Michael cranked the crossbow drawstring back and positioned another bolt. Thus armed he stood up from his hiding place alongside the museum wall and cautiously approached the downed clone. Michael had neither seem nor heard the air taxi: it had landed just out of sight. He felt lucky he’d looked back at the submersible the moment he did, for he had been dozing on and off despite his efforts to stay alert.
Keeping the crossbow trained on the clone, Michael reached out with his right foot and gave the body a kick. The clone didn’t respond although there was another small surge of blood and fluid from the through-and-through neck wound.
Taking one hand away from the crossbow to give himself better balance, Michael gave the body one last, good kick to make sure there was no question about its status. To his shock, the crossbow was ripped out of his hand.
Startled, Michael whirled around to find himself facing a second clone, who’d tossed the crossbow aside and was raising a sledgehammer over his head. Michael instinctively put his hands up although he knew it would be no defense against the coming blow. Back peddling he tripped over the fallen clone and fell across the downed worker, losing his helmet in the process.
Michael desperately rolled to the side as the hammer came down with jarring force, crunching the already incapacitated clone. As the second clone regained his balance and retracted his weapon for another blow, Michael pushed himself up on one knee and drew his Greek short sword. As the clone again lifted the sledge over his head, exposing his abdomen, Michael lunged forward. With Michael’s full weight behind the thrust the sword buried itself to its hilt. A mixture of blood and clear oil gushed onto Michael’s chest.
The startled clone dropped the sledge and grabbed Michael’s head with his two hands. Michael felt himself being lifted off the ground. But it didn’t last. The inordinate strength of the clone ebbed, and he toppled over, dragging Michael with him.
It took almost five minutes for the worker clone’s grip around Michael’s head to relax enough for Michael to extract himself. As he got to his feet he shuddered through a wave of nausea at the smell of the fluid leaking out of the two downed clones. It was like a combination of a slaughter house and an auto repair shop.
Michael retrieved the crossbow. He had new respect for the danger the clones represented. He’d been surprised the second clone had attacked him, and he reasoned that they must have been given some blanket order. The episode also underlined the fact that the clones had no trouble with violence, just as Harv had warned.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Maybe we should have pulled this off after dinner,” Richard said. “I’m starved.”
“This is no time for humor,” Perry said.
“Who’s making a joke?” Richard said.
“This must be them,” Harvey called from the door, where Donald had ordered him to stay as a lookout. “An air taxi has just dropped down outside.”
The group was in the dining room waiting for Arak, Sufa, and the Blacks.
“All right, troops,” Donald said. “This is it. Let’s be prepared.”
Richard picked up one of the Greek swords. After his dunk in the pool he’d dispensed with the armor. Donald removed the clip from the Luger for the twentieth time, checked it, and replaced it. He made sure a cartridge was in the firing chamber.
Arak, Sufa, the Blacks, and four large worker clones swept into the room.
“Okay,” Arak said, slightly out of breath. “Everything is going to be fine, so please just relax.”
According to plan, Harvey pushed the door closed with a resounding thud. Arak ignored the noise. Harvey walked around the periphery of the room. Along with Perry and Richard he stood behind Donald.
“First,” Arak said, “you must understand that you cannot escape. We cannot permit it.”
“Word travels fast,” Donald said. “So Suzanne has already gotten to you.”
“We were informed by the Council of Elders,” Arak said. “We heard from them just after you requested our presence. Now that we are here, we’d like to request that you return to your individual cottages. I repeat: you cannot escape.”
“We shall see,” Donald said. “For the time being, we are going to be giving the orders.”
“That is out of the question,” Arak remarked. Then, turning to the clones, he said, “Restrain them without hurting them, please!”
Obediently the clones surged forward.
Donald brandished the pistol and took several steps back. His coconspirators did the same.
“Don’t come any closer!” Donald commanded.
“I don’t think they know what a gun is,” Perry said nervously.
“They are going to learn quickly,” Donald said. While continuing to back up he raised the gun and aimed at the face of the clone coming directly at him.
“Arak!” Ismael cried. “He’s got a gun. Arak-”
“Stop, please!” Donald ordered the clones.
Having been commanded by an Interterran, the clones ignored Donald and continued closing in on the retreating secondary humans. Donald pulled the Luger’s trigger and it fired with a roar. The slug hit the lead clone in the forehead. He wobbled and then collapsed backward to the floor. A clear viscous fluid flowed out of the wound onto the marble. Curiously his legs continued to move as if he were still advancing.
Arak and Sufa gasped.
Undaunted, the other clones continued to approach. Donald swung the gun around to the one closing on Perry and fired again. The bullet struck the second clone in the temple. He collapsed as well, though his legs, too, continued moving.
“Halt, please,” Arak shouted with a quavering voice to the two remaining clones. The clones obeyed instantly. Arak’s face had gone pale and he was shaking. Meanwhile, the scissoring motion of the legs of the two on the ground slowed, then stopped.
Donald was now holding the pistol with two hands. He swung it around and pointed it at Arak. “That’s better,” he told the terrified Interterran. “Just so we understand one another, you are next.”
“Please,” Sufa cried. “No more violence. Please!”
“We’re happy to oblige,” Donald said without lowering the gun. “Just do as we say, and everything will be cool. Arak, I want you to make a few contacts with your wrist unit, then we’ll be leaving here.”
Suzanne was impressed with the equanimity the elders displayed despite the grave crisis. She, on the other hand, was growing progressively more anxious; the dispatches coming back to the council suggested that her former colleagues were succeeding.
While the council had convened, Suzanne had been offered food and then returned to the colonnaded hall. Like that morning she was again asked to be in the center although on this occasion she’d been supplied with a chair similar in style though smaller than those occupied by the elders. She was facing Ala with the bronze doors at her back.
“The problem seems to be getting worse,” Ala said after listening for a moment to her wrist communicator. Her clear, high-pitched voice was not hurried or harried. “The wayward group along with four human hostages are now approaching Barsama with their intact submersible. Arak is awaiting our orders.”
“I’ve never dealt with such a situation as this in all my lifetimes,” Ponu said. “Four worker clones have been prematurely dispatched. That is disturbing, indeed.”
“You can stop them, can’t you?” Suzanne blurted. She was beginning to find the calmness of the council unnerving. “And you can do it without injuring them, can’t you?”
Ala leaned forward toward Suzanne, ignoring her questions. “There is one issue we must be absolutely sure of,” she said calmly. “We have witnessed that your colleagues have surprisingly little compunction about damaging worker clones. What about humans? Would they really be capable of hurting a human?”