“Thank you for stopping,” said Rigg, who was lying on the floor of the vehicle now. “Actually, I don’t think taking off the facemask would kill Loaf, because Loaf would kill you before you got close to succeeding.”
“How did it happen?”
“Vadesh planned it all along,” said Rigg. “I think he picked Loaf as the best choice—he tried to leave me behind here at the station. He told us we were in the starship’s control room, but we weren’t. He got it onto Loaf’s face and that was it. The facemask took control of him. If you’d been there, Umbo—”
“I would have pried it off him!”
“Loaf would’ve—the facemask controlling Loaf would have torn you apart as you tried.”
And that explained future-Umbo’s condition when he came back to warn him to do nothing. Umbo told Rigg about the warning.
“Exactly right,” said Rigg. “Vadesh was going to get this facemask onto one of us, one way or another. He picked Loaf, and after it was done, Vadesh turned docile. I can command him now. If I can stand to look at him.”
“Where is he?” asked Umbo.
“When Loaf and I got on the vehicle, I told Vadesh to walk,” said Rigg. “He’ll be along in a while.” Rigg touched Loaf’s arm. “Loaf understands me when I talk to him. Or maybe it’s the facemask that understands me, using Loaf’s brain. I don’t know. I asked him if he knew me, and he didn’t answer. I don’t think he can talk. I asked him to come with me, to stand up, to do anything that showed Loaf was still in there. Nothing. But when I told him that the only way he’d get out of the starship was if he followed me, he got up and came along.”
“So you don’t know if that’s Loaf, or the facemask responding to your threat to leave him there,” said Umbo.
“I think it’s Loaf, or partly Loaf, and the facemask decided to allow it,” said Rigg. “Besides, from what you said about how your future self looked, I think it’s pretty certain Loaf still has some kind of control.”
“What makes you think that?” asked Umbo.
“Because you weren’t dead,” said Rigg. “If it was just the facemask, using Loaf’s body, using a soldier’s reflexes, and you posed a threat, he’d just have killed you. But he didn’t. He only stopped you.”
“And you think that means Loaf can still control something?”
“The facemask soldiers in the battle we saw—”
“I didn’t see anything,” said Umbo. “I was the anchor, remember?”
“Those were the original facemasks, completely in charge of their human hosts. They didn’t hesitate to kill the uncontaminated humans. But Loaf hasn’t tried to kill me.”
“What does that prove?”
“What Loaf has is a kind of facemask Vadesh has been breeding for thousands of years, to make it compatible with humans. If Vadesh didn’t screw it up, then Loaf is still in there. He might eventually get control. Or at least share control. Vadesh never had a human to try it on. So we won’t know until we see what Loaf does. But he came with me. He’s doing what I ask.”
“And you made Vadesh walk.”
“I know, it was childish of me. He’s a machine, it’s not going to bother him. But it made me feel better.”
“Breaking him into small pieces would make me feel better.”
“He’s indestructible. Plus if he dies, there are several replacements in there, with all his memories and personality already in them, ready to take over if anything damages this one.”
“So we can’t do anything to help Loaf, and we can’t do anything to hurt Vadesh.”
“Oh, there’s one way to hurt him,” said Rigg. “We could leave this wallfold, so he can’t see how his experiment turned out.”
“I suppose that’s the best we can do.”
“All the expendables talk to each other, and to the starships,” said Rigg. “So I suppose he’ll find out what happens one way or another.”
“I really liked your father,” said Umbo. “And Vadesh looks and sounds exactly like him, but he’s vile. He feels different. He did right from the start.”
“Identical machines,” said Rigg. “But I feel the same way. Maybe being without human company for ten thousand years changed Vadesh.”
“Or maybe he was already different, and that’s why all the humans in his wallfold died, leaving him without any.”
“I think you’re right,” said Rigg. “Where are Param and Olivenko?”
“Upstairs. Are we going to wait for him?”
“Vadesh? No. He probably knows another way and when we go up the stairs he’ll already be waiting.” Rigg turned to Loaf, who was just standing there, the facemask inert on his head, its tendrils wrapped around his neck, going into his nose, down under his clothing, one of them penetrating the spot just above the collarbone so that it was reaching into his flesh. “Will you come upstairs with us, Loaf?”
No response. Nothing.
Rigg turned his back on Loaf and started for the stairs. Umbo started with him, but he had to stop and see if his friend was going to follow.
Loaf took a staggering step forward, then balanced himself and walked slowly after Rigg. He showed no sign that he knew Umbo was there. That was hard to bear, but also maybe a good thing—at least Loaf wasn’t trying to attack him. There would be no broken arm or torn ear.
On impulse, Umbo fell in beside Loaf and walked along with him. Loaf showed no aversion to this. So as they climbed the stairs, Umbo slipped his fingers into Loaf’s large, man-sized hand and gripped him.
Ever so faintly, ever so gently, he felt Loaf’s grip tighten in response. A hint of a sign that Loaf was still in there. Loaf knew him. That was enough for Umbo. Enough for now, anyway.
Because if he ever became sure that Loaf was utterly gone, that his body was now completely the property of the monster implanted on his head, Umbo would find a way to kill him. If Loaf couldn’t have his own life, this creature wasn’t going to have it, either.
But Loaf was there. For now. So far.
Param had not intended to separate from the others, back outside the city. She simply got anxious, and by long habit, anxiety made her withdraw, becoming invisible to them and, best of all, ceasing to hear anything they said. They could look toward her, but she knew they didn’t see her. It was her perfect instantaneous escape.
Had she meant to escape? She hadn’t thought so; what would she be escaping from? It was inconvenient. This was not Flacommo’s house, where food would be waiting for her in Mother’s room whenever she chose to arrive there. She needed to stay with the others.
But look—they were already moving away. Leaving her behind. They didn’t care.
She knew this was unfair. To them, it would seem they had waited a long time for her to reappear. Nor did they look angry; merely surprised for a moment. She could imagine that Rigg had assumed she wanted to disappear, and he was leaving her to do so freely.
Yet it still felt to her as if they had decided she didn’t matter enough to wait for.
Of course, if she had disappeared deliberately, she might have remained invisible for a long time. She was prone to doing that, as both Rigg and Olivenko would know. So waiting would make no sense. They were behaving perfectly rationally. All she had to do was come back to the normal timeflow and call out, “Wait for me.”
But then they would ask for an explanation, and she didn’t have one, except for the embarrassing admission that the slightest anxiety could make her vanish. Such weakness!
Or they wouldn’t ask for an explanation, which might be worse, for that would mean they were being understanding, choosing not to mention her little indiscretion, like a drunk’s crude remark or an old lady’s fart.
So she hesitated longer, not knowing what to do, decided that she must decide right now, and then realized that her hesitation was her decision.
As usual, she had let fear control her.
She felt the usual wave of self-contempt, made only worse because just yesterday—if “yesterday” meant anything anymore—she had quite bravely leapt from the high rock with Umbo. But that was different; the boy was going to die if she didn’t do something. She was responsible for him. It was so much easier to be brave when you were saving someone else. But when you were the one at risk, then courage was selfish, false, dangerous, pointless. Better to hide.