Medusa: A Tiger by the Tail

moment.

The copter was from Centrum, yet it was undeniably headed here. Why? Why a Centrum copter, anyway— and what was it doing this far north? Medusan government business, most likely—unless they had a Centrum copter near all major cities to differentiate national from local authorities.

And if that was the case, then all of the prisoners would be in the hands of the central government, not the local TMS office. They would probably be shifted to Centrum for disposition. That made sense. They knew a lot about a lot of things, including the sacred mountain, the malleability trick and its possibilities. They also had experience with the aliens at close hand. These wouldn’t be things that Ypsir’s people would like a regional psych office or the usual TMS monitors to come across. Too many might get ideas of their own, and there’d be somebody around who would be from Outside as well, somebody who would equate those demons with alien creatures and draw some interesting conclusions. No, the prisoners would be taken directly to party headquarters at Centrum, a bastion of protection, and handled by people who already knew the terrible secrets these prisoners could spill.

How would they get them there? The train was out—too long and too public. And air traffic seemed limited to local practical vehicles like the copters, which would be too slow. That brought Gray Basin back into focus, for it had one thing several other cities and towns of relatively equal importance and distance did not have.

It had a spaceport.

I stood up wearily. I was just barely atop the city, and when I entered it, I would have to do so from below. The access points from the roof were among the most heavily monitored places of all, and I knew it. Still, I wasn’t so far gone that I couldn’t use the vantage point to some advantage. I climbed up a ladder atop a large and dormant stack and looked out in the direction of the spaceport. I could just barely see it, off in the distance: a small cluster of warehouses and a tiny terminal in an ovoid pattern around the landing pad that was otherwise in the middle of nothingness.

There definitely was no ship in.

How long I had I didn’t know, but I realized it would be better to lose them through sleeping than to lose them by rushing in as tired as I was. Ironically, I was going from the stone age back to my most nasty and sophisticated technological self for this mission, and, even then, I’d be taking risk after unacceptable risk. I had to rest and renew myself, so I went back and lay down as the sun rose high over the sealed city beneath and was soon asleep.

I hated going in yet again. I hated risking all, with the odds so totally stacked against me, knowing that even if I got away with anything myself the odds of saving Ching were very slim indeed.

But damn my filthy hide, I just couldn’t resist the challenge.

CHAPTER TWELVE Into the Lion’s Den

I didn’t sleep nearly as long as I needed, but it was a good, solid sleep and just what I needed to restore my confidence and get my brain working again.

Entering the city wasn’t much of a problem, but once in, I wasn’t at all sure what I could do. The only thing certain was that my theory of breaking the system by transformation was about to get a real test. The trouble was, I would have to be slow and careful to’have any reasonable chance, and I just didn’t have the. time for that.

Having served in the city in Transportation proved invaluable. Of course, to enter I simply waited for a train to come up and stop, then I walked in with the train when they turned off the energy barriers to admit it. Once inside the entry tunnel, though, I was in the yards for the trains and had to make my way carefully to the passenger section. Having worked the station, I knew where the monitor cameras were located and where the inevitable “dead” zones were, although they were hardly conveniently located for my purposes. At this point, naked and hairless, I was an easy mark for a monitor and a sure flag, so getting into position without being observed was time-consuming.

I was counting on the Rochande passenger train, my old workhorse, to come in late. There were inevitably a number of TMS personnel on board, not for patrol but either coming back from some training mission or arriving after assignment to Gray Basin. It would still be a ticklish operation, requiring a lot of luck, but overall I’d had more than my share of that lately and had to trust that I’d get a bit more.

There was a spot between the passenger platform and the automatic baggage-handling section that was part of the freight operation which did not overlap two cameras. By a zigzag route I managed to make it across the yards and take a position behind a moving stair that was at the far end of the passenger section. For the first time it hit me that I would have to kill a few people if I went ahead with this; although I wouldn’t feel too badly about TMS or government personnel, an innocent or two would also be necessary. I didn’t really like doing that, but could only remember again the fifty-five who wouldn’t try to escape and who were, in many ways, typical not only of the people here but of the whole system I was fighting.

I had a pretty clear plan, based on my observations and experiences during my life here. It is in the nature of my business, and of my mind, to file just about everything away, even when it serves no apparent purpose. You never know when you’ll have to use one trivial or not-so-trivial item or another.

The initial move would be ticklish. There was a clock overhanging the passenger-discharge section that said I had to remain there, undiscovered, for at least two hours. To make my move too early might blow the whole scheme. Several station personnel passed very near me at various times, but thanks to my new Warden sense and my own self-control I was able to remain hidden in the shadows. At least, no alarms went off.

Finally, it was only ten minutes before the train was due, and I was starting to get nervous. None of the station people had passed in almost half an hour, and I needed one, my first innocent victim, any time now. The train was actually within earshot, stopped for the barriers, before I got mychance. A grade-four passenger-service agent walked from the baggage office up toward the platform. As she passed, I moved fast and silent from my shadowy place.

The deed was done in a couple of seconds. I had created a sharp, serrated ridge of cartilege on my arm and reinforced the muscle. I decapitated her rather cleanly, then had a nervous moment as the head started rolling out almost into camera range. I grabbed it, but it was messy and unpleasant.

I had timed the maneuver perfectly and applied just the right amount of force. Decapitation sounds terrible, and it is; but considering the Warden’s amazing powers you had to strike an immediate, certain death blow or you’d have it. The other advantage was that the shock caused the body’s Wardens to snap into futile action to seal the wound, so surprisingly little bleeding occurred.

I made no attempt to duplicate her features more than roughly; I hadn’t seen them long enough in presentable condition to do so. Still, I managed it, displacing some of my extra mass into height to manage to fit, however uncomfortably, into the clothes which were, mercifully, close enough to the color of Medusan blood to mask the stains somewhat. The girl’s sandals, however, would never fit without a lot of work, and I didn’t even try. None of this disguise really had to last for very long.

I had an uneasy moment when it looked as if two others were going to walk back by my hiding place with its grisly contents, but, fortunately, at that moment the train rounded the bend and slid into its slip. Everybody snapped to professional attention.

My luck had held up to this point, but now I’d need more. I waited until the tram was completely in and docked, then watched the doors slide open and the passengers begin to emerge. When I spotted two TMS uniforms with duffels I went into my act, fully aware that the others would also see, but counting on the usual mob inclination on Medusa to let TMS handle things whenever there was a question of responsibility. I pulled the trunk of the woman’s body out a bit, so an arm and leg were showing, then stepped out myself and cried, hysterically, “Monitors! Come here! Please hurry!”

Nobody calls a cop on Medusa unless there’s terrible trouble. I saw the two young faces, a man and a woman, glance over at me, look puzzled for a minute, then follow my arm that pointed to the exposed limbs. They dropped their duffels, and trotted over to me.

“What’s the matter?” the woman asked, sounding more concerned than nasty.

“T-there’s a body there!” I stuttered, sounding scared to death. Both of them looked shocked, then turned and knelt down as I angled myself so that the moving stab: shielded me from the platform. By then most of the