Sagittarius Whorl Read online

  Oops. I wasn't ready to try out my card collection just yet. I hastily hit a button a couple of floors above the interdicted one. The elevator door slid shut and we descended. My brother didn't even notice that I'd goofed. He seemed dazed.

  Dan wasn't going nearly so far as the lower floor I'd randomly chosen. The car stopped, and when he got off I was right behind him. He slouched along like a sleepwalker. He was dressed in black slacks, an argyle sweater-vest, and a yellow shirt. He'd lost a lot of weight and there were dark circles under his eyes. I wondered if he was still drugged.

  We were in a residential part of the building. A few other people passed us in the maze of corridors, evidently coming from other banks of elevators. They looked human and probably weren't. Some carried attache cases and wore expensive outerwear. They appeared to be homeward bound executives and I wondered which Concerns they'd infiltrated. Domestic robots trundled along, carrying clean towels and other supplies. A servitron unit popped out of a little door in the wall, bringing room-service dinner to someone. Humanized Haluk have to eat human food. Their exotic edibles are slightly poisonous to the human metabolism. I caught a whiff of some savory entree that made my empty stomach clench like a fist.

  My brother Dan still didn't realize he was being followed. He slipped a key-card into his lock and opened the door to his apartment. I spoke in an imitation of mechanically translated Haluk speech. "Daniel Frost! One wishes to speak with you."

  He whirled around, threw me a look compounded of fright and fury, then quick as a jackrabbit whipped inside and slammed the door in my face.

  Well, shit.

  I sorted through the access cards. The red one didn't work. Neither did blue, green, or gold. I tried an important-looking jobbie with silvery stripes: bingo.

  When I came in and closed the door behind me, Dan was standing there vibrating with rage. "Ah, for chrissake! I just finished a six-hour session with the damned tutors. Not even a fuckin' potty break! Can't you xeno bastards give me a minute's peace?"

  "One must question you," I repeated.

  "I'm taking a leak before you start," he said. "You don't like it, stun me." He disappeared into the bathroom.

  I did a quick prowl of the apartment. There were no obvious surveillance devices, but that didn't mean the place wasn't bugged. Most likely the aliens had only installed an-tisuicide sensors that monitored the occupant's breathing.

  The comfortably furnished living room had an infomedia center and a well-stocked library of slates and e-books. Tranquil pictures on the walls, nice gas-log fireplace, even a musical keyboard. Dan liked to noodle on the piano and faked jazz tunes rather well. The bedroom/office contained a queen-sized bed—made with military precision—and a computer desk. I sat down at the unit and tried to call up a general telecom link. No luck, but no surprise, either.

  The closet held a fair selection of clothes and shoes, arranged meticulously. Good old anal-retentive Dan. There were a couple of track suits that might fit me. I took the roomiest one, which was navy-blue, and found athletic shoes and a gym bag to go with it. A dresser yielded socks, underwear, and even a baseball cap with a Toronto Blue Jays logo. I stuffed everything into the bag.

  Dan came out of the John and did a disbelieving double take. "What the fuck! You're stealing my clothes,” I said, "Give me your phone. Now." The instrument was no doubt as useless to me as the ones carried by the Haluk; but I couldn't trust Dan not to call on the aliens for help.

  He dug in his pocket and handed the phone over. Trained to instant obedience. Good. If I kept a close eye on him, he wouldn't be able to raise the alarm.

  I checked the phone dex and found only the same kind of preprogrammed codes the Haluk phones had contained.

  When I asked the instrument if it had any extensions, it replied in the negative.

  "You got anything to eat, Dan?" I'd dropped the Haluk diction, having decided how I was going to handle him, but he seemed not to notice.

  "In the kitchen," he said sullenly. "But it's all human chow. We can order in if you like."

  "No need," I said.

  I herded him ahead of me and made him open the refrigerator. Saw sliced ham, Jarlsberg cheese, tomatoes, Grey Poupon mustard. Perfecto! I ordered him to build me two sandwiches and nuke them in the microwave.

  "You're joking!" he exclaimed. His eyes were red and swollen and his pupils tiny. He was on something, but if he'd been working with Haluk tutors, his intellect was probably operational.

  The little dining table was maple, with matching captain's chairs. I sat down, drew the Ivanov from inside my tunic, and put it on the table in front of me. "I'll also have some strong coffee with sugar. A big glass of water, too."

  He moved about following orders and finally set my repast before me. I told him to sit down and wait, then fell on the food and drink like a famished coyote. The last time I'd been in dystasis, in K-L's little hospital, they'd fed me baby slop when I came out. Maybe solid food in my empty stomach would sicken me. I didn't care.

  Dan watched, frowning and biting his lower lip, which was already raw. I'd almost finished eating when his eyes narrowed and he figured it out. He gave a terrified gurgle and bounded to his feet, nearly knocking over his chair.

  "You!" he gasped. "Asa... my God, it's you, isn't it!" Sweat had burst out on his forehead and his eyes were bulging. He looked like he was about to have a coronary.

  "Sit down." I picked up the stun-pistol and waved it casually. "Yes, it's me. Take it easy, Dan. It's all right. We have to talk. They'll be looking for me soon, but I figure I've got a little time yet."

  "How did you get away? Jesus! We were supposed to begin the tutoring sessions for your second demiclone tomorrow. That's what—"

  "Be quiet. I need answers to some questions. Tell me: Which floor is the skyway portal on?"

  He paused for only a moment before answering. "The two hundredth is the only one the Haluk use. The one at the hundredth floor is closed for security reasons. It's at the boundary between Haluk and human occupancy. But you'll never escape through the two hundredth. It's used by Haluk top brass. There are at least three checkpoints, and the guards up there carry Kagi blasters."

  "What kind of security do they have at the lowest Haluk level? The hundredth floor?"

  "Double card-locks, gold and blue, guards armed with stunners. It's the main egress. Haluk are going in and out twenty-four hours a day."

  Okay. So would I.

  "Dan, I'm busting out of here. D'you want to come with me?"

  "Yes," he said dully. "But I can't. And you probably can't get away, either. They've put control implants into us."

  "In the neck. Right. I cut mine out and I can do the same for you."

  He gave a hollow laugh and tapped his breastbone. "There's another one, Asa. In the thoracic cavity. You cross a blue checkpoint without your attendant entering the proper code, a tiny charge detonates and vaporizes your heart and lungs."

  Rats! ... But had the meditechs gotten around to installing the lethal gizmo in me? Didn't I recall one of them saying they'd wait on it? Or was I mistaken? Had they put it in before I regained consciousness?

  I said, "I'll get you out of this place. Trust me. If you give me truthful answers to some questions, I swear I'll come back and help you. And when you're out, and this Haluk mess is resolved, I'll let you live with your family again ... if they want you."

  Another dismal laugh. "I'm fucked, Asa. And so are you."

  "Dan, I'm getting out, and I'm going to raise such a media stink that the Haluk will be begging us to rewrite their treaties and let us send inspection teams to their colonies."

  "In your dreams."

  "Who is the first demiclone?" I asked.

  He stared at me stupidly. "I don't—"

  "Fake Asahel Frost, Mark One," I prompted him. "Who's the human male the Haluk transformed the first time around? The one out there pretending to be me, right this very minute? The aliens didn't trust this mutt, but they had to use him until their
own boy came out of the tank. I had half a notion the Haluk might have used you to impersonate me, but that didn't make sense. So it's somebody else. Who?"

  Dan had gone white. He was shaking his head. "No. They'll kill me, Asa. I can't tell—"

  I stood up, grabbed his shirt, and hauled him halfway across the table for a nose-to-nose. "/'// kill you, asshole, with my bare hands! But you won't go quick. You'll scream until your goddamn voice-box is in shreds. Tell me his name! Tell me! Tell me!" I shook him till his eyes rolled, then pushed him backward. He crashed into his chair. Spilled coffee spread over the table and dripped onto the floor. My brother crouched there, numb with fear. Then he began to weep.

  First the Bad Cop, then the Good Cop.

  I sat down again. "Danny, Danny. I know what happened. They took you from the Kenora fishing lodge and brought you here. Told you that you could go on living if you cooperated. They needed background material on me to make their demiclone masquerade work. Intensely detailed stuff. So their clone could fool Eve and Delegate Sontag as well as my associates."

  "They had me hooked to the machines for nearly three weeks," he whispered, scrubbing at his face with the back of one hand. "I thought I was a goner. The pain, Asa! Like every nerve in my body was on fire. Like being wrapped in a burning net! They squeezed me dry. Then they fixed me up, let me rest and recover. I helped fine-tune the act of the first demiclone. They wanted me to do the same for the second one. And you would have helped with the coaching, too. Whether you wanted to or not."

  He was shuddering as fresh tears ran down his ravaged face. I leaned forward, stretching my blue lips in a non-Haluk smile, and laid an alien hand on his shoulder. "Danny, you know what they intend to do. Colonize our galaxy by force. Destroy humanity if that's what it takes. How does my clone fit into their scheme? Are they using him politically, in the Assembly? Or did they wangle the fake back into Rampart upper management?"

  "Bom. You're—he's Rampart's president and syndic. Eve and the others were so relieved when you reappeared after being presumed lost in the Sagittarius Whorl that they didn't question your strange change of heart. Cousin Zed's still Chief Operating Officer, but he's permanently based on Seriphos now. You—I mean, the demiclone—and Eve are effectively calling the shots from Toronto, with Gunter Eckert and that Macrodur stooge Ellington and the rest of the board sitting back applauding."

  "Eve has no idea she's dealing with a fake?"

  "He's very well prepared. A natural actor with compelling presence." He flashed a twisted grin. "A lot like you, kid. It helps that you were always such a headstrong loner, not socializing with the rest of the family. And of course he knows the business inside out. The Rampart-Galapharma consolidation went through like gangbusters under his direction, and he's got the Haluk Consortium following his lead like Mary's little lamb. The fifty new Haluk colonies in the Spur are up and running, with settlers flooding in by the millions."

  "Did the Assembly approve the three hundred additional colonies?" I asked grimly.

  "Not yet. The vote is expected very soon. Last I heard, maybe two weeks from now. Your demiclone has been guiding the strategy of the other Concern lobbyists, showing them where to exert pressure and how best to counter Delegate Sontag's opposition. He and his Xenoaffairs Oversight Committee threw open their meetings to the media. Released a shitload of evidence detrimental to the Haluk and started a slam-bang row. The accusations of demiclone spying caused a furor."

  Atta boy, Ef! "That's great. Are citizens pressuring the Assembly to revise the Haluk treaties?"

  "Sure. But Concern lobbyists are fighting it hammer and tongs. Bringing in their own experts to demonstrate that Son-tag's 'proof of a vast demiclone infiltration is nothing of the sort. Only Macrodur and some of the smaller Concerns are DNA-testing their top executives. The other big outfits are stalling. No demiclone spies have been uncovered yet." Dan gave me a sour look. "It doesn't help Sontag's case that his chief witness has recanted his original testimony and now claims that false depositions were entered under his name."

  "Chief witness—"

  "You." Dan managed a weak chuckle.

  "Who is he?" I asked in a low, encouraging voice. "Who's the first Fake Helly demiclone?"

  He shook his head. His eyes were darting wildly.

  "I've got to know. To stop him."

  "They'll kill me."

  "You'll tell me in the end, Dan. I'll hurt you if I have to. Save yourself pain—"

  He screamed at me: "What do you know about pain? My whole life is pain!"

  Return of Bad Cop.

  I hit him a sharp backhanded blow to the face. "Bullshit! Bull! Fucking! Shit! The worst pain you've experienced is hurt pride and failed ambition. You're an arrogant, self-centered fuckwad, Dan. A driven, calculating monster! You wanted Pop to make you head of Rampart. When he didn't, you lost it completely. You hooked up with a madman who promised to give you what you wanted. You did everything you could to ensure that Alistair Drummond would take control of Rampart. It was your twisted idea to demiclone Eve. You dreamed up the scheme to sell Simon and me to that freakazoid pimp in Coventry Blue... And you poisoned our mother, Dan, because Alistair Drummond threatened to kill you if she didn't turn over her Rampart quarterstake."

  "I didn't," he mumbled, fingering his bashed nose. It was bleeding a little.

  "You did," I said sadly. "And that's your worst pain of all."

  I waited while he cursed and sobbed, denying it. Then I said, "It's Alistair Drummond, isn't it? He's alive, and he's wearing my face."

  Dan gave a violent start and stared at me open-mouthed. "No! It's not him!"

  But it was all the confirmation I needed. I'd never been able to believe Drummond was dead, and there was the tenuous bit of evidence that he'd been present at Dan's abduction from the fishing lodge. When I was in the tank, the Haluk leaders had discussed an unstable human rogue with a scheme that fit the Grand Design. The Haluk had suspected that the man might be insane. I knew for a fact that Alistair Drummond was a charming, plausible, brilliant sociopath.

  And now he was me.

  I climbed to my feet, picked up the Ivanov, went around the table to where my brother cringed in his seat. "I can't waste any more time on you. When the Haluk hook you up to the truth machines later, be sure you tell 'em I intend to fuck their shit. I'm going to rip my skin off Drummond and chop the rest of him into red-flannel hash."

  "Asa, they'll torture me to death with the damned machine!"

  "Maybe. But before you turn up your toes, be sure to tell the Servant of Servants I know about his invasion plan. Tell him he better give it up, cut his losses, and start begging the Assembly for mercy. If he doesn't, humanity is going to chase his baby-blue ass back to the Haluk Cluster and make damned sure that he and his people rot there till the Big Crunch."

  "Asa, for the love of God—"

  I shot Dan with two stun-darts. He'd be unconscious for at least half a day. I took off my uniform's weapon belt, since I'd never get out of the building wearing it, divested it of its useful equipment, and put the stuff in the gym bag with the change of clothes.

  Then I headed back to the elevator. Maybe my vitals would explode when I tried to pass the checkpoint at the 100th floor, and maybe they wouldn't. There was only one way to find out.

  Going down, I found that the gold-striped key-card did indeed give me a green light to the lowest Haluk floor. I was on my way to freedom.

  Aliens joined me in the elevator car at lower stops, but there were no humanoid demiclones among them. I decided they must have private elevators. It would hardly be prudent for them to be seen entering or leaving those set aside for the building's Haluk tenants.

  Some xeno passengers wore native garments, others were dressed like humans, perhaps off for a night on the town. No one paid any attention to me. I kept a position near the doors in case of an emergency.

  And an emergency happened.

  The door opened to admit another passenger, a Haluk male who wore
a dull yellow smock and carried a technical magslate. When he saw me his pupils widened in the racial equivalent of surprise. He kept staring as we made other stops and the car became crowded. Then he was pushed to the rear, out of my sight.

  But I knew him. Mustard Smock! He was the one called Archiator Something, who had shown me to the Servant of Servants and the VIP female Haluk when I was still in the tank. Then he'd acted like the demiclone project director or some other technical bigwig.

  Was he alert enough to spot my anatomical anomalies?

  Yep.

  I felt someone grip my arm and speak in low Halukese. "Guard. Tell me your blah blah" Mustard Smock was asking for my ID.

  The door opened again to admit three more passengers to the nearly full car, meditechs in pale green human-style hospital garb with diagnostic devices hanging on cords around their necks. In his own language I told Mustard, "Sorry. No time." Then I pulled away from him and slipped out just as the doors were sliding shut. He tried to squirm after me and didn't make it.

  My heart was pounding as I dashed out of the elevator alcove and flattened myself against the wall just out of sight, expecting to hear the chime as the door reopened. It didn't happen. Perhaps Mustard couldn't get to the control panel in time to stop the car. Perhaps he'd decided to brush off his suspicions and get on with his business.

  Perhaps he'd alert security at the checkpoint.

  There were no sculptures or pretty decorations on this floor, and no windows, either. The area had subdued lighting and there was a chill in the air. I rejected my first instinct, which was to catch the next elevator down to the checkpoint and try to escape before the flap and foofaraw started.

  Easy does it, Helly, I told myself. Haluk guards do tend to look alike. I needed to change my clothes. Maybe find another elevator bank.

  There was no one in the corridor. I went down a few doors before using my master key, slipped into a dark room, and locked myself in. Then I turned on the light and spit out an astonished expletive.

  The place was full of golden mummy-cases, standing upright in narrow open-fronted booths. They lined the walls and were set up in close rows like library shelves, with space to walk between them. A medical monitoring device was attached to each elegant coffinlike chrysalis. I knew very well what they contained—Haluk testudomorphs, the dormant phase of the allomorphic alien race.