There will be nowhere safe for you in this galaxy. Leave it."
He turned his back on the Eosi whose horrified expressions were probably the first honest reactions they had shown in centuries. He heard several gasps at what was an insult to their dignities.
"Are they all dead yet?" Zainal asked, padding down the line of the Eosi who looked more like collapsed bags of shuddering and putrid flesh to the one that had been his brother. The Eosi host that had subsumed Lenvec still retained some of its genuinely youthful, and recognizable, facial appearance.
This was fast turning to a viscous mess and to the size of the original host before subsumation. There was so little of Lenvec left even after the short time the Eosi had inhabited it. But enough to have waged a stupid and futile war against the planet which sheltered Zainal.
"I think that does it;' The Emassi security officer said, tipping back a helmet to reveal Kamiton, a mightily relieved Kamiton. "I didn't think we'd bring it off. I really didn't:'
"I always knew it was the only feasible way of eliminating them all," Nitin said, stepping around a slow-moving rivulet of varicolored fluids.
"We didn't," Tubelin remarked, pointing toward the screens, some already blank.
"Those fourteen will be scrambling to leave. They do not have enough power to regain command," Zainal said. "Now, all we have to do is get out of this level. The sooner the better."
He moved toward the door-staggered would be more accurate since his emaciation and the nerve whip welts were real, if the wounds were somewhat exaggerated by dramatic additions of blood and excrement.
Leaning against the wall, he shook the bulb that had been secreted between his "force" bracelets.
"Who has the stuff?" He looked around, one shoulder resting against the wall.
"I do," and Kasturi came forward, holding out the flask and the little tundish with which he carefully added the lethal dust to Zainal's innocuous-looking device.
"Better do it all round," Kamiton said, "while we're where we can't be observed."
Tubelin shook his head. "Even with nose plugs, the stench is awful.
Will the doors keep it out long enough?"
"Call the other guard in;' Zainal suggested.
Nitin was nearest and, opening the door enough to see the real guard, beckoned him in. The smell wrinkled the man's nostrils but he was too well trained to show either revulsion or hesitation. He had time to take in the scene of the mass execution. In fact, he caught his breath in astonishment and terror. And that was sufficient to inhale enough of the free dust particles in the air of the long room to ensure his demise.
Quickly, the detail assembled outside again.
"You did it? I can smell you did it;' their bogus guard said, touching his nostrils to make sure his nose plugs were in place.
"Anyone passed by.›" Zainal asked, and their colleague shook his head, looking relieved.
"Then let's get out of here;' Kamiton said, settling his helmet correctly on his brow. He looked about as the security detail formed up and nodded as Zainal resumed his inert posture between his "guards." He had no trouble at all assuming an expression of intense and smugly self-congratulatory pride as he led his detail back the way they had come.
The dissidents were by no means in the clear yet. Anyone with some urgent message for a Mentat could arrive in that corridor. The absence of guards at the door would be the first thing noticed and then, undoubtedly, the presence of an incredible putrefying stench would seep into the corridor.
Since this was a space station, there were devices all over that should detect unusual alterations in air circulation.
On the space station, down on the planet and across Catteni-occupied space, other dissidents awaited news that the execution had been successful.
There had been enough to secure the most important Eosi installations.
Once deprived of orders, many other Catteni would be so totally confused that they would not protest Emassi rulers. They had been trained too well to operate on orders and not on their own initiatives. As Zainal had said, there might not be that many Emassi dissidents but most of them were in critical positions, or could assume them. One of their number ranked high in the security section, and he had deftly changed assignments on the station to include more rebels, as well as preparing himself to take control of the space station if the executions were successful. He could do only so much until he knew the coup achieved its prime objective.
It was Ugred, in the central communications and security section of the station, who could then send the coded message to those waiting to hear, and act upon it. On receipt, those who had waited almost a lifetime would go into action and initiate actions that would forever end Eosian domination.
First, they had to escape the station before loyal Catteni discovered the deaths and, in turn, eliminated the perpetrators. The Emassi in control could do only so much to assist the dissidents. And it would take time for the others to complete their takeover.
THE FIRST SIGNAL was the return of the prisoner detail.
"Was the Ix finally satisfied?" a High Emassi fleet officer asked, pausing to watch the prisoner dragged by, leaving a trail of blood.
"The Ix went into spasms again;' Kamiton said smugly. He had to swallow against the nervous laughter inside him at the so accurate remark.
"What'll happen to him?" The Emassi nodded down at the prisoner.
Kamiton barked an unpleasant laugh. "You know the games Eosi will play with those who displease them. I am glad I can hand him over;' and Kamiton pointed to the floor, "to the cells. He's got until the convocation ends."
With a suitable bow to an Emassi of superior rank, Kamiton curtly gestured for the detail to move forward again, across the main corridor of the space station.
If his glance took in the high-security window of space station control overlooking this space, it was more part of a general survey than a signal.
He did settle his helmet more securely on his head as he crossed to the gray shaft that would take his detail and its prisoner to the lower levels.
Reaching the appropriate level, the detail marched along, still dragging its prisoner, down the corridor and to the ship bays that ringed this level of the station, the security Emassi paid no attention to others going about their duties.
They reached their destination. Kamiton tapped in the security code for the locked room, and he curtly beckoned to the two carrying Zainal to bring him through first. The others hastily filed in. As soon as the panel closed, Zainal was swung up on his feet. Kamiton passed him moist towels to clean off the blood, grime, and also the slime, which was actually an antihistimine cream to protect him from the lethal dust. Kasturi peeled off some of the multiple nerve whip welts-carefully-since the first layer was genuine. Tubelin washed down his legs, while Zainal did his own arms: both used some degree of care for the gouges and slices that were visible were also genuine, if realistically enlarged. Nitin was opening a cabinet and taking out the Drassi security uniform and passed the helmet to Zainal. The erstwhile prisoner quickly inserted into his now clean cheeks the pads, which Sandy Areson had made for his first impersonation. He pulled off the unkempt wig, wincing as the glue stuck to the skin of his forehead a moment, revealing a properly trim Drassi hairstyle underneath. He put his legs through the trousers, his arms through the tunic, stood first on one leg while a boot was pushed on and tied and then on the other for the second boot to be shoved on his foot.
The change had been achieved in seconds. No one would have suspected a delay of any kind as a detail marched out of that antechamber and toward the shuttle on which they had arrived.