Pliocene Exile - The Adversary Part 81

"Manion!" cried Hagen, and he began to laugh uproariously.

"Why does Alex want us to go back to the Milieu, Papa?"

Cloud asked. Her brother's laughter choked off.

"He wants Mental Man-and you-subordinated to the Unity. He's a deluded fool."

Hagen brushed this aside. "So you really do need us after all.

We're the priceless raw material for your Mental Man stud farm-is that it?"

Marc cut him off. "You and Cloud will be the princ.i.p.al administrators of the project. It will be yours. I'll subdue the host planet for you, give you every a.s.sistance. But the responsibility would be yours. Think very carefully before you refuse it.

Nothing comparable awaits you in the Galactic Milieu. On the contrary." And his mind displayed a panorama of alarming scenarios that caused the two young people to gasp, then turn incredulously to Elizabeth.

She shook her head. "I don't know. Certainly not the more drastic hypothesis. The Milieu would never be so unjust. Ultimately, your fate would probably depend upon you. Your mindset and response to the Unity-"

"You mean, we'd have to take our medicine," Hagen said, "and swear to be good little neurons in the Galactic Brain."

"It's not like that!" Elizabeth protested. "The Unity is love and fulfilment and an end to loneliness. Manion was right when he told you you'd find peace with your own kind."

But Marc said, "There's no room in the Milieu for persons whose dreams diverge from the norm-much less persons whose mental potential exceeds the narrow course predetermined for humanity by the exotic races. You are Remillards. You'd be a threat. And unless you submitted to the domination of the Unity you'd be dealt with ... as I was."

"And don't forget Me," said Aiken.

"I'd never do that," Marc replied smoothly. "Elizabeth told me your history. In spite of your vast latent metabilities, the Magistratum was prepared to dispose of you. I invited you to be here at this meeting precisely because I saw you as my ally, one who would plead my cause to Hagen and Cloud once you understood the truth. I'm not afraid of having Milieu agents come after me through the time-gate. Why should they bother?

The past is.

They know I can never return. I stand condemned.

But you, High King ... What kind of reception would you have if you should go back to the Milieu? Are you ready to subordinate your mind to the will of your inferiors in the Unity? And if you stay here, and a two-way warp is established, are you ready to welcome busybody reformers from the future, backed by the enforcers of the Magistratum? Your rule is hardly a model of enlightened democracy! And the third contingency: closure of the gate after the disaffected have fled the Pliocene.

At the very least, you stand to lose many of your most talented subjects. There are even uglier possibilities."

Aiken grinned. "Including the one that all this havering may be moot, if the Firvulag are right and Gotterdammerung is about to fall."

Suddenly the little man in gold was on his feet, holding Hagen's wrist with his left hand and Cloud's with his right. All three of them were inside a s.h.i.+ning envelope of psychocreative force.

Marc tensed. He stepped forward, his eyes alight with fury.

He said: It is not your decision to make!

"I've made it mine." Aiken was no longer smiling. "Do you care to dispute the point?"

The aspect of Abaddon faded as quickly as it had appeared.

Marc shook his head with apparent unconcern.

Aiken drew Cloud and Hagen toward the tall French windows that still streamed with rain. He said to Marc, "We'll think very carefully about what you've said , and then we'll give you our decision. But not now. We need time."

"You may have two days," Marc said coldly. "No longer."

The windows were flung open, admitting a howling blast of wind-driven water. Aiken and the young Remillards were abruptly hooded, unrecognizable, ready to fly. The King asked, "Will you wait here at Black Crag for the answer?"

Marc said, "If I'm not here, Elizabeth will know how to find me." His mind reached toward his masked son and daughter. I know that what I've told you has been shocking. Frightening, even. But all that will be taken care of in time. You'll understand everything ... in time. Don't let Aiken stampede or coerce you.

You carry a priceless potential, an enormous responsibility. Let me help you fulfil it. Don't turn away from me. Forgive me for the mistakes, for hurting you. I only meant it for the best, I do love both of you. Believe me ...

The golden figure and the two white ones vanished into the storm. The window-doors slammed shut.

Marc and Elizabeth had completely forgotten Brother Anatoly. He hauled himself up from his isolated seat with a wheezy sigh and came slos.h.i.+ng through the puddles on the floor.

At the fireside table he busied himself ladling out three cups of the still-steaming mulled wine. He gave one to Marc and one to Elizabeth, then stood muttering under his breath for a moment. He said, "You're going to need all the help you can get. Take it and drink it. You know what it is. For your good and everybody's."

Elizabeth's eyes went wide with shock. "I can't! What do you think you're doing?"

"Of course you can," said Anatoly comfortably. "Look at him. Are you that much worse?"

Very carefully, Elizabeth set the cup of wine down on the table. "Amerie must have been out of her mind to send you," she said, and then she rushed out of the room.

Marc raised a bemused brow over the rim of his cup.

Anatoly drank his, then took Elizabeth's. "I do believe she's scandalized. She has terrible scruples, you know. And despair.

It's difficult to deal with. In her way, she's even prouder than you. And unfortunately, d.a.m.nation will always be a matter of choice."

"I still don't concede guilt."

"You're an arrogant, invincibly ignorant b.a.s.t.a.r.d, and your subconscious does concede, and ego te absolve." He finished Elizabeth's wine and set down the empty cup. "This new thing, on the other hand, is a different kettle of borscht. It's wrong and you know it. No psychological bulls.h.i.+t about it, Remillard.

You force those kids or mutilate them again and you make your own h.e.l.l. For keeps, this time."

"I know," Marc said. "I'm trying to decide if it's worth it."

CHAPTER FOUR.

The storm engulfed them, but before Hagen and Cloud could articulate a single thought, the King's mind spoke irresistibly: Sleep.

Put it all aside now. All fear all anxiety all decision.

There is only the dark and the water and the wind. The world sleeps invisible below and you on high are secure and guarded.

Sleep ...

They awoke totally refreshed, seated side by side on a gla.s.s bench in a starlit garden. The faint tinkle of tiny bells in the trees and a partial glimpse of a tower delineated in yellow and violet sparks told them that they were back in Goriah, in the castle grounds.