Out of the water on either side rose four huge tentacles with bony spikes all over. The tentacles alone looked as if they could pick up and crush the boat, and those bony protrusions looked as if they could easily penetrate not only the plastiglass but the armor plating itself. Worse, I knew that the entire surface of the bork’s skin was tremendously sticky and abrasive at the same time, so that the merest touch could rip flesh from bone.
And we were slowly cruising by now, as if on a sightseeing tour!
Suddenly I heard the engine rev up, whining as if it were strained to the limit: We had been moving so slowly that we were actually hardly up on our hydrofoil skis at all. Then the guns let loose, shaking the ship from stem to stem and sending cups and such flying. The guns were explosive projectiles; you couldn’t use a disrupter system on something mostly underwater because you might not be able to stop the effect. Besides, a weaker laser wouldn’t put a dent in something this size, whose vital organs were always well underwater and away-from direct attack by boats.
I had to admit that for the first time in my life I felt -not only helpless but terrified.
The shells struck the thing and exploded with enormous force, releasing not only a powerful explosive charge but also some kind of electrical one as well. The creature roared and moved faster than I would have believed anything that big could possibly move. But still we remained, just crawling past.
With a splash I thought might sink us by itself, the thing had appeared to retreat and dive at the same time, but I was suspicious of this respite. We waited tensely.
Suddenly we were jerked almost out of our restraining straps as the full power of the engines was released at once and the ship almost jumped out of the water.
In a matter of no more than a couple of seconds, the bork rose with a roar and enfolded an area of ocean astern of us. I realized with a sinking feeling that that area of sea was where we had just been.
The aft gun opened up with a full series of shots, pouring it into the great beast. With its computer laser-guidance system it must have poured twenty or more exploding charges into the thing, and they barely made a dent in it.
Again the bork seemed to shrivel and sink beneath the waves. Outside somewhere over the roar of all the action I kept hearing fierce, loud cries of “Geek! Geek!” like some sort of bizarre cheerleading squad—which in a way it was.
So much for how creatures on Cerberus got their names.
For more than half an hour we played cat and mouse with the beast, luring, feinting, and shooting at it with enough ordnance to totally obliterate a medium-sized city. After a while you could see the areas of the creature that had been shot away, and occasional wounds still bubbling and hissing from the electrochemicals shot into it that water would not extinguish. But no matter how many times it was hit, there seemed to be another section just as nasty and virtually untouched.
I did finally realize what Dylan was doing, though. She was doing her job—pulling the bork further and further away from the skrit that had to be commercially harvested. All I could do was admire her skill, timing, and guts. I recall thinking, And they have charter boats for people to do this for fun?
How far away had she pulled it? I began to wonder. Possibly several kilometers. But while it was clear to me that we were faster in the long run than the bork, we didn’t have the ordnance to kill the monstrosity alone. For all that we were doing, we were hitting nonvital parts.
Suddenly, after all this cat-and-mouse stuff, Dylan gunned the engine and we sped up and away from the monster, this time not firing. I wondered if she was going to break off. Then suddenly she made a steep turn, and in that turn I could see another boat like ours—Karel certainly—making a similar turn toward the great beast, which, because it hadn’t been shot at the last time had not done its fantastic quick vanishing act.
It had in fact seen the other boat and ours turn and was standing its ground, confident of itself despite all the harm we’d done to it.
We started closing fast—so fast I was afraid we were going to crash right into the thing. Mentally I could see only one of those great bony tentacles crashing down into us, bringing oblivion in the deeps. But as the thing made ready for its swipes I heard four sharp pops from each side of the boat, and we suddenly made a turn so sharp it seemed certain to capsize us. The turn put the aft lounge in full view of the thing, and it seemed that the world was full of nothing but the most disgusting gullet imaginable.
Suddenly the sea behind us erupted in a tremendous series of blasts, tearing into the monster, which roared its terrible defiance. We could see the second boat launch its own torpedoes, the nice kind that went by air or water and did what you told them to do.
I saw two literally jump out of the water and go right down the monster’s throat!
Already we had some distance on the thing, which still looked like a floating city. Suddenly, though, it was ripped by two tremendous explosions and seemed almost to fly apart, bits and pieces several meters long of bloody skin, bone, and tentacle flying every which way, some almost far enough to reach our boat. At that moment I saw Karel’s boat appear off to our side, though quite a bit astern, and heard above the death throes of the monster a foghornlike signal which we answered. -Confirmed kill.
You could hear the yells and cheers from the men and women on our boat, too—and maybe even a little from Sanda and me.
Sanda seemed, to collapse, then shook her head in wonder. “Wow! I read all the books, heard all the stories, saw all the roomvision specials, but nothing was ever like this! Compared to this, what we did for you was a piece of cake.” She paused and looked at me oddly. “You all right?”
“I think I wet my pants,” I croaked.
A bit later I managed to get hold of myself, clean up, and go forward to see Dylan. This trip had been an education for me, all right, and one I would remember until my death. I had discovered that I could be that scared, and I also finally realized that Dylan not only did this every day but did it routinely, as a matter of course. I had a new, almost awed respect for her courage now. If there was anybody I ever dreamed of wanting at my back, it was definitely Dylan Kohl.
The rest of the day, such as it was, was uneventful. No more borks—although we had one sighting—and no more chases. Just playing shepherd to the fleet of trawlers hauling in the rich, reddish skrit. It was a boring afternoon, and I loved every boring minute of it. The efficient trawlers were quick about their work, reaching capacity in less than two hours. Together, we and the fleet headed for home.
My emotions were more mixed now than they had been earlier. As much admiration as I had for Dylan and the others who did this day in and day out, this sort of tension had to take its toll on all of them. If anything, I had underestimated the danger of the job. I was going to be worried more and more about her as I replayed this experience in my mind again and again.
We reached the harbor uneventfully and settled down into the water, pulling smoothly to the dock. Dylan supervised the securing of the mooring lines to the boat and then came back to see us. “Better wait until dark before getting off,” she cautioned Sanda. “That way nobody’s going to be sure if you went with us or came on after.”
She nodded, and I stood up. “I hope you’ll excuse me for not staying as well, but I have to put my foot on dry, solid wood or something or I’ll go nuts.” My whole body felt as if it were permanently vibrating.
Sanda rose and gave Dylan a big hug and kiss. “Oh, I love you for this! By God, I’m gonna beat the motherhood if it kills me!”
Dylan looked at me. “See?”
I nodded understandingly and took off, heading for the gangplank and dock. I had no sooner walked out than I stopped dead in my tracks. Two unfamiliar people were standing there at the end of the gangplank, and they had the look that seems universal for their kind anywhere in the galaxy. I felt a sinking sensation in my stomach and tensed up as bad as I had during the bork hunt
The two, a man and a woman, walked on bo
ard and stopped, looking at me. One flashed a badge and said softly, “CID. I caution you to remain where you are and not make a sound.” He nodded to the woman, who walked aft to the lounge, then in the door.
“After you,” said the male cop. I turned, and walked back into the lounge with him.
The two women were both there, having mistaken the woman’s approach for my return.
“Which of you is Captain Kohl?” the female cop asked.
“I am!” Sanda spoke up bravely.
“No, I am,” responded Dylan, looking then at Sanda with a sadness in her eyes and voice. “It’s no good. They’ll have to scan us both anyway.”
“Look,” I said, trying to sound indignant, “I’m the president of this company. What seems to be the trouble, officers?”
“Captain Kohl is charged with willfully violating Section 623 Vi, Universal Penal Code,” the man responded. Knowingly subjecting an individual classified as an asset to the state to extreme danger.”
“This is ridiculous!” I sputtered. “Both of these women work for me.”
“Stow it,” the woman snapped at me. “We know who the girl is.”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you both to come down to the station with us,” the male cop added. Then, turning to me, he cautioned, “Please don’t interfere. The penalties are quite severe for that.”
“Can I go with them, then? I’m married to the captain.”
“I don’t see why not. But no funny business.”
“There won’t be,” I assured them, feeling that all was suddenly very wrong; that for once luck had run out—not on me, but on the one I cared for most. I would have loved to have pulled some funny business and wouldn’t have hesitated in the slightest to do so, but there seemed absolutely nothing I could do, funny or otherwise, except tag along.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A Judgement
On the way in, I cautioned both of them to say nothing. Dylan squeezed my hand and Sanda’s. “It’s all right,” she said simply. “I knew what I was doing, and I’m not sorry for it even now. Maybe it’s a fair exchange, although not one I’d have made willingly. I’ve had five years of living. Now maybe it’s somebody else’s turn.”
“Don’t talk like that!” I scolded her. “It’s not the end of the world.”
“It’s the end of my world,” she almost whispered.
Once in the stationhouse, in a corner of the Municipal Building, both women were taken into a small room where their card imprints and scans were taken. I was not able to follow, but simply had to pace back and forth in a small waiting area. Even the bork hunt paled before my feelings now, which were at an all-time low. After about half an hour, they let me see Dylan for a few minutes while they processed their records and did whatever cops did. Sanda was being held in a separate room, and I didn’t see her.
“Well, it’s over,” she sighed.
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“They’ve been laying for me, Qwin. Laying for me for, I guess, five years. They didn’t like the fact that I wormed my way out of the motherhood, so they’ve been waiting for a chance to get me. A clerk in the office—one I know, one who’s worked there almost as long as I have—was a plant. They had something on her. An old criminal conviction or something, and she was too low in skill level to be considered vital. She had to catch me or when she reached the mandatory age it was the mines for her.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “Five years?”
She nodded. “They needed an example. There’s been a lot of rumblings in the motherhood since I sneaked out. I was their symbol of hope—and I knew it. The authorities had to get me, no matter how long it took. They said their psychological profiles indicated I’d do exactly what I did sooner or later, and they were sure right.”
“What happens now?” I asked her, both concerned and mad as hell at a system that would wait this long to hang somebody.
“Judgment,” she told me. “The witness, the cops, and the scans proved their case automatically.”
My mind was racing. “Who sentences you? What kind of rank?”
“A professional judgment panel. Thirteen of them. I’m scheduled to meet them in a little less than an hour. They don’t usually hold proceedings this late, but they’re making a special case for me.”
I thought of all the men in high places I knew. “Is there someone I can call? Someone who can intercede?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Maybe after, but not now. We don’t even know what the sentence is yet—could be almost anything. All I know is that it was planned and directed years ago.” She looked up at me.
“Don’t blame yourself! I did it, all of my own free will. I’m totally responsible.”
“I let you do it.”
She smiled, a ghost of that old smile. “You couldn’t have stopped me and you know it.”
“Will they let me in? Will they hear any mitigating statements?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
We waited together nervously until they called her name.
The judgment chamber was much like any other courtroom except for the thirteen black-robed men and women up there behind a curved table. Since only one had a mike, it was clear that there was a presiding officer. They let me in and I took a seat, noting Sanda in a chair forward of the rest of the seats, which were empty. Sanda looked as if she’d been crying a little, or maybe a lot, but she seemed composed now.
“The State versus Dylan Zhang Kohl,” intoned the chief judge, as if there were other cases. “Will the prisoner please rise and approach the bench?”
Dylan stood up and confidently did as she was told, looking the chief judge right in the eye. Good for you, gal! I thought.
“Dylan Zhang Kohl, you have been found guilty on the evidence which we have judged to be true and incontrovertible that you did willfully and knowingly violate Section 623 Vi, Cerberan Universal Penal Code. Can you find any reason for sentence to be deferred or mitigated?”
“No, your honor,” she said firmly.
I cursed and fidgeted like mad in my seat. Twice in one day I felt real fear, and twice in one day a total sense of helplessness.
“Will Sanda Tyne approach the bench?”
Sanda, looking tiny and nervous, did so, standing next to Dylan. I saw that Dylan took Sanda’s hand and squeezed it affectionately, as if to reassure her.
“Sanda Tyne, we find that you did knowingly and willfully violate the Articles of Syndication applicable to Akeba House. This we have judged true and incontrovertible on the evidence. Can you find any reason for sentence to be deferred or mitigated?”
“I talked her into it,” she pleaded bravely. “I kept after her and after her. It’s all my fault!”
“We have considered all the factors involved, including having both your psychological profiles analyzed completely. One of the principal articles of the code, particularly considering the past history of this planet and many of its founding parents, is that the criminal act is not something to be judged in and of itself, but in the context of society. One can, for example, go into one of the private banks and plead for a thousand units, without credit, collateral, or any. obvious means of payback. If the bank ‘then gives you the loan anyway, and you default, it is not your responsibility but the bank’s. Now, say you desperately needed the money, for a matter of life and death, and you conveyed this to a bank officer. The officer is sympathetic but should deny your loan because it would injure his employer, and therefore his depositors, and therefore the state. Everyone who had deposits in good faith at that bank would pay for his error.
“But let us suppose that his heart was touched by your plea, and he then arranged for you to get to a console so that you could steal the money. You are desperate, and you do so, thereby committing a criminal act. But who is truly committing the more serious crime? The one who steals, or the one who allows and arranges for the person to steal? This court recognizes this principle, so enshrined in our laws and pri
nciples, and in that context applies it to judgment in this case. Examining your psychological profile, we find you, Sanda Tyne, to be a secondary party to this violation, as you did not stow away on the boat or enter it without the permission of its captain.
“This court has studied both your records and has arrived at what we believe is a fair and just verdict. It is the sentence of this court that the two of you exchange bodies by means of judgment, and so be locked into those bodies. We further hold that you, Dylan Kohl, will assume the responsibilities of the Tyne body and are therefore not to assume your former position or take any other employ. In view of your psychological profile we further direct that you be taken after judgment to the Borough of Medlams Public Psychology Section and undergo a series of specific treatments to be set by this court for yours and the public’s good.”
I jumped up. “You’re not going to turn my wife into a vegetable!” I screamed.
The judge paused, and all thirteen gave me the dirtiest looks I ever got from anybody. Well, you’ve blown it now, I told myself, but I didn’t care anymore.
“You are the spouse of the prisoner Dylan Kohl?”
“Yes, I am, and—”
“Silence! Or I will have you removed and charged!” He paused for a moment to see if I would take the challenge, but I got back a little of my self-control and managed to hold on for a moment.
“Now, then,” the judge continued, sounding deliberative but satisfied, “let me state to you, sir, that the days of such things, except in extreme cases, are past. For your benefit, I will outline and explain what we mean.”
“Please,” I almost begged, shaking a little.
“We believe that the profile of Dylan Kohl indicates a possibility of suicide. We will prevent that, as well as other acts possibly harmful to herself or to others. Everything we do will be in the nature of protections such as that or compulsion to ensure that the sentence is carried out. Her memory, personality, and general freedom of movement will not be impaired, since to do anything else would not be a punishment at all. Does this satisfy you?”
Cerberus: A Wolf in the Fold Page 15
