Khai became vibrantly alive.
A life in which it seemed every door in the universe had opened to emit a flood of light. Light which was the pure essence of truth, flooding his being, permeating his every cell. He was the living part of an organism which stretched across endless space in a profusion of glittering nodes, each node the pulse of an intelligent mind. All were interconnected with shimmering filaments, a glinting web reaching to infinity. He saw it, was a part of it while it was a part of himself, sharing yet owning the tremendous gestalt of minds.
At the heart of the web glowed the mass of Central Intelligence, the heart of the Cyclan. Buried deep beneath miles of rock on a lonely world, the massed brains absorbed his knowledge as a sponge sucked water. A mental communication in the form of words, quick, almost instantaneous, organic transmission against which that of supra-radio was the merest crawl.
"Dumarest? There is no possibility of doubt?"
"None."
"Your prediction as to present whereabouts?"
"Insufficient data for prediction of high probability but certainly in the direction of the Hichen Cloud. Other factors, unknown to me, may have important bearing."
A moment in which he sensed the interchange of a million diverse items of information, facts correlated, assessed, a decision reached. The multiple intelligence doing what one brain alone could never achieve.
And then, "Chamelard. Word will be sent. Follow."
That was all.
The rest was sheet intoxication, which filled him with a pleasure beyond the scope of ordinary flesh.
Always it was the same during the period when the Homochon elements sank again into quiescence and the machinery of the body began to realign itself with metal control. Like a disembodied spirit Khai drifted in an empty darkness while he sensed and thrilled to strange memories and unlived experiences; the overflow of other minds, the emission of unknown intelligences. The aura which radiated from the tremendous cybernetic complex which was the unifying force of the Cyclan.
One day he would be a part of it. His body would age and his senses lose their sharp edge, but his mind would remain as active as ever. A useful tool not to be lost. Then he would be taken and his intelligence rid of the hampering constraints of flesh. His brain, removed, would join the others to pulse in nutrient fluid, hooked in a unified whole, all working to a common end.
The complete and absolute control of the entire galaxy. The elimination of waste and the direction of effort so that every man and every world would become the parts of a universal machine.
Chapter Six
Death had come very close and Usan Labria knew it. Now, lying on the cot, she savored every breath, the touch of the blanket which covered her, even the soft vibration of the Erhaft Field, which sent the vessel hurtling through space at a speed much faster than that of light. To feel. To know that she was alive. Alive!
Looking down at her Dumarest said, "How are you, Usan?"
"Earl!" She stared at him with sunken eyes. "You saved my life in the shelter. If you hadn't given me those pills-was I very foolish?"
"No."
"At times they have odd effects. I seem to remember babbling some nonsense."
"Memories of childhood," he lied. "And you thought the sound of the ship landing was that of thunder."
"Yes." She looked at her hands, knowing he was being kind. "Have we been traveling long?"
"A day. You're under quick-time, so be careful."
They were all under quick-time, the magic of the drug slowing their metabolism so that hours became minutes-a convenience to shorten the tedium of the journey.
"I'll remember." Slowly she reared to sit upright, leaning her back against the bulkhead. "So we're finally on our way," she said. "To Balhadorha. What did you hope to gain, Earl? Why did you join us?"
"If you remember, my lady," he said dryly, "I had little choice."
"True, but even so you will share in what we find. An equal share, I shall insist on it." For a moment she fell silent then said, "Earth. I keep remembering the name. Your world, you say, but if you want to return then why not simply book a passage?"
"Because no one seems to know where it lies."
"Then-"
"It exists," he said. "I was born on the planet and I know. I left when a boy, stowing away on a ship, not knowing the risk I ran. The captain was more than kind. He could have evicted me, instead he allowed me to work my passage. And, when he died, I moved on. World after world, each closer toward the Center, where worlds were thick and commerce heavy. Traveling deeper and deeper into space until even the very name of Earth was unknown. And then the desire to return, to find it again, to search and probe and, always, meeting with the blank wall of failure.
"A quest," she said. "An obsession perhaps, and now your reason for living. But why, Earl? What does it matter if you never find it? Surely there are other worlds on which you can settle? You could marry, have children, build a family. Has there never been one woman who could have won you from your dream?"
More than one, but never had more than the temptation lasted. Looking down at her he thought of Lallia, of Derai, of Kalin with the flame-colored hair. Kalin who had loved him and who had given him more than life itself.
The secret for which the Cyclan had hunted him from world to world. Would still be hunting him. Would never cease until they had regained the secret stolen from their laboratory on some isolated world.
The secret which would give the old woman the thing she yearned to possess.
Only he knew the sequence in which the molecular units had to be arranged to form the affinity-twin. Fifteen units, the last reversed to determine dominant or submissive characteristics. A combination which could be found by trial and error, but the possible number of arrangements ran into millions and it would take millennia to make and try them all. Too much time for the Cyclan to contemplate when, once in their hands, the answer could be found.
And, once found, it would give them power incredible in its scope.
The artificial symbiote injected into the bloodstream would nestle in the base of the cortex and take over control of the entire nervous and sensory system. The brain holding the dominant half would mesh with and take over that of the host. The effect, to the dominant mind, would be that it had acquired a new body. Used by the Cyclan the brain of a cyber would reside in each and every person of influence and power. They would be puppets moving to the dictates of the Master Plan.
Power-a bribe no old man would refuse, no old woman could resist. He had it-if Usan Labria knew, would she hesitate to betray him for such a reward?
"Earl?" She frowned as she watched his face. "Your eyes-have I offended you?"
"No. I was thinking of something else."
"A woman?" Her smile was grotesque. "If I were younger I could be jealous. Many women must have envied the one close to your side. Perhaps one day-" She broke off, then ended, "It was good of you to visit me, but I must not take all of your time. Pacula could need attention. You know why she is with us?"
"No. Why?"
"That she will tell you if she wants. Ask her, Earl. Talk to her. She needs someone she can trust."
* * *
Sufan Noyoka had done well. Dumarest had expected the ship to be old, scarred, the hull patched, the decks scuffed and the bulkheads grimed, a hulk little better than scrap. Instead, while small, the Mayna was clean and in good condition. A vessel a Mangate could have owned or one used by a wealthy family for private transportation. Its cost must have been high-proof of Noyoka's dedication to his ideal as the crew was visible evidence of his power of persuasion.
A small crew, a captain, a navigator and an engineer. They together with the two women and Noyoka himself formed the complement together with Dumarest and a man who liked to play with cards.
Marek Cognez was a slender man with a spurious appearance of youth, his features finely pointed, the lips full and sensuous. A man almost womanish in the soft richness of his clothing, the delicate bone structure of his face and hands. His fingers were long, tapered, the nails trimmed and polished. A heavy ring glowed on the index finger of each hand, the stones elaborately carved, the bands wide.
He sat at the table in the salon, Pacula at his side, the cards in his hands making a soft rustling noise as he shuffled.
"Come and join us, Earl. A diversion to pass the time."