Dayworld Rebel by Philip José Farmer
He forgot about that while he was vomiting his breakfast. After rinsing out his mouth, drinking more water, blowing his nose, and wiping his eyes, he felt somewhat better. He lay down on a bed and closed his eyes. Though he had meant to explore the results of the session, he fell asleep at once. When he woke, it was noon. He drank some coffee and ate some crackers and cheese. At one o’clock, the guards came to conduct him to the swimming pool. Despite still having a headache and feeling as if every molecule in body and brain was rubbing together, he followed the routine. Near the end of the hour, he felt much better. He was able to voice two words to Snick during one of Cabtab’s bellyflops, and to the padre during one of hers.
“Tonight. Maybe.”
Carebara came at two o’clock. “I think we’re going to speed ahead now. It’s not scientific to believe so, but I have a hunch.”
“So much for your intuitive powers,” Duncan said. “I haven’t recovered yet from this morning. We’re skipping this afternoon’s.”
“No, we won’t,” Carebara said, glaring. “We’ve got momentum. We’re not going to lose it.”
“I can guarantee that you’ll be wasting your time and mine, besides making me sick,” Duncan said. “You won’t gain an inch unless I cooperate, and I won’t. If I’m back in shape by tonight, we can try then. Otherwise…”
Carebara bit his lower lip, wiggled his fingers, then said, “All right. We’ll cancel this one. But you must be ready for this evening. It’s very important.”
Because Immerman will be here? Duncan thought.
“I’ll take a long nap, use feedback to rid myself of the drug residues,” Duncan said. “I’ll try to be ready. But I think you’re overusing the drugs, Carebara. Maybe you should bring in somebody competent to administer them.”
The professor’s face reddened, but he said nothing. A few seconds later, he and the guards were gone.
Duncan went near enough to the window to see the view clearly but not near enough to darken the plastic. The sun shone brightly on the white sails of the pleasure boats and the various-colored freighters. It flashed on the scarlet fuselage of a zeppelin and on the solar panels of the towers. A white gull angled downward fifty feet past the window.
But escape is easier at night, he thought.
At six, Carebara called via a screen.
“The session is put off until eleven.”
“Why?”
“You don’t need to know.”
“Will Cabtab and Snick be here?”
“I can give you that data. Yes, they will. Orders.”
Duncan smiled. There could be only one reason for the change of schedule.
30
Panthea Snick was lying unconscious, TMed, on a sofa. Carebara was standing by her and saying, “Have you made a plan or plans for escaping by yourself from this apartment?”
“No.”
“Have you made a plan or plans with others to escape from this apartment?”
“Yes.”
Carebara looked delighted.
“With whom did you make the plan or plans to escape?”
“With William St.-George Duncan and with Padre Cobham Wang Cabtab.”
“Oh, God, I knew it, I knew it! But how did they do it without speaking to each other? Listen, Citizen Snick. Answer my question in full detail. In what manner, verbal, written, or by screen, or by any other method, did you, Cabtab, and Duncan communicate the plan?”
“Ahh!” Duncan said.
He awoke, his heart beating fast, though the panic was receding swiftly.
His nap had lasted no more than three minutes, but it had been long enough for his hindbrain to display the scenario he dreaded. If his captors were supercareful, they would use truth mist on his friends. And they would know what they must not know.
It was five minutes to 11:00 P.M. He would soon find out if all the security measures that Carebara could take had been taken. It seemed to Duncan, though, that the professor would not think of that extreme procedure. Why should he? Every movement and every word of the three prisoners had been seen and heard or, at least, their captors would believe that this was so.
At one minute to eleven, the door swung inward. Flatass and Stripes entered, guns in hand. The former took a station by the wall of the bathroom. Stripes stood by the side of the north door. Snick and Cabtab entered, followed by the professor. Good! They had not been questioned about escape plans.
Snick sat at the opposite end of the sofa on which Duncan sat. Cabtab lowered his giant body gently onto a chair near Duncan. There was a delay of a few seconds, and Ruggedo—Immerman—walked in. He wore an elegant green robe slashed with scarlet, which, with his closely cropped hair and long slightly curving nose, made him look like an ancient Roman senator. Behind him came Flapnose.
Thinlips and Shifty were probably in the monitor room. Or one of them was standing outside the door, which was now closed.
Immerman nodded at Duncan and took a chair facing the sofa and about eight feet from it.
Flapnose stationed himself about three feet to Immerman’s right. He stood with his arms hanging by his side; his gun was in its holster.
Carebara looked around for a few seconds as if he were not sure where he should sit or even if he should sit.
Immerman pointed and said, “Over there.”
“Thank you, Your Excellency,” the professor said. His face reddened, and he glanced at Immerman while crossing behind him. Though Immerman’s lips compressed, he said nothing. Evidently, no one was supposed to use his title while in the prisoners’ presence. Especially as that title was reserved for world government councillors.
Carebara would pay for that slip later.
Immerman stared at Duncan while his left hand stroked his stomach. A vision lightninged before Duncan, his grandfather holding a big Siamese sealpoint cat on his lap and petting it.
There was a long silence, then Immerman opened his mouth.
“Pardon me, Citizen Ruggedo!” Cabtab boomed. “Before we launch into the social amenities, may I have a drink? And would you like one?”
Immerman was slightly startled. He blinked, and he said, “You may get yourself one and you may get your friends one. I don’t care for any. But…”
He looked severe.
“…don’t interrupt again. Speak only when I tell you to.”
“I beg your pardon, Citizen Ruggedo. We’re under some strain, and I thought a little liquor would ease it.”
“Get the drinks,” Immerman said.
Cabtab stood up. “Dunc, Thea, what is your pleasure?”
“I’ll have a triple Wild Radical,” Duncan said.
“A glass of Tokay,” Snick said.
“Pardon me, Citizen Ruggedo,” Carebara said. “Won’t alcohol interfere with Citizen Duncan’s proper functioning under TM?”
“I doubt it,” Immerman said. “Anyway, that’s about the only drug you haven’t used on him. Perhaps his unconscious will be affected to our advantage.”
Whatever Immerman had meant to say, he was going to keep it to himself until Cabtab had served the drinks. He watched the padre as he walked to the liquor cabinet, a tall and elegantly carved teakwood case placed against the outer wall of the bathroom. When Cabtab had passed out of Immerman’s range of vision, Immerman looked steadily at Duncan. He had no trouble meeting his grandfather’s eyes, but he wanted to watch Cabtab, so he shifted his gaze back and forth. Let the great man believe that he could outstare his prisoner.
Thus far, the scene in The Martian Rebellion had been reenacted fairly closely. The furniture arrangement, though not exactly the same, was close enough. Immerman had allowed one of his prisoners to get up and go for liquor just as Nel in the movie had allowed Curleigh Estarculo Lu-Dan.
In the movie, the guard stationed near the cabinet had not moved away as Lu-Dan approached it. The guard, Flatass, however, took two steps away from the cabinet.
Stripes was still by the door, and Flapnose kept his station at Immerman’s right
Carebara cleared his throat and said, “Pardon me, Citizen Ruggedo. May I have a small glass of sherry?”
Immerman nodded. Flapnose said, “Cabtab, bring Citizen Carebara a—”
“I heard,” the padre said.
He opened a little door beneath the counter and brought out a tray. He placed four glasses on it and poured out the liquor from the bottles on the shelf above the counter.
“Don’t take all day,” Immerman said in a husky and dry voice.
“Yes, Citizen Ruggedo. However, I propose a toast first. To our success and to the God Who Does Not Yet Exist.”
Looking annoyed, Immerman turned his head and moved his body a little. “Don’t try my patience!” he said loudly.
“Sorry, Citizen,” Cabtab said. “With your vast indulgence…”
He raised his brandy tumbler, which was full of Duncan’s choice, Wild Radical.
“A toast! May right and virtue triumph!”
He tipped the glass, and his adam’s apple went up and down. He put his tumbler on the tray and turned to walk back across the room.
Duncan slid his buttocks forward on the sofa and moved his feet back so that he could raise his heels. His toes were pressed against the carpet, and his right hand was on the arm of the sofa.
He looked again at Immerman, and he said, “What do you intend to do with us after we’re no longer useful to you?”
He paused.
“Grandfather!”
Immerman jerked slightly; his eyes widened.
“You remember?”
Flapnose had looked at Immerman.
Duncan glanced at Cabtab.
The padre was walking by Flatass. His head turned, and he spat a mouthful of mash liquor at the guard’s eyes.
As in the movie, Duncan, reenacting Lawrence Bulbul Amir’s part, leaped up and ran at Immerman. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Snick charging toward Flapnose. The chief guard’s hand was on the butt of the holstered gun.
Duncan and Snick screamed to increase their captors’ confusion and to slow their reaction the fraction of a second needed.
Others were yelling, too.
Immerman had gotten up from the chair just as Duncan’s hands closed around his throat. He fell back, and the chair toppled over with Immerman against the chair and below Duncan. They rolled off the chair with his grandfather on top. Immerman, his face blue, tried to tear out Duncan’s eyes. Then he slumped, though he was not yet completely unconscious.
Duncan rolled away and had started to get to his feet when Carebara, shrieking, fell upon him. Both went down, but the professor stopped screaming and went limp. Blood dripped down the side of his head from the wound made by Snick’s gunbutt.
Snick, breathing hoarsely, said, “It’s over.” Then, “Oh, my God!”
Duncan rose shakily. Immerman was getting up. He groaned and fell on his face after Duncan kicked him in the neck.
Flapnose was on his back, his arms outstretched. His head was at an unnatural angle.
Duncan watched Snick as she ran across the room toward Cabtab’s prone body. He looked for Stripes and found her near the door, on her face, her gun some inches from her open hand. Cabtab had shot her after he had taken Flatass’s gun from him. But she must have risen from the floor and tackled Cabtab from behind. Stripes had managed to ray the padre while they were wrestling. Then Stripes, badly wounded by Cabtab’s shot, had fallen.
Duncan picked up Flapnose’s gun, readjusted the dial from stun to high-burn, and walked to the corner near the bathroom.
Snick, weeping, looked up at Duncan. “He’s dead!”
The beam had drilled through the padre’s left shoulder and cauterized the wound. Not enough. Much blood had spurted from it.
“We’ll mourn him later,” Duncan said. “The other two guards must have notified the servants and God know who else.”
He checked the other bodies. Carebara and Immerman were breathing hard. He did not care about the professor, but he had to have his grandfather alive and with a clear brain. With the spray-can of truth mist taken from Carebara’s bag, Duncan squirted the violet cloud onto their faces.
“Stripes, Flatass, and Flapnose are dead,” Snick said. “Flatass’s neck is broken. The padre must’ve done it before he died.”
“You broke Flapnose’s neck, too.”
“Yes.”
They had Immerman as a hostage, but the guards could see and hear everything in this room. Whether he and Snick could overcome this great disadvantage remained to be seen.
“It went according to script,” he said. “Only… Lu-Dan didn’t die in the movie.”
“Rewritten,” she said. She laughed harshly. Duncan tensed, waiting for the laughter to become hysterical. She stopped it, and she began picking up the guns and removing extra charges from the pockets of the guards. When she had arrayed the weapons on a table and put the cylinders in the pockets of her robe, she handed him six charges.
“We don’t need Carebara,” she said, pointing at the professor.
“No, we won’t kill him. We might need him.”
The screen display indicated that four minutes had passed since Immerman had entered the room.
He gestured at her to follow him. When he was just inside the bathroom doorway, he stopped and turned. She halted outside the doorway so that she could watch the main door to the apartment.
“If their word was any good,” he said softly, “there are no screens in the bathroom. You’re blocking the screen behind you above the window. When you answer me, stick your head into the doorway just long enough to speak. Make it short. Here’s what we have to do. We’ll bring Immerman in here, and I’ll close the door. You guard while I’m questioning him. For now, all I want from him is the layout of the apartment and the number of people in it. Also, the rooms they sleep in, and any codes that might be useful to us. I’ve got some other questions for him, big ones, but they’ll have to wait. We must clear this place out and find out if any calls have been made to get outside help. Any questions?”
“Immerman?”
“Ruggedo’s real name. Give you the details later. I’ll carry him here. You guard that door. Yell if they bust in.”
Duncan wasted no time. Though he did not know if the man was still comatose because of his injuries or had recovered from them, he began the interrogation. Apparently, Immerman would now be conscious if he had not been sprayed with TM. He responded at once, though weakly.
It took more time than he could afford, but a TMed person would not give requested data as if he were telling a story, would not, as it were, “spill his guts.” He had to be led step by step. Nevertheless, Duncan got the arrangement of the rooms and the number of people stationed in the complex. Thinlips, whose name was Singh, and Shifty, whose name was Bottlejay, had been standing watch in the monitor room. The two servants, the woman named Pal and the man named Wisket, were or had been in their room.
Immerman had left Zurich two hours before on a government express rocket, had landed at Starshower Field, and had ridden in a small organic aircraft to the top of the tower. A door in the roof had opened at a radio-transmitted code, and the craft had landed in the hangar room. This was next to the main hallway, along which were other apartments—of other very high government officials, Duncan supposed—and was in the northeast corner of Immerman’s apartment. The pilot, Wayne, was in the hangar or in the kitchen and was armed.
A world councillor, Immerman could skip the regular stoning times when he thought it was necessary, and he could ignore the time zones that restricted most citizens during travel.
Duncan stuck his head out of the bathroom and gestured to Snick to stand close to the doorway. He whispered his information to her, and she whispered it back to him so that he could be sure she understood the apartment layout. He went to Carebara’s little bag and looked through it until he found a syringe and a bottle of sodium pentothal. Since he did not know how to prepare it to rend
The pentothal, combined with the TM, would keep the two out for about forty-five minutes. Immerman, being much larger, would probably regain consciousness first. A few minutes earlier did not matter. Duncan hoped to be back before either awoke.
He spoke to Snick again from the bathroom doorway.
“I got the override code for the lights, sound, and monitors from Immerman. He’s a cautious bastard. He’s the only one who has all the codes for complete control of all the electrical equipment here. Just in case he had to make a quick getaway.”
“That’ll help us.”
“Yes. I turned off the lights and all sound detectors except the receiver I need to control the power. The infrared is off, too. His people have IF view-equipment.”
Duncan stepped out and spoke to the nearest wall screen. The code, the opposite of an “Open, 0 sesame!” resulted immediately in darkness. Now the monitors could neither see his room nor hear any sounds from it. They would, he supposed, not be wrapped in black for long. He had asked Immerman if there were flashlights available to his personnel, and he had replied that there were. They would be groping toward the cabinets holding these.
The exit door of his room was situated directly across from the storage room for food. This had no door opening to the hallway. The kitchen was just south of that, which meant that one or more people would be there, waiting for the prisoners to come out of their room. One of the guards’ living quarters was just north of the storage room; its hallway door was ten feet north from Duncan’s. Just north of the monitor room was the second guards’ living quarters, and it had a hallway door. The final room was the guards’ recreation area. This had no hallway door.
There were two women and three men out to get him and Snick. Singh, Bottlejay, Pal, Wisket, and Wayne. They could be stationed at any or all of the doorways on the east side. And some could be waiting in the entrances to Cabtab’s room, just north of Duncan’s room, or in Snick’s, just north of Cabtab’s, or in the storage room opposite the guards’ recreation facility. If he were in command of the enemy, he would put at least two persons in the rooms directly north of his.