Chapter 15
Kelly said, “Did the force field just flicker?”
“I didn’t see anything,” Tina responded.
“Neither did I,” said Sharon.
Kelly picked up the pillow from her cot and threw it at the bars. It hit the bars and fell to the floor. “Quick!” she said. “Does anyone have anything we can use to pick the locks?”
Gaby, from the other cell, pointed and yelled, “They keep the keys over there on a hook. Maybe you can reach them.”
Kelly leaped to where the bars were hinged to the wall and stuck her arm through, grasping for the keys, which were out of her line of sight, and not finding them.
“Higher!” cried Gaby.
Kelly reached higher and found them. She bought them back into the cell. Fumbling with the keys and finding the right one through trial and error, she opened the cell door. She quickly moved out of her own cell. Tina and Sharon followed her. With some more fumbling of the keys, Kelly released the three other girls.
“Come on!” Kelly said as she poked her head into the corridor. The corridor was empty. With the five girls following, she went to the left. To her right, the corridor dead-ended about ten meters from the jail room entrance. To their left, the corridor ended, but intersected with another corridor going left and right. Kelly was experienced with space stations and in her mind she created a map showing the jail cell near the outer wall of the station, and the upcoming hallway as a full circle within the station.
Kelly walked to the intersection and dropped to her knees, poking her head out around the corner and looking both ways. As she did so, she could hear sounds coming from the left, which she hadn’t heard before. She pulled her head back and the sounds disappeared. Looking around, she spotted a sound neutralizer near the ceiling. These devices worked by sensing a sound’s vibrational frequency and immediately sending out a sound wave of the opposite frequency, effectively canceling them both out. They were common in restaurants and other areas where private conversations might be desired.
Kelly strongly suspected the sound neutralizer was to keep the sounds of the prison area from reaching the hall and not vice versa. It might be best to keep torture sessions quiet.
She guided the girls to the right, away from the sounds of people talking and machinery moving. Spotting a maintenance closet symbol, she tried the door and found it unlocked. She ushered the girls inside what turned out to be a small storage room and closed the door. Relaxing for a moment, she realized she had been holding her breath and made an effort to breathe normally.
As the girls hugged each other and processed their emotions, Kelly looked around the untidy room. There were chemicals, spare parts, and half dismantled pieces of machinery stored in the room. This kind of sloppiness offended Kelly on a deep level, and she had to squelch a desire to clean and organize the storeroom. She decided to ignore her feelings and be grateful to fate for letting her stumble into this potential treasure trove.
One of the items she found was a portable laser cutter. Another was a small force field generator which had been removed from its casing. If she could attach it to a power source she would have a portable force field. If the generator worked. There might be a reason it wasn’t currently installed somewhere.
Moving over to a work bench Kelly stripped back insulation from its power feeds. Then she aimed the field to one side and plugged the generator’s bared wires into a power outlet. The generator hummed to life and a greenish-yellow field appeared. Picking up a wrench, she gently tossed it at the oddly colored force field. It bounced away with what seemed to be as much energy as it had been thrown with. Discolored as it was, the force field seemed to work.
I have a weapon and a shield. If I can find out where the ship is, I might be able to get us out of this, she thought.
Stripping off her uniform blouse, she told the girls, “I’m going out to get some info. Stay here, keep the door locked, and don’t let anyone else in.” Kelly then put her blouse back on inside out, hiding the various Corbin III insignia attached to it.
“You’re going to leave us here alone?” Gaby asked, genuinely shocked.
“What if you don’t come back?” Tina chimed in.
“I will be back,” Kelly said pocketing the laser cutter. “Just stay calm. I shouldn’t be gone more than half an hour.”
The five girls watched wide-eyed as she left, closing the door behind her. She went in the direction of the noises and was surprised when the corridor ended at a walkway overlooking what seemed a business mall.
Most space stations have these. I shouldn’t be so surprised this one does, she told herself.
Chris was led to a private suite of apartments. which turned out to be Ginyit’s living quarters. The place had the feel of a small palace. There were decorative hangings from the wall and expensive works of art here and there. The ceiling was two stories high, as it had been in the station’s mall. Chris could see the reasoning behind a two story high ceiling in the business section, but for one person’s living space, it seemed a little excessive.
He also noticed two of the Pams were in attendance, probably as gophers for the moment. Their costumes suggested they performed another role during more private moments. The sheer material left just enough to the imagination, while refracting and reflecting the light in such a way it was almost impossible not to stare.
Dragging his attention away from the girls he focused it on Raymond Ginyit, who was wearing what looked to be black silk pajamas. He was sitting in a throne on a dais, with his hands folded across his lap.
Two of the guards forced Chris to his knees.
Raymond Ginyit looked at Chris with irritation. It took all of his self-discipline to keep from ordering the guards to slice off the man’s head. The irritating smell was now in his personal quarters. If Liechter didn’t need him, he would have taken great pleasure in torturing the escaped lab rat.
“Mr. Black, if it weren’t for Liechter’s experiments, I would have you killed right now,” Ginyit stated pleasantly. “Computer. Create direct communications with Dr. Liechter.”
“Direct communications available. You may speak when ready.”
“Liechter! Get up here! Now!” Ginyit yelled.
“On my way,” a voice from a hidden speaker responded.
Liechter had been in his own apartment sampling a new hallucinogen which allowed the recipient to consciously create hallucinations, but slowed down the person’s ability to react to events in the real world. He quickly took the antidote, which worked almost immediately, and followed it with a drug called “think-fast”. He made a mental note to himself about using this drug too often. It had extremely unpleasant side effects. He also needed to do a cleanse. Residue from the various drugs he used were beginning to build up in his system and would reach toxic levels in another week or so.
The think-fast kicked in and his mind became clear and sharp. What’s gone wrong now? he wondered. He put on a lab coat and left his apartment. He walked quickly toward his leader’s quarters, hoping the fault wasn’t his.
“We may as well take advantage of this time while we wait for the doctor,” Ginyit stated. “Tell me, Mr. Black, what do you think of the League’s desire to reconstruct the human race in their own image?”
Ginyit’s voice was warm and friendly. The tone had a way of relaxing a person.
Chris was willing to admit to himself he admired the cunning and criminal intelligence of Raymond Ginyit. He would never let the killer know this, however, because he also despised the man for his lack of morals and the hundreds of innocent people he had killed. I’m not going to give Ginyit the satisfaction of getting under my skin. He’ll start off soft and then try to pump me for the info he’s really interested in. ‘I’ should be pumping him for info telepathically, he thought.
“Ginyit, when I get loose, you’re the first person I’m coming after,” Chris said, casually tapping his skull behind the ear three times.
Ginyit looked at him blankly for a second and then laughed loudly. “You’ll never get loose, little man. You’re my prisoner and you’ll remain my prisoner until I decide it’s time for you to die. Don’t waste my time with empty threats.” The real Ginyit had surfaced.
“It’s no empty threat. Your time is running out. It’s that simple,” Chris stated, keeping his eyes focused on Ginyit. “You’ve been incredibly lucky up until now, but your luck has run out. You’re either going to die or you’re going to prison. The choice is yours.”
Ginyit’s face contorted and reddened. “Guards. Stand him up and hold him.”
Two guards hoisted Chris up, each holding one of his arms. Ginyit moved to stand in front of Chris and slapped him ferociously across the face twice. Ginyit paused for a moment and sent his fist flying into Chris’ stomach.
Chris rolled with the punch by expelling the air in his lungs and retracting his stomach muscles. It looked as though Ginyit had knocked the breath out of Chris, but, in fact, Ginyit had barely touched him. Chris knew it and Ginyit knew it. Ginyit looked at Chris with cold, hard eyes and returned to his seat.
Picking up an item from a nearby table, Ginyit stated, “This device of yours is mildly interesting. A mobile spy eye with the smallest antigravity thrusters I’ve ever seen. I hope you won’t mind if I add it to my collection of tools. It may come in handy some day.”
“Under the circumstances, I promise I won’t lodge a formal complaint. Consider it my gift.” Chris felt odd, distanced from his body. Ginyit was surrounded by a strange grayish aura with pink flecks. “Tell me, what are your plans for the corbinite?” Chris asked Ginyit.
Ginyit’s aura flickered with a variety of translucent colors. A rush of fragmented thoughts streamed into Chris’ mind. Big chunks of information were missing, but the basic theme was there. Chris was stunned by the knowledge.
“You are not here to ask me questions, Mr. Black. I will ask the questions. The League has required Mars to make certain changes in the genetic coding of its newborns before it can become a League member. What do you think the general opinion of the Martian population on this issue is?”
The voice no longer sounded friendly. It had taken on a threatening quality. Chris could feel his stomach knotting up with fear as the power of Ginyit seemed to reach inside Chris to extract the answer. It took all of Chris’ will power to not to blurt out an answer to Ginyit’s question.
“Mars will join the League. In a few weeks. The decision has already been made,” Chris answered sarcastically, using all of his control to appear calm and unafraid. A battle of confidence had begun.
“I don’t believe you,” Ginyit said. His aura grew darker and the flecks became bright red. “Your news media has said a great deal about a new treaty with a race called the Belarians, but there has been no mention of changing your relationship with the League. I have to believe, even on a planet as morally corrupt as Mars, your people are still not willing to give up their humanity to the League devils. I was hoping for a friendly discussion, but I can see you’re not going to be cooperative.”
Liechter suddenly appeared. Chris noticed his aura was a greenish color with curious orange streaks.
“Mr. Black, hopefully you will prove to be of some value to Dr. Liechter. Just in time, Doctor. Take this creature away before I have him exterminated.”
Liechter looked at Chris with some surprise.
“Before I go, maybe you could tell me what happened to the pilot and the security chief who were with me?” Chris asked.
Again a rush of fragmented thoughts left him disoriented.
“Get him out of here,” Dr. Liechter ordered, his voice raising.
“Guards, escort the prisoner back to my lab,” said Leichter.
What is he doing in Ginyit’s personal quarters, an odd, tinny voice in Chris’ mind asked. He recognized them as Liechter thoughts.
Hello, Dr. Liechter. In case you’re wondering, I had escaped and have been recaptured. Then they brought me here.” Chris turned to Ginyit. “Perhaps you should get more guards. You may not have enough.”
This time he received only a small amount of data from Ginyit’s mind. There were sixty-seven guards on staff. Ginyit believed he was overstaffed and had no plans for recruiting more.
Chris found himself being hurried out of Ginyit’s throne room. He was staggered by what he had learned telepathically of Ginyit’s plans for the corbinite. Most of it will be used as fuel, he thought, but some was going to be sold, and used to create a multiphase bomb. The buyer plans to destroy the Sanine home world. Ginyit had felt a curious sense of satisfaction at the image of the Sanine home world exploding.
Chris was stunned. The League treaties clearly stated any act of violence aimed at a League member (such as the Sanine civilization) would result in retaliation and possible destruction of the offending world, be it Terra or Mars. Terrans might not be building and aiming the bomb, but humans would be supplying the materials with full knowledge of its planned purpose. There would be guilt by association.
Although the League probably wouldn’t destroy Terra, they might very well restrict the use of fatal travel by humans. It was true Ginyit was a criminal wanted by Terran police, but he was still a Terran citizen and making them responsible for his actions. Something like this could cause the League to ban the entire human race from operating faster-than-light ships, on the basis humans are too primitive and hostile to be allowed this kind of technology. It could be centuries before the human race would be allowed to travel at fatal speeds again. Humans would lose contact with the Terran colonies and the resulting chaos would be irreparable.
It made no difference Ginyit was a criminal and had separated himself from the rest of humanity. Humans had produced this monster and they were responsible for him.
Chris felt disconnected with reality for an instant as the full impact of the consequences sank home. Over twenty colonized worlds could be isolated from the rest of humanity. Products from alien species, products accepted and depended upon, would no longer be available. Technology using resources from other planets would disappear or become an expensive novelty. Most of the human colonies would lose access to corbinite, and in the process take two giant steps backwards in affordable energy. Terra would become dependent on Mars for all of its corbinite needs. Chris was awestruck at the terrible implications.
And then there were the deaths of billions of sentient beings as their world exploded from underneath their feet.
He knew he had to readjust his priorities. Things were getting complicated and his course of action was no longer clear. What were his priorities now? The big picture? At the cost of Kelly’s life? And what about the Pam clones? And what could he do? He was a prisoner about to be experimented on.
Chris was strapped to the bed as soon as they had entered the laboratory. The guards, guns drawn, allowed no room for resistance.
“Well, my boy, do you have any questions before we begin the procedure?” Liechter asked.
The nanite telepathy system was still operating, and Chris’ best guess was he had another half hour before they shut down. His fear was distracting him and the only thoughts he was receiving from Liechter were the immediate steps involved in the procedure.
Telling Liechter about the nanite system made no sense. He might gain a half hour delay, but the procedure would still take place. He thought desparately of the vague possibility the powerful magnetic field of the nanites might block the electromagnetic mind scrub.
Four meters from where Chris lay, a bald and bleeding woman was banging her head against the bars of her cell. The thoughts coming from her were of intense anger with periodic images of Liechter being strangled.
“Yes, a few,” Chris responded distantly. “Is that Martha Apela over there?”
“Why, yes it is. I’m surprised you recognized her,” Liechter said warmly. Apela’s face and various joints in her body were badly swollen. “She is, unfortunately, suffering from the side effects of memory transfer. Transferring more than an hour’s worth of memories typically causes insanity, after a few months. A memory transfer involves transferring experiences and thoughts in their entirety, which includes sights, sounds, feelings, and behavioral responses. I believe it is the behavioral responses causing the conflict and the insanity. Something as basic as brain wave patterns are a complicated combination of genetics and learned behavior, so the conflict is something running very deep. In her case it seems to be creating a condition known as Lupus, in which the white blood cells attack various parts of the body as though trying to reject an alien invader. The swelling you see is a result of the attacking blood cells. Lupus is a side effect I had not expected.”
“I can’t believe she accepted a memory transfer knowing insanity would result.”
“Oh, no,” Liechter replied. “She was kidnapped and forced to accept the memory transfers. One of the incentives for completing her mission was the promise of having the memories removed upon her return. Unfortunately, it’s a promise I could never keep. There is no way of removing implanted memories. I might be able to suppress them with drugs and hypnosis, but even then there’s no guarantee they wouldn’t resurface.
“And this is what I can expect?”
“No, not at all. I am 95 percent certain the memories will be accepted by your mind with a minimum of problems. The experimental work I’ve done on twin chimpanzees has been quite successful. The genetic patterns will be an exact match and I’m hoping the behavioral patterns of you and your donor will be very similar. Ideally, I would have grown your body at an accelerated rate and kept your brain in a state of retardation. Then there would be a minimum of contamination to the transferred memories. That was my plan before your parents decided to steal you and escape. But, I must work with what I have available,” Liechter said philosophically.
“Excuse me. Understand I’m not in favor of cloning, but why not clone a new body and simply do a head transplant?”
“There are a variety of reasons. The primary reason is nerve connections are extremely complex and in many cases never heal properly, causing partial numbness and paralysis. The second reason is if my client were in an accident, I wouldn’t be able to get to the head quickly enough. With a few stem cells in storage, I can easily create a clone. With a holographic memory cube updated by the donor periodically, I wouldn’t need the head. Another important reason would be the down time. A surgical procedure of this type would require several months of recovery time and quite probably a few years of physical therapy. A memory transfer is much easier, with very little down time and greater benefits. If I’m successful in transferring the memories to you, and insanity does not develop, there should be absolutely no problem repeating the procedure I had originally planned, using a combination of accelerated growth and mental retardation. Obviously, the mind scrub didn’t work out with you, but I should be able to achieve the same effects.”
Chris felt himself go numb at the prospect of having his identity erased. “Tell me, what kind of ethics do you have, Dr Liechter?”
A flash of memories showing Liechter killing a variety of people during surgeries and using poison to eliminate failed experiments.
Liechter smiled. “Let’s just say I have very flexible ethics. I believe the phrase is situational ethics.”
“For me, that translates into no ethics at all.”
“I think it’s time to end this conversation,” Liechter said, suddenly becoming irritable. “After the mind scrub, we’ll begin the memory transfer. Computer, have one of my assistant Pams sent into Lab 3.”
“How does the memory transfer work?” Chris asked, suddenly desperate to stall for time. The mind scrub was a death sentence for his identity, and he had no idea how the nanites would react to the process.
A Pam clone entered the room.
“Pam, prepare the mind scrub helmet.” Moving to a counter and picking up a hypospray, the doctor answered Chris’ question. “I’ve worked out a very functional, efficient system. Your sensitivity to the memories will be heightened and your brain will be running at an accelerated rate. The memories will be fed into you at a high speed, with certain memories the donor accessed frequently standing out as tags for the conscious mind to gain its bearings. You shouldn’t bother worrying too much about it. You won’t be here much longer anyway.”
The Pam placed a helmet-like device on Chris’ head while Liechter injected him with some kind of a drug. The Pam looked Chris directly in the eyes and he was sure he could see sympathy in their depths. From a distance Chris could hear the words, So sorry, so sorry, echoing in his mind. He struggled against the straps and barely had time to feel fuzzy before he lost consciousness.
Chris became aware. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t see or feel or hear anything. He was simply aware of his own existence. After a timeless expanse of nothingness, experiences started to feed through his mind, so fast and with such vividness they were painful. Most of them he couldn’t comprehend, but occasionally a memory leapt out at him and the experience seemed to slow, as if he were living in that time and place. The first ones to stand out were uncomplicated, but intense, feelings. Admiration for his father. Security from his mother. Pain when he was spanked for some wrongdoing. Joy when opening Christmas presents.
As the experiences continued the vivid memories became more complicated. A five-year-old’s total fascination with the bite marks of a spider on his best friend’s arm and the intellectual process of imagining how such a thing could happen. Strong feelings of affection and protectiveness for his first girlfriend. Anger at his classmates for teasing him because he was an Indian. Becoming aware of how lost within his own imagination he would get when Mr. Hansel, the teacher of the one room country school house, read stories to the students in the afternoons.
Later, as he matured to adolescence, embarrassment and jealousy were felt when he discovered his girlfriend had broken up with him, and had a “new” boyfriend. He felt confusion and pride after being seduced by the babysitter and losing his virginity. There was pleasure at the realization he had developed a strong circle of friends. Embarrassment as he sat in his English class and developed spontaneous erections. Frustration in school (now a school with multiple classrooms), because he couldn’t understand trigonometry. A sense of awe during the summer he had spent with his grandfather, a Chippewa shaman who wanted to initiate him into spirituality and harmony with nature. Pleasure at his ability to track and hunt wild game.
As he became a young man he felt as though he could conquer the world. He was strong and vital and intelligent and the world had so much too offer. Frustration employers couldn’t see his potential and were unwilling to take the risk of hiring an Indian with no college degree and minimal work experience. Fear of an employment opportunity presenting itself. Could he track down a young man who had skipped out before his court hearing, leaving the bail bondsman with an unpaid debt of 10,000 dollars?
He had been successful and knew he had found a career suited to him. As he moved into adulthood, the memory tags began to be based more and more frequently on feelings of awe and less on other, stronger emotions. As a successful bounty hunter he occasionally tracked the bail jumpers to other countries. The memories of his marriage and the births of his children were especially strong.
And on the experiences went. Chris lived a lifetime in two hours.
Finding a stairway down, Kelly spotted a tavern and went in. The tavern was a dimly lit room with several imitation wood tables and a bar with stools. Taking a seat at the bar, she glanced around at the people in the room. Most were human, but a large number of aliens were scattered about sitting with human comrades. No one appeared to pay any attention to her.
The bartender was an older woman who looked ancient and tough as nails. Kelly ordered of a beer, and asked how business was.
“Things have been a little slow, but, God willing, they should be picking up real soon. They just got a shipment of corbinite in and ships will be stopping in pretty regularly to get their coils refitted.”
“Ships belonging to pirates like the ones I came here with?”
“Exactly!” the old woman grinned broadly showing off teeth severely worn and needing regeneration.
“I’m looking for a friend who’s supposed to be working on this station,” Kelly said. “What’s the best way to find him?”
“Ah, well,” the old woman replied. “You could check at the security station They have everyone listed there. Or if he’s working for one of the shops you might be able to find him using one of the information terminals out in the main courtyard. What’s his name? Maybe I know him.”
Kelly thought quickly and said, “Javis, Harold Javis.”
“Haven’t heard of him. Sorry.”
“Thanks anyway,” said Kelly. She thought briefly about trying to locate Apela, but decided getting the girls off the station was a higher priority than seeking revenge. Finishing her beer, she left a five credit marker, and went out into the courtyard.
Going to the nearest information terminal she stated, “Computer, locate a new arrival on the station named Christopher Black.”
“No information has been found regarding Christopher Black,” the computer responded.
Kelly noted the computer didn’t say the information was restricted. It said no information had been found. Which could mean he simply hasn’t been entered into the computer listings.
“Computer. Display location of the space ship ‘Saint Marie’.”
A partial layout of the space station appeared, referencing the information terminal’s location, the ship’s location, and the most direct route to the ambulance. Looking around the plaza, Kelly made a mental map of where the ship was located in reference to where the girls were. It was located at the last dock in the yellow area, one docking bay from being in the high security section of the station. Dock 8. “Thank you, computer. End request file.”
She started on her way back to the girls and then realized they hadn’t eaten in several hours. She would get some food for them, and then it would be time to get out of here.