Part 26 (1/2)

Kelexel began to remember, from Fraffin productions, the native problems involving various liquors. It was all true, then. Real, as Ruth would say.

”'S a dirty world,” she said. ”Y' s'pose we're part of a story? They shootin' us with their d.a.m.n cameras?”

What a hideous idea, Kelexel thought. But there was a strange sense of verity in her words. The dialogue carried some of the surface characteristics of a Fraffin story.

In this moment, Kelexel had to remind himself that creatures such as Ruth had lived long (by their standards) in dreams that Fraffin wove. Not exactly dreams, though, because Chem spectators could enter the story world, too. In a sudden burst of insight, Kelexel realized he had entered the world of violence and emotion which Fraffin had created. Entering that world, he had been corrupted. To share the native delusions if only for a moment was to be enslaved by the need for more such corruption.

Kelexel wanted to tear himself away from this room, renounce his new pet, return only to his duty. But he knew he couldn't do that. Knowing this, he wondered what particular thing had trapped him. No answer came to his searching awareness.

He stared at Ruth.

These natives are a dangerous flame, he thought. We don't own them! We're their slaves!

Now, his suspicions were fully aroused. He stared around the room. What was it? What was wrong here?

He found nothing of this moment and this place upon which he could focus his educated suspicions. This of itself touched a deep chord of anger and fear in him. He felt that he was being played with, led about. Was Fraffin playing with him? The s.h.i.+p's people had suborned four previous Investigators of the Bureau. How? What plans had they for his own person? Surely they knew by now he was no ordinary visitor. But what could they possibly do?

Not violence, certainly.

Ruth began to cry, the sobs shaking her shoulders. ”All alone,” she muttered. ”All alone.”

Was it the native female? Kelexel wondered. Was she the bait in the trap?

There could be no certainty in a secret battle of this land. You contended, one against the other, but every struggle occurred beneath a deceptively calm surface, hidden behind polite words and civilities and ritual behavior. The struggle went on and on within an intimate arena where no violence could be permitted.

How can they hope to win? Kelexel asked himself.

Even if they bested him, they must know there'd be other Kelexels. It would never end.

Never.

Never.

Awareness of an endless future broke like waves across the reef of his mind. On this path lay the Chem madness, Kelexel knew. He drew back from such thoughts.

Ruth got up, stood looking down at him unsteadily.

Savagely, Kelexel adjusted the manipulator. Ruth stiffened. The skin rippled on her cheeks and forearms. Her eyes glazed over. Abruptly, she turned, ran for the water basin in the corner. She leaned on it, retching.

Presently, she returned to her chair, moving as though pulled by strings. Distantly in her mind, a tiny kernel of awareness cried out: ”This is not you doing these things! These things are being done to you.”

Kelexel held up his flagon, said: ”With such things as this your world fascinates and attracts us. Tell me, with what does your world repel?”

”It isn't a world,” she said, her voice shaky. ”It's a cage. This is your own private zoo.”

”Ahhh, hmmm,” Kelexel said. He sipped at his drink, but it had lost its savor. He put the flagon on the table. There were wet circles there where he had put the flagon before. He looked at them. The female was becoming resistant, obstinate. How could that be? Only the Chem and an occasional mutant were immune to such pressures. Even the Chem wouldn't be completely immune without Tiggywaugh's web and the special treatment they received at birth.

Again, he studied Ruth.

She returned his stare defiantly.