Biological Revolt (rtf) Read online

  "Well, you have," said Ogtate. He smacked his lips as if his mouth tasted bitter.

  Smith stood up. There was a strong light behind him. The pulsing of his green-blue bloodstreams and the slow squeezing of his intestines showed dimly, as in a fog. You could never accuse Smith of being thick-skinned.

  Smith talked from behind a two-foot-long, ele­phantine trunk and a fleshy, walrus mustache. From time to time little spearheaded teeth showed in his mouth. There were two rows that moved sidewise in opposite directions. Here was the original living meatgrinder. "Do you have any cigarettes on you?" he asked, his voice amplified by the large throat-sac hang­ing from his neck. "If your visitor is female, I may be in the ship for quite a while. I haven't any smokes down there."

  "I'm sorry I taught you to enjoy tobacco," said Ogtate as he tossed a package.

  The Martian caught it in his trunk and walked to the corner. There he lifted the rug, opened a trap-door, and climbed through it. Ogtate replaced the rug and walked to the front of the house.

  When he saw the woman, he clung to the sides of the door. "Lord," he said, "I thought at first you were Barbara."

  "I am Barbara," she answered. She had a beau­tiful smile. "I'm Major Barbara Killison. I'm a doc­tor. I understand you're sick."

  "So that's the way the wind blows, is it?" he snarled. "How dumb do they think I am? Sure, I was sick and will be again. But I'm not so far out of my head that I don't know when I'm being played for a fall guy."

  "May I come in?" she asked coolly. She marched straight at him. He had to let her in or else block her body. At the last moment, he stepped aside and watched her put her bag on a table, open it and take out a stethoscope. "Would you mind unbuttoning sour shirt?"

  "That, too? Sure, I'll take off everything. That's what they put you up to, isn't it?"

  "I may have to give you a complete examination." He laughed loudly. "Come on, Killison. Let's not be coy. I know that Old Fox Yewliss is bent on forcing the Belos from me. I know how his mind works. He submits a list of facts, or supposed facts, about my life to the Comprob. `What says the Coruprob?' he asks. And it answers that if he wants the secret, send some one who can seduce it front me. A Delilah to clip the long-haired Samson. Get a girl who looks like his wife. He'll like that; he's very much in love with her. Have her be a doctor. If all else fails, she can bat her lashes over her big blue eyes and say shell make the sacrifice. She'll allow herself to be aspated and share his lonely life. Together, two against the world, they'll walk hand in hand into the setting sun and make beautiful music together. There's only one catch in the whole plan. I won't follow it."

  "I wish I knew everything, too," she replied calmly.

  He held out his arm, fist clenched, blue vein ready for the needle. "Go ahead, I have been sick. You just now caught me in one of my healthier moods."

  "There's hope for you. You're certainly not apa­thetic. Angry people are on the road to recovery."

  "Time is the only thing that will cure my anger. I have eight years to live in this mobile prison. If I decide to stick it out, that is . . ."

  She shot a look from under lowered lids to see if he were bidding for sympathy. Catching it, he sneered. She wondered if he thought the glance was one of coquetry. Flushing despite herself, she took the blood sample and then walked to the table where she set up her rack of tubes and several tiny machines.

  "If you want to, you may use my lab," he said. "It's very large, set up at Government expense." "May I?" she asked.

  "Go ahead. It's the last door to the left at the end of the hall."

  Glad that he wasn't going with her, she said, "Thank you," and walked down the long, deserted cor­ridor. A feeling came to her that he was watching. She sensed his eyes roving her hips. She tried to modify their sway, for she knew very well that her walk aroused men. She couldn't help it; she was born with the talent. Nevertheless, for some reason, she now felt self-conscious. His eyes were feverish, skimming the goose-pimples on her skin.

  When she entered the lab, she stopped short and gasped. It was a mess: broken glass and torn books and stinking liquids littered the floor. Even a shatterproof window bore spiderweb streaks where he'd struck it. Dried blood stained one corner of it.

  The damage didn't matter. She went to the lab for privacy. A flick of the toggle on the wristbox and a syllable reached Yewliss at once.

  "Yew, what have you been feeding this man?"

  "What?"

  "Somebody's tampered with his food. It's no wonder he suffers recurrent fevers. I found enough pyretigen in his blood to send an elephant to bed."

  "All right," came his deep voice, somewhat tinny through the receiver. "I could pretend innocence. I won't. The Comprob estimated that a fever would bring him even closer to the breaking point. His mother nursed him through three attacks of a fever while he was vacationing as a child in India. So I gave him an artificial temperature. It won't hurt him."

  "Yew, if this gets out, you'll be disgraced!"

  "I know it. Babs, don't be mad. I don't like to be dramatic-" he paused when she laughed-"but the fate of humanity depends on Ogtate. I'd do anything -even give up you, much as I love you-to get the Belos. Time is short; our scientists are working furi­ously to duplicate the Belos principle, but without success so far. No, Babs. What I'm doing-how many men you know would dare it? Remember, this is for you, too."

  She shook. "That may be true, but I don't want anyone to violate another's free will like that. Not even for the world. Or for me."

  His voice was anger-stippled. "Sure, I know it vio­lates everything you were taught. But I'm a congenital sceptic. The stuff they injected me with never `took'.

  If I have a goal, I reach it. That's the motto of my world, Callisto. A damn good thing for Earth, too. Do you realize that a large percentage of top officers of the military come from outlying satellites? They're the only ones who aren't afraid to command others ... Never mind. No time for that. Has anything in­teresting happened? Do you like Ogtate?"

  She cried, "I don't think I like either of you!" and she flicked off the toggle.

  8

  Bill Ogtate watched Barbara walking down the hall. A new, different fever ran through him. When he thought of her, the pit of his belly flamed. Breath­ing hard, he walked into the library, locked the door, and flicked on the wall-viso. The screen showed the pilot-room of a spaceship buried in mud beneath the floating-dock on the west side of Lemon's Island. Smith had reached it through an underground, un­derwater passage constructed for the use of the ec­centric who had ordered the island built.

  Smith, or, if you preferred, Ixtrungszb, stared at him with solid green-blue eyes. His trunk lifted, and the sidewise-grinding rows of teeth showed through his mustache. He stuck a cigar in his mouth and blew smoke-rings through the trunk, a feat the human much admired. "Bill, what's the matter?"

  The man's voice trembled. "I think you're going to get your answer within the next few hours," he said.

  The Priami removed his cigar. "Ah, the female is the catalyst."

  "Yes. I'm going to decide, one way or the other. She'll have to leave by this morning or else stay for eight years."

  Smith blew surprise through his trunk. "I, of course, am unable to judge her beauty, since I have quite different standards. I see she's affected you very much."

  "It's far from being that simple. I'm weary of life. She has appeared at the psychological moment."

  Smith expelled more smoke through his waving proboscis and said. "Well, Bill, I'll stick to my prom­ise. If you decide to give the Belos to Earth and not to us, I’ll not kill you or kidnap you. I'll just take back the message. But I hope for the sake of uni­versal peace that your answer is favorable."

  Gloomily, the man said, "I do too, Smitty," and turned the visor off. He knew the Martian didn't lie. He had put him under the eegie while questioning him.

  As he left the library, he met Killison coming down the hall. She said nothing about the wreckage in the lab, but set her kit
back on the table. He mo­tioned toward the lab and said, "I won't weep and orate about how lonely and bitter I am. You see the external effects of my state. Language can't communi­cate the internal. You know, Barbara, I should hate you? I've hated my wife for a long time because she deserted me. My loneliness and my sickness drove me back to her tonight to make a plea that 1 knew in my heart was hopeless. I couldn't help it. I didn't want to go to her. Something picked me up by the nape of my neck and carried me there. I should hate you because you remind me of her. I don't. I'm free to reject or accept you for what you are, not for what you seem to be." He came closer as he spoke. When he finished, he put his arms around her and kissed her.

  Barbara did not resist, for she wanted to find out how she would like it. Much depended on this, although she was aware that first kisses are often unsatisfactory and that it takes time to realize each other's techniques, quirks, and foibles. He had a nice mouth. Slow at first, even tender, he gradually took fire and suddenly pressed so hard he mashed her mouth. She managed to make him release her.

  "A long time," he said, shaking. "A long time."

  "I liked it, but I think you should exercise some control. I won't be forced. I can take care of myself."

  "Right now you could," he said. "However, if you had studied my psych index, you'd know I'm incapable of violence."

  "Your index says so, but there's a part of you that might be quite violent!"

  He laughed. "Barbara, I won't waste any words. Will you have me from now on? You know, of course, what that implies."

  "How do you know you want to be alone with me for eight years?" she replied. "We would have to stay together, you know, even if we came to hate each other. There would be no one else to go to."

  He removed his hands to light a cigarette. When it glowed, he did not touch her again. He seemed to sense she did not, at that particular moment, care for it. Perceiving his delicacy, she warmed inside.

  "Look, Barbara, you have been on some outlying asteroid, right? You haven't followed my life too closely. You would be surprised to learn the number of women who offered to share life with me. I carefully checked the psych index of everyone. I was thor­ough because I haven't much else to do. And I re­jected them, lonely as I was."

  He smiled at her widening eyes and said, "Sit down. Care for a drink? Brandy and a water chaser? Good! How did I know? It's easy. Yewliss, as you have gathered by now, isn't the only one with access to the Comprob. The Government allows me about anything I want, you know.

  "But before I tell you things about yourself you think only you know, I want to make a confession. After I kissed you, I said, `A long time.' You thought that tonight was the first time I'd held a woman in my arms for two years, didn't you? Well, it wasn't." He sipped from his glass, tasted the liquor on his tongue, and then swallowed.

  "For a long time the Government has been shipping me women. They take the anti-asp shot, stay overnight, and leave. I've had a hundred. They all had high-sounding motives. They wanted to get the secret from me for the good of mankind, in the inter­ests of peace, but they didn't fool me for a minute. All they were after was the glory, the rewards that would be heaped upon them by the worried populace. "That was until six months ago. Suddenly, I became enraged, disgusted. Those nights left me feeling noth­ing. Nothing. Or, rather, a deep uneasiness. Maybe that is a moral reaction, who knows? Whatever the definition, it was a definite emptiness. Sex wasn't enough. I had some of Earth's most beautiful and pas­sionate women, and they left me unfulfilled. They just weren't . . ."

  He looked down at his drink as if he didn't want to face her. "About that time I came to know a Mar­tian. He was one who shared my outstanding feature, the ability to create fear. Not by any evil in him. Just by his presence. We became friends, despite certain difficulties of communication, and soon knew each other as well as might be expected. He is quite a master of the mind. He has a new slant on the psyche, perhaps because he cannot think like a human and so is more objective. I can confide in him as I never could in . . . human therapists . . . because I don't feel ashamed. He seems so non-personal, although in fact he is quite friendly and has many admirable quali­ties. So, while we play chess, he rids me of demons that have been riding me. The fact that I went to my wife showed me I wasn't free of her yet. But that act broke the last puppet-string. I'm through with her!"

  "You seem a little confused," she said. She was thinking that Yewliss should check on the visor-rec­ords to find out who was playing long-distance chess with him. He might pry useful information from him. She continued, "Did you forget your wife because you think now you've found a satisfactory substitute?"

  "Barbara, I've not known you long. But I'm sure there's no one like you, and I'm sure you're the real thing." He looked up from his glass. His eyes searched hers. "Barbara, all those women? Will they make any difference in your decision?"

  "No. I'm not-as they say in historical novels-pure."

  "Yewliss?"

  "Yes, and several others."

  "What about me?"

  "Too short an acquaintance. I know your index, but a man on paper and one in the flesh are two dif­ferent things. Tell me how you know about me?"

  "How do I know you? Easy. After rejecting hun­dreds of offers, I asked the Comprob to find the wom­an I would best like. She had to be one who'd be capable of loving me, too. You fit both roles."

  "And Yewliss was also asking for a woman whose specifications happened to fit me?"

  "Yes. He sent for you before I was disentangled from my wife. I put off contacting you."

  "So you insulted me because you were still angry at your wife? You transferred your rage from one Barbara to another?"

  "Partly. I was contemptuous, too, because the Old Fox thought he was dealing with a stupid young cock." He took another drink, then said, "Would you mind taking my temperature? I feel hot again. Comes on me suddenly."

  She raised her eyebrows and reached for the thermodial. "When did you last eat?"

  She was troubled. The amount of pyretigen she detected in his blood should not have been there. It should long ago have oxidized. Possibly, Yewliss had also part some fever-inducer in his liquor, but she doubted that. An excess would be serious. The General, whatever his philosophy of ends and means, did not want to kill Ogtate. The dial rose to 100 and stopped.

  He took it from his mouth and said, "It always comes up fast and stays at about 100.8 for an hour. Then it quickly goes back to normal."

  "When did you first notice this fever?"

  "Three days ago. Right after lunch."

  "Why didn't you call a doctor?"

  "I felt fine between attacks, and, to be frank, I didn't care whether I lived or died." He touched the back of her hand. "I do now."

  She ignored his last remark and said, "Let me think a moment." She lighted a cigarette and gazed at him. He looked bad. His eyes were hot and red, and fatigue subtly crumpled his body-fullness. The possible reactions to the pyretigen were complicated and frightening. And there were the asps, too. A visor-screen wit had called them Anti-Social Perfume, and the initials, with their association of the venemous snake, had stuck. Bill Ogtate was the Asp. If you came near him, you were `bitten'.

  Ogtate's identity as a true Asp would last at least eight years. During the final eight months, the semivirus, for a reason not yet determined, would literally `kick off.' Perhaps the body becomes tired of feeding the parasite and starves them of electro­magnetic power by building a powerline around them. No one knew. The asps were created in labora­tory animals and would never have been applied to human beings, had not a man with a desire to control and revenge perverted it to this end.

  "Any conclusions, Doc?" croaked Bill.

  "Not yet. You'd better reach over for a drink. Water, I mean."

  The problem was whether or not the pyretigen, also a semivirus, acted in conjunction with the asps to produce the temperature again. As far as she knew, the combination had never been put in a living body.

 
Another question. What prevented the complete oxidization of the fever-maker? Pyretigen would naturally combine with oxygen after a change in chemical structure.

  "How long did you say the fever lasts?" she asked.

  "About an hour. It goes away fast, but three hours later it returns fast."

  There was something about that rhythm that should have strummed a resonant chord in her mind. She tried vainly to strike it.

  "You'd better lie down," she said, rising to help hint to the divan.

  He shook his head. "Nothing doing. I do not need a nurse."

  Accepting his stubbornness. knowing what was behind it, she silently took his temperature and pulse again. Then she drew out another sample of blood. A minute's work showed her that the amount of pyreti­gen had not diminished: it had increased!

  He said, "All this talk, and you still haven't an­swered me. Will you marry me?"

  Barbara kept her back to him. "I think I could. But I'm not in love with you."

  "Could you be in the future?"

  "What is love?"

  "If you can endure eight years of living with me, without wanting to kill me or to be indifferent to me, you'll be in love. After all, we don't have to stay here. We can travel anywhere, be assured of privacy, entirely at Government expense. Eight years would fly."

  "How could we travel without creating a fuss? Anyway, that does not matter. I've a question. If I promise to marry you, will you give Earth the Belos?"

  "Are you trading yourself for the Belos?"

  "You're sick. Otherwise, I'd knock you down for that."

  "Try it. You're not as tough as you think you are, Barbara."

  "Look at the man. Already he's quarreling."

  "That was childish. I shouldn't have said it. The point is, I want you, Barbara. But I must feel you're not just a woman provided by the Government."

  "My point is this. Will you give Earth the Belos? Madly in love with you or not, I still have my duty, to induce you to give up the secret."

  "Induce? Seduce!"

  "Anyway you call it. The Belos or me."

  He stood, shakily, and turned his head back and forth. "I don't know. Maybe the fever's getting me. I wouldn't do this in my right mind." Gripping the table's edge, he said, "Barbara, promise me that, sol­dier's duty or not, you won't reveal what I'm going to show you."