Jack Chalker - Cerberus - A Wolf in the Fold

“He has quite a collection,” I said approvingly. “Nobody there I recognize, from last time or any other time.”

“They walk alike,” Dylan noted. “Even the women walk just like the men.”

“I see what you mean. They’re good actors. Damned good.”

“How will we know which one is the real Laroo? Or if any of them are?”

“That’s simple,” I replied. “The real one will be the one left alive and kicking at the end.”

We were summoned by National Police to the downstairs lab complex, and left immediately. All five of the newcomers, plus Merton and Bogen, awaited us in the lab, where seats had been provided—five seats.

“They even cross their legs the same,” Dylan whispered, and I had to suppress a laugh.

We stopped. The goateed businessman proved the spokesman this time.

“Well, well. Qwin Zhang, I hadn’t intended that we meet a second time, but you made it unavoidable.”

“I’ll make it worth your while,” I promised him.

“You better,” he growled. “I don’t like people who make themselves indispensable. You should understand that.”

I nodded. “You have a choice. We can call this off and all go home.”

He ignored the comment and looked over at Dylan. “A pleasure. I trust all is satisfactory with you now?”

“Extremely,” she responded with that old confidence. I could almost read her mind, and I loved her for it. Wagant Laroo would be a pantywaist in a bork hunt.

“You understand there’ll be some, ah, tests first?”

We both nodded. “We’re ready when you are,” Dylan told him. “The truth is, we no more understand this than you do.” She looked them all over. “Who goes first?”

“None of us. Yet.” He nodded at Bogen, and the security man went out. Two technicians wheeled in a device that was pretty much what we’d described several days before to Merton. It was a hybrid, and obviously had been knocked together, but if Merton thought the thing would work, well, I was willing to trust the expert.

The machine looked essentially like three hair driers on long, thick gooseneck poles leading into a rear electronic console. They brought it in, and with Merlon’s help fitted it against the instrument cluster that was a permanent part of the lab. Cables—lots of them—were taken from the top rear of the console part and plugged into the instrumentation, and switches were thrown. Merton checked the whole thing out, then nodded. “It’s ready.”

I looked at the gadget and couldn’t shake the feeling that I was about to be electrocuted. According to Merton, it was a variation of the basic psych machine itself, although without a lot of the electronics and analytical circuits. In effect, it would allow Dylan and me, if we concentrated, to send impulses from our own minds to a third. What we were going to do could have been done by computer, of course, but then they wouldn’t have needed us. Chairs were brought in and placed under the gadget, and the helmets or whatever were adjusted to hover just over each one.

“Now what?” Laroo demanded.

“We need a robot,” I told him. “First we feed the signal into the robot, then you slide a mind in there any good old Cerberan way.”

“Merton?” he said expectantly.

The doctor walked over to one of those booths and opened it, obviously prepared for this. The robot inside didn’t look like a cadaver this time, but was fully propped and animated. Still, it had a totally vacant look that would be impossible for a human being to duplicate.

Dylan and I both gasped the same time. “Sanda!” she breathed.

No, it wasn’t Sanda, but it was a perfect facsimile of Sanda’s current, and Dylan’s old body.

“I see I haven’t underestimated the old boy,” I muttered. “What a rotten trick.”

Laroo—all the Laroos—looked at us with smug satisfaction. “I thought that if you were going to try any funny business, you’d be less likely with somebody you both know and like,” he told us.

“You’re going to kill her after this works!” Dylan accused. “You know I can’t be a party to that. I won’t be.”

One of the Laroos stopped, thought a moment, and I thought I could see his eyes divert to his side. For a moment none of the others moved. Then, interestingly, I saw the teenage girl very naturally reach up and scratch her nose. Goatee paused a moment, then pretended to consider things while glancing idly at the ceiling. Finally he said, “All right. But for reasons you obviously understand, you’re making a test very difficult—and I will not proceed without one.”

I shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I’m not the one who insisted that the psych inhibitors remain on.”

“It wouldn’t matter. I wouldn’t do that kind of thing anyway,” Dylan snapped.

Laroo sighed, and thought, again. Finally he said, “Leave us for a minute, both of you. Just wait outside.”

“Stuck you, didn’t I?” Dylan stated smugly. I nudged her to keep her from baiting him further. Paranoia, psych profile, or not, Laroo was psychotic enough to call the whole thing off if we pushed him far enough. We left and stood outside.

“Don’t bait him,” I warned her. “There are some things more important to him even than this.”

She just nodded and squeezed my hand. We didn’t have long to wait, and were soon called back in by Dr. Merton.

“All right,” Laroo said, “let’s start one step at a time. First we’ll just try and clear a neutral body, so to speak. Then I want Merton to check it over, see what can be done, what we can learn. Will you go that far with me?”

We looked around and found that the robot Sanda had been replaced in its booth. I looked over at Dylan and shrugged. She sighed. “What choice do we have? All right.”

The robot body produced was impressive. A huge bronze giant of a man with great, bulging muscles. If any one of them looked the part of a superior human being, this male body did.

It too was as blank as you could conceive, and had to be helped to the chair by Merton and two assistants.

“I gather they don’t have much basic programming when they arrive,” I commented.

“Activate, deactivate, walk forward, walk back, stand, and sit—that’s about it,” Dr. Merton told us. “They don’t need much else, although in a pinch I can feed in some basic additional commands. When you’re putting a complex human mind in there, you don’t need much.”

I could see her point. I took the seat next to the thing and Dylan sat next to me as Merton pointed out which helmet was which.

This point was the most nerve-racking to me personally, since I knew Laroo was as close to totally evil as anyone I had ever met and I hardly trusted him a moment.

The helmets came down and I felt clamps and probes fit into place.

“All right,” Dr. Merton said. “You’re all set, just like you told me. Do whatever it is you do.”

I relaxed, took a couple of deep breaths, heard Dylan doing much the same, then concentrated—no, willed— the transfer.

I felt a momentary dizziness, or disorientation, and then it was over. So quick I could hardly believe it.

“That’s it,” I told them. “Dylan?”

“I guess so. If that funny feeling was it.”

The assistants nicked switches retracting the probe helmets and gently lifted them off our heads—all three of us. I got up, as did Dylan, and we stared again at our giant. He looked as blank as ever.

Laroo looked over at Merton. “Anything?”

“Well, we recorded something,” she told him. “Who knows what?”

Realization came suddenly. Countermove, I thought. Laroo’s move, really. Merton had created the Merton Process, by which I was here—and in four other places, too. A process that didn’t transfer but recorded and duplicated information in the brain I If she had the key from both our minds, then Laroo no longer needed us at all. It had been a major mistake on my part. I fervently hoped that this hadn’t been overlooked by Dumonia or Security.