'I don't know. Maybe.'
'A casual?'
It was possible. A young man, on the run, lonely and perhaps afraid. The Church would have offered him comfort and more. The bread of forgiveness given to all who sat beneath the benediction light when, hypnotized, they eased their souls and suffered subjective penance. There were many who joined the queues for the sake of the wafer of concentrate. The monks regarded it as a fair exchange-food in return for the instilled conditioning which made it impossible to kill. The reason Dumarest had never sat beneath the light.
He said, 'Leon is a runaway. He might have been reported and your aid sought.'
'A boy, one of so many, how would we know of him?'
'You know, Brother. We both know.'
By means of the hyper-radio incorporated into each benediction light. Monks were everywhere, tolerated and befriended by those in high places, in constant touch with the great seminary on Hope. And a parent, desperate, would have asked for help, or at least eased their hearts to listening ears. A small hope, but one which had to be followed.
Dumarest was not disappointed when, after a moment, the monk shook his head. 'We have been asked to look for no one of that name. Where did he originate?'
'Nerth. You know it?'
'An odd name-no, I have no knowledge of any such world. The boy, of course, could be lying. You have considered the possibility?'
'Yes.'
'Your name?'
Dumarest gave it, adding, 'I am not unknown to the Church. If Brother Jerome was still alive he would vouch for me, but you can check the records.'
'There is no need.' The monk's eyes were direct. 'As you say, you are known. If I could help you I would, but that does not seem possible. However, there is one thing perhaps you should know. Cyber Hsi has landed on Tradum.'
Chapter Four
Manager Loh Nordkyn was disturbed. His reports had always been on time, work was progressing according to schedule, and the powers ruling the Zur-Sekulich had no reason for dissatisfaction, yet they had sent a cyber to Tradum.
He was housed in an upper suite of the company building, the windows giving a fine view of the town and space field, a view which meant nothing to Hsi as he sat at a desk studying the mass of data provided by the manager's aides.
He was tall, thin, robed as were the monks of the Universal Brotherhood, but there the similarity ended. He wore, not brown homespun, but scarlet fabric of fine weave, the Seal of the Cyclan prominent on his breast. His head was shaved, accentuating the skull-like appearance of the deep-set eyes, the skin drawn taut over bone. A living machine of flesh and bone and blood, all capacity for emotion eradicated by training and an operation performed during his youth, his only pleasure that of mental achievement.
A man who had dedicated his life to the pursuit of coldly logical reason. One to whom food was a tasteless fuel. A creature who could take a handful of facts and build a sequence of events from them culminating in a predicted eventuality.
He glanced up as the door opened, leaning back in his chair, his eyes watchful.
'Manager Nordkyn.' The inclination of his head was perfunctory. 'It is late. I had not thought to see you until tomorrow.'
'I was curious,' admitted the manager. 'To to frank, I cannot understand why the company should have chosen to employ the services of the Cyclan. We have our own computers and the operation programs are proving successful.'
'As yet, perhaps.'
'A trend?' Nordkyn frowned. 'I have run a complete series of analogues and have found nothing to pose any serious problems.'
'And perhaps none will be found.' Hsi touched the sheets before him, the reams of data, incidents, reports all compressed into symbolic language. 'However, I notice that your progress per man-hour is falling.'
'A seam of adamantine rock which delayed progress,' said Nordkyn quickly. 'It was anticipated and, now that we have penetrated it, lost time will be regained.'
'Casualties seem to be high.'
'Carelessness due to untrained labor. We are operating under a tight cost-schedule, as you must know. But is is unimportant, men are cheap.' He added, incredulously, 'Surely the Zur-Sekulich are not concerned over the loss of a few vagrants?'
'No.'
'Then, with respect, I fail to see what you can achieve.'
'You doubt the efficiency of the Cyclan?' Hsi's voice was a smoothly modulated monotone devoid of all irritant factors, yet Nordkyn was swift to refute the accusation.
'No! Of course not!'
'But you fail to see what can be gained by my advice.' Hsi touched the sheets again, selected one. 'Let me illustrate. Due to the price rise in basic staples, the food served at the canteens has fallen in terms of nutritional value to a factor of fifteen percent during the past eight weeks. This has resulted in a loss of physical energy and therefore, a lessening of productive effort put out by the workers. The financial gain is more than lost by reduced efficiency. If it is continued there will be an increase in accidents and deaths. There will also be a higher incidence of sickness and minor injury. Unless there is a change I predict that, within two months, you will be three and a half days behind schedule. This prediction is in the order of 89.6 percent of probability.'
'I see.' Nordkyn was thoughtful. 'In that case you suggest-'
'I suggest nothing,' said Hsi evenly. 'I give no orders and insist on no change. I merely tell you what will be the most probable outcome of any series of events. What action you choose to take is entirely your own concern.'
And, if he failed, his career would be over. Nordkyn didn't need to have it spelled out in detail. The Zur- Sekulich had no time for failure.
He said, 'I will order the food to be changed at once. The expense will be high, but I'll manage somehow.' Hesitating he added, 'Is there anything else?'
'For the moment, no.'
'Then I'll leave you, Cyber Hsi.' Nordkyn backed toward the door, sweating. He was glad to leave the room.
Hsi turned again to the papers. Things were going as planned. The manager was a fool, concerned only with the job in hand. The Zur-Sekulich little better, thinking only of immediate profit, the wealth of the reclaimed metal, the subsidy they won from the Tradum authorities, dreaming of the constant stream of profits they would collect from tools once the passage was completed.
Later he would visit the Tradum Council, seek out those with the greatest powers, sow seeds of dissatisfaction in the minds of the landowners, those who now operated the sea and air transports.
Faced with ruin they would cooperate, forming a cabal to seize power, relying on the Cyclan to show them how to take and hold it. And then, once they were established, the pattern set, others would move in. Tools of the Cyclan, leaders willing to obey, men eager to be guided.
And yet another world would have fallen under the domination of the organization of which he was a part.
Already the hidden power of the Cyclan reached across the galaxy, worlds secretly manipulated by resident cybers, all living extensions of Central Intelligence, all working to a common end. The complete and total domination of all humanity everywhere.
Hsi turned a sheet, scanned it, his brain absorbing, assessing, collating the information it contained. A mass of trivia, yet each item could be part of something greater, each detail a step in a logical series of events.
'Master!' His acolyte entered the chamber at the touch of a bell. 'Your orders?'
