Part 13 (1/2)
”Anything on the screens?”
”There's enough mush to write a love lyric but nothing which is identifiable with Dalroi. There's some extremely broad-band interference chewing into our circuits somewhere. Effectively we're blind. If that's Dalroi he's got some rare tricks up his sleeve.”
”That's Dalroi all right, and I don't imagine we've seen all of his tricks yet. Upgrade the alert to yellow imperative, and be prepared for anything. The next half hour could be decidedly rough.”
”What about the A.F.I. projectors?”
”Turn them off. We don't want to burn him on the way in. Only if he tries to go out again.”
Silence for long seconds. ”Too late,” said Korch, just a hint of hysteria in his voice. ”The A.F.I.'s just fused. Load resistance died somehow. The magnetrons went up like fireworks. h.e.l.l, are you sure you know what you're doing, letting Dalroi in here?””I don't think I could stop him even if I wanted to. You're sure that everyone knows what to do?”
”Positive. I've checked them through it half a hundred times. Dalroi comes in but he doesn't go out again.
If he does it'll be over a big pile of dead bodies.”
”Don't joke,” said the Monitor. ”It could even happen that way. Give me the full range of video pick-ups in the cells, I want to ... h.e.l.l!”
”What's the matter?”
”The girl, Zen, she's still in the cells with the others. There's no sense in her getting a dose of X47 too.
How much time do you reckon I've got?”
”If Dalroi's only just through the A.F.I. range I'd say about four minutes. The Devil take all blind personnel-detecting instruments!”
”I'm going down to get the girl out,” said the Monitor. ”Signal me if he gets too close before I'm through.
I'll leave my communicator open so we can compare notes.”
”Check!” Korch closed his eyes. He did not like last minute rearrangements.
By the time the Monitor arrived the doors of the individual cells had been opened and the prisoners had congregated in the wide pa.s.sage that led through the cell area. There was no doubt that they took this as a sign of their impending release and they came forward eagerly when the main doors broke open to admit the Monitor. But when the great doors sealed behind him the atmosphere grew electric.
”Something's happening,” said Cronstadt. His face was a shade of grey from the contagious fear. ”You're expecting some sort of trouble.”
”I'm expecting Dalroi,” said the Monitor tonelessly, ”and that tends to have the same effect. I don't know what he wants, but I suspect it's a little spectacular vengeance. If anyone here has anything on his conscience he'd better figure out a few good explanations. Dalroi in a vengeful mood doesn't bear thinking about.”
”You're letting him come in?” asked Cronstadt. Fear and disbelief stood high on his face.
”Frankly I don't have any way to stop him.”
”Speed it up!” Korch's urgent voice came over the communicator. ”I guess he's nearly here by now.
Things are too d.a.m.n silent.”
The Monitor started to say something then thought better of it. He caught Zen by the arm.
”You'd better come out of here. For the next half an hour anything goes. Dalroi's after the blood of one of these idiots and I'd sooner watch it on the screen than in person. You're not involved. We'd better get out of here before that rampant boy friend of yours starts tearing the whole b.l.o.o.d.y place apart.”
Zen stood her ground. ”Take your hands off me! I'll take my own chances. You're as much involved as anyone in what's happened to Dalroi. Suppose he starts looking for you?”
”Speed it up,” said Korch. ”Something's starting to happen.”
The Monitor had no use for finesse. He chopped Zen savagely with his hand and swung the sagging body over his shoulder. As they pa.s.sed through the door the solenoids clamped down, locking the slab with anominous finality, leaving Cronstadt, Presley, the Ombudsman and Hildebrand looking at each other with mutual unquiet.
The Monitor signalled the guards to abandon the cell area. He set the trips in the recess wherein lay the cylinder of X47 neurogas and its attendant controllers, then turned to go up the stairs. As he did so pandemonium broke out. The speaker system cut in with a string of conflicting orders which terminated in a shout. In the background somebody was screaming with hysteria. The Monitor's face paled. The men who were breaking down were seasoned Black Knights, conditioned to the toughest deeds and scenes.
Whatever they had contacted had broken mind and spirit with singularly shattering effect. Nothing had any right to be as horrific as that.
”Korch! For Christ's sake what's going on up there?”
Korch was almost incoherent. ”My G.o.d! Oh my G.o.d! He suddenly appeared ... and he's burning ... My G.o.d! He's all on fire.”
”h.e.l.l!” said the Monitor. ”Don't you crack up on me.”
”I tell you he's burning. I never saw a living man on fire before. G.o.d, I feel giddy!”
The Monitor cut the connection impatiently and pressed on up the stairs. As he reached the landing a wave of giddiness. .h.i.t him too. He threw it off with a puzzled frown and continued for five more paces before his sense of balance went haywire and the floor rushed up to meet him. He fell heavily, instinctively cus.h.i.+oning Zen's head as they hit the ground.
Cursing wildly he sat up and nearly overbalanced until his fingers contacted the wall. He gripped tightly to the corner of a panel and tried to a.n.a.lyse the situation. The corridor appeared to be revolving wildly. He felt he was on a mad merry-go-round with himself at the centre point. He knew that something was affecting both his eye muscles and his sense of balance. The swinging, s.h.i.+fting disorientation tied his stomach into knots and filled him with a profound nausea. He tried crawling, but the floor seemed to buck and twist beneath him so alarmingly that he had to rest every few seconds to rea.s.sure himself that he was in no danger of being spun helplessly down the corridor by centrifugal force.
The communicator fell from his pocket and clattered to the floor. In recovering it he thumbed the b.u.t.ton and Korch's voice came in chanting: ”Burning ... Burning ... Burning!”
TWENTY-ONE.
It said much for the discipline of his training that the Monitor was still capable of logical thought.
Something was affecting them all, and, with Dalroi in the vicinity, it was certainly no casual misfortune.
The question was, how was it done. Carving arcs above his head was a ventilator louvre. That made sense! He moved himself giddily out of the immediate air-stream and the whirl-around grew slightly less.
He even climbed to his knees without falling, though the gyrations still spun the usefulness from his eyes and limbs. Whatever it was, then, it was coming in through the ventilator shafts. A logical move where one wished to paralyse an entire underground installation. Only ...
This revealed the strength of Dalroi's hand with a shattering clarity. The air conditioning plant was equipped with batteries of filters, electro-static precipitators, scrubbers, charcoal beds, UV sterilisers, low-temperature condensers and every device that science could provide to ensure that what was happening could not possibly occur. In some way Dalroi had contrived a method to make molecules, indistinguishable from those of normal air, which would carry the seeds of this gross disorientation through the most critical of treatment plants. The hair p.r.i.c.kled on the back of the Monitor's neck. He hadgrossly underestimated Dalroi's capabilities.
”How can a man burn?” asked Korch plaintively through the communications set. ”All going round!”
”Shut up!” said the Monitor. ”I have to think. Do you suppose there's a fit man anywhere in the place?”
Korch said nothing so the Monitor drew his own conclusions. Things were working out all wrong, catastrophically wrong. He tried the communicator again.
”Where's Dalroi now?”
”He's coming down and ... G.o.d, you should see the way he's burning!”