by M. A. Foster
And they began the painful process of lifting Maellen’s body over the fence. She was of the Water elemental, and would have to be returned to the waters; they would have to carry her a long way.
FIFTEEN
When I write, betimes, in my Journal, I always feel supremely confident I solve all problems, not only with ease, but with style as well, seasoned with considerable wit. . . . We also may note the same condition in men who have been deprived of Oxygen. This is enough to make one wonder.
—The Vaseline Dreams of Hundifer Soames
THAT WHICH HAD gathered in the office of Klaneth Parleau, Chairman of Seaboard South Region, could only be called a mob, and at the moment, all of its constituent parts were trying to talk at once, to each other, to nobody, to anybody, perhaps even to themselves, all utilizing the maximum in volume to make themselves heard. Nobody managed to hear anything but din and confusion. It was, in a word, chaos. Parleau watched in astounded consternation, striving mightily to capture their attention, but his efforts, normally successful, were useless. In fact, they added measurably to the reigning confusion. The members just talked louder and heard less. At last, in total exasperation, Parleau picked up a heavy paperweight, a large stainless steel cube a handsbreadth on a side, and pounded his appointment book until the noise at least died down enough for him to be heard.
“Damn it to hell!” roared the chairman, uncharacteristically in the full grip of his temper. “Is this a Regional Board of Inquiry, or a panel discussion among anarchists?” The noise level dropped some more. They were offended that the chairman should call them anarchists. It became almost quiet. Parleau did not intend to let them rest there. He roared on, “Is this the office of a Regional Chairman, or is it a bandits’ den?”
And at last, true, blessed silence fell. Parleau commanded, “Blantine, read the names of those present!”
A voice, hoarse from bawling at the others, started, from somewhere near the far end of the table, “But, Chairman, we . . .”
“Shut the hell up, Gerlin! Recorder, read the names as instructed—programmed, unprogrammed, and soon to be deprogrammed.”
Blantine, the recorder, a junior administrative apprentice, hastily borrowed from the shift currently working days, began in a voice full of uneasiness. “Doctor Mandor Klyten, Department of Alien Affairs; Edner Eykor, S-eighteen, Security; Aseph Plattsman, S-twelve, Control; Thoro Gerlin, M-six, Tactical Units . . .” And continuing through several others, at last finishing and sitting down, trying his best to appear inconspicuous. He had not listed himself as a member. He did not intend to add anything or contribute, save record what they said.
Parleau was still standing. He added, not willing to let the apprentice clerk off the hook, either, “And Cretus Blantine, Recorder.” He noted that the reading of names had its desired effect: they were now all quiet and attentive.
Parleau began, “We are here to determine the causes and consequences of a series of incidents that occurred two days ago in this Region, in or near Complex Ten.” Parleau observed some fidgeting out of the corner of his eye, and added, “This board is hereby convened by instruction of Continental Secretariat, Denver, Central High Plains Region.” Here he paused to let it sink in, with the implications. A Regional Chairman held power in his own region, of course, but impelled by ConSec, he could bring forces to bear from outside the region. He thought, Argue, would they? We’ll see what kind of song they sing for Section Q when they go to explain this. He said, “Plattsman, review events.”
Plattsman, after consulting some logs, began, “At about the sixteenth hour, the girl we had been holding, the vandal identified as one Maellenkleth Srith Perklaren, was released in the custody and responsibility of a party of New Humans who had previously been identified. And immediately the problem commences. Somehow, the transaction, though handled according to instructions and regulational data, was actually performed by a Hando Errat, accompanied by agents under his personal control. We conjecture that there was a plan to abduct the whole party at some other point, before they could return the girl to the reservation. However, at Complex Ten, the New Human party somehow evaded Errat’s men and escaped into the Urblex. I may add here that none of this was reported until much later, owing to the substitution of agents. Also, reporting and monitoring was further delayed because somehow the New Humans removed the Commnet Interconnect from the agent who had been carrying it, abandoning it several miles to the west. This unit had not responded to a routine maintenance call-up, so autolocation was initiated. At the same time, our own monitor at the Institute stop reported no contact, and Complex Seven picked up the false agents in the tube terminal, failing exit procedure. Regional Control called for a Tactical Team, but too much time had elapsed, and detailed tracking with chemsensors was deemed unlikely. The TacTeam was deployed into the woods adjacent to the reservation boundary, reporting a live track. They descended, grounded, the carryall standing by. After some time elapsed, the carryall reported no contact, although it observed some action. It returned for reinforcements, onloaded, and returned to the site. The team on the ground did not respond, so a thorough search was made of the area. One member was found near the grounding site, and the rest were located near the fence, in deceased condition.”
Parleau said, “Continue.”
“Subsequent investigation, necessarily hasty, has established that six New Humans were observed transiting Complex Ten. Of the weapons possessed by the TacTeam, only the wire-guide had been discharged. One dart was not located, the other was still attached to the guide. That dart retained blood, which lab has identified as identical with the blood of the girl we were detaining. Nothing else was found. All members were terminated either by knife wounds, or by blows of a blunt instrument, skillfully applied. From appearances, the investigation team concluded that the party crossed the fence into the reservation, taking the girl with them. Her condition is unknown, but from the amount of blood on the scene, her survival is doubtful.”
Parleau said, “I wish to emphasize several interesting points about this preliminary report. One, of most pressing interest, is that there was a mix of agents. What was to be a routine exercise went to hell in a handbasket, and fast. We, in short, have been penetrated, but by whom and for what purpose? Item two: all witnesses in Ten say that there were six New Humans. I repeat. Six. How so six? We knew of three, plus one basket-case. But there were six, self-propelled. Item three: the call for TacTeam was requested under signal forty—operative in the field needs assistance, fugitives to be remanded for interrogation—but no description was given, and when Control tried to recontact, the line was dead. Four: six members of a TacTeam, and the best systems money and mind can make, were defeated and heinously slain by unarmed farmers, who disappeared. If you do not have questions out of all this, I certainly do.”
Eykor responded, “We have the junior agent. It appears that he knew little of what was going on, being kept deliberately in the dark, by Errat and the other agent. I am ashamed to say that he was one of our own men, recruited under some peculiar circumstances. He was low, and had no access, and so could not verify or disprove what Errat told him. I have recommended retraining and reconditioning, and tentative reestablishment, pending good behavior, of course.”
“How did Errat get on that detail? Why weren’t your own men on it?”
“They say they were properly relieved by Errat.”
“Who the hell is this Errat?”
Plattsman answered, “Both Errat and the other agent have vanished into thin air. All routes have been closed, but I think that will prove nothing. Errat identified himself as an operative out of Secretariat. This was formerly true, as we have uncovered. He was assigned to Section Q, Overseas Branch, but at present had been in retired status. I might add, that was Retired Status After Cause. He was last reported residing in Appalachian Region. That was from Section Q. Appalachian officially denied ever having known such a person. We believe that Errat was the one who called the request for TacTeam.
He had all the correct codes and authenticators, and the call was made, so we have traced, from Building eight-nine-oh-five. He had never left it, at least until then.”
Parleau asked, “Are you sure he isn’t there yet?”
Eykor affirmed, “We have screened everybody, body-search. The building has been scoured. He isn’t there.”
Plattsman continued, “Control Staff, in conjunction with some friends we have at ConSec-Q, think that Errat had two purposes, not one. The first was to prevent at all cost the girl from returning; she would there be turned over to others in the plot with him for unknown uses. The second was more interesting: you see, there is a faction in A.R. that would like very much to gain control of the Institute for their own purposes. As you know, the Region is historically poor. Errat has been identified as a sympathizer with this group by an informant we have planted. The secondary purpose of this mission for him was apparently to embarrass us. He did so, but by then the rest had started to add to it, so it was completely out of control. We think he wanted us to recapture the New Human party. The resulting uproar would make us look bad. . . .”
Parleau asked, sitting down at last, “Could Errat have been working with them, the ler? They did have a supremacist organization way back in the old days. . . .” Parleau had been reading his history.
“We have not found any evidence whatsoever that Errat was working with any group of New Humans, present or past. His dossier lists him as being violently anti-ler. Our implant in A.R. confirms his association with like-minded groups in the Region, and elsewhere.”
Parleau sighed deeply. “Well, whoever he was with, had his plan worked, the girl would have been taken and we’d be in the thick of it for sure. We were saved that, at least. But what we’re in isn’t a whole lot better. . . . And Errat’s gone, you say?”
Eykor answered, “Not out of Seaboard South, unless he got out almost immediately, and there is low probability there. We sealed all crossings, everywhere. Nobody in or out without authenticated identification. There is no way he can get out, unless he walks through the reservation, which I doubt. It will take time, but we’ll get him.”
Plattsman commented, “You may not, so plan for the contingency. What we have been able to get out of Q suggests that he was formerly engaged in some pretty slippery wet-work for ConSec, working Incontinent and Africa-Sud for them. God only knows what he was doing for them; those people are tough and they play the game hard. I think that if he could survive that as a career, he could probably come and go here pretty much as he pleases.”
Eykor exclaimed, “But he was a Controller!”
“Ostensibly, a Controller. In fact, he was the worst sort of spy, and I suspect an assassin. Don’t flinch; we still have them, and have good use of them. The Federated Earth Government hasn’t been able to eliminate local interests, and right now they’re not likely to. As a fact, we encourage it as general policy; the war of spies prevents a war of men, of armies.”
Parleau said, “Perhaps, but that’s a dangerous game, that substitute. It could lead to worse than skirmishes and riots. And to think that someone turned a wild man like Errat loose among us. . . .”
Plattsman countered, “No, Chairman, they did not turn him loose. He was acting on his own, or with at best a small group. Certain other bodies found it convenient to look the other way. Apparently his friends in A.R. hoped that if the cards fell out right they could make their move. But as things go, they are stumbling more than we are—you’d think it happened there, to hear them deny any connection with Errat.”
Parleau exclaimed, “Acted on his own! Nobody acts on his own!”
“Errat did, apparently,” Plattsman said blandly.
“No, no, I refuse to believe that, in this day and age. Could he in turn have been manipulated . . . ?”
“Manipulate a manipulator? Now, there’s an art form indeed!”
“I’m serious. Klyten, had this worked as planned, could this have benefited anyone in the reservation?”
“Chairman, there was a supremacist faction long ago, but it was largely discredited by the separationists and has not been very noticeable since. The separationists were the ones responsible for helping to consolidate the people and for setting up the reservation. It was heading for a showdown, but segregating the populations cooled things off, and the extremists were replaced by more flexible groups. But back at the height of it, the supremacist faction was in contact with some humans, the most extreme. Were there any left, I suppose that Errat could have made contact.”
“Too many loose ends . . . this gets worse and worse, doesn’t it? Well, now: what about the six ler? What happened to the girl? We know she had to be one of the six.”
Klyten answered, “All we can say is that she recovered. How, in so short a time, is beyond me.”
“Recovered! Is that possible?”
“As fast as it must have happened? I have no idea. It must be, but the method is unknown. Also the reason why they would risk an obviously secret method to recover her. I thought that she might have been faking, but no, it couldn’t be. I know what an autoforgetter looks like, and she was one for sure. This condition has no analog in humans—it is not amnesia. It is in fact a form of bodiless death. The persona ends. Of course, it isn’t perfect, but for practical purposes it works as advertised. Now, supposedly, such a person can be retrained, but the result is something similar to severe retardation . . . but what she knew and was protecting, she took with her. They did not retrieve her to interrogate her. Nor did they make her functional by an unknown methodology to do that, either.”
“What could Errat have wanted with her?”
“Unknown. I personally think he wanted an incident.”
“That’s even worse.”
“Yes, Chairman, that is so. Oh, and by the way, speaking of things worse, and no human analogs, my research people found out. What is wrong with the second girl. You know, the one Plattsman found in the photographs.”
“Tell us that one, Klyten; there’s no shortage of bad news here, so you may as well add your share.”
Klyten ignored the remark, and continued, “They have a psychotic condition, which in the literature is called, for want of a better term, ‘Serial Obsession.’ ”
Plattsman asked, “What is the effect of it?”
“Apparently it is occasioned by extreme mental stress, and involves a severe breakdown in the seat of consciousness. It renders the victim incapable of handling reality in a multiplex, simultaneous manner; they then address each simplex component serially, one at a time. Because the rest drift and go astray, they try to compensate by extreme attention to the problem, and then the next one as it comes up. Because they are behind, and know it, they have to be more attentive as they handle the next problem.”
Parleau commented, “That certainly doesn’t sound like a psychosis to me. It doesn’t even sound like a problem.”
“Well, Chairman, they say that every psychosis has an analog in a political theory. They also say that psychoses are remnants of earlier attempts at consciousness. According to what I have read, Serial Obsession is a normal condition for humans—it isn’t a problem to us, true. But it is a severe one to them. The corrective oscillations become progressively deeper and more violent with time. Very gradually, but certainly. The end-product is continual manic violence applied to everything, rather like a standing temper tantrum.”
He paused. “And two things apply here: the first is that it’s like other ler psychoses in that the victim knows he’s insane, and can compensate for it and seek a cure; the other is that the by-product of the compensation is a state of vigorous well-being that increases with time . . . the victim just can’t understand why things keep getting worse despite his best attempts. They tend not to seek a cure, and have to be overpowered eventually. Thankfully, this extremely dangerous condition is very rare. We found only enough cases in the records to substantiate an analysis of the condition. But in regard to the second girl, I can imagine no more d
angerous an adversary.”
Parleau asked, “Why is that important, here?”
“Because, Chairman, this so-called plan of Errat’s shows many of the hallmarks of the influence of such a person; the apparent indecision upon a concrete goal, the ambivalence, the confusion. We were confused because, in essence, Errat and his plan were confused. I agree with you in that something as audacious as this would be doubtful, energized by Errat alone. And if he were acting with a group, this aspect of it would have been suppressed by the combined minds of the group—that is how we humans handle the problem. We dampen it by the views of others—we discuss and argue and mutually agree, and then act. Yes, now that I think of it, I am sure of it,” Klyten said.
Plattsman said, “Possible, possible. Fits Control Theory well enough. The planner influences the plan. Plain, straightforward. That’s how we trace plans back to their source, no matter how obvious the first reading of the source is.”
Parleau said, “So it is possible, then, that Errat was working for a ler? That’s unreal! What could they gain from it?”
“Rationally, it would seem little. But we are conjecturing a possibly dangerous, shrewd psychotic, too.”
Plattsman exclaimed, “The third man in the crowd-scans! Damn! Why didn’t we think of it before? I didn’t even think to try to match them with the file images of Errat. I’ll bet they match.”
Klyten said, “Probably will. But it doesn’t help us anymore. We still don’t know what he wanted, ultimately. Or his contact, if there was one.”
Parleau said, “Wait, wait a minute. We are drifting farther and farther away from the central issue. In fact that seems to characterize this whole proceeding, from the time the girl was discovered in Isolation.”
Eykor brightened. “A plot, Chairman?”
