E c tubb, p.6
E C Tubb, page 6
“You don’t have to tell me the code, “ snapped Jay irritably. “I’ve said that you can forget it. It’s all over. I doubt if I’ll ever see her again. “
“I hope that you mean that, “ said Gregson seriously. “I can protect my officers to some extent, but no one can protect you from Genetics if they bring an immorality charge. It means being referred to Psycho. With anyone else it could mean just a downgrading, but with you... “ Gregson made an expressive gesture with the edge of his hand and Jay knew exactly what he meant. Psych-Police officers couldn’t be downgraded; they knew too much, and that left elimination as the only possible punishment. He swallowed.
“It’s finished. I mean it. “
“I know how you feel, “ Gregson said with unusual sympathy. “You’re young, she’s young, and that’s as far as you think. “ He hesitated. “Do you want a transfer to another sector? I could switch you with Norton if you like. “
“No thanks, it won’t be necessary. I know the people in sector five and can work more efficiently there. “ He looked at his chief. “Is that what you called me in to tell me?”
“No. “
“Then?”
“Merrill phoned in after your call went out and I thought I’d mention it while you were here. “ Gregson picked up something from his desk. “I’ve got a job for you. The others have had their assignment cards but this is the only one in your unofficial sector. “ He threw a strip of plastic towards Jay. “Here, you know what to do. “
Jay nodded and picked up the plastic strip. He had seen them before, lots of them, and he had long ago lost any emotion he might have once had. The strip was from Psycho and contained the full data on someone’s life. It had been rejected, thrown out... and as he looked down at it, Jay could see the broad red star smeared all over the smooth surface. The red star which meant that a person had been weighed, considered-and found wanting.
Casually he read the name and number of the person he was to kill.
Curtway, George. 14/4762. Electronics.
Susan’s father.
There were times when Jay hated his job. Not many, for like all Ship personnel he was efficient and took a pride in his job, but sometimes, like now, he wished that he had belonged to anything but the psych-police. It was his fault, of course; he should never have allowed himself to become so intimate with people who, by the very nature of things, must inevitably become his victims. But self-blame, like self-justification, were both a waste of time. He still had to kill Susan’s father.
Had to. Indoctrination, conditioning, his own pride in his work and his knowledge that, should he refuse, he would be “eliminated” as unfit, left him no choice. George Curtway had to die.
He changed before entering sector five, reversing his black shorts for the red ones of the ventilation engineer he was supposed to be in his unofficial sector, and made his way down towards the lower levels. Usually on such a mission he felt a certain excitement, the thrill of the hunter stalking the hunted, his wits against those of the selected victim with the rules heavily in his favor. And yet, even with the protection his official status gave him, there was always an element of danger.
He could be clumsy. He could bungle, be seen by witnesses, or do such a poor job of staging the ‘accident’ that he would be judged inefficient and be eliminated in turn. Murder, even with the victim unaware and unprepared, was not always easy.
But this time, instead of the thrill, the warmth of released adrenalin, he felt a vague regret and a disinclination to do what must be done. He recognized the danger and deliberately focused his mind on his victim, forcing himself to forget Susan, their close friendship, their love and everything about them. Her father had to die and, as far as Jay was concerned, that was all there was to it. He felt a little better by the time he reached the lower levels where the games and recreation rooms were.
George wasn’t in any of the rec-rooms, nor the exercise rooms, nor in the private cubicle his status allowed. Jay knew that he could locate the man by inquiring at the work-office-Curtway could have been out on a job somewhere-but to do that would be to leave a clue and maybe arouse suspicion. He was staring into the mess, trying to find the man he was looking for, when someone touched his arm.
“Jay! I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. Don’t you ever work?” It was Susan, the last person he wished to see. Looking down at her he wished that they had never met.
“Hello, Susan. “ Deliberately he made his voice casual.
“Eaten yet?”
“Not yet. “ She linked her arm through his and smiled up into his face. “Let’s eat together, shall we?”
“If you like. “ Casually he slipped his arm from hers and they moved towards a vacant table. He ordered without paying much attention to the menu. Susan kept glancing at him, seeming about to speak once or twice, then, pushing aside her empty plate, touched his arm.
“Anything wrong, Jay?”
“Wrong?” He forced himself to smile at her, annoyed with himself for betraying his emotions. “No, of course not. What makes you think that?”
“Your appetite for one thing. “ She gestured towards his unfinished meal. “I’ve never known you to be so slow before. “
“I’m not hungry. “
“Then you shouldn’t have sat down to eat. “ Susan glanced over the mess hall. “Better finish it up, Jay, or someone will accuse you of waste. There’s a man standing over by the far wall who seems very interested in you as it is. “
“Is there?” He didn’t turn his head to look, guessing that it was Susan the man was interested in, not her escort. But he finished his meal all the same, refusing a sweet and sipping his water while Susan spooned up the last of her synthetic fruit.
“When am I going to see you again, Jay?” Susan smiled as she leaned forward and touched his hand. “After shift?”
“I doubt it. “
“When then? Tomorrow?”
“I don’t think so. “ He looked down at the table as he spoke. “I’m pretty busy right now and it’s hard to know just when I’ll be free. “ He stared at her, his face expressionless. “In fact, Susan, you’d better not rely on seeing me again. “
“What!” She stared at him a moment, her hand gripping his arm; then she laughed. “Jay! Don’t say things like that!”
“I mean it, Susan. “ Deliberately he removed her hand from his arm.
“You’re joking! You couldn’t mean it-not after what we’ve been to each other. “ Her eyes searched his face. “Please, Jay, say that you’re not serious. “
“I am serious, “ he said flatly. “There’s no future in it for either of us and it would be best if we never met again. “
“Jay!” There was hurt in her voice, the deep pain of outraged emotion and broken illusion. He heard it, knew that he was being deliberately cruel, and yet, at the same time, that it was the only thing he could do. He stared into her soft, brown eyes.
“Listen, Susan, “ he said curtly. “Let’s not get foolish over this. We’ve had fun and I’ve enjoyed knowing you, but it’s all over now. Let’s forget it, shall we?”
“Jay!” For a moment he thought that she was going to break down. Tears filled her eyes and her hands showed white at the knuckles as she gripped the edge of the table. Then pride came to her rescue, the outraged pride of any woman who has had her affection flung back into her face, and together with that pride came anger. She stiffened with youthful dignity.
“All right, Jay. If that’s all it meant to you. “ She paused, hopefully, and for a moment he was tempted to say the word which would remove her pain and restore her smile. He didn’t say it.
“It was fun, “ he repeated stubbornly. “It should never have become so serious. It’s best that we part now before any damage is done. “
“I see. “ She stared down at the table, then, with a brave attempt at casualness, glanced around the mess hall. “Don’t bother to justify yourself, Jay. As you said, it was fun. I’ve been a fool, I suppose, but... “ She swallowed. “This is the end, then?”
“Yes. “
He didn’t look at her as she rose from the table. He didn’t follow her with his eyes as she stumbled towards the door and to the privacy of the nearest unoccupied rec-room. She would cry, he thought dully. She would vent her emotion in tears, hate him, despise him and then, after awhile, forget him.
But the thought didn’t make him happy.
He sat for awhile, sipping his water, trying to bring his mind back into focus and the job at hand. There was no particular hurry, he knew that, but he wanted to get the thing over and done with long before the three-day period of grace was over. The hard part was over; he had managed to make Susan hate him, and all that was left was a simple job of murder.
He was leaving the hall when a man stepped forward and collided with him with sufficient force to send him reeling against a table.
“You!” The man pressed his hand to his side, his face distorted with synthetic pain. “Why don’t you watch where you’re going?”
“Sorry. “ Jay was in no mood for argument and he was in a hurry. He tried to step past the man, then halted as a hand gripped his arm.
“Not so fast! You hurt me. “
“So what?” Jay stared at the sullen-faced man in the brown shorts. “I apologized. “
“That’s not good enough, “ said Sam Aldway deliberately. “It’s about time your sort were taught that you can’t go around hurting people. “ He looked at the little crowd which had gathered around them. “You all saw what he did, “ he shouted. “I say that it isn’t good enough. “
“Take your hands off me!” Jay jerked his arm, then, as the man tried to grab him again, pushed him back. “I told you to keep your paws to yourself. “
“You hit me!” Sam appealed again to the crowd. “You all saw him hit me. “
“Don’t be a fool. “ Jay fought his rising anger and spoke as calmly as he could. “We bumped into each other, and if I hurt you, then I’m sorry. I’ve apologized-I can’t do more. Now shut up and leave me alone. “ He stepped forward, trying to thrust his way through the press of bodies, then turned as a hand clawed at his shoulder. “I told you to leave me alone. “
“Oh no you don’t. “ Sam grinned, conscious of being the center of attraction, and spoke directly to Jay. “You’re a dirty, stinking, lousy waster, “ he said loudly. “And I want to know what you’re going to do about it. “
It was so raw as to be ludicrous. The man was an arrogant, loud-mouthed fool, and he was clumsily trying to force Jay into a duel. Jay knew it, knew too that he, with his superior training, would be certain to win, and for a moment was tempted to work off some of his frustration and anger in violent physical combat. He shook his head and laughed.
“So I’m a waster, am I? Then why don’t you call the psych-police?”
“You mean that you refuse to fight?” Incredulous anger twisted Sam’s face into an animal-mask of hate. “Why, you rotten coward-you call yourself a man? I’ve called you a waster. Did you hear that? A dirty waster! I’ll show you what I do with wasters. “ Before Jay could guess what he was about to do, Sam had stepped forward and swung his open hand against Jay’s cheek. The sound of the slap was followed by a startled hush, a hush broken by the soggy impact of bone against flesh.
Normally, Jay would never have done it. Normally his innate caution and the grim necessity to put his assignment above all else would have forced him to swallow the insult, accept the inevitable sneers of cowardice, and to go on his way.
But he was still raw from his parting with Susan, sick with the knowledge of what he had yet to do, and his emotions overrode good sense as he swung his fist deep into the flesh of the other’s stomach. Coldly he stared at the writhing man at his feet, knowing that now he had gone too far to back out. There was no brawling in the Ship, there couldn’t be, not with five thousand people living too close together. A brawl could start a riot which would ruin irreplaceable material, injure essential workers and kill the innocent parents of the new generations.
Like it or not, Jay had to fight a duel.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE STADIUM was on the lowest level next to the exercise rooms. From a sanded floor rows of tiered seats sloped up to a high roof and, when Jay and Sam arrived followed by the interested crowd, a couple of women were fighting a bloody battle with razor-edged knives to the amusement of the usual watchers.
Both well over thirty, they fought with the ferocity of tigers, the gleaming blades slashing at yielding flesh as they spun and dodged on the absorbent sand. From the crowd came a soft half-sigh, half-groan as one of them slipped, falling onto one knee, her knife hand resting for a moment on the floor. Quickly the other moved in, her blade a lancing arc as the needle point thrust through skin and fat, muscle and sinew towards the pulsing heart beneath. Triumphantly, she grinned towards the audience, kissed her bloodstained fingers at the referee and walked staggeringly towards the exit.
Jay watched her, trying to guess from her wounds whether she would be healed or eliminated. From her age, the blood she had lost, and the obvious skill with which she had used her weapon, he guessed the latter. Expert duelists, while encouraged up to a point, became dangerous when they lost their sense of proportion and vied with each other in the number of their kills. The Ship had no room for blood-crazed beasts.
The ref checked them in, making the routine inspection of their forearms, and asking the usual questions.
“Are you both certain that you can’t settle your differences in any other way?”
“I’m willing to call it off, “ said Jay. He looked at Sam. “And you?”
“Not a chance. “
“I see that this is your first duel. “ The ref stared at Jay’s unmarked forearm, then at the five dots on Sam’s. “As a first-timer you have the choice of weapons. Also, “ he stared hard at Sam, “you will not be killed in this encounter. “ He looked back at Jay. “How will you fight?”
“Bare handed. “ Jay had no intention of getting cut or slashed by knife or machete and, aside from anything else, he was skilled in the art of unarmed combat. Already he regretted having agreed to fight at all; it was too easy to be injured in the stadium, and even the most experienced fighter could fall victim to an unlucky blow. Without weapons, however, there was little chance of anything worse than a beating up.
Their turn was scheduled for after the next bout and he waited impatiently while a young, optimistic man just out of marriageable status took on a well-muscled woman about ten years his senior. Fights between mixed couples, while rare, were not uncommon. Equality between the sexes demanded utter lack of distinction, though, as in this case, the bout was usually fought with padded clubs which were painful enough but capable of inflicting little more than a bruise. In effect it was a comedy turn and the crowd greeted the young man’s defeat with catcalls turning to ribald cheers as the woman, dropping her club, picked up her opponent and carried him tenderly from the arena.
Jay smiled, guessing that another domestic problem had been solved the hard way, then lost his smile as the referee gestured towards them.
“Right. You two are on now. Remove your sandals, walk out five paces apart and, when you reach the center, turn and fight. “
Jay hesitated, glancing at Sam, then, as the other made no move, he shrugged and strode out into the arena. The space was about twenty yards long and fifteen wide, brilliantly lit so that the surrounding faces of the watching crowd merged into a formless blur. The attendants had cleared away the debris of the previous bouts, raking the sand and removing the discarded weapons, and the fine grit felt warm and smooth between his naked toes. Now that the moment had arrived he felt calm and, as he strode forward, he evaluated his chances. There was a slight disadvantage in coming out first for he could not be certain just where Sam would be, but that disadvantage would be off-set by his superior skill. He turned as he reached the half-way mark, springing to one side and poising on the balls of his feet. Sam glared at him, paused just as he was about to spring; then, before he could recover his balance, Jay had stepped forward and slammed his fist towards the other’s jaw.
He missed, but he had expected it, and as Sam swayed to one side, his other hand drove forward toward his stomach. He grinned as he felt the blow smash home and followed it with two more, one to the head and one to the heart. Crowding forward so as to keep Sam off-balance, he smashed at him with all the force of his back and shoulder muscles.
For a moment he thought that the fight was over almost before it had begun. Sam gulped, tried to cover, then, as blood gushed from his pulped nose, screamed with rage and flung himself forward, his hands reaching for Jay’s face and throat.
Immediately Jay was fighting for his life.
It was dirty fighting, but it was more than that. It was the double attack possible only to a trained fighter and, as Jay felt the other’s hands smash at vital nerves, he felt the first doubt as to his success. The double attack he could handle, he used it himself, but as they fought, he became aware that Sam knew far more than any ordinary duelist should.
A knee thrust at his groin at the same time that stiffened fingers stabbed at his eyes. He twisted to avoid the knee, knocked aside the threatening fingers, and tasted blood as a lowered skull smashed into his face. Again the knee jerked toward him, and in avoiding it he fell victim to a slash from the edge of a palm directed toward his throat. It was the double attack, the system of two separate blows at the same time directed towards different parts of the anatomy: knee to groin, fingers to eyes, blow to stomach, skull against face, edge of palm towards throat, without pause or time for the victim to recover his balance.
For a while they weaved like fencers, body against body, arms and legs moving in smooth, synchronized rhythm as they delivered and countered blows, their sweat-streaked bodies glistening beneath the glare of the lights. Then, as he felt his left arm go numb, Jay broke away and ran towards the end of the arena.
