The Mind Pool (43 page)

“Your wish is my command.” The lights came on again, but there was no sign of Skrynol. “Even if you had not brought him,” said the voice behind the silver screen, “someone else would have. It was absolutely necessary that I should meet him, and absolutely essential that I should
treat
him. Tatty Snipes, can you describe Esro Mondrian to me? How well do you know him?”

“As well as I know anyone!” But then some tone in Skrynol’s gentle voice made Tatty think again. She had not asked herself those questions for a long time. “He is the most intelligent and hard-working man that I have ever met,” she said at last. “But sometimes I wonder if I know him at all. Sometimes I think that he is genuinely fond of me. And sometimes I think that he is a monster, somebody who cares for no one and who will use anything and anyone for his own purposes.”

“Yet you are longtime lovers. And still you work for him!”

“I know.” Tatty’s laugh was harsh self-mockery. “You don’t need to tell me what a fool I am. It’s my own fault—but sometimes I think Esro can persuade me to do anything if he tries hard enough.”

“You do know him, very well. But there is one thing that perhaps you do not realize about him. Mondrian is in some ways the most valuable person in the solar system.
He is also the most dangerous human in the Stellar Group.
Esro Mondrian is the reason—the sole reason—that I am here on Earth.”

Tatty saw a monstrous shadow cast from behind the screen. Then a worse reality appeared, a gigantic stooped body shuffling forward on multiple jointed legs. She shrank back, as the Pipe-Rilla came slowly forward and squatted at her side.

“I have decided that I will gain nothing by concealing the truth from you.” Skrynol’s mild and cheerful voice did a lot to offset the Pipe-Rilla’s frightening appearance. “I know that you are afraid, but there is truly no reason for fear. I will not harm you. Come, Tatty Snipes, you are a brave woman and you know that we are a peaceful species. I need your help.”

Tatty stared at the long body crouching next to her. It had been strangely modified from the picture-book form, with fleshy forelimbs replacing the usual clawed ones. “I don’t see how I can possibly help you.”

“I do.” The tall body stretched higher and leaned away, sensing her discomfort at its closeness. “Let me at least describe to you the problem. The Stellar Group members have been studying the human species for centuries—as intensively as humans have I am sure been studying us. In each generation, we strive to identify those humans whom we believe have unique powers for good or evil. Our record of such behavior prediction is excellent, but occasionally we find an anomaly, a human being who seems a total enigma. Such an individual must be watched closely, so that the potential for harm is never realized. And in the case of Esro Mondrian, we have the extreme anomaly: a human of exceptional abilities, whose own compulsions are so strong that they could lead him to self-destruction. And far more than that. Those compulsions imply danger for the whole of the Stellar Group.”

“That’s ridiculous. I said I don’t understand him fully, and I don’t. But I’ll tell you one thing that I am sure of. Esro
likes
you—Pipe-Rillas, and Tinkers, and Angels.”

“I agree. It makes no difference. Mondrian is not a simple man. There are others, like Commander Brachis, who hate all aliens in a direct and predictable way. We can allow for that, plan for it, and live with it. Mondrian is far more difficult. He likes us, but in some ways he cannot
tolerate
us. At a deep level he cannot stand the threat that the Stellar Group represents to him.”

“How can you possibly be a threat to Esro?”

“We do not know. Mondrian remains a mystery, even after all my work with him. In such a situation, the human solution might well be that we must destroy him. But that avenue is not open to our kind. We must
help
Mondrian. We must find the source of that destructive drive, and we must eradicate it from him. That is where you can assist us.”

“You don’t understand. I’ve tried to help Esro—God knows I’ve tried. But I can’t
reach
him, really get through to him. He’ll never tell me what ails him.”

“If it makes you feel better, I too have been unable to penetrate that shield, although my whole life and training have been for just such a purpose. But in my sessions with Mondrian I have become sure of one thing: he is torn apart by conflicting drives. He has the capacity for love, but it is drowned by internal fear. He is obsessed by the escaped Morgan Construct. Do you know why?”

“The Construct has to be destroyed. He’s been working for that, night and day.”

“He has been working, yes. Work is his life. But did you know that Mondrian
originated
the program for the Constructs? It was begun at his initiative. When the escaped Construct became a danger to everything in the Stellar Group, the ambassadors reluctantly decided that it must be destroyed. I do not question their decision. But I know that the decision to leave
Esro Mondrian
in charge of the operation was an awful mistake. He
needs
the Construct.”

“He is trying to destroy it!”

“Is he? I am not so sure. Suppose he has been choosing pursuit teams to
control
the Construct, rather than kill it? I know this: Mondrian will never allow the last Construct to disappear, if there is any conceivable way to save it. He needs it in some urgent mode, far below the conscious levels of his brain. His need stems from the early experience for which I have been probing. Thanks to your work, I now know that it happened in Africa. But it lies so deep-rooted that I despair of reaching it. The
nature
of his torment remains hidden. The compulsion continues . . . unless you help me to bring its cause to light.”

“I already told you, I can do nothing with Esro.”

“I disagree. Permit me one question. He has used you, over and over. You are a person with strength and a considerable intellect. Why do you continue to help him, knowing that he will use and abuse you again?”

Tatty found to her surprise that she was crying. Salt tears mingled with sweat and ran down her cheeks onto her upper lip. “
I don’t know.
I suppose it’s because—because I have no one else. Without Esro, I have nothing. I have no one. He is all I have.”

“Possibly.” A soft forelimb came forward to stroke Tatty’s hair and dab at the tears on her cheeks. “But there is another explanation. Suppose that you stay
because you know that you are all that he has.
If not you, to whom would he turn for comfort? If not you, whom would he ask for help? You know that you love him. Ask yourself, do
you
want Mondrian
destroyed
?”

“No!” Tatty tried to sit up, but the bindings still restrained her. “I mean, I don’t know. Many times I’ve cursed him and wished him dead.”

“And always, you have relented. Always, you have been his support. If you really want to help Mondrian—and I have to tell you, it may be impossible, and already too late—then you must do the one thing that can make his treatment more effective:
Remove your support.
Tell him that it is all over, that he cannot come back to you and expect to be forgiven. Tell him that now he has
no one
!”

Skrynol reached forward and unclasped the bindings that held Tatty. She leaned forward, to place her open hands wearily to her face. “Suppose I did that? What good could it do him?”

“Perhaps it would do nothing. Perhaps he is past all help. But perhaps it would give me that little window, the chink of vulnerability that I need to treat him successfully. I admit it frankly: I am desperate, seeking any sort of lever. Your abandonment of him might provide it to me.”

Skrynol helped Tatty to her feet. She stood leaning against the giant skeletal figure. “Do you think it will succeed?”

“No, I do not. I believe that it will almost certainly fail.” The Pipe-Rilla gave an imitative human shrug of her narrow body. “But what choice do I have? Since it is the only course left to me, it
must
be attempted.”

Skrynol reached down to take Tatty’s hand, like an adult leading a small child. “Come. Let us away from here. If you are to have your confrontation with Mondrian, it must happen before he again leaves Earth.”

Tatty took a final look around the thiefhole as they moved on into stygian darkness. “Aren’t you going to tell me to keep this a secret? Suppose that I were to tell someone of this meeting. Wouldn’t it destroy all your plans?”

“Tell anyone.” Skrynol chuckled, but there was no humor in the cheerful voice. “You may tell anyone you like, Tatty Snipes. Who do you think would ever believe you?”

Chapter 32

Guard duty rosters were posted at the Sargasso Dump as a matter of principle. Nagging by the Dump’s computers allowed a few of those duties to be performed roughly as scheduled, but for the most critical functions—food, air supply, transportation, and safety—the guards were carefully excluded. They meant well, but most of them had long since lost all sense of time, urgency, or reliability.

So it was some other sense that brought the guards now to the great hemispherical dome of the Assembly Hall, and for half an hour they had been wandering in from all parts of the Dump. Luther Brachis would have been proud of them—and astonished. They came through the great master airlock with their dress uniforms neat, medals and insignia of office sparkling, and suit helmets newly polished. They took seats on rows of chairs facing the shrouded central platform, and waited without speaking.

Blaine Ridley sat alone at the control panel below the front of the platform. For the first time in weeks, his replacement eye was rolling and his jaw was working from side to side. He mirrored the excitement and anticipation of everyone in the hall.

At last he turned, and stared into the screened space behind him. He heard and saw nothing there.

But it was time.

His hand trembled as he pressed the button to roll away the metal screen. He had helped in the early phases, but the final body assembly had been done without him. For the past two days there had been no contact at all. If anything had gone wrong . . .

The screen vanished into the platform, and the overhead lights gleamed red. Within their fiery glow, M-26A came drifting forward. Blaine Ridley held his breath. Complete? No, more than complete. Perfect!

That is not so.
M-26A was moving to the front of the platform. Ridley felt the rebuttal at once within his mind. Did the same message go to all the others?

Behold.
Latticed wings lifted high above the rounded head, and the Construct slowly turned around.
I am as complete as perhaps I will ever be. But if I am perfect, then so also are you. For I am no more whole than you are. We share our imperfections . . . and our destiny.

The platform lights blazed to white. Around the hall all the guards were stirring, craning forward for a closer look. And suddenly it was obvious. What had seemed at first sight like a flawless, seam-free body showed cracks where pieces had been cannibalized from other Construct fragments. There were slight size differences between sections, and other small patches glazed or discolored by the heat of weapons. The luminous eyes of M-26A were as mismatched as Ridley’s own.

You see only my exterior. But as some of you will learn, my interior is no better. Yet I am ready, as you will be ready.
M-26A came forward, to the very front of the platform, and waved Blaine Ridley to stand.
Proceed.

Action took away nervousness. “We have researched all the stellar Link points within the solar system that can be reached through the local Link access in Sargasso.” Ridley could be heard by the other guards, but he was speaking to M-26A alone. “And we have confirmed what you predicted. Solar system security learned its lesson at Cobweb Station. The stellar Links are monitored closely. There is no way to reach one and activate it, before Security would move to act against it.”

And you are discouraged. That is natural. But it is not appropriate, for I anticipated this possibility. Did you find the person?

Ridley nodded. He had followed instructions, without understanding why. He walked six steps away from the platform and returned leading a slim, red-haired woman by the arm. She showed no sign of injuries, but she trembled continuously and hair grew only on the right side of her head.

“This is Gudrun Meissner. She was chief engineer on the
Coriolanus,
before the accident. Her record shows that she once had experience of every kind of Link equipment.”

Ascend, Gudrun Meissner, and come close.

“She cannot hear, or speak.” But as Ridley said the words, the woman stepped up unassisted onto the platform.

She is already hearing. Soon she will speak, and soon she will accomplish great things.
M-26A reached out its wing panels, and enclosed Gudrun Meissner within them. The luminous eyes stared into hers. After half a minute her trembling body quietened.

Now we are ready,
said the voice inside Blaine Ridley’s head.
Open the ceiling.

It was done with a single touch of Ridley’s finger on the control panel. The dark dome of the Assembly Hall cleared to an absolute transparency. A hundred faces peered upward, and saw against the starry background a hexagon of glowing blue. At its heart lay a concave star of moldering darkness, a shrunken and crude travesty of a Mattin Link chamber.

If we cannot make use of the solar system’s active stellar Link points, we must accept that fact. But this is Sargasso, where all things may be found.

M-26A drifted down from the platform, still holding Gudrun Meissner.

The Mattin Link was long in development, and it did not come at once to its present perfection. Behold one of the original units. It has been floating in the Dump for five hundred years, it is primitive, it is inactive, it is deemed without value. Yet, like other things judged valueless, it may work again to fulfill its destiny.

Suits closed!

That reflex lived on, even in the most damaged guard. Helmets were lifted into position and locked closed.