Doomsman - the Theif of Thoth

by Harlan Ellison

  at the ceiling, burning a wide swath through plasteel and

  paint and continuing to burn as Juanito struggled with the

  ChiTroopers.

  DOOMSMAN

  The assassin caught the first man with a flat edge of

  closed hand across the bridge of the nose. The guard

  dropped with a sharp, conwlsive yelp and lay quite still.

  His companions were busy extricating themselves from

  the tangle of arms and legs and disrupter tripod

  stems-and trying not to bring the weapon down on

  themselves at the same time-as Juanita barreled into

  them. He brought two fingers into the eyes of one Chi­

  Trooper, blinding the man instantly and sending him

  back against the alcove wall crying and clutching at the

  soggy pulps of empty sockets.

  The third guard finally managed to get to his feet, just

  as Juanita rose to one knee. The ChiTrooper kicked out

  and his heavy boot clipped Juanita across the temple.

  The assassin tried to roll with the strike and managed to

  keep from fainting at the pain. His bead felt as though it

  had been ripped away.

  Faintly, he heard the sound of the office door closing

  as the girl left.

  The ChiTrooper came back for another full kick, and

  Juanito grabbed the booted foot as it swung past his ear.

  With a quick flip he turned the man's leg, and the guard

  stumbled backward. Juanita was on his feet in a moment

  and pummeling the man backward with vicious rights and

  lefts to face and midsection. He caught the ChiTrooper

  across the right ear with a smashing right that sent the

  guard down in a heap. Juanita's foot caught him in the

  throat, and the man's head snapped back, as his eyes

  glazed over.

  The next kick opened the guard's head.

  Juanita did not stop to gasp for breath, nor to consider

  the pain that throbbed like a gong in his head. He

  stepped over the bodies and ripped the ten-thread disruptor from its tripod with a flick of the fastening bolts. As he burst into the hall, the disrupter still spewing blue destruction from its bell mouth-still ripping open walls and ceiling as it swung in his grip--he quickly took his

  bearings, remembering how the ChiTroops from the cutter had brought him to Tedus Nur's office when he had first entered the Chambers.

  The landing deck was to the right and down a side cor-

  DOOMS MAN

  ridor, then up a short flight of steps to the deck itself. He

  started running in that direction.

  He met several ChiTroopers as he ran; he did not tum

  off the disruptor. The beam burned through the guards

  and the walls behind them.

  The landing deck was not empty. A jetcopter with the

  legend CHAMBERS PERS OFFICIAL was just swinging off to

  the right, rising as the wind rose, and heading toward the

  South.

  Another copter sat empty and untended at the far edge

  of the deck, the same words written on it. Juanito burned

  down half a dozen crewmen and hangarsmen who tried to

  intercept him, and in a few minutes was rising off deck,

  tracking the other jetcopter on the sonorad. There was no

  opposition from ChiTroop copters in the area; his luck

  was holding; despite what he had done to Tedus Nor and

  his Chambers setup, they wanted him to get through to Eskalyo; they undoubtedly still thought he would try to assassinate the petty monarch. They did not know how wrong they were.

  Whatever hold they thought they had on him, to get

  him to kill his own father, they were wrong, so wrong. He

  was determined now to join Eskalyo in whatever fight the

  man was waging against AmericaState--and it must be a

  severe one for the Director and the Officials to let him get

  away with so much, just so he would make it through

  without knowing he was being allowed through, to kill his

  father-and to see the structure come tumbling down.

  That was the most important thing now.

  And to that end he must catch the girl in the copter

  ahead. She was his one last link with his father, and he

  had to get to her.

  -what weapon did AmericaState hold that could make

  him kill his father? He wondered,

  ·

  and still could not

  answer the question-

  The copter beat its Yay toward the south, keeping a

  clean distance behind the first machine. When they had

  passed over what had been the Rio Grande River, Juanito decided to board the first copter. He cut in the jets and soared after the gi!I. Apparently she caught sight of

  him on the sonorad, for the other ship abruptly dipped

  and tried to cut him off between two canyon walls. J ua-

  DOOMS MAN

  nito set the machine to autotrack and went back into the

  storage hold. There he found a fly-belt and propulsor unit

  which he strapped on carefully. Then he went back frontships, to see what positions the two ships held. They had gained on the mountains, and his ship had gained on hers.

  She did not seem as familiar with jet cut-in as she was

  with the standard copter controls; though there were few

  persons who did not know how to operate a jetcopter, it

  was apparent that the girl had been away from them for

  some time. Her handling of the ship was erratic, and she

  was doing a bad job of keeping herself hemmed off between the canyon walls.

  Juanito knew she would never make-. it the full

  seven-mile length between the high rocky bluffs. If he

  were going to use her as his admission card to Ciudad

  Rosario, he had to get her, and get her now.

  Sonorod was tracking the ship and at the same time estimating the length left to them between the canyon bluffs. The indicator said slightly less than seven miles,

  and the� were jetting at a constant two thousand feet

  above the swollen Rio Grande. At least, Juanito was

  cruising at that set level, though the girl's copter was

  weaving and dipping as though she were unable to stick

  tightly.

  Juanito set the autotrack to gain, pace and hold and

  stepped to the cab lock. He palmed it open and caught a

  blast of wind and slipstream that tossed his dark hair

  about his eyes. He pulled the flybelt's bonnet over his

  back and snapped it down around his forehead, and

  gripped the plastic molding at the edges of the lock.

  The two copters drew closer, and once Juanito grabbed

  frantically for the inner wall as the ship dipped to falcon

  down on the leading copter. As the ship steadied, Juanito .

  moved once more into the icy blast of the open lock. He

  could see the top of her auburn hair as the ship zeroed in,

  and then the copter was directly over the other

  . then

  •

  .

  slightly to the left of it, perhaps ten feet above.

  Juanita leaped out and away and at the same time depressed the activator stud on the flybelt and propulsor unit. The jets caught and he felt himself coasting. By lifting his elbows and dropping them, he was able to maneu-

  OOOMSMAN

  ver the unit, and he dropped steadily to the dark black

  ship below.

  Sonorad in the girl's ship picked him up when he was

  free of the overhead copter's image, and she
tried to pull

  away. She applied her jets incorrectly and the copter

  started to drop. But Juanito was in under the rotors and

  astride the cab by then. He scrabbled for purchase and

  caught his balance only with the use of the still-firing propulsar unit. Then he wire-walked forward, till pe was over the copter's cab lock.

  It was double bolted from within, of course.

  The wind whipped at him, and the slipstream, plus the

  added impetus of his flybelt threatened to rip him from

  the sleek surface of the copter. Only his grip on the cowling edge between the cab and fuselage kept him anchored.

  He reached with one hand to his pouch, and brought

  out the bum disc. Then, gripping it in his teeth, he crawled

  across the cab top till he was behind the girl, and

  over her head. He flattened himself to the plastoid, gripping as best he could, and plonked the disc against the plastoid itself. He set it for widest bum, and watched as

  the hole spread out to a distance of three feet in circumference, with only thin struts of material left to hold the disc in place.

  When the hole was burned-just as the girl looked up

  and saw him lying face down, looking in at her-he

  jabbed the disc off. He scooped it into his pouch, and

  standing erect, jumped at the three thin struts still blocking the hole.

  They gave under his weight and he came crashing

  down into the cab of the copter.

  Then he snapped off his flybelt.

  "That wasn't smart," he said to her.

  Her face was a mask of despair.

  "We're late," he said brusquely. "We'd better get moving. Get away from the console."

  She rose slowly, wearily, and he sat down on the cot

  behind the control chair to remove the propulsor unit

  from its bulky place on his back. When he had shrugged

  out of it he took the control seat and cut in the jets properly. The copter above them continued to hang on, and

  DOOMSMAN

  Juanito suddenly thought he had a way of confusing the

  autotracking devices Am.ericaState had obviously put on

  him, so they would know where he was at any moment in

  his search for Ciudad Rosario.

  They could not know there were two copters here now,

  for wherever the equipment was based, it was not that accurate for two shapes flying so close together, When they got down lower inside the canyon, the walls narrowed,

  and J uanito picked a crevice through which one ship

  might barely pass-but through which two was an impossibility.

  He angled the ship through carefully, applying speed

  only at the last instant so the other copter's autotrack

  could not save it. The other ship crashed against· the left

  wall of the opening, and exploded out into the canyon.

  That was for the benefit of AmericaState SecuritySeek.

  He quickly set the copter down on a ledge three hundred feet down the crevice, and turned off the motors.

  Now there was no image on the autotracking devices

  AmericaState had unquestionably trained on him. The

  canyon walls absorbed the stray inevitable images his

  copter cast, and the explosion would lead the techs . on the

  autotracking devices to believe that Juanita Montoya had

  cracked up in the canyon of the Rio Grande.

  While they waited, Juanito talked to the girl:

  "No!"

  "Well, then, if you want that to happen to you, try to

  Eose me or cross me or get me angry, just get me angry,

  and you'll find I'm not fooling; I want to find my father,

  girl, and I won't stop till I do. What's your name . . ."

  He waited, and she looked up at him with surliness in

  her eyes. She was now clothed in a mechanic's zipjumpup they had found in a tacker backship. She sat now, with hands folded in her lap, and her face quite

  .drawn with exhaustion and fear.

  She did not answer.

  "I've tried to tell you you have nothing to fear from

  me," Juanito spoke softly, cajolingly, "but I'm desperate

  to find my father, and I'll let nothing stand in my way."

  Three months of applied torture in Tedus Nur's N. Chi

  Chambers had not broken her, yet fifteen minutes with

  th.� assassin had convinced her he could make a rock

  DOOMSMAN

  speak, should he desire to do so. She feared him and mistrusted him-it was in her eyes, her expressions-and only his torture could make her speak.

  Soon after she refused, though she cried and drew

  ragged breaths . . . she talked.

  "My name is Elena Dympna. I was with Don Eskalyo

  for fifteen years, since my father died. My father worked

  for Don Eskalyo, too. I was-uh-separated from a caravan that left Ciudad Rosario. 1-"

  She went on, and told trivialities that did not interest

  Juanito, but when she came to the part of locating the

  petty monarchy, she cut off quickly. But Juanito did not

  press it; she would take him there.

  He "persuaded" her to give him starting directions, and

  three hours after the explosion of the first copter, they

  took off again.

  They passed over the Isthmus of Panama two hours

  later.

  They had flown out over the Gulf of Panama, and

  headed straightaway toward the western bulge of the continent, the autotrack's primary coordinates Latitude 5°S, Longitude 80° 4 minutes W. They passed over Paita four

  hours later on jet and rotor drive.

  That night the Tropic of Carpicorn was left behind,

  and still they were heading south, toward Santa Clara Island, the great dark expanse of the Pacific chopping and heaving far below.

  They did not cross land again.

  Whey they were past the last jutting land area, where

  Aruacc lay sleeping in the early afternoon sun, Juanito

  half -suspected the truth. Ciudad Roarsio was not on land.

  An island perhaps, or-

  The latter thought was fantastic. He put it from his

  mind.

  ·

  But it came back in strength when they turned west on

  the forty-first meridian. Latitude 41 °8"7' South and Longitude 85° West was empty ocean, the Pacific cold and deep.

  "Here," she said and closed her eyes.

  Juanito did not doubt her. She could not have been

  lying so effectively. "Elena, where is my father?" ·

  DOOMSMAN

  Her eyes grew defiant, and Juanito could see in them a

  resignation to death; she was sure he would kill her when

  she spoke. But her chin came up, and through the filth on

  her face she smiled softly-perhaps the first smile in

  more than three months.

  "Where is your father?" the smile deepened, and there

  was a subtle mocking twist to it. "Sixteen hundred fathoms below."

  Then it struck Juanita Montoya fully, why America­

  State had been unable to locate the petty monarchy of

  Ciudad Rosario. A country under the sea. In the deep,

  black waters of the Pacific the biggest threat to

  AmericaState rule lay quietly hidden, even as the School

  lay hidden in the mountains.

  "How do we get there?" Juanita asked.

  "You really want to find him, don't you?" she asked.

  "Even though he'll probably have you killed at once."

  "Why should he do that?"

  "You're an assassin. Anyone can see that from your

  dress, your-" Her words faltered as she tho
ught of his

  ways of inducing speech, "-actions, the way you talk. If

  I don't trust you, why should Eskalyo?"

  "He will trust me. He will know me."

  She snorted ruefully.

  "I am his son."

  "He has no son. I know."

  Juanita, for the first time since he had entered the

  School, felt complete and absolute anger washing him.

  His sensitive mouth drew up in a snarl, and he said,

  "What do you know? Do you know what it is to know

  how to kill, and nothing more? Do you know what life

  can be like on the Pampas with no food, and little shelter,

  and the cold coming down? You know!" His half-laugh

  was all bitterness and fury. "Can you know what it is to

  live like a hunted thing, and when you are found, what it

  is like to be taught how to murder men in th.e neatest,

  most rapid manner?"

  "I-"

  He cut her off. "You know! You know nothing, girl.

  But I tell you this, and you know enough now not to

  doubt me. I will find my father. And if I don't-" He

  DOOMSMAN

  drew a spare vibro-blade from his pouch, and tested the

  edge with a finger. It sang darkly in his hand.

  "But I will find him Now . . . how do I get to Ciu­

  .

  dad Rosario . . . is there a land entrance?"

  She smiled softly. Determined to keep whatever secret

  she might have. "Try the island of Juan Fernandez . • •

  mas a tierra."

  "I didn't ask where I might try, I asked if there was a

  land entrance there. Is that the place?''

  "No."

  "Is there a place?"

  "No."

  "How do I get down to it?"

  She laughed at him then.

  And she would not stop laughing, even when he laid

  hands on her. The laugh was not hysterical, nor was it

  even taunting; it was merely satisfied. Completely, wonderfully satisfactorily satisfied.

  He tried to get her to stop. The School way. After a

  while she did. Then he asked her again.

  "How do I get down there?"

  "Why, you dive, assassin, that's the only way."

  And she laughed again, renewed humor in what she

  had said. Sixteen hundred fathoms. No chance. Pressure.

  The creatures that lived in that deep. The darkness. The

  water and the suffocation. Then he felt everything slipping away; his mind groped futilely for the School solution.