refrigerator. When my hand brushed strands of luminescent ribbon I spasmodically grabbed, grabbed, yanking and tearing clumps from their moorings. yanking and tearing clumps from their moorings.

That had results! Abruptly, the ambient lighting switched from muted white to alert red. Shrill blarings resounded.

"That tears it," one Beta muttered.

"We'll bring him along anyway," my bearer answered, bending over to reenter the cramped tunnel while hauling me like a slab of meat. Soon we were racing along, driven by augmented ceramic muscles that felt uncomfortably hot near my skin, especially after leaving that refrigerated room. All I could do was watch stony walls tear by in a blur, inches from my face, growing disoriented, as if in a fever.

Was I already infected with some fast-acting plague? More likely, motion sickness was being amplified by hopelessness and an overactive imagination. But who knew yet?

Emerging back in the main tunnel, we found ourselves amid a swarm of other battle-golems. The Beta who was hauling me turned left, hurrying toward the hidden stronghold of Yosil Maharal -- at least that's what I presumed. I also spied Ritu in their midst, now more closely guarded than before, looking gla.s.sy-eyed and withdrawn amid the creatures she had imprinted -- giant, terrifying dolls that were propelled by a part of her she loathed.

The spatter of gunfire sounded closer than before, but seemed to be tapering off. Apparently the reinforcements had been called forward to mop up Yosil's final layer of defense.

Well before we arrived at that front however, a second fractious murmur came up from the rear -- distant, surprised shouts followed by sharp detonations. I saw the nearby Betas consult each other in brief, worried tones. Some turned to face this new threat, setting up firing positions, while the rest of them pushed Ritu and me forward.

Apparently our little task force was surrounded. Enemies behind us now, as well as ahead.

Great, I thought, succ.u.mbing to fever, or else to gloom. I thought, succ.u.mbing to fever, or else to gloom.

Better not let the travel nets learn about this lovely Place. Or every maso-tourist in the world will want to come.

53.

Soulscape ... as gray and red combine to explore a rainbow ...

Who says Yosil should get to be the rider?

His mad ghost yammers on, using pompous braggadocio to convince himself he's still in charge, but I've stopped listening. Poor old ditYosil hasn't got a clue yet that something's gone terribly wrong with his plan.

The glazier amplified me from the measly ditective who was seized from Kaolin Manor. Countless boson-duplicates combine like droplets in a mighty wave. That's all all I was supposed to be, a simple carrier wave with all the "me-ness" rubbed out. I was supposed to be, a simple carrier wave with all the "me-ness" rubbed out.

But I'm here! Peering along new dimensions. Learning fast.