And his body was abruptly shorted out. Now he knew, too late, that Tan suspected; he was helpless.
But Fleta, primed to act when he gave the word, decided it was time. She wrapped her amoebic flesh about Tan’s more sensitive parts and forced him to obey her. She made him free Mach, then deposit her in the waste disposal chute. The self-willed machines would guide her from there. She had escaped.
Leaving Mach with a hurting and humiliated Citizen.
It would not be smart for Tan to do anything to Mach, because Mach was the key to communication between the frames that the Contrary Citizens so very much desired. But Mach wasn’t sure that Tan was in a mood to be smart at the moment. He made a hasty retreat from the office, and with a speed that only a machine in a frame whose details were run largely by machines could manage, became lost in the service network. He knew Tan would not give the alarm; this would be a private grudge. Citizens did not take lightly to depradations on their dignity.
He consulted his brethren, the machines. He learned that there was indeed a search on for Agape (Fleta), and that it would be dangerous for her if Mach were to try to approach her before she was safely qualified for the Tourney.
Yet she would want and need his support. How could he provide it, without putting her in peril? How could he resist the natural urge to go to her prematurely?
He knew how. He requisitioned a unit and programmed a dialogue. He dictated an opening statement that would satisfy her as to his authenticity, and left the rest to interactivity. It would seem just like him, and give her comfort. He left it with the self-willed machines, who would use it when appropriate.
But when he set foot in the halls, and sought to lose himself among the walking serfs as he made his way to the estate of Citizen Blue, an android turned abruptly and threw an object at him. Mach dodged it, and it struck the wall beyond him, detonating in a flash and report like that of a small bomb but doing no harm. Apparently it was a toy, a mock explosive.
Mach took off after the android, who was trying to duck around a corner. He wanted to know who had sent him, and what the mock-bomb was supposed to do.
The android, like most of his species, was clumsy. Mach reached him easily, catching him by the shoulder.
The man whirled, flipping another bomb toward Mach’s face. Mach intercepted it with his left hand, his reactions much swifter and better coordinated than the android’s.
The bomb exploded in his hand, and the pieces of it fell away. It might have harmed a flesh hand, but not his. “What are you trying to do?” he demanded.
“Mark you,” the android said.
Suddenly Mach understood. That had not been a damage-bomb, but a marker-bomb! It had impregnated his hand with radiation that would enable him to be traced.
“Who sent you?” he asked.
“Citizen Tan.” The android was not even trying to evade; evidently his attempt to flee had been part of a ruse to get Mach close.
Mach let him go and ran on toward his destination. But he saw suggestive motion ahead, and realized that others were already closing in. They knew his destination, and his location, and would intercept him before he reached safety.
He had been right about Citizen Tan: the man was angry. Tan intended to capture Mach, regardless of the Contrary Citizens’ desire to get him to work for them. Injured pride was more immediate than long-term power. Fleta was safe because Tan could not find her—but Tan could get at her through Mach, reversing the ploy.
This situation had developed so quickly that Citizen Blue was not aware of it. Mach needed to get back to the self-willed machines, who would alert his father. But the minions of Tan were cutting him off from that contact too. Also, his contact with them now would serve as proof of their complicity. He had to find some other avenue of escape.
Mach charged back the way he had come. This happened to be the hall leading to the spaceport; he had entered it from a service aperture, which he did not dare use now, as the tracer radiation would betray his private contacts.
The spaceport? That was a dead end! They would close in on him there, and spirit him away before he could alert his side. Unless—
Why not? Their tracer would do them no good, if he were offplanet!
He hurried to the waiting shuttle. Ships did not actually land in the dome city; the shuttle conveyed passengers to the orbiting station, where they boarded the interplanetary vessels. He stepped in just as the port was starting to close; the shuttles departed on a rigid schedule every few minutes. He was safe from pursuit—for those few minutes.
He checked the screen for the imminent listings. Ships arrived and departed from and to a dozen planets every hour. There should be somewhere convenient, from which he could alert his father. It was ironic that they had been having so much trouble getting Agape offplanet, while he was doing it on the spur of the moment!
The name leaped out at him from the list: MOEBA. The very planet!
Mach laughed, internally. He would visit Planet Moeba.
Mach had been on interplanetary flights before; it had been a deliberate part of his education. He understood about the temporary blackout of Feetle (FTL—Faster Than Light) travel and the necessary adjustment of time to synchronize with that of the planet being approached. But he was surprised by the passengers.
It seemed that they were all from other planets; Proton had merely been a mail-stop, and he was the only new traveler. One individual resembled a molding green cactus. Another seemed like a living plate of spaghetti with olives for eyes. A third was rounded and furry, with half a dozen whistle-pipes poking out. The others were somewhat stranger.
Mach ran through his geography program, identifying the various species and cultures. They were all legitimate; the surprise was in finding such a varied assortment on a single ship. Their languages were all different, too, and he had no programs for these, so could not communicate.
He did have a program for Moebite, because of his association with Agape. He had never used it, but he automatically set up for likely eventualities. He had thought that Bane might find it useful; in the rush of events, he had neglected to inform his other self. How fortunate he had it now!
That jogged a little alarm circuit. His acquisition of that program was on record, which meant that Tan must know about it. Tan would not have known that it was for Bane; he would have thought it was for Mach himself. Tan might have concluded that Mach planned to go to Moeba at some time in the future.
Why, then, had Tan not acted to prevent it? Tan’s minions had tried to intercept Mach on the way to Citizen Blue’s estate; they had left an avenue to the spaceport open. That was the kind of error Citizens seldom made.
The timing had been remarkably convenient. Tan’s minions had struck just when the next ship out was the one to Moeba.
Mach had no further doubt: Tan had wanted him on this ship. That meant that there would be a welcoming party on Moeba. Away from Proton, Mach could not turn to his father for help. Perhaps a trap had been set for Agape, so that if she succeeded in departing Proton safely, she would still be taken captive. Now Tan had elected to use it on Mach. It could have been serendipitous for the Citizen: a trap set for one used to catch the other.
Now he was on the way to that trap, and he could not detour. The ship terminated at Moeba; it would undergo inspection and preparation for its next voyage, and only service crews would be permitted to remain on it. Mach would have to go to the planetary surface—where he would be vulnerable to whatever the Citizen had in mind. How could he escape it?