The Albino Knife (19 page)

Wall danced with Hizta to her side. He touched her back with his trunk, urging her to turn, to present to him. He was prepared to be firm and insistent, as insistent as need be, because he was not prepared to be denied.

Gretl spun and raised her tail, opening herself to him. So much for being coy!

Hizta lunged forward, stretching his aged body. Heraised up, mounted her, and gripped at her with his forefeet, resting much of his weight on her. He thrust with his penis, now swollen and ready, and found the opening. He entered her.

Wall's excitement was like a red madness. It burned in him. Neither Hizta nor Gretl made any sounds, and it was not like human thrusting; it was less a thing of friction than of connection, as though they were joined together as one creature, a little movement here, to dig himself deeper, and within twenty seconds it began, he could feel it in his quivering rear legs, in his spine, shuddering in his belly as his penis became a nozzle, a hose pouring forth a hot, a burning hot ejaculate, Oh, gods, the pleasure of it, the joy of it—!

Wall's left eye went blank and a needle of ice jammed into his skull. He roared in sudden pain, falling away from the startled female, his semen splashing as he pulled himself out of her.

What—!

His left foreleg went dead and he fell to his knee, slamming his great head against the female's rump. She snorted and danced away. His chest hurt; it was as if a giant knife had pierced him there, skewering his heart. His other foreleg gave way. Then the back legs went. He fell to all four knees and started to topple to one side.

The instant knowledge erupted from the depths of Hizta's being:

He was dying!

Panicked, Wall screamed, his voice now only a croak from within the collapsing mastodon. Help! Get me out! Get me out!

And from billions of miles away, that small and distant memory ofwho else he was reacted and sent the message to Dr. Jambi at his controls: "The animal is having a stroke! Pull the program out! Pull it out now!"

Hizta's last sight was of the doctor frantically working his controls.

A moment later, the old mastodon was dead.

Chapter Sixteen

VEATE AND HER father finished their dinner and strolled through the hotel toward the lifts. There were maybe fifteen people doing various things in the lobby, checking in or out, sitting and chatting in the small alcoves around the edges of the larger room, walking about. Some of them were aware of and watching her, she was used to that. Of a moment, however, the attention changed. Her father saw it before she did, and a grin lit his face as he turned to look behind him.

His friends had arrived.

When she was twelve, her mother had taken her to visit the Darkworld, the place where Juete and Khadaji had met. For some reason they had gone to a zoo. It was one of those all-natural places, where the animals were kept in fairly good reproductions of where they had lived in the wild. The only thing keeping the people separate from the animals' enclosures were strategically placed sheets of one-way denscris. Behind one of those nearly invisible plates had been a family of vulps.

The vulps were some off-shoot variety oflupe , smaller than the gray wolves in the adjoining enclosure.

At first glance, they looked much like medium-sized dogs. They were a dark gray, almost black, and there were half a dozen of them around something that looked to be the hindquarters of a deerlike animal.

Only two of the six were feeding, and these were pups, half the size of the adults. The four grown vulps stood in a ragged circle, each facing outward, guarding the young ones as they ate. That alone impressed Veate, who knew that in most canine families, the hunters ate first and left the scraps to the young. The yellow eyes of the two vulps facing in her direction were even more impressive. The animals were alert, watching,ready . She could feel their gazes through the denscris, even though they couldn't possibly see her. Nothing was going to come through the reflective plate, any more than anything was going to leave, but the vulps didn't trust that, and they were prepared to fight to protect their young. Ready to fight and die, Veate knew. She had never seen such chilling looks of offhand determination on any face before, human or animal. It seemed an almost unnatural keenness, a tuning in to everything around them so that nothing could possibly come as a surprise.

As she watched the four people dressed in dark orthoskins move toward her and her father, Veate was very much reminded of the family of vulps in the cage on the Darkworld. The two men and two women seemed to be at total ease, moving easily, relaxed, smiling. But if something came through the invisible wall at them, it was going to be in deep shit. There was an undercurrent of competence radiating from them that Veate could feel across the room. Their shifting gazes told her that they were very much aware of what was going on. It would be more than a little dangerous to provoke these people. A person would be well advised not to make any sudden moves around them.

And the leader of the deadly pack was standing right next to her.Head of the family of watchbeasts.

So.Here were the most famous of the matadors.

One was big. His musculature looked to be so dense that he'd sink in a bath of mercury. The man exudedpower, he had an aura that made him seem unstoppable. Probably could walk right through a wall if it got in his way, Veate thought. He had some gray in his hair, but she couldn't have guessed how old he was from the way he moved.

Then there was a smaller man, a little younger than the giant, who moved with an indolent grace that fairly screamed at any watcher: Hey, I'm the best there is, mess with me and find out.

Two women, vanilla and chocolate.Both with hair cut short and tight. The black woman was green-eyed and a little bigger than the blonde, and the orthoskins left no doubt that both were female, though they both walked with the athletic grace that Veate usually associated with men.Very nearly a swagger, especially by the dark one.

All four wore bilateral spetsdods, as did her father. And all four were happy to see him.

Khadaji embraced each of them in turn, hugging them with real affection. The others watched, scanning her, the room, being aware, staying alert.

The big man hugged her father last, and lifted him clear of the floor as easily as a mother does a small child.

The black woman was in charge; Veate could see that even without her speaking, though speak she did.

"Put him down, Bork. That any way to treat the hero of the revolution?"

Khadaji grinned, not offended in the least, and turned to his daughter. Veate found herself feeling like an outsider. This was a family of vulps, and—did she have a place in it? She suddenly found she wanted that. She recognized the black woman's voice. She had heard her father talking to her on-com.

"This is my daughter, Veate."

Veate smiled nervously.

Khadaji nodded toward each of the quad as he spoke. "This is Dirisha Zuri, Geneva Edit, Saval Bork, and Sleel."

Veate nodded, putting living faces to the names. She had heard about these four, of course. No history of the revolution would be complete without them.

"I haverooms uplevels," Khadaji said. "Let's go talk."

The six of them started for the lift.

When the lift opened, one of the hotel's staff was inside, a short and muscular man in a tight gray coverall who was angrily pushing the control buttons on a cart loaded with luggage. The cart was canted forward and the dozen or so large cases and bags on it were tilted precariously.

"Got trouble?" the one called Saval Bork said.

The man flashed a tight smile at them."Yeah, sorry. The front repellors went out on the cart and the damn backup wheels collapsed.Looks like I overloaded it. I'll have to get a couple of guys to help me haul the damn thing out. Would you mind waiting for another lift?"

Veate started to turn away, but stopped as the big matador stepped into the lift. "No problem," he said.

"I'll get it."

"I got maybe three, four hundred kilos loaded on this sucker," the man said.

Bork squatted, hooked one hand under the front of the cart, and came partway up. The cart leveled.

"Excuse me," Bork said to Veate, who stood behind him.

Veate stood there for a few seconds before she realized she needed to move. She hurried to get out of his way. He smiled at her patiently, and when his path was clear, he backed out slowly, towing the disabled cart. Once he was out of the lift, he gently lowered the weight so as not to disturb the luggage.

"Jesu Damn, mister," the man on the left said, "that ain't possible with one hand!"

Bork shrugged. "Sorry."

Veate looked at Bork and blinked. It was not a sarcastic comment. Sorry? Why was he sorry?Because maybe he embarrassed the man?Because he was stronger than a bull? Given what he looked like, that he was powerful was no surprise. But his response was. It didn't go with the wide shoulders and thick arms.

In that moment, for no reason she could name, Veate saw past Bork's size and strength. It was one of those too-seldom flashes of insight she sometimes got of what somebody was truly like. This great hulk of a man, she suddenly knew, whatever his training and abilities with those weapons and his big hands, had the soul of a poet. Bork was, in his heart, as gentle as a mother with a newborn baby. Wasn'tthat interesting?

As they moved onto the lift, Veate turned the revelation around in her mind. If this ape-strong giant was really what she thought, then maybe she was wrong about other people she had so often quickly relegated into an easy category. She already had been forced to change her opinion of her father. That she might be wrong again was unsettling. As an Albino Exotic, you had to learn how to size people up fast, or you might find yourself at a bad disadvantage. Missing easy shots, even from the hip, was dangerous.

Veate found herself standing next to Bork. She looked up at him and smiled slightly, knowing her pheromones were flowing and calling to him.All right. Let's see how all that testosterone bubbles when it's heated, big man.

He looked at her.Shifted a hair away from her.And blushed as he suddenly found something fascinating about the tops of his boots.

Blushed!

Veate was charmed. She smiled, a thing of pure joy, and almost laughed. What an interesting man. Not her usual type at all, of course, but obviously there were depths there that Bork did not allow anyone to plumb. She had made the mistake she was willing to bet others had made, taking him at face value.

Judging him by what he had carefully crafted for people to see. He was, she knew, hiding behind all that mass, and he didn't think anybody could get past it if he didn't let them.

Well. We'll see about that, won't we?

Bork wished the lift was bigger. He wished he'd thought to stand near the front and not next to Emile's daughter. He didn't know what to make of her. The way she looked in that moment, she reminded him of Mayli; there was something hidden under that mysterious smile, some great power, just like Mayli always used to have.

He was drawn to her. That was probably only because she was an Exotic and all, though, right?

Wrong. It was something else.Something beyond the beautiful face and come-hither hormones. Bork knew about sex and he knew the difference between lust and love; Mayli had taught him that. There was desire, sure, but there was something else going on here. Surely not love, but something. He hadn't felt these kinds of stirrings for five years. And she was looking at him funny, too. Did she feel it, too?

Yeah, and she is Emile'sdaughter , and young enough to behis daughter. What was wrong with him?

Control, Bork.Control.

Wall was shaken. On one level, he knew that his escape from the dying mastodon's brain had been relatively easy, that the essence of himself back in the computer would not allow him to be trapped. But on another level, he felt the truth of what Jambi had said. His program—he—could have been damaged by the experience. How much damage would have been done had he died with Hizta?

He was glad he had not found out.

But the important part of the experiment, the most significant thing, was it had worked. He had been able to become Hizta, to function within the body he had taken, to wear the flesh. It was a major step—major!

Back in the persona he created for Jambi's benefit, Wall spoke through the construct shimmering from the holoproj to the doctor.

"How long before we can transfer into a man?"

"A year.Maybe eighteen months."

"What?!That's too long!"

"The test animal's brain was both larger and less complex than a man's," Jambi said. "The principle is the same but the technique must be much more refined. This is not some cheap, mass-grown education virus we are speaking of here, but a complete restructuring of a neural network, plus a new personality overlay. A healthy brain is required, and the anima of a healthy brain is not apt to stand by and allow itself to be extinguished as would that of a lower animal."

"If you had unlimited funds and staff at your disposal, how much time could you save?"

The doctor blinked at the image."Unlimited funds and staff?Hmm. Well, if I could get Thromberg from Delta and Chan Li from Anaheim Research, plus another three bio-gens in the billion-kay range…"

"How long?"

"If everything went well, we might be able to cut that in half.Perhaps less."

"Could you do it in three months?"

"Unlikely. Not impossible, but unlikely.If we eliminated safety testing on primates, perhaps."

"If you can do it in three months, I will fund whatever research you choose to do for the rest of your life.

At any amount up to a billion standards a year. And if you want, you will also be installed as Director of the Helsinki Institute."

"The Helsinki Institute! Impossible! And a billion standards?That—that's unheard of for pure research!"

"I can do both of these things. There is your carrot, doctor. If you can transfer my… program into a man successfully within three months, you win the prize."

The doctor was speechless. Wall could almost hear the man's mind whirring with the possibilities. And in truth, probably he could manage both promises, given his abilities in the computer-run worlds. Not that he intended to keep those promises, of course. If the doctor could do as he wished, he would no longer be necessary, and funding him for the rest of his life would be cheap, given how long the man was apt to live. The secret he would know would make him much too dangerous to leave alive.