Use Dark Theme
bell notificationshomepageloginedit profile

Munafa ebook

Munafa ebook

Read Ebook: Fugue by Marlowe Stephen

More about this book

Font size:

Background color:

Text color:

Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page Prev Page

Ebook has 249 lines and 12038 words, and 5 pages

"What more is there?"

"I don't know! If I knew, that would be different. I suspect that the whole thing may start over again before we know it."

Flam-harol shook his head. "I don't understand."

"Well, something like this. We're seeking to destroy effects, not causes. Whatever the causes are, we should root them out first."

"The Mutant-maker and his government are the cause."

"No. I mean deeper than that. I mean--oh, I don't know! But something hovers in the background; I can feel it. A cause, a deepseated cause apart from any mutant-non-mutant bickering...."

Ker-jon stood up, smiling. "Don't mind her," he said. "Cluny-ann isn't happy unless she can worry, I think. Now, my job is this: at ten hours I lock myself in control in the 'ponics room, and if necessary, we can hold that as a sword over any ornery heads. I'll be ready to cut off the air-supply to any section of the Ark that needs such treatment, Flam-harol."

The big ridge-head nodded. "That appears to be it, then. Till tomorrow, when I hope to meet you all again at noon...."

Ker-jon felt very refreshed when he awoke. The dream had failed to appear; consequently, he slept well. He wondered idly if the psych-tech, Ab'nath, had decided anything yet. Actually, Ker-jon now regarded his visit to the psych-tech's office as a little on the impulsive side. He knew how the technicians worked, should thus have expected at least a twenty-four hour delay. Still, just depositing the spool with the psych-tech had relieved him considerably, and surely no harm could come of it.

He showered, shaved, glanced at the wall-chronometer. Nine. One to go--

He heaped his plate with succulent synthetics in the crowded dining room, then decided he didn't feel much like eating. Once he caught a glimpse of Cluny-ann, but she sat far across the room, in earnest conversation with three tall strong women who probably were her squad leaders.

Nine forty-five....

Ker-jon crossed to the cashier's window, gave the woman mutant a six-credit slip, pocketed his change, left the dining room. He knew of no other way to kill time. He'd waited at the cashier's window, picking at his teeth, striking up meaningless conversation with the woman. Not accustomed to talk with a non-mutant, she'd been awkward. Now he still had fifteen minutes, and the way he felt, it would seem like hours.

He strode rapidly down the corridor, past the door to the astro-room. Nothing there, not yet. Too early.

He reached the ramp which led to 'ponics. Two men lolled there, insolently. Green-uniformed men--police. Why?

Ker-jon's palms were clammy when he reached them, but he tried to walk between them indifferently. They came together, barring his way. They didn't say a word.

"I'm on duty in 'ponics in ten minutes," Ker-jon told them.

"That's interesting," one said.

"Are you looking for anyone in particular?"

"Yes."

"Well, will you let me through?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"On whether you're the guy we're looking for or not."

"Nine minutes," Ker-jon said; "it's important that I'm on time."

"Have you got a name, friend?"

"Bio-tech first class Ker-jon, hydroponics division."

"Ker-jon, eh? Come with us."

One policeman eased a needle-gun from his belt, the other wrapped a big hand around Ker-jon's elbow. "Come on."

"What did I do?"

"Don't ask me. This is just a job, but I'm sure they'll let you know." The man was snickering.

Ker-jon pulled his arm free. "Well, you tell me where to report; I'll go later."

"You promise?" said the man with the gun, smiling vapidly.

"Yes."

"That's good! He promises. Come on now!"

Ker-jon grunted, relaxed. The man's gun-hand wavered, only for a moment, but it was enough. Ker-jon swung his right fist up and felt his knuckles bruise against the man's jaw. Without waiting to see the effects, he darted for the 'ponics door and inserted his key.

Something crashed against his legs, behind the knees, and he stumbled against the door, striking his head sharply. When he came away he found himself reeling dizzily on hands and knees. The man who had tackled him scrambled off the floor first, waited while Ker-jon clambered half-way up. A heavy boot exploded against his face, then seemed to explode all over again inside his skull. He fell flat on his stomach, hands clawing at the floor feebly.

He got up groggily, felt the caked blood stiffening the skin of his face. His wrist-chronometer's dial marked off eleven hours and thirty minutes!

A withered old albino man peered at him anxiously, his face as white as the fungi which sometimes grow, if you are not careful, in the 'ponics room. His pink eyes blinked often against the strong day-period light. Ker-jon couldn't guess his age--eighty, perhaps.

"I see you're awake."

"Who the hell are you?"

"A counter-revolutionary, young man."

"What?"

"Don't be surprised; don't think your little revolution was such a closely-guarded secret that no one knew about it. For one, the Mutant-maker knew. The revolution was an abortive failure, I am sorry to say."

Ker-jon looked at him dully. "What happened?"

"Nothing much. The Mutant-maker had his forces deployed all along the line. Flam-harol didn't have a chance. Twenty-four mutants were killed, and eighteen women. Another two-score injured."

"Cluny-ann?"

"Who? Oh yes, the leader of the women. She's all right, I think. But she said something about tearing you apart limb from limb if she found you. It seems you weren't where you should have been, and for that as much as anything else the revolution backfired. It seems you disappeared." The old man chuckled softly.

"The police took me. So many dead...."

"Police--no! Police uniforms, but counter-revolutionaries, I assure you. Thanks to psych-tech Ab'nath, we got to you in time. Probably, the revolution would have failed either way, but more pointless carnage would have resulted."

"Damn you!" Ker-jon said bitterly. "You stand there yapping about what might or might not have happened. Forty days of planning went into that revolution, and all the dreams and hopes of so many mutants--"

Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page Prev Page

Back to top Use Dark Theme