World of Promise dot-23

by E. C. Tubb

"If the appendix were functional we could live on cellulose," said Dumarest. He added, "There have been times when I would have found that most convenient."

  "To live on grass?" Lina Ynya was quick with her comment. "Earl, you surprise me. Do you really mean that?"

  "If you'd ever gone hungry on a world covered with bushes and grass you'd know I mean it. But the pineal gland?"

  "Something left over like the appendix," said Charisse. "Some say it's the vestigial remains of a third eye. Can you imagine what it would be like to have three eyes? Think of the advantage you'd have over binocular vision."

  "Would there be any?" Corm burped and hastily drank some wine. "The spice," he complained. "Your chef is too heavy with the spice. But to get back to eyes, Charisse, what advantage would a third one give?"

  "Maybe it enabled its owner to see into the ultraviolet," suggested Krantz. He was big, solid, his head matted with a grizzle of hair. He added, frowning, "But would that really be an advantage? Of course, if the lens could be adjusted we'd have telescopic vision. That would be an aid to anyone."

  "Couldn't you develop something like that yourself, Charisse?" said Vayne. "Build a superbeing. It could be fun?"

  "Now you're talking about genetic manipulation," protested Glenda. "Armand was concerned with natural devolution. If we have devolved then from what?"

  "Speculation." Astin signaled for more wine. "I've heard such fantasies before. The proposition that we are the products of a genetic engineer-a creature who took beasts and fashioned them into men. In the light of Charisse's achievements is that such an impossible conception? Of course it gives rise to further speculation-who and what was this supposed manipulator? Where did it come from and what happened to it? Did we, Mankind, get out of hand and turn against our creator?" He drank and chuckled at the conception. "Now where have I heard that before?"

  In legends, the stuff in which Boulaye had delved, in which Armand Chetame had dealt. A myth Charisse had casually mentioned-or had it been casual? Dumarest glanced at her where she sat, face misted with winking gleams, hair a mass of supporting stars. If bored she gave no sign of it but he had the impression that, like a puppet master, she was manipulating them all.

  Now she said, "We have talked enough about my specialty for a while. Let us change the subject. As I recall, Ienda, you mentioned a game before dinner."

  "I did?" Ienda had a smooth, pleasant face which now crinkled in thought. "Was it something to do with testing mental ability?"

  "Logic. You said it was an exercise in logic which showed how wrong logic can be."

  "I remember! It's a game I used to play as a child. No matter what was proposed the answer was always the same. One arrived at by logical deduction."

  Lunerarch spoke for the first time since his attempt to propose a toast. "An example, my dear? Can you give us an example?"

  "Let me think." She did so, frowning. "Take a beehive. A hive is a dwelling for a number of separate units. In order to live in close proximity units must live in a building. Therefore a hive is a building. A building is a house. You see?" Her triumph was short-lived. "Oh! I didn't give the key word. It was 'house,' of course."

  "And everything comes back to house?" Astin was dubious. "Let me see, now. No matter what I say, what word I give you, it all comes to the same, right?"

  "Yes."

  "Then I'll give you a word. Fish."

  "Fish?"

  "That's right." He beamed his victory. "You want to back out?"

  "No, but I'll take a wager. Even money I don't fail?" She smiled as he nodded. "Three hundred?" Her smile grew wider as, again, he agreed. "Fish? Let me think for a moment. Yes, I have it. A fish has silver scales. A silver-scaled fish is a silverfish. A silverfish lives in a house. Anything which lives in a house is a part of that house. Therefore a fish is a house."

  "That's cheating." Enrice Heva shook his head in mock disapproval. "Ienda, you disappoint me."

  "It isn't cheating, it's logic," she said. "Can I help it if logic itself is a cheat?"

  "A cheat?" The woman in black gave a throaty chuckle. "Not a house?"

  "Linda, be charitable, it's only a game."

  "So you won't expect to be paid," said Astin. "The bet was a part of the game too."

  "Everything is a game. Life, the universe, all a game." Vayne blinked as he reached for his goblet and it toppled beneath his hand. Ruby wine stained the cloth, sent little runnels between the scattered dishes. "How did that happen?"

  "Bad coordination," said Charisse. A servant came to swab up the spilled wine at her signal. "You misjudged time, distance and application."

  Which, thought Dumarest, was a neat way of telling a man he was drunk.

  Time passed, servants coming to clear the table of all but the decanters, the glasses, the bowls of nuts and tiny biscuits, the morsels which cleansed the mouth of present flavors with a diversity of their own. Things to punctuate the conversation as the entertainment divided the topics.

  "Clever!" Linda clapped with languid enjoyment as a trio of jugglers made their exit from the hall. "But I think I liked the singer more."

  He had been tall and darkly handsome with a voice as clear as a bell and a tonal range which caused it to throb like an organ to rise shrilling as a bird. A virtuoso followed by a dancer with a body of lithe grace, a teller of yarns of questionable taste, a harpist, a girl who played a flute.

  Items forgotten as soon as enjoyed as were the wine, the morsels. Dumarest selected one, crushed it between his teeth and felt his mouth fill with a blend of flowers and bees. Another yielded the fragrance of the sea. A third burned with searing spice.

  A gamble taken and lost, the forfeit a gulp of cooling wine.

  Others paid the price without having lost the game but, he noted, Charisse remained in icy aloofness, her seat at the head of the table the position of control. Even as he watched he saw her signal to one of the servants, a gesture which resulted in the girl moving from one to the other with a tray of small glasses each filled with a lambent fluid.

  Taking one Astin lifted it with a mocking smile.

  "To the death of pleasure," he said carefully. "To the magic of science!"

  Linda, her words more slurred, echoed the sentiment. Drinking, she sat, eyes closed, the empty glass in her hand; then, shuddering, she smiled.

  "You bitch," she said clearly. "You laced the medicine with something horrible. If it weren't too late I'd rather have stayed tipsy."

  "Instead of which you are sober, my dear," leered fat old Enrice Heva. "And forgetful too, I hope?"

  "My door will be unlocked," she retorted. "But if the wrong man comes through he'll regret it."

  "And the right one, my dear?"

  "Hell know." Her eyes rested on Dumarest. "If he doesn't he will before long."

  An invitation openly and unmistakably extended-was she as sober as she seemed? Was any of them? Drunkenness could stem from other sources than alcohol and what had been added to the morsels, dusted on the nuts and biscuits?

  "Earl?" Charisse leaned forward in her chair. "You haven't drunk the restorative."

  He didn't need it and didn't intend drinking it but it was better to pretend than refuse. He masked the glass in his hand, setting it untouched down among others still full. If the girl holding the tray noticed the deception she made no sign.

  "Now," said Charisse. "Let us play another game, a serious one this time. I want you to specify the perfect man."

  "Armand's ideal," said Astin. "Well, why not? Do you want me to begin? We need strength, stamina, an efficient energy to food ratio, good sensory apparatus, deft manipulative ability, a wide temperature tolerance, protection and offensive weaponry and-" He frowned. "Have I left anything out?"

  "I don't think so but I may remember something."

  "A man," said Krantz. "We are talking about a man."

  "Novaman," said Astin. "The new man. How should he be designed? For strength we need powerful muscles which in turn calls for massive bones for ancho
rage. But heavy bones show a diminishing return in relation to agility and massive bulk needs a higher intake of food to maintain efficiency. There has to be an optimum balance."

  "No flying," said Vayne. "A strong bone structure rules that out-the weight factor is against it. Swimming, climbing, easy mobility can all be gained by using accepted patterns. But there has to be something more than an extra efficient man. A new method of energy intake, for example. And, now that I think about it, I'm not too sure about the wings. Flying men are common in legend." He appealed to his hostess. "Charisse-can it be done?"

  "Efficiently? No."

  "The bone weight?"

  "Is, as you say, against it. In any case it would restrict our creature to a limited environment. Earl?"

  He said, "I'm not a genetic engineer."

  "Neither are your companions but they do not hesitate to give their views. Surely you, with your knowledge and experience of various worlds, have some ideas of your own?"

  "I mentioned one."

  "An active appendix. Nothing else?"

  "A fighter would naturally think of a better fighter as superior," said Linda. "A lover someone with better abilities than his own." She ran the tip of her tongue over her lower lip. Pouting, it glistened with the applied moisture. "Which are you, Earl? A fighter? A lover? A blend of both?"

  "He'd need to be a hero to take on a strumpet like you." Enrice Heva, smarting at her rejection, took a belated revenge. "Do what you like with your door, Linda, I'll gamble a thousand to one he'll not try to open it."

  "Shut your mouth," she said with cold venom. "Insult me again and you'll regret it."

  "Enough!" Charisse slammed her hand down hard on the table. "This bickering gains nothing. Now, Earl, give us your idea of the perfect being."

  "For the answer to that all you need to do is talk to a monk."

  "The Church?" He had surprised her. "What could those beggars know of life? They skulk and preach the doctrine of Universal Brotherhood and enjoy their privation. What do they know of life?"

  "The bad side."

  "Earl?"

  "They've seen it all." Dumarest picked up his glass and tilted it so the ruby wine it contained trembled on the verge of spilling. "The pain and hunger and sacrifice," he said. "The frustration and thwarted desires and the desperation." A drop of wine fell from the glass to splash on the table. "And, the most terrible of all, the death of hope."

  "And?"

  "They would tell you to create a being who is kind. One who is gentle. A creature who has thought and concern for others. Something which has the imagination to realize the results of its actions. The shape is unimportant. The agility, the strength of body and bone, the stamina, the ability to run or swim or fly. All it would need is tolerance. It's most important organ a heart."

  The woman in black said gently, "But Earl, how long would such a creature last?"

  "In the jungles we have created? Not long." Dumarest sent more wine to follow the initial drop, a thin stream of metaphorical blood which splashed to run writhing streams. A theatrical gesture which held their attention, their eyes. "If we were created by some alien genetic engineer as you have speculated then, if it intended to fashion monsters, it has done well." The rest of the wine gushed to be spread by the falling glass. "Think of what you do," he said. "Of what you permit others to do. Then look into a mirror and see the shape of a beast."

  You'll see intelligence and understanding take the essence of life and create monsters and freaks and cripples doomed to misery, they and their children after them in an endless dynasty of pain. In the wine he could see the dim shapes of the teleths-pathetic beings made for use as toys. The dogs, the thing he had fought, the things he had seen. Wine and shattered glass spattered from beneath the hand he slammed on the table.

  "Earl!" Charisse had risen, was leaning toward him, one hand lifted to signal. "Earl-are you ill?"

  "No." He took a deep, shuddering breath, followed it with another. The sudden rage subsided, the blackness edging his vision receding so he could see the startled faces of his fellow guests. "A momentary indisposition," he said, and twisted his lips into a smile. "If any are offended I apologize." He lightened his tone. "The wine is stronger than I thought."

  A weak excuse but one they accepted. It had been a mistake not to have drunk the restorative. Whatever was in it must have neutralized the compounds they had been fed. Drugs to induce hostility, overt sexuality, vulgar humor. A game, he realized. Charisse was triggering emotions to the surface for her inspection. Why had she guided the talk to a superior man?

  Linda said, "You've answered my question, Earl. A fighter without a doubt. I saw murder in your face just then."

  "Does not every lover kill a little?" Astin was cynical. "Charisse, your entertainment grows stronger each time we meet. One day, perhaps, it will get too strong."

  But not while she had guards at her call. Dumarest looked at his palm, the wine staining it, the shallow gash at the base of one finger. Small payment for a stupid act-he'd been luckier than he deserved.

  Charisse said, "We have talked about a superior being and yet never have we mentioned how such a creature is to be tested. Do we all agree that, in the final essence, the ability to survive is all-important?"

  Vayne said, "Can there be any doubt?"

  "None, but I wanted you to admit it. As I want you now to know that I have created just such a creature." She stilled the storm of comment. "No, later you may see it, but not now. But I am in the mood for a wager. You will agree that I know my trade? That if I say the thing I have fashioned is as good as can be devised I can be trusted to know what I'm talking about?"

  Astin said, "Your point, Charisse?"

  "If you so agree you will not hesitate to back it to win. Agreed?"

  "The terms?"

  "If it wins I will supply copies at basic cost. If it fails I will take your cash. Two thousand each, I think, would be fair. Earl-"

  He said flatly, "No."

  "You refuse?"

  "To fight, yes."

  "A pity. Must I remind you that you are in my debt?"

  "For the cost of a passage. I admit it."

  "For your life, Earl." She paused then repeated. "For your life. A debt now to be cleared. Fight my creature and, if you win, you owe me nothing."

  And he would gain no more than he had. If he was forced to entertain then he would demand his fee. She frowned as he told her what it was.

  "The library? You want access to the library?"

  "To that and to Armand's personal files. The material he collected in his investigation into the old legends." As she nodded he said sharply, "You agree?"

  "Of course."

  He felt himself relax, tension leaving him as if it were water pouring from an open faucet. All that remained now was to fight, to win, to gain the secret he had come to find and to be on his way.

  Chapter Nine

  The contest was to be at noon, held in an open space before one of the barrack-like buildings. An area of some hundred yards square, ringed by a high hedge of close-set thorns, their spines masked with a profusion of small, purple blooms.

  "An exercise yard," explained Dino Sayer. "We use it to allow specimens to demonstrate their mobility."

  Their agility, grace, aptitudes and, now, the ability to kill. Dumarest looked at the building, the door set in the side facing him, closed now, but soon to open. The roof was a hundred feet above the ground, the wall sheer, the expanse unbroken aside from the door. At points along the edge he saw rounded blobs which could have been the heads of watching men.

  "I don't like this," said the old man. "Testing a new product is one thing, but we usually set them against other beasts or those of their own kind. This is nothing but murder."

  "You think it will win?"

  The man's silence was answer enough. Dumarest looked again at the building, the hedge, the ground on which he stood. Lush grass cropped short made a mantle over soft loam. The sun, at zenith, stared like a blood
shot eye from the sky.

  "How long must we wait?" Enrice Heva was impatient. "Why the delay?"

  "Does it matter?" Linda Ynya snapped her irritation. She looked worn, haggard, her face raddled beneath the paint. Like the others she stood in a gallery which ran along one side of the square; a raised platform set beyond the hedge and shielded by a canopy. She added, "Don't worry, Enrice, you'll have your fun. Earl can't escape."

  That conviction was shared by them all. Astin turned as Charisse joined her guests. She wore a gown of glinting ruby; metal threads catching and reflecting the sunlight so that she stood as if wreathed in flame.

  Looking at her, Ienda Chao said, "Earl is still dressed and armed. Surely he should be naked if the contest is to be fair?"

  "An animal has its hide," said Linda quickly. "Its pelt and claws and fangs."

  "Natural attributes." Vayne pointed out. "Ienda has a point. Even if he retains his clothing he should yield the knife."

  "Let him keep it," said Krantz. "If the creature is truly superior what difference will it make?"

  That comment ended the discussion. At Charisse's command Sayer moved toward the building, the door it contained, turning once to look at Dumarest then striding ahead, a man not liking what he did but one who would do it just the same. Krantz and Linda had been better allies though their motives could be less than altruistic. But why had Charisse allowed him to keep the knife? Of them all she knew how well he could use it.

  Did she want her creation to win?

  A thought considered and dismissed as Dumarest again searched the area. The hedge was thick, growing low, the spaces at the base few and too small to allow of passage. A barrier a dozen feet high, the spines a host of knives to rip and tear at flesh which came too close. The platform itself was beyond reach-the only obvious route to freedom lay through the door.

  The panel opened as he watched to reveal a shadowed darkness in which something moved. A shape loped forward to stand in the crimson light of the sun.

  "God!" said someone from the platform. "Dear, God!"

  A woman's voice, but Dumarest couldn't tell which. There was no time to look, no time for anything but to study the creature before him. The creation from the laboratories which Charisse had claimed to be a superior man.