Piers Anthony - Phaze Doubt

“But I can’t let you be taken by the enemy!” she protested. “If the Citizens knew the invasion was coming, and wanted to protect you from it, then it’s my job to do that.”

“But you can’t help me. You might as well save yourself—by disassociating with me.”

“And betray my employer? My culture?” She turned to face him, putting her arms around him. “Lysander, you took some liberties with me, when I was pretending to be a mannequin. Now I’m going to take one with you.” She drew him into her, her arms reaching around him.

He yielded to her, because he expected to send her on her way in a moment. It was true: he had handled her about as intimately as it was possible to do, short of all-out sexual engagement. If she wanted a kiss in return—

Her fingernails scraped across his back. They caught in the tape. They ripped it off. “Now we make our break!” she said. “The tape stays here; we go to Phaze!” She threw the bit of tape away.

“You bitch!” he said, half admiringly.

“Nay, I be no werebitch,” she said. “I be a vamp. Now tread in the shadow o’ yon rovot, Lysan, and I will guide thee out.” She became a bat, and leaped to perch on his hand.

Lysander found himself committed. He could not say it was wrong. He had simply wanted to spare her from being implicated in his break, and from being subsequently betrayed by him. But he had also known that she would not desert him, because she was as committed to her mission as he was to his.

The machine she had indicated was a walk-brusher, evidently going out to clean the walk to a garden at the edge of the dome. He ducked down and ran beside it, letting it shield him from the lens-eye that covered this exit. The machine ignored him; it was equipped only to do its job, not to inspect its surroundings.

The bat in his hand peered to the right. Lysander went that way, finding an offshoot from the main path. He ran through dwarf palms down to a tiny artificial stream that originated in a fountain. Then on into the channel of the stream, which turned out to be stone, not mud. Then he waded through a small pool and scrambled over a decorative wall.

Beyond was the wild vegetation of Phaze; they were now beyond the dome environment. The bat flew up, evidently searching for something. Lysander ducked down beside a tree whose leaves were in the shape of floppy stars, waiting for Jod’e to complete her reconnaissance.

Then he heard hoof beats. He looked—and spied an old horse trotting toward him. The bat was on its back.

Clear enough! He stepped out as the horse arrived. It was a mare with a dark, almost reddish coat. He got on her back, and she turned and headed directly away from the dome.

The problem with this was that they were exposed. Anyone who looked would be able to see them. But maybe nobody would care about a man riding a horse.

Then the horse changed. Now a shining spiraled horn projected from her forehead, and her mane was iridescent. Her coat had deepened into a deep purplish red.

“Belle!” he exclaimed.

There was a tinkle of assent. Then she picked up speed.

He hung on. Bareback riding was not his favorite mode, and the unicorn had more power than a horse might. They were zooming through the high grass at a dizzying pace.

He discovered something as the run continued. Belle was getting hot, but she wasn’t sweating. Instead she was dissipating the heat in her breath, which was turning fiery, and her hooves, which were throwing off sparks. So that was how unicorns cooled themselves!

Something caught his eye. It was a shadow in the shape of a disk. Oh-oh. He craned his neck and saw the origin: a small Proton flyer. The pursuit was on, already!

Belle dodged to the side, seeking the cover of a copse. But the flyer angled to intercept them, and it was much faster than any animal could be.

“They’ll use stun rays!” Lysander cried. “Change and scatter! They’ll only go after me!” He flung himself off the unicorn, taking a trained fall and rolling through the brush.

They changed and scattered, but not the way he had intended. While he ran for the cover of the trees, the bat headed straight for the flyer. The unicorn became a heron and also flew for the flyer.

The bat lighted on the top of the flyer. Then it was the woman again, her weight bearing the machine down. But it wasn’t enough; the flyer remained aloft.

Until the heron landed on it—and returned to unicorn form. Now the flyer crunched down to the ground.

Lysander was amazed, but not reassured. “Get away from that thing!” he cried. “It can send the rays in any direction, or detonate a stun bomb—“

Too late. There was a dull explosion, and a burst of radiation from the machine. Jod’e and Belle collapsed, and then Lysander, who was farther out and hit with less intensity, but still unable to escape it. He saw the ground advancing toward his head.

It seemed only an instant, but the sun had moved; it had been about an hour. Lysander woke to find a second, much larger flyer beside the first. A trainer robot was before him, its treads flattening the grass. “Identity?” it demanded.

Lysander knew that his retinal patterns would give him away soon enough anyway; there was no point in trying to give a false name. “Lysander. I work for Citizen Blue.”

“Confirmed. The identities of your companions?”

Were their patterns on file? Jod’e’s yes, but maybe not Belle’s. He might be able to help the unicorn go free. “Jod’e, employee of Citizen Troal. The mare has no human identity; she’s just a steed.”

“A unicorn steed,” the machine said. “They will be registered too.” It turned its lenses on Belle. “Stand, mare.” A beam touched her.

Belle, freed from the effect of the stun beam, climbed to her feet. She stood, uncertain what more to do.

The machine ground toward her. Suddenly another beam speared out. There was a sizzle, and a puff of smoke.

Belle screamed almost in the manner of a woman. She leaped up, but could not escape the pain. She had been burned on the flank. It was evident that though her hooves were adapted to heat, her hide was not.

She hit the ground running. In a moment she was far across the field.

“Why did you do that?” Jod’e demanded of the machine. “There was no call for—“

“All human forms will be registered by retinal pattern,” the machine said. “All animals will be branded. None will escape identification.”

“Branded!” Lysander exclaimed. But there was no more he could say; the deed was done, and he didn’t want to get Belle into any more trouble. It was better if they thought of her as only an animal.

“Enter the craft,” the machine said.

Jod’e hesitated. “Do it,” Lysander said. “We have seen that the invaders—or whoever is giving the orders now—have no compassion. They will stun us again if we don’t obey.”

She nodded. She knew it was true. They climbed into the flyer. There was barely room for the two of them, and none for the robot it had brought.

The panel closed. The flyer jerked aloft. They clung to each other to shield themselves from the buffeting.

“You can change form,” Lysander murmured in her ear. “Fly away. You’ve done all you could.”

“They know my identity,” she reminded him. “They’d only search me out, and punish anyone who helped me.”

He was silent. It was true. She was probably in for it, because she had tried to help him escape, and Alyc wouldn’t like that.

“I should have agreed to serve the Hectare,” he said. “And walked out when I had a chance.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” She leaned forward and kissed him.

“We’ll both pay for this break, as Belle did, but at least we tried.”