"We cannot abandon our hopes and work on so slim a supposition, one that we have no solid facts to support," Haithness insisted. "Besides, the subject is sixteen. If any- thing, he should have much more control over himself than the girl did."
"I know, I know," Nyassa-lee muttered unhappily. "Everything you say is true, Haithness, yet I can't help worrying. In any case. I'm outvoted."
"That you are," the tall woman said after a questioning glance at Brora. "And if Cruachan were here with us, you know he'd vote to proceed too."
"I suppose." Nyassa-lee smiled thinly. "I worry too much. Brora, are you sure you can handle the implant?"
He nodded. "I haven't done one in some time, but the old skills remain. It requires patience more than anything else. You remember. As to possible unpredictable results, failure, well"-he smiled-"we're all condemned already. One more little outrage perpetrated against society's archaic laws can't harm us one way or the other if we fail here."
Off in a nearby corner. Mother Mastiff sat in a chair, hands clasped in her lap, and listened. She was not bound. There was no reason to tie her, and she knew why as well as her captors. There was nowhere to run. She was in excellent condition for a woman her age, but she had had a good view of the modest complex of deceptive stone and wood structures as the skimmer had landed. Thousands of square kilometers of damp, hostile forest lay between the place she had been brought to and the familiar confines of Drallar. She was no more likely to steal a vehicle than she was to turn twenty again.
She wondered what poor Flinx was going through. That had been him, out on the boat on the lake far to the south. How he had managed to trace her so far she had no idea. At first, her concern had been for herself. Now that she had had ample opportunity to listen to the demonic trio arguing in front of her-for demonic she was certain they were-she found herself as concerned for the fate of her adopted son as for her own. If she was lost, well, she had had a long and eventful life. Better perhaps that her brave Flinx lose track of her than stumble into these monsters again.
One of the trio, the short, toad-faced man, had spoken of "adjusting" her and of "implants." That was enough to convince her to prepare for something worse than death. Many of their words made no sense to her. She still had no idea who the people were, much less where they had come from or the reasons for their actions. They never spoke to her, ignoring her questions as well as her curses.
Actually, they did not treat her as a human being at all, but rather as a delicate piece of furniture. Their current conversation was the most peculiar yet, for one of them was expressing fear of her boy. She could not imagine why. True, Flinx had tamed a dangerous animal, that horrid little flying creature, but that was hardly a feat to in- spire fear in such people. They knew he occasionally had the ability to sense what others were feeling. Yet far from fearing such erratic and minor talents, these people discussed them as if they were matters of great importance.
None of which explained why they'd kidnapped her. If their real interest lay with her boy, then why hadn't they kidnapped him? The whole affair was too complicated a puzzle for her to figure out. Mother Mastiff was not a stupid woman, and her deficiency in formal education did not blunt her sharp, inquiring mind; still she could not fathom what was happening to her, or why.
She let her attention drift from the argument raging across the table nearby to study the room to which she had been brought. Most of the illumination came from the impressive array of electronics lining the walls. Everything she could see hinted of portability and hurried installation. She had no idea as to the purpose of the instrumentation, but she had been around enough to know that such devices were expensive. That, and the actions of the people who had abducted her, hinted at an organization well stocked with money as well as malign intentions.
"I'm not even sure," Nyassa-lee was saying, "that the subject realizes how he's managed to follow us this far."
"There is likely nothing mysterious about it," Haithness argued. "Remember that he is a product of an intensely competitive, if primitive, environment. Urban youths grow up fast when left to their own resources. He may not have enjoyed much in the way of a formal education, but he's been schooled in the real world-something we've had to master ourselves these past years. And he may have had some ordinary, quite natural luck."
"These past years," Brora was mumbling sadly. "Years that should have been spent prying into the great mysteries of the universe instead of learning how to make contacts with and use of the criminal underworld."
"I feel as wasted as you do, Brora," the tall woman said soothingly, "but vindication lies at hand."
"If you're both determined to proceed, then I vote that we begin immediately." Nyassa-lee sighed.
"Immediately with what?" a crotchety voice demanded. For some reason, the question caused the trio to respond, whereas previous attempts to draw their attention had failed miserably.
Nyassa-lee left the table and approached Mother Mastiff. She tried to adopt a kindly, understanding expression, but was only partly successful. "We're scientists embarked on a project of great importance to all mankind. I'm sorry we've been forced to inconvenience you, but this is all necessary. I wish you were of a more educated turn of mind and could understand our point of view. It would make things easier for you."
"Inconvenienced!" Mother Mastiff snorted. "Ye pluck me out of my house and haul me halfway across the planet. That's inconvenience? I call it something else." Her bluster faded as she asked, "What is it you want with my boy Flinx?"
"Your adopted boy," Nyassa-lee said. While the small Oriental spoke. Mother Mastiff noted that the other two were studying her the way a collector might watch a bug on a park bench. That made her even madder, and the anger helped to put a damper on her fear. "I wouldn't make things any easier for you people if ye promised me half the wealth of Terra."
"I'm sorry you feel that way, but it's only what we have come to expect," Nyassa-lee said, turning icy once again. "Have you heard of the Meliorare Society?"
Mother Mastiff shook her head, too angry to cry, which is what she really wanted to do. Names, words they threw at her, all meaningless.
"We're part of an experiment," the Oriental explained, "an experiment which began on Terra many years ago. We are not only scientists, we are activists. We believe that the true task of science is not only to study that which exists but to forge onward and bring into existence that which does not exist but eventually will. We deter- mined not to stand still, nor to let nature do so, either."
Mother Mastiff shook her head. "I don't understand."
"Think," Nyassa-lee urged her, warming to her subject, "what is there in Commonwealth society today that could most stand improvement? The government?" A bitter, derogatory laugh sounded behind her, from Haithness. "Not the government, then. What about the ships that carry us from star to star? No? Language, then, an improvement on Terrangio or symbospeech? What about music or architecture?"
Mother Mastiff simply stared at the woman ranting be- fore her. She was quite certain now, quite certain. These three were all as insane as a brain-damaged Yax'm.
"No, none of those things!" Nyassa-lee snapped. It was terrible to see such complete assurance in one so diminutive. "It's us. We." She tapped her sternum. "Humankind. And the means for our improvement lie within." Her hand went to her head. "In here, in abilities and areas of our mind still not properly developed.
"We and the other members of the Society decided many years ago that something could and should be done about that. We formed a cover organization to fool superstitious regulators. In secret, we were able to select certain human ova, certain sperm, and work carefully with them. Our planning was minute, our preparations extensive.
Through microsurgical techniques, we were able to alter the genetic code of our humans-to-be prior to womb implantation. The result was to be, will be, a better version of mankind."
Mother Mastiff gaped at her. Nyassa-lee sighed and turned to her companions. "As I feared,
all this is beyond her meager comprehension."
"Perfectly understandable," Brora said. "What I don't understand is why you trouble to try?"
"It would be easier," Nyassa-lee said.
"Easier for her, or for you?" Haithness wondered. The smaller woman did not reply. "It won't matter after the operation, anyway." At these words, the fine hair on the back of Mother Mastiff's neck began to rise.
"It might," Nyassa-lee insisted. She looked back down at Mother Mastiff, staring hard into those old eyes. "Don't you understand yet, old woman? Your boy, your adopted son: he was one of our subjects."
"No," Mother Mastiff whispered, though even as she mouthed the word, she knew the woman's words must be true. "What-what happened to your experiment?"
"All the children were provided with attention, affection, education, and certain special training. The majority of the subjects displayed nothing unusual in the way of ability or talent. They were quite normal in every way. We proceeded with great care and caution, you see.
"A few of the subjects developed abnormally. That is in the nature of science, unfortunately. We must accept the good together with the bad. However, in light of our imminent success, those failures were quite justified." She sounded as if she were trying to reassure herself as much as Mother Mastiff.
"A few of the children, a very small number, gave indications of developing those abilities which we believe to lie dormant in every human brain. We don't pretend to understand everything about such Talents. We are in the position of mechanics who have a good idea how to repair an imperfect machine without really knowing what the re- paired machine is capable of. This naturally resulted in some surprises.
"An ignorant Commonwealth society did not feel as we did about the importance of our activities. As a result, we have undergone many years of persecution. Yet we have persisted. As you can see, all of us who are original members of the Society are nearly as advanced in years as yourself.
"The government has been relentless in its efforts to wipe us out. Over the years, it has whittled away at our number until we have been reduced to a dedicated few. Yet we need but a single success, one incontrovertible proof of the worthiness of our work, to free ourselves from the lies and innuendo with which we have been saddled.
"It was a cruel and uncaring government which caused the dispersal of the children many years ago and which brought us to our current state of scientific exile. Slowly, patiently, we have worked to try and relocate those children, in particular any whose profiles showed real promise. Your Flinx is one of those singled out by statistics as a potential Talent."
"But there's nothing- abnormal about him," Mother Mastiff protested. "He's a perfectly average, healthy young man. Quieter than most, perhaps, but that's all. Is that worth all this trouble? Oh, I'll admit be can do some parlor tricks from time to time. But I know a hundred street magicians who can do the same. Why don't you go pick on them?"
Nyassa-lee smiled that humorless, cold smile. "You're lying to us, old woman. We know that he is capable of more than mere tricks and that something far more important than sleight of hand is involved."
"Well, then," she continued, trying a different tack, "why kidnap me? Why pull me away from my home like this? I'm an old woman, just as ye say. I can't stand in your way or do ye any harm. If 'tis Flinx you're so concerned with, why did ye not abduct him? I surely could not have prevented ye from doing so."
"Because he may be dangerous."
Yes, they are quite mad, this lot. Mother Mastiff mused. Her boy, Flinx, dangerous? Nonsense! He was a sensitive boy, true; he could sometimes know what others were feeling, but only rarely, and hardly at all when he most wished to do so. And maybe he could push the emotions of others a tiny bit. But dangerous? The danger was to him, from these offworld fools and madmen.
"Also," the little Oriental continued, "we have to proceed very carefully because we cannot risk further harm to the Society. Our numbers have already been drastically reduced, partly by our too-hasty attempt to regain control of one subject child a number of years ago. We cannot risk making the same mistake with this Number Twelve. Most of our colleagues have been killed, imprisoned, or selectively mindwiped."
Mother Mastiff's sense of concern doubled at that al- most indifferent admission. She didn't understand all the woman's chatter about genetic alterations and improving mankind, but she understood mindwiping, all right. A criminal had to be found guilty of some especially heinous crime to be condemned to that treatment, which took away forever a section of his memories, of his life, of his very self, and left him to wander for the rest of his days tormented by a dark, empty gap in his mind.
"You leave him alone!" she shouted, surprised at the violence of her reaction. Had she become so attached to the boy? Most of the time she regarded him as a nuisance inflicted on her by an unkind fate-didn't she?
"Don't you hurt him!" She was on her feet and pounding with both fists on the shoulders of the woman called Nyassa-lee.
Though white-haired and no youngster, Nyassa-lee was a good deal younger and stronger than Mother Mastiff. She took the older woman's wrists and gently pushed her back down into the chair.
"Now, we're not going to hurt him. Didn't I just explain his importance to us? Would we want to damage someone like that? Of course not. It's clear how fond you've be- come of your charge. In our own way, we're equally fond of him."
What soulless people these are. Mother Mastiff thought as she slumped helplessly in her chair. What dead, distant shadows of human beings.
"I promise you that we will not try to force the boy to do anything against his will, nor will we harm him in any way."
"What do ye mean to do with him, then?"
"We need to guide his future maturation," the woman explained, "to ensure that whatever abilities he possesses are developed to their utmost. It's highly unlikely he can do this without proper instruction and training, which is why his abilities have not manifested themselves fully so far. Experience, however, has shown us that when the children reach puberty, they are no longer willing to accept such training and manipulation. We therefore have to guide him without his being aware of it."
"How can ye do this without his knowing what is being done to him?"
"By manipulating him through a third party whose suggestions and directions he will accept freely," the woman said. "That is where you become important."
"So ye wish for me to make him do certain things, to alter his life so that your experiment can be proven a success?"
"That's correct," Nyassa-lee said. "All this must be carried out in such a way that he cannot suspect he is being guided by an outside force." She gestured toward the far end of the room, past transparent doors sealing off a self- contained operating theater. In the dim blue and green light of the instrument readouts, the sterile theater gleamed softly.
"We cannot allow the possibility of interference or misdirection to hamper our efforts, nor can we risk exposure to the Commonwealth agencies which continue to hound us. It is vital that our instructions be carried out quickly and efficiently. Therefore, it will be necessary for us to place certain small devices in your brain, to ensure your complete compliance with our directives."
"Like hell," Mother Mastiff snapped. "I've spent a hundred years filling up this head of mine. I know where everything is stored. I don't want somebody else messing around up there." She did not add, as she glanced surreptitiously toward the operating room, that she had never been under the knife or the laser and that she had a deathly fear of being cut.
"Look," she went on desperately, "I'll be glad to help ye. I'll tell the boy anything ye wish, have him study any- thing ye want and avoid whatever matters ye wish him to avoid. But leave my poor old head alone. Wouldn't I be much more the help to ye if I did what ye require voluntarily instead of like some altered pet?"
Brora folded his hands on the table and regarded her emotionlessly. "That would certainly be true. However, there are factors which unfortunately mitigat
e against this.
"First, there are mental activities you will be required to carry out which involve complex processes you are not conversant with but which can be stimulated via direct implants. Second, there is no guarantee that at some future time you would not become discouraged or rebellious and tell the subject what you know. That could be a catastrophe for the experiment. Third, though you may direct the boy with surface willingness, his abilities may enable him to see your inner distress and know that something is amiss, whereas I do not think he can detect the implants themselves, as they are wholly mechanical. Lastly, I think you are lying when you say you would be willing to help us."
"But I don't want an operation!" she cried, pounding at the arms of the chair with her fists. "I tell you 'tis not necessary! I'll do anything ye ask of me if you'll but leave the boy alone and instruct me. Why should I lie to ye? You've said yourself that he's not my true child, only an adopted one. I'll be glad to help ye, particularly," she added with a sly smile, "if there be any money involved."
But the man Brora was shaking his head. "You lie forcefully, but not forcefully enough, old woman. We've spent most of our lives having to cope with traitors in our midst. We can't afford another one. I'm sorry." His attention was drawn to the main entrance and to the two men who'd just entered. He nodded toward Mother Mastiff.
"Restrain her. She knows enough now to do something foolish to herself."
One of the new arrivals held Mother Mastiff's right arm and glanced back toward Brora. "Anesthetic, sir?" "No, not yet." Mother Mastiff stared at the horrid little man and shuddered as he spoke quietly to the black woman. "What do you think, Haithness?"
She examined Mother Mastiff. "Tomorrow is soon enough. I'm tired. Better to begin fresh. We'll all need to be alert."
Brora nodded in agreement, leaving the two younger men to bind the raving Mother Mastiff.
For Love of Mother-Not Page 16
