Piers Anthony - Out of Phaze

“Your friends?” Agape asked.

“The self-willed machines. I am one, of course; our form matters less than our brain.”

“Your whorish robot mother must have taught you those tricks,” Purple muttered. Evidently his commentary was separate, directed to Bane alone.

“But why didn’t they save him too?” Agape was asking.

“They could have—but that would have alerted your captor to your own escape, and he might have intercepted you before you got clear. So Mach used himself as a diversion, distracting the Citizen’s attention from you, giving you the time you needed.”

“The bitch machine is right,” Purple said. “We were watching you. But that trick won’t work again. I have eliminated all the self-willed machines from my employ, and acted to prevent you from using any more cute little parts of yourself to do mischief.”

So that was what Mach had done! Bane would never have thought of that. He kept silent; he was doing well enough this way.

“But Mach—what of him, now?” Agape asked. “I never meant to leave him prisoner!”

“My husband will rescue him,” the woman said. “But we must make absolutely sure they do not get hold of you again because you represent their best lever against him. So I think we must send you back to your home planet, at least until my son is safe.”

“Yes, of course,” Agape agreed. “I have caused you too much trouble already.”

“Your participation in the problem was coincidental,” the woman, who Bane realized was Sheen, Mach’s mother, said gently. “Your support to him has been invaluable. We feel that no blame attaches to you. But now that you have become a key figure, we must keep you out of their hands. We are arranging to take you directly to the ship leaving today for Moeba.”

Was this to keep her safe—or to eliminate her as a factor in Mach or Bane’s life? Bane wasn’t sure. Yet perhaps it was best; he would rather have her on another planet than at risk of torture here.

“Guess what’s going to happen,” Purple said.

Suddenly Bane realized: they were watching a private dialogue! The enemy Citizen had used one of his pseudomagic devices to spy on Citizen Blue, and knew what was being planned. “No!” he cried.

“You thought all you needed was to spring her loose, boy? The game isn’t over till the blubber-lady sings.”

They were going to recapture Agape—and what would Bane do then? He couldn’t let her suffer!

Maybe it was a bluff. A charade, with actors in a setting resembling the home of Citizen Blue. After all, how could such a spying eye be placed without Blue knowing? Certainly Bane’s father, Stile, in Phaze, could not be spied on in such manner!

Yet Agape looked so genuine! He was sure it was her!

“We’ll bring her in to see you,” Purple said. “Little reunion; you’ll like that, won’t you! So take it easy, machine; you’ll be sure enough it’s her when she arrives.”

Bane was all too certain that was true.

The screen dimmed out, and he tuned out. But later he was roused by the screen again. This time it showed an atmospheric flyer, similar to the one that had picked up Bane and Agape. It was cruising across the foggy desert. Beside it was another, and a third; a small fleet of them.

“They figured to sneak her out on a routine supply flight,” Purple’s voice came. “We figure to pluck it like a plum.” He laughed coarsely. “A damned purple plum! Blue’s got a lot of wealth, but precious little common sense! Here he’s trying to figure out how to get you back, and he’s losing his own high card!”

Bane watched, mortified, as the supply craft came into sight. The attack-craft intercepted it, surrounding it.

‘They’re signaling for help,” Purple remarked. “Doesn’t matter; by the time it comes, the prize’ll be ours.”

Indeed, the attacking craft brought the supply craft to the sand. Suited men sprang out and swarmed to it. Soon they hauled a figure out, and Bane could tell by the way it moved that it was Agape.

They shoved her into one craft. The screen changed to show the face of a serf. “Sir, we have the alien,” the man said.

“Put her on the screen,” Purple said. “I want to see her myself.”

They hauled Agape up to the camera. She remained in the suit, but now her helmet was off. Her features were slightly melted around the edges, because of her distress. She was still struggling, but ineffectively.

Bane felt his nonexistent heart sinking. They did indeed have her.

“Now you know I don’t care about the amoeba,” Citizen Purple said. “And maybe you don’t too. But you bet your other self does.”

What use pretense? “I be the other,” Bane said.

“Oho! You switched back already?”

“Aye. Mach be free in Phaze; I be captive here.”

“Yeah? How do you figure he’s free?”

“I used magic to free the unicorn. Thine other self was about to slay me, but the Translucent Adept took me instead, and let me go. I returned to find out about Agape.”

“Translucent, eh? Yeah, that’s like him. He uses the soft sell, but he always wins in the end. But how do you figure the machine is free now?”

“Translucent gave his word.”

“Translucent’s one of us!”

“I know. But he honors his word.”

“So do I, boy. And I promise you this: that creature of yours is going to suffer if you don’t cooperate. I want your word: no more tricks.”

Bane was silent.

“Well, we’ll do it the hard way, then,” Citizen Purple said grimly.

Bane tuned out again, as there wasn’t much else to do. What would happen, would happen.

He resumed awareness when people approached his cell. It was the Citizen—and Agape. She was tearful and dispirited, and her details were blurred by trace melting. It was evident that she lacked the will to muster her proper human appearance.

The panel of the cell slid across behind them. “Okay, boy,” Citizen Purple said. “We’re private now. This is nobody’s business but ours. My serfs don’t know what I want from you, but you do. Let’s play a game, you and me. Let’s see who can stand the most heat.”

“I be in a robot body,” Bane reminded him. “I can endure more heat.” He wondered why the Citizen should wish to have this encounter private; did he fear betrayal by his own serfs? Or was he afraid that Citizen Translucent would spy on him, and take over just the way the Translucent Adept had in Phaze? That did seem more likely; it was evident that neither the Contrary

Citizens nor the Adverse Adepts fully trusted their own associates.

“Well, we’ll just see about that.” The man brought out a tiny instrument. He touched buttons.

Immediately the heat began. It radiated from the walls, in the manner of an oven, raising the temperature of the air.

Agape made a muffled whimper.

Then Bane remembered: she was vulnerable to heat. It melted her. That was the true thrust. He could withstand more than could the Citizen—but surely Agape could withstand less.

The Citizen was fat. The heat affected him quickly. Sweat broke out on his forehead. He removed his jacket.

Agape tried to remain firm, literally, but her flesh was already melting. She tried to be silent, but a moan overtook her.

What should he do? Bane knew that the Citizen would not relent. He wanted Bane’s cooperation, and he would gladly sacrifice Agape to obtain it. Yet if Bane cooperated, men he didn’t like and didn’t want to support would use him and Mach for their benefit.

Purple removed more clothing, baring himself to the underwear. “Sure is hot in here!” he remarked. Indeed, he looked most uncomfortable.

Bane realized that the man was doing it to show that there was no bluffing about the heat. If it had this effect on a living man, it was having worse effect on Agape’s less-solid tissue. Indeed, her face was becoming shapeless, and her breasts were sagging deeply.