Piers Anthony - Phaze Doubt

And through him! The magic still made him invisible, and the machine didn’t see him! It spun around and rolled away. He had assumed that the effect was limited to the perception of living creatures. He had underestimated it again.

How far did this magic extend? His shoulder had set off the alarm, and Brown had felt his real body (as covered by Nepe), so obviously touch was not included. Nepe had told him not to speak, so sound probably was not included either. But could he walk with impunity among the machines, as long as he did not touch them? It was worth trying.

He walked, and the machines ignored him. He made his way down the dark passage, walking between the tracks of the delivery system. It was working!

Then he heard a larger machine coming—and there was no room to get out of the way. If it did not see him, it would run him down. He turned and sprinted for the last alcove, but the machine was too fast; he knew it would overhaul him first.

Then it slowed, and he made it to the alcove and swung himself out of the way. The machine moved past, picking up speed, and in a moment was gone.

Lysander had to pause to think about that. There had been no reason for the machine to slow; it was a level track, and it had the programmed right-of-way. No reason to slow—except to avoid hitting Lysander.

The machine had known he was there, yet given no other indication. What did that mean?

Nepe’s father Mach was a self-willed machine. He must have given a directive, that the machines obeyed. To ignore Lysander as if they did not see him, but not to hurt him. So that he could complete his mission for the Adepts. The magic did not after all affect the machines, but their orders did.

He felt a shiver. He was sure the Hectare did not know about this. How much else was going on under their noses? If a machine could be instructed to ignore a spy, why couldn’t it be instructed to assassinate a Hectare leader?

He was right to pursue his mission, even though it facilitated the opposition. He had to get down to the fundamental ploy of the resistance. The Adepts might let him do that, because they believed they could not win without his help. He was now less certain about that than they were. This planet was deviously dangerous.

He made his way to an exit panel near the concourse. He would have to get out, trusting his spell of invisibility to humans and avoidance by machines to protect him, and try to find Nepe. She still needed his help, for she could not masquerade as Tsetse alone.

He opened the panel and stepped out. He took one step—and a serf blundered into him. Lysander had done the most elementarily foolish thing: he had assumed that other people would automatically avoid collisions. But they couldn’t, because Lysander was invisible to them. They were not machines.

“Hey, there’s a man here!” the serf exclaimed, groping as he caught his balance. “I can’t see him!”

Citizen Tan’s voice came over the speaker system. “Hold him! We want him!”

Lysander brought up his hand and pinched the man’s neck, making him gasp with pain and let go. But half a dozen others were now closing in. These were serfs who had volunteered to serve in the new order; they wore the identifying arm bands with tentacle pattern that denoted lesser collaborators. They spread their arms, to prevent anyone unseen from passing by them, and more were converging from beyond. Lysander knew he would not be able to fight his way clear of this. All because of his completely stupid mistake!

Then another serf lurched toward him. Lysander got one look at the man’s face—before it vanished. The man had turned invisible!

“Duck down, crawl away,” a voice beside him said. “Nepe’s waiting next intersection. I’ll distract them.”

Lysander didn’t question it. He ducked down just as the first serf of the closing ring made contact. The man might have fell his touch, but immediately contacted the other invisible man and grabbed on to him. “I’ve got him! I’ve got him!” he yelled— before his breath whooshed out from what must have been a blow to the solar plexus.

Lysander slid around and between legs, and got clear as the melee proceeded. Who was the other man? He had never seen him before. Yet obviously the man had not only seen Lysander, he had recognized him—and known his mission with Nepe.

He hurried down to the next intersection, getting well clear of the action behind. He skirted a standing guidebot, but felt a thread extending from it. He paused, then touched it with a finger.

It was warm and alive. It was Nepe in disguise.

Now the machine moved, evidently called for duty somewhere else. Lysander followed. They entered the side hall and got out of sight of the pedestrians. Then they ducked into an empty food alcove.

Nepe was already flattening. Lysander heaved her up and draped her thinning body over his shoulders. He stood nervously while she spread out across his body, making it visible; the process was not instantaneous, and if someone came right now—

No one came. Nepe completed the transformation. He did not need to look in any mirror; he saw the breasts and hips. He was a visible woman again.

Guided by her, he walked onto the concourse. There was Brown, looking about. They approached her. There was pressure at his lips. “I’m sorry,” he said in Tsetse’s voice. “I didn’t know your game was through.”

“It’s all right, Tsetse,” Brown said. “We have passes to leave. My golems will carry us back to the castle.”

She showed the way to a public exit, where they stood and waited for half an hour. Then a horse appeared, running toward the city. It was a wooden horse—a golem—with a wooden carriage behind.

They boarded the carriage, and the horse set off for home. “Citizen Purple won his game,” Brown said. “I was able to assist him, and I think he was pleased. I must say he has treated me better than I expected.”

“I’m glad,” Lysander said. He did not feel free to say anything else; Purple might have this carriage under observation, as a routine precaution.

They drew up to the Brown Demesnes. “I thank thee for thy company, Tsetse,” Brown said, reverting to her Phaze self. “I will need thee not again this day; do as thou willst.”

“Thank you, Brown,” Lysander said carefully. She knew that her companion was not the real Tsetse, but did she know who it really was?

They entered the castle. Brown went to her room, probably to lie down; she had had a wearing session, he was sure. Nepe guided him to the golem storage room.

There she drew away from him, and formed her natural self, the naked girl. “We can talk now, Lysander,” she said. “This castle is secure, when Purp’s not here. I just wanted you to get rehearsed for your role, before. You did well.”

“Thank you. But what happened to the Hectare seed? You didn’t lose it, after all that?”

She patted her abdomen. “No, I have it in here. I never thought I’d be pregnant at age nine!”

She was a Moebite, of course, able to assume any form; she could as readily carry an object inside her in human form as when she was in ball form or machine form. This allowed her to function normally while maintaining a suitable environment for the seed, so as not to let it die. Still, her remark surprised him. He had absorbed enough of human culture to know that human children did not procreate any more than immature Hectare did. “Glad I could be of help, getting you pregnant,” he said dryly.

“You aren’t finished. We have to take the Hec seed to the West Pole.”

“That’s where your center of operations is?”

“You don’t think I’ll tell you,” she accused him mischievously. “But I will. The answer is, I don’t know where our setup is, and neither does anybody else. All I know is that I have to get a Hec seed to the West Pole, and then I’ll see what else I have to do.”