Zach Hughes - The Stork Factor

helplessness, her fear, the flashing intruded until, to her dulled mind, the message came through. With a sob, she ran to the flashing instrument, touched it with her hand. Her mind pattern was communicated to her, a blaze. And then, RED ALERT PLANET KILLER. SECTION G-1034876 STAR R-875948 PLANET 3. «What does that mean to me?» she sent. «Why is the Trang missing?» Blaze. «You are the sentinel. For this circuit, you are on call.» «But there's never been a call,» she sent. She remembered, now. Always there had been the assignments. Numberless times before she had been the sentinel, had been on call. But they'd never stopped the flow of Trang before. «I demand to know the meaning of this.» Through her hand, into her mind, came the communication of the huge central computer. Behind her she heard the male from A-7 whimpering in his Trangless panic. And the incredible message went into her mind. «I can't do it,» she sent. «I won't do it.» «You must.» «I can't do it without Trang.» «There is a way.» A servomech snaked out. She opened her mouth, swallowed. Soon a strange feeling came to her. The aching need for Trang left her. She knew, but had never known, normalcy. She could feel the blood flowing. She could feel her heart beating. She knew the workings of her organs. It was horrible. Yet, it was bearable. «What must I do?» When she was told, she felt her heart sink. Out' Out into the open world? Worse. Into space. Into space without Trang. On the rare trips she made to commitments—she, being of superior quality usually had males coming to her—she was thoroughly Tranged, euphorized to the point of being blocked out of the necessary movements to port, to ship, to port to structure on another planet. Now she was being told that she had to go forth un-Tranged and not in a comfortable personal ship but in an armed, cold, vast ship of the line. «Why me?» she moaned. «You are on call.» «Let him go,» she sent, indicating the moaning male from A-7. «No,» he gasped. «No.» «Please,» she sent to him. «For me. When you come back I'll be yours, here, for the next two commitments.» «Without Trang?» he sent. He shuddered. «Three commitments, then,» she promised. «You know I'm good.» «No,» he said. «Please go. Please I must have Trang.» At her bidding, a servomech brought a gleaming singlet. She slipped into it. It molded her form. As she left the room she heard the sigh of the Tranger. Beautiful Trang. And he was going to have it all to himself. She turned to go back. The door was closed and her palm on the senlock had no effect. Damned computer. Locking her out. There was an atmoflyer on the roof. With a grim face, she entered, punched destination. She didn't know what was going on but whoever or whatever was responsible for taking her away from Trang and from a very promising coupling would suffer. She would promise that. CHAPTER SIX The morning news said that the vast light in the sky was the North American Station blowing up. Luke felt letdown for a moment. However, he soon brightened. He was not going to think that God had blown up the North American Station just to give him a sign, but the fact remained that the great light in the sky had acted as a sign and had inspired him to do something which was, beyond doubt, a genuine miracle. That fact could never be taken away from him. He had healed. And not just some imagined ailment. He had healed a fatal wound. A man lived because of him. And because that man lived, hope lived in Luke's heart. He breakfasted on fishcakes made from an odorous meal which tasted almost as bad as it smelled. His coffee was bitter-weak, in spite of a reckless splurge of generous spoonings of the ground near-coffee into the

hot water. It was not the best of all possible ways to start a day, but Luke's optimism was stronger than his usual distaste for the unappetizing meal. He gulped it down, dressed in a clean set of coveralls, his number-two outfit, and was making his plans for the day when he heard the authoritative knock on the door. «Coming,» he said, turning, wondering who could be calling at this hour of the morning. He did not have time to reach the door. The ancient, weakened wood of the frame gave way under a pounding force. Wood splintered, the bolts and locks broke and bent. A helmeted Brotherfuzz lurched in behind the broken door, righted himself, weapon at the ready. Luke froze in shock. More Brotherfuzz moved in, three of them, big, grim, coming toward him silently. «I'm clean,» Luke said, thinking with belly-sinking panic of the incriminating bottle of Soul Lifter on the shelf. «I'm—» Without speaking, two of the Brotherfuzz seized his arms, lifted him until his feet were barely touching the floor, hustled him toward the door. «Hey, listen,» Luke said. «Listen, what is all this?» The most frightening thing was the silence of the three Brotherfuzz. They moved him along rapidly, out the door, down the hall, past the nonfunctioning elevator, down the stairs. «What is it?» Luke asked. «Where are you taking me?» A jet-rotor with Brother markings waited. Curious people stood at a safe distance and watched Luke being shoved into the craft. Numbed by

the suddenness of it, Luke was pliant. He made no effort to resist, took his seat between two of the big Brotherfuzz as the rotor hummed, roared,

listed slightly as it lifted. Below, Luke saw a ground truck pull up in front of his building. Uniformed Brotherfuzz poured out, carrying instruments which were unfamiliar to Luke. They moved into the entrance as the rotor lifted beyond the walls of the canyon and Luke, for the first time in his nineteen years, saw Old Town spread below, spiked and turreted and glassed and looking strangely neat and clean. For a moment he forgot to be frightened. A kind of elation filled him. Thus God must see the world, from on high, a world of moiling humanity and tall buildings and ground cars crawling on the streets. «It must be nice,» Luke said to one of the Brotherfuzz, smiling, «to be able to see this every day, huh?» Silence. Grim faces looking straight ahead. The hum of the jet-rotor. And Luke could sec the water. Huge ships. Small craft moving. It was so damned beautiful he felt tears come to his eyes. He lifted his hand to wipe them away, shamed. A Brotherfuzz caught his arm, shook his head menacingly «Don't try anything. Lay. « «No, sir,» Luke said. But the moment of beauty known was past. In its place fear, dread. Ahead, tall buildings, the rotorcraft just clearing the tops, another Brotherfuzz rotor passing, gleaming with Brother insignia, piloted by a grim-faced Brotherfuzz who waved. Then, moving down slowly toward a

port on the roof of a dark, old building. Luke didn't recognize it at first. Then, as he drew closer, the front of the building perspected down toward the distant street and he knew that it was the Hall of Justice. «Listen,» he said, «could you tell me why?» Silence. A slight bump as the rotorcraft landed. Luke was pulled out, two Brotherfuzz on his arms, lifting him, dragging him, his feet working to

try to keep up, to try to get a purchase on the roof, to walk. A door opened ahead of them. A guard nodded, looked at Luke without curiosity. Luke was jerked to a halt in front of a desk. An old Brotherfuzz didn't look up. «Name.» «I am poor Apprentice Brother, Third Class, Luke Parker, by your leave,» Luke said. «Room 802,» the man at the desk said, still not looking up. «Listen,» Luke said, as he was being hustled along a hall, into an

elevator, «if it's the Soul Lifter, I can explain. It's not mine, see? I mean it was left there, you know?» Silence. A dropping sensation. Down, down the shaft. Out into a hallway which was windowless, dim. Luke noted the room numbers. 806. 804. 802. Into the room, coming to a halt, looking around with a sinking sensation. More Brotherfuzz, high-ranking men. And a full Brother in a purple robe, looking grim. «Luke Parker,» one of Luke's captors said, speaking for the first time. «You may leave,» said the Brother. Luke was left standing alone. «Sit,» the Brother said, waving toward a hard, straight chair. «Brother,» Luke said, thinking that maybe things were not so bad after all. He'd wanted to come into contact with a Brother. He'd wanted to tell about the miracle. He wanted to ask for his chance. With such a gift, surely he'd be made a full Brother without having to take the impossible tests. «You will speak when you are told to speak.» One of the high-ranking Brotherfuzz said. «Name,» said the Brother. «Luke Parker,» he said, frightened again. «Lay?» asked the Brother. «Apprentice Brother, Third Class.» «By what means?» «By appointment,» Luke said. «To University One, the Brothers?» «Get his record.» The Brother sighed. He turned to Luke. «Is that where you learned medicine?» «Huh?» Luke said. «You will find it easier if you cooperate,» said one of the Brotherfuzz. «Sure—I mean, yes, sir,» Luke said. «Were you taught medicine at University One?» the Brother asked. «No, sir,» Luke said. A Brotherfuzz came in with a sheet of copy paper, handed it to the Brother, who looked at it with knitted brows for a moment. Finished, he looked at Luke. «Where did you learn medicine?» «Sir,» Luke said, frowning in sincere concentration, «I'm not sure I know—» «The search team,» said a Brotherfuzz, answering a signal on a communicator. The Brother took the headset. He listened. «Very Well,» he said, taking off the headset. They looked at Luke. The Brother frowned. Luke swallowed nervously. «They found nothing but Newasper and a partially consumed bottle of Soul Lifter in his apartment,» he said, as if to himself. «Listen, sir,» Luke said, «about that Soul Lifter—» «You are in serious trouble, young man,» the Brother said. «I know, sir,» Luke said, «but you see, it wasn't mine. I mean, this guy left it there, you know? I mean, I was going to report it—» «Silence!» the Brother said coldly. He leaned toward Luke, his face working with what seemed to be suppressed anger. «Now I want you to