The men inside hadn't expected Benny. They were trying to fire over the sill at Matt, and to do that they had to lean out. In half a minute it was over.
Benny said, "There's a carport just beyond that corner. Guarded."
"Do they know we're here?"
"I don't think so. The Mist Demons have given us a mist." Benny smiled at his own pun.
"Good. We can use these guns. You'll have to carry Jay; my arm's out."
"Jay's the only one who can fly."
"I can," said Matt.
"Major Jansen. Sound 'Prisoners Loose.'"
The sound of the siren came instantly, even before Jesus Pietro could change his mind. For a moment he was sure, preternaturally sure, that he'd made a fool of him self. This could cost him much face...
But no. Keller must be freeing the prisoners. Keller wasn't here; therefore Keller was free. His first move would be to free the other Sons of Earth. If the vivarium guard had stopped him, he would then have called here; he hadn't called; hence Keller had succeeded.
But if Keller were harmlessly asleep in the vivarium? Nonsense. Why had the guards forgotten about him? They were behaving too much like Hobart had behaved last night. A miracle had been worked, a miracle of the kind Jesus Pietro was beginning to associate with Keller. There must be some purpose to it.
It must have been used to free Keller.
And the halls must be full of angry rebels.
That was very bad. Implementation had motives for using mercy-weapons. Rebels had none--neither mercy weapons nor mercy-motives. They'd kill whoever got in their way.
The steel doors would be in place now, vibrating in sleep-producing frequencies. By now the danger would be over--almost certainly. Unless the rebels had first gotten out of the halls.
But what damage had they done already?
"Come with me," Jesus Pietro told the two guards. He marched toward the door. "Keep your guns drawn," he added over his shoulder.
The guards snapped out of their stupor and ran to catch up. They had not the faintest idea what was going on, but Jesus Pietro was sure they'd recognize a colonist in time to down him. They'd be adequate protection.
One dozen colonists, two stunned. Seven captured guns.
Matt stayed hidden behind the corner, reluctantly obeying Benny's orders. With him were the two women: Laney and a deep-voiced middle-aged tigress named Lydia Hancock, and the two fallen: Jay Hood and Harry Kane.
Matt would have fought the carport guards, but he couldn't fight the logic. Because he was the only one who could fly a car, he had to stay behind while the others charged out onto the field with their sonics going.
The carport was a big, flat expanse of lawn, a variant of mutant grass, which could take an infinite amount of trampling. Lines of near-white crossed the green, outlining landing targets. The white too was grass. Cars rested near the centers of two of the targets. Men moved about the cars, servicing them and removing metal canisters from the underbellies. The mist hung four feet above the grass under diffuse sunlight, curling about the rebels as they ran.
They were halfway to the cars when someone on the Hospital wall swung a spotlight-sized sonic toward them. The rebels dropped immediately, like hay before a scythe. So did the mechanics around the cars. Unconscious men lay scattered across the carport field with the mist curling around them.
Matt pulled his head back as the big sonic-swung toward the corner. Even so, he felt the numbness, faint and far-off, matching the deadwood feeling in his right arm. "Shall we wait till they turn it off, then run for it?"
"I think they've got us," said Laney.
"Stop that!" Mrs. Hancock rapped savagely. Matt had first met her fifteen minutes ago and had never seen her without her present enraged expression. She was a fierce one, bulky and homely, a natural for any cause. "They haven't got us until they take us!"
"Something keeps people from seeing me sometimes," said Matt. "If you want to risk it, and if you all stay close to me, it may protect us all."
"Crack' inner strain." Hood's voice was slurred, barely comprehensible. Only his eyes moved to watch Matt. Harry, too, was awake, alert, and immobile.
"It's true, Hood. I don't know why, but it's true. I think it must be a psi power."
"Wreebody who believes in psi things he's psygic."
"The sonic's off us," said Laney.
"My arm's dead. Laney, you and Mrs.--"
"Call me Lydia."
"You and Lydia put Hood over my left shoulder, the pick up Harry. Stay right by me. We'll be walking, remember. Don't try to hide. If we get shot, I'll apologize when I get the chance."
" 'Pologise now."
"Okay, Hood. I'm sorry I got us all killed."
" 'Sawrigh'."
"Let's go."
CHAPTER 7
THE BLEEDING HEART
WHEN THEY see this ... Jesus Pietro shuddered. He watched his own guards shrink back, unwilling to enter, unable to look away. They'll think a little less of their guns when they see this!
The vivarium guard had certainly had a gun. Probably he hadn't thought to draw it in time.
He'd get no second chance.
He was like something spilled from an organ-bank conveyor tank.
Hobart, dead near the back of the vivarium, was no prettier. Jesus Pietro felt a stab of guilt. He hadn't meant Hobart for such a fate.
Aside from the bodies, the vivarium was empty. Naturally.
Jesus Pietro looked once more around him and his eyes found the door and the dark scrawl on its bright steel surface.
It was a symbol of some kind; he was sure of that. But of what? The symbol of the Sons of Earth was a circle containing a streamlined outline of the American supercontinent. This was nothing like it, nor was it like anything he knew of. But it had unmistakably been drawn in human blood.
Two wide arcs, bilaterally symmetrical. Three small closed curves underneath, like circles with tails. Tadpoles? Some microorganism?
Jesus Pietro rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Later he'd ask the prisoners. Best forget it for now.
"Assume they took the fastest route to the main entrance," he said aloud. If the guards were surprised to hear him thus lecture himself, they reacted as Major Jansen had long since learned to react. They said nothing "Come," said Jesus Pietro.
Left, right, down the stairs ... a dead policeman sprawled in the hall, his Implementation uniform as torn and ruined as himself. Jesus Pietro passed him without breaking his juggernaut stride. He reached steel emergency doors and used his ultrasonic whistle. As the doors went up, his guards tensed.
Two pitiful rows of maimed and dead, and another steel door at the other end. The dead were like an explosion in the organ banks. That was definitely the way to think of them. It would not do to consider that these having been human beings under Jesus Pietro's protection. Most had not even been police, but civilians: doctors and electricians.
What a valuable lesson the Hospital guards would learn from this! Jesus Pietro felt sick. It showed only in his unusual pallor; but that he could not control. He marched down the corridor with his expression held remotely aloof. The steel doors went up as he approached.
Colonists were piled against the steel doors at both ends, as if trying to escape the trap even while unconscious. One of the policemen spoke into a handphone, asking for stretchers.