Mute (3 page)

“You perused them pretty well in your office.” But she finally let go his hand and fished in her bosom, bringing out an ID disk on a neck-chain. She faced him so as to bring the disk close to him, and held it up beside her face. The illumination came on, showing the holograph of her head, with her name, code and position. She was a legitimate Coordination Computer Auditor.

“CC?” he exclaimed, distracted from the physical credentials that were again in view below the legal ones. “You’re from off-world?”

“Naturally. Did you think I was a back-planet girl?”

This was a new dimension. He had assumed she was a Planet Nelson representative. Yet it was hardly possible to counterfeit such IDs; only the Computer staff commanded the authority and technology. In addition, he noticed now, she had the forearm tattoo pattern of a space traveler. This was a galactic audit!

“Satisfied?” Finesse inquired with another sunny smile.

“No. Since when does a galactic auditor hold hands with the auditee?”

“Was I holding hands with the whole enclave?” she asked with mock alarm.

“The enclave is innocent of this particular crime. I represent the enclave administration, and that is what you are auditing, I presume. But you hardly need to play up to me; you can have me fired if I do not cooperate with you in every way.”

“True,” she agreed sweetly, taking his hand again. “Why do you resist?”

Why, indeed?
he thought.
You are begging for seduction, and unless you are a nymphomaniac, this is too suspicious to be accepted.
And he almost imagined be heard an answer:
Smart man!

“I am not so naive as to believe that an attractive normal woman representing CC itself prefers to dally with a mutant.”

“Some normals have perverse tastes.”

She said it lightly, but the remark chilled him. Some normals did indeed have abnormal inclinations. They had a twisted fascination for deformity. The strange aspects of mutants turned these normal people on sexually. Yet many mutants were so eager for the attention of normals that they would put up with the most extreme indignities for it. If Finesse were a person of power with the taste for perversion, she could make things extremely difficult for him. He did not like perversion—but his enclave was hostage for his behavior, and he would have to do whatever she demanded.

This was, of course, exactly the sort of leverage he exerted against incoming mutant females that attracted him. Knot could appreciate the irony of it, that a woman he had at first taken for a mutant was now putting him in this position. No doubt he deserved it. Fortunately, he had a special resource. He could manage.

“A penny for your thoughts,” she said.

“A genuine Earth-type ancient bronze coin?”

“Of course not. They’re collector’s items. Rarity has made them appreciate so inordinately in value that they are now actually worth their face amount. Would you accept another kiss instead?”

What
was
this? “Do I have a choice?”

“You’re avoiding the issue.”

“You play with fire. How do you know I won’t take you into the wilderness, rape you, and drop your body in a bog, never to be found again?”

“What, never?”

“Once a body is mired, it can remain for millennia. Old Earthly fossils, dinosaurs, were found—”

“No decent bogs here, according to the geography I checked.”

“There are things here that the geography does not dream of.” All too true, as she must know.

“Then I suppose I should answer your question.” She brought out another disk. “I have an alarm bleeper. You would not be too thrilled if I set it off before you were through.”

Knot nodded soberly. Actually, any threat to an auditor would create enormous mischief. His question had been an expression of petulance rather then any real threat, and she knew it. She could play with him as she wished, with virtual impunity. That was exactly what she seemed inclined to do.

“You can have it,” she said, handing him the disk.

Yes, she was playing with him. She was cocksure. Bye and bye, in his own fashion, he would play with her. She was not dealing with an ordinary patsy, this time. Her experience on other worlds gave her confidence that was not necessarily warranted.

The route, as he had warned, was devious and difficult. The leadmuter was supposed to be an enclave secret, and was well hidden out of the way. They had to climb a rocky escarpment, wedge through a thick tangle of brush, and wade through a cold stream.

“You’re right,” Finesse said. “I would have been better off without clothes.”

“Except for the brambles,” he agreed. “It grows easier once we pass the brushland. Then you may take off your clothes if you wish to.”

“I may. Is this terrain comfortable for the leadmuter?”

“No. Fortunately he doesn’t have to experience it. He works in a cave.”

“I didn’t know this was cave country.”

“It isn’t, according to your geography.”

“You rather fascinate me.”

“Mutual, I’m sure.”

She turned her sweetly tousled face toward him, brushing a tress out of her eyes. “I have given you every opportunity, but you haven’t taken advantage of me yet. Are you normally this slow, or are you unconscionably shy?”

“I wouldn’t want that alarm to bleep.”

“You have charge of it!” she protested, her bosom heaving enticingly.

“A voice-activated device keyed to your voice? I merely hold it; I don’t control it.”

“But you left it the other side of the river,”

Knot patted his pockets. “I must have dropped it.”

“That was the most gentle drop I ever watched. Were you afraid of breaking it?”

She was one hideously perceptive female. He had not spied her watching him. “Some of these things go off when broken,” he admitted. “That could have been awkward.”

“So you were setting me up—but you haven’t made your move. Or did I miss it?”

“These things do take time.”

“You must have remarkably easygoing reflexes.”

“The flesh is willing, but the spirit is cautious.”

“You don’t trust me,” she complained.

“Well, you did warn me about auditors.”

She laughed, “So I did. I didn’t mean you to take it so to heart.”

“I trust you to do your business. I’m not sure what that business is.”

“You have a microscopic memory. I’m an auditor.”

Knot felt a chill. Why her reference to memory? “Fortunately, I’m
not
an auditor. I don’t need to entrap anyone.” She drew on his arm. “Did I offend you? I apologize and offer to make delicious amends.”

“No offense,” he said quickly. He had the growing feeling that he was fencing with someone of greater skill than his own.

“But you reacted.” She turned a beautifully innocent gaze on him. “Knot, I don’t want it to be negative between us. What did I say to hurt you?”

“We mutants can be very sensitive about our abnormalities, in the presence of normals.” That wasn’t it, but he was most concerned that she not catch on to his real worry.

“Six-four fingers? That’s hardly enough to notice. I’m sure
I
haven’t noticed.”

“Obviously.” He had to smile, relaxing. She was on the wrong track. “Here is the cave.”

“Already? We were just getting warmed up.”

“There’s always the return trip. I know a longer, more scenic route.”

“Oh? I thought you distrusted my motive.”

“I do. So I had better ascertain what it is before letting you go.”

“That’s more like it.” She peered into the cave. “Is it safe?”

“Should be. It has endured for thousands of minutes.”

“You hollowed out a whole cave, just to hide your project?”

“Well, it isn’t easy to hollow out half a cave.”

She delivered a reproving glance. She was so cute it was hard for him to keep properly in mind that she was extremely hazardous to his welfare. “The leadmuter did it, before we tuned him in to lead. He changed the rock to lead because the metal was denser and occupied less space than ordinary material. He hollowed out quite a chamber, entertaining himself.”

“I don’t understand. You said he did this before he learned about lead, yet—”

“He turned ordinary rock to lead, at first. Then it occurred to us that if he could do that, he might in turn convert the lead to something even more dense. So we persuaded him to change his lead to gold, almost twice as compact. That pleased him, because it gave him more room in his cave with less debris. Then we started using the gold for our artwork—the enclave has a number of fine sculptors and other artisans—so we did him the additional favor of hauling the gold out of his way. That keeps his cave entirely clean, so he’s happy. We tuned him into lead as a raw material, instead of as a product.”

“Lead transmuted into gold,” Finesse murmured. “No wonder your enclave is self-sufficient.”

“Oh, we don’t sell much of the gold,” Knot hastened to assure her. “We do trade some of it for other things we need.”

“Barter,” she agreed. “Avoiding discovery and taxation.”

“Until now,” he agreed glumly.

“Not to mention the matter of concealing a viable psi-mute in an enclave allocated for phys-mutes.”

“Not to mention,” he agreed again. This was real trouble. Fortunately, he had his way to alleviate it—provided he was able to play his trump effectively.

They entered the cave. They rounded a bend in it, and the passage opened into a pleasant chamber. There was none of the moisture or dirt associated with a natural cave; this was even and clean and dry. A normal-seeming man sat on a crude throne made of solid gold, concentrating on an ingot of lead before him. He gave no sign of being aware of the intruders.

“He is almost deaf and blind,” Knot said. “And feebleminded. He was not very happy until we arranged this occupation. Now all his needs are provided for, and he is left alone most of the time. He lives for his work; he gets a thrill from a challenging transmutation. But all he knows now is lead, as origin or product. It would be a shame to take him away from this. He really doesn’t belong in psi-mute facilities.”

“I can appreciate that,” Finesse said dryly. She walked around the cave as though about to move into it as an apartment, her eyes taking note of the crude blocks of lead at one side, the crude blocks of gold at the other. A compact, sturdy cart stood on a steel track in an alcove. “What’s this?”

Knot walked across. He put his arms around the nearest block of gold and heaved it up, his right arm doing three quarters of the work. It was about the size of a four-liter container, called a gallon locally, but it weighed as much as Knot himself did. He took one staggering step and eased it into the cart, slowly extricating his pinched fingers.

The weight started the cart on its way. “That will roll to our metal shop; it’s downhill from here,” he said, flexing his arms to alleviate the cramp caused by the effort. He could have handled the weight more readily, had both arms been of equal size and strength; but he wasn’t really sure his build was a disadvantage. Most normals were right handed, too; it just wasn’t as extreme.

“You do have a notion what a gallon of gold is worth?” Finesse asked. “Maybe seventy kilograms in that one block—”

“The earnings of a normal’s lifetime,” Knot said “But you have to understand, it takes our leadmuter several hours to convert that amount, and he is tired afterward.”

“Tired!” she snorted. She looked at the man again. He had not moved. His head was supported by his hands, and a small string of drool dangled from his flaccid lips. The block of metal before him seemed smaller than before; it was changing to gold.

“Can he transmute anything to anything,” she asked. “I mean, were he trained appropriately?”

“We don’t know. He prefers the heavier metals, and it is not easy to change his program. It took several months to shift him from lead-as-product to lead-as-origin. The gold is worth enough to stay with, I think.”

“It is not for you to decide. The leadmuter must be registered with the Coordination Computer.”

“Who will take him away from us, to no advantage to him, us, or CC.”

“The law is the law,” she said firmly.

Knot sighed. “Do you realize the removal of this source of income will put our enclave into the red?”

“Surely an executive of your ability will find ways to make up the difference. Most mutant enclaves operate in the red, after all; it is no colossal shame.”

“But we’re the best enclave, no burden on the economy of our planet. We want to stay that way.”

“Solvency that is attained by illegal means is much the same as thievery.” She looked again at the little set of tracks. “I don’t suppose we could take the cart back?”

“Unsafe,” Knot assured her. “Besides, we must pick up your alarm bleeper before it gets lonely and sets itself off.”

“It’s a dummy.” But she moved toward the exit passage.

He followed her out. Obviously she was still teasing him—but why? She had verified what she had come for: the presence of an unregistered mental mutant. There would be hell to pay, for the enclave’s concealment of this asset was a crime against the Coordination Computer, which was the effective executive branch of the human government of the galaxy. She could reasonably expect to face a desperate man in Knot. Why should she leave herself open to persuasion or threat?

Knot distrusted this, but decided he had better play along.

He needed to know what this too-attractive and too-devious auditor was really up to. Naturally she had sufficient means of self defense; there would be no physical coercion possible, even if that happened to be his style. It was not his style, not by a parsec. It was time he let her reel him in.

“You mean I could have laid hands on you any time with impunity?” he asked, as though none of his private thoughts had occurred.

“That depends.” She selected a hummock and sat down on it. She reached into a pocket and brought out what seemed to be a small ball. “This is Mit,” she said, holding it in the palm of her hand. “Hold him.”

Knot took Mit. Mit was an ornate shell, of the kind found in oceans, curled into a tightening spiral of nacreous hue, with a shiny pink lip around the opening. “A very pretty conch,” he said. “I like it. Is the ocean audible?” He lifted it toward his ear.