Piers Anthony - Phaze Doubt

She turned her face away from him.

A stun beam came down from the ceiling, evidently set at partial intensity. Jod’e slumped but did not fall.

Tan reached out and turned her head toward him. She was unable to resist. He stared into her eyes. “Thou dost be mine,” he murmured.

The beam shut off. Jod’e recovered. “Aye,” she said.

“Thou mayst kiss me.”

Lysander had expected either extreme reluctance, or a carefully faked effort. He was dismayed at what actually happened.

Jod’e flung her arms around Tan and kissed him passionately. “O thank thee, beloved!” she breathed.

Tan did not respond in kind. “Now kiss Lysander,” he said.

Jod’e froze. Then her head turned toward Lysander. “Needs must I?”

“I wish to demonstrate that thy orientation be completely changed. Kiss him.”

She grimaced. “An I must, I must,” she said with resignation. “I hate him not, but it be thee, sir, I long for.” She stepped up to Lysander and kissed him fleetingly on the cheek.

“That be not sufficient,” Tan said sternly. “Yield to him.” He looked directly at Lysander, and his eyes seemed huge. “And thou, Lysan—I compel thee not, yet. But take her in thine arms and do with her as thou wouldst. Make her respond to thee.”

It was a challenge Lysander was glad to accept. He enfolded Jod’e and held her close for the kiss.

Her body was stiff, and her lips mushy. Either she was a consummate actress, or she had no interest in his attention. She gave him no private signal. She merely tolerated his touch. As soon as he released her, she stepped back toward Tan, her stiffness fading.

“She be thine no longer,” Tan said to Lysander. “I can use my power but once on a gi’en person, but it be permanent. I would spare myself the effort on thee. Thou hast lost thy love, but canst still achieve a worthwhile position an thou accept allegiance now.”

Lysander was impressed. He didn’t think Jod’e was pretending. But his mission prevented him from collaborating with the puppet government the Hectare was setting up. “No.”

“Then needs must I prepare thee for Alyc, as she asked,” Tan said. “Face me.”

Lysander had delayed as long as he could. He had to act. He turned his face slowly toward Tan—then leaped for the Hectare.

He passed right through the creature—as he had expected. It was a holo image, not a physical presence. The Hectare were careful about personal exposure; only when they were quite sure of their company did they risk it.

But beyond the image was a decorative vase he had spied before. He swept it up, turned, and hurled it with precise aim at the lens complex in the ceiling. The vase smashed—and so did the lens. Now he could not be stunned from above.

He leaped back and grabbed Jod’e. He put a nerve hold on her shoulder. She stiffened, realizing that she was helpless; any effort to break free would be prohibitively painful. “Do not move,” he ordered Tan.

The man was not directly facing him, and remained in that orientation. “Thou canst hurt her, but thou canst compel me not,” Tan said. “In a moment will I turn and compel thee with mine Eye. I suggest thou dost desist before thou bringst upon thyself a type of punishment thou willst find really distasteful.”

But Lysander was already backing toward the exit panel. He kept his head behind Jod’e’s so that the Adept could not get a bead on him.

Tan stalked him. Whatever else might be said against the man, he was neither coward nor fool; he was yielding nothing. He was moving slowly but purposefully, closing the distance between them.

“You wouldn’t have bonded this woman to you if you didn’t desire her,” Lysander said as his back touched the panel. “You wouldn’t want her hurt.”

“I want thee hurt not either,” Tan said evenly. “In a moment thou willst be as loyal to the new order as she.”

Lysander squeezed the nerve in Jod’e’s shoulder. She screamed. Tan stopped advancing.

But Lysander wasn’t merely stalling for time; that was pointless. With his free hand he was tapping on the panel. He knew a way to make it open, if the Hectare had been true to form. Hectare, experienced at planetary subjugation, never left things entirely in the hands of the natives; they made sure at the outset that ultimate control was in the tentacles of the nearest Hectare. That meant rekeying the locks—all locks—to be responsive to Hectare hidden codes. One of the standard codes was auditory; a pattern of taps that few others could duplicate if any knew of their existence. Because Lysander’s brain was Hectare, he knew and could perform the cadences.

With one bare heel he tapped with one changing pattern. With his knuckle he tapped with another. As the two converged, interrelating, the Hectare code overrode the ordinary mechanism, and the panel slid open.

Lysander stepped back, hauling Jod’e with him. He saw Tan’s mouth open with amazement. The man had not known of this device, of course; he was merely a quisling, used without being trusted. Then the panel slid back, separating them.

Now he was out—but where was he to go? They were among serfs who were hurrying on their errands. The pursuit would commence in seconds. What was he to do with Jod’e?

That turned out to be easy. “Now you’re free,” he told her “Follow me; he’ll be out in a moment.” He let her go, and started down the hall.

“He’s here!” Jod’e cried, not trying to run. “He’s getting away!”

Lysander came to an intersecting hall and ducked into it. He could not try to conceal himself as another serf; all the serfs here would be checked. He couldn’t run far; the halls would be closed off any moment. The chances of any ordinary serf escaping capture were approximately nil.

But he was not an ordinary serf. He jumped to a private door panel and did a quick double tapping. It opened and he stepped in—just as the rumble of the larger hall-sealer panels commenced. All the serfs in that section of the hall were trapped, and would not be freed until their identities were verified.

He was in another Citizen residence, but it was empty. Its owner would have been interned. He ran through to the kitchen, where the food-delivery apparatus was, and the waste-disposal mechanism. He did not need to use the code tapping here; the conduits were not locked. He climbed onto a garbage cart and touched Us Go button.

In a moment he was zooming through the nether pipes of the city, heading for one of the central processing stations. When the cart slowed, approaching the first sorting stop, he jumped off, surprising the robot. “An error in classification,” he told it. “I will correct it.” The machine would not question a human voice of authority.

He got on the machine trundleway and walked to the human section. From there he exited to the main network of halls. He had escaped, for now; since the bit of beacon tape was gone from his back, they would have to do a citywide search to run him down.

They would do that, of course. No dictatorial government could tolerate dissent. But it would be awkward for them, because they would not want to disrupt the ongoing flow of business, and would not want to admit that any serf could give either a Citizen or a Hectare the slip. The Hectare whose image he had seen would not tell Tan about the code; it would keep that secret, realizing that Lysander was something unusual. Tan would just have to assume there was a defect in the door panel that had released Lysander by chance.

As for Jod’e: he had tested her, and verified what he feared. Tan’s Evil Eye had been effective, and she was now his creature. Had she been faking it, she would have run with Lysander; instead she had sounded the alarm the moment she was able. That had made no practical difference, but had shown him that it was pointless to be further concerned about her.