"And that is not survival?"
"It is," admitted Yendhal, "but we are not testing to determine educational ability. As I explained the survival instinct is inherent in the basic pattern. A man can be taught but it is not the same. I assure you, sire, I know what I am doing. Each subject has been selected on the basis of tissue affinity. If you wish I could operate tomorrow but-"
"Only with a success factor of eighty percent?"
"That is so, sire. I strongly suggest that you allow me to continue my researches on the present basis. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain by waiting. The laws of probability must, in time, produce a perfect specimen."
Vargas glowered around the subterranean laboratories. Yendhal was in his element here, a man devoid of morals or conscience, happy to pursue his experiments and, perhaps, forgetful of the main object. Such a man would take no account of the passage of time.
To reassure himself he said, "There is no doubt in your mind as to the suitability of the subjects?"
"No, sire, none. The people of Loame are unique in that they show a total lack of the stress factors induced by higher civilizations. From birth they have eaten a mainly vegetable diet, lived in a relatively gentle environment and have had none of the strains of competition. The results show in their medically perfect physiques. Comparisons with opposed types from Technos show a remarkable diminution in organic wear and arterial blockage. Unfortunately the same environment which has provided the stress free condition has worked against a high survival factor. They are like domestic cattle as compared to those running wild. The domestic types are more healthy in every way."
"But are more easily killed?"
"Exactly, sire. If they were not, the war with Loame would be far different from what it is. The mere fact they agree to the tribute is proof that their natural resistance is low. On a planetary scale war is, of course, an analog of an individual infection. A healthy organism will resist the invader-by healthy I mean one with a high survival factor. It will produce antibodies to fight on its behalf. Loame has not done so. And so we have the apparent paradox of a people perfectly healthy in body but hopelessly unable to resist the infection of war. For our purposes they are ideal."
* * *
At four in the afternoon the palace was a teeming hive of activity with people streaming through the lower chambers, supplicants, examinees, minor officials intent on their business. An ant hill, thought Major Keron dispassionately. A hive. A community of which the whole was greater than the parts.
The activity fell away as he rose to the upper levels, changing elevators to rise still higher, the cage humming as it rose into silence. A guard checked his credentials, another guided him down a mesh of passages, pointing as he reached a turn.
"The third door along, Major. Knock and wait."
Frowning, he obeyed. The panel swung open and a youth, bright in scarlet, gestured for him to enter.
Ruen stood at the far side of the room.
"Major Keron?"
"Yes." Keron stared about the room. "I was summoned to appear before Cyber Ruen."
"I am he. Will you sit?"
Keron obeyed. The acolyte glided silently from the room. For a moment the two men stared at each other, Keron frankly curious, the cyber calculating as he studied his visitor. A typical product of Technos culture, he thought. A man who considered himself to be highly intelligent because he had passed various exams, not suspecting that wisdom, intelligence and book learning were not the same.
"I have the permission of the Technarch to interview you, Major," he said. "You understand that I have his full authority? That in speaking to me you are speaking to him?"
"With respect, cyber, I disagree." Keron was firm. "As an officer attached to the Security Division I must be circumspect. You understand?"
"Are you intelligent, Major?"
"I have nine degrees."
"That isn't answering my question. Do you know what intelligence is?"
"Knowledge," said Keron after a moment. "Education."
"Wisdom is neither," said Ruen in his even monotone. "An untaught man can be wise. And intelligence is not necessarily knowledge. It is, rather, the ability to survive in the environment in which you find yourself. You can appreciate the difference. I venture to state that on Sarg, a planet of blistering heat and little water, you would quickly die." He paused and added, "Dumarest would live."
"Dumarest?"
"The man you allowed to escape." He caught the sudden tension, the almost indiscernible stiffening of his visitor. "You have never heard of him?"
"No."
"I have been checking the records," continued Ruen. "Of the last contingent from Loame how many were suspect?"
"Five. One was a liar, claiming to be the son of a grower when he was not. Three were interrogated and found to be harmless. The other-"
"Escaped," said Ruen. "That man was Dumarest. He was not a spy and comes from no local world. How did he elude your guards?" He waited as Keren explained. "He moved quickly?"
"Very quickly. Faster than any man I have ever seen before."
It was confirmation if Ruen had needed it, which he had not. Logic and extrapolation pointed to the obvious. The message received via Central Intelligence proved that Dumarest must have visited Technos. Now he had to be found. If Keron was as intelligent as he thought he would have found him long ago.
"I take it that you have thoroughly checked the base area? That he was not found?"
"I have and he was not." Keron was irked by the implication that he was incapable of doing his job. "We found his discarded uniform. We also found other clothes which he had left in a hotel. There is a suspicion that he booked at another under the name of Ganish. Other than that, nothing."
"It was getting late," pointed out Ruen. "The temperature was falling and later it snowed. He could not have wandered the streets all night."
"No."
"So he must have found shelter. Where else but on the monorail? Surely you checked?"
"Yes," admitted Keron. "I did. A ticket was sold against my credit card and identification. He stole it together with some money. But he was not on the monorail. Every car was checked and no passenger was found without satisfactory identification."
"He could not have boarded a vessel?"
"Impossible. The gates were locked and the fence guarded. Also each ship was later searched."
Ruen stood thinking, his eyes somber in the stark planes of his face. "The man is in the capital," he said after a moment, "You will find him at a hospital or nursing home. Either that or he will be in jail. Check every patient and prisoner, and when you find him bring him to me. To me, Major, do you understand?"
Keron frowned. "It is a security matter, I am not sure that I can do that."
"You can." Ruen was insistent. "It will be to your advantage. The man means nothing to you. Do as I ask and you will not regret it. I have the confidence of the Technarch and he will promote you if I suggest he do so. Now hurry. Already too much time has been allowed to elapse."
Chapter Nine
THE ROOM was pentagonal, windowless, soft lights casting an artificial moonlight from the vaulted roof, the air heavy and perfumed with a musky odor. Soft carpets lined the floor, and on small tables rested various objects of interest.
Idly Dumarest examined them. A tall cylinder of transparent crystal held a slowly moving growth of fibrous matter, bright colors merging, changing into new patterns, the material streaked and flecked with kaleidoscopic brilliance. Another cylinder held a mass of crystals which spread, piling one on top of another until the jar was filled with a glittering tree, the whole abruptly slumping into a turgid liquid which grew again as he watched, faceted gems forming themselves into new configurations. A cone shimmered with living rainbows. A cube slowly revolved, the lines and planes seeming to shift into other dimensions so that he blinked at the sudden ache in his eyes.