"Be quiet!" There had been two voices. Dumarest ran to the door of the bedroom, narrowing his eyes as he saw the scarlet of the cyber's robe. "You! In here. Quickly!"
Calmly Ruen obeyed, standing beside where Vargas had slumped in a faint, his eyes bright within the shadowed sockets of his skull. "Your name must be Dumarest," he said. "You are making a grave mistake."
"Perhaps."
"This man is the Technarch. How do you hope to escape?"
Dumarest ignored the question. He had managed to wash the dirt from his face and hands but had been unable to do anything about his clothes. He stepped to the wardrobe, sliding back the doors, tensing as he saw a threatening figure. It was a reflection; the cabinet was backed with mirrors. He turned as he noticed the movement of Ruen's hands.
"No. Keep your hands away from your sleeves. Away, I say!"
"You are being irrational," said the cyber, obeying. "Logical deduction should tell you that you have no hope of avoiding the guards." He watched as Dumarest changed, tearing clothes from the cabinet, dressing awkwardly but keeping the laser trained on the scarlet figure. "If you leave here with that weapon the probability of your being killed is ninety-nine percent. Certainty. Your only hope for life is to surrender yourself to me."
"Inside!" Dumarest gestured to the wardrobe. It had a catch and would hold for a while. "Quickly!"
"And if I refuse?"
"That would be illogical. I am a desperate man and it would be simpler to kill you than to argue. Your hands!" snapped Dumarest sharply as Ruen lifted them to his wide sleeves. "I shall not warn you again."
"You are desperate without cause. Yield yourself to me and I guarantee that none on Technos will harm you."
"Move!" Dumarest closed the panel as the cyber entered the wardrobe. He engaged the catch and glanced at Vargas. Unconscious the man was no problem. He had a few minutes at least before the alarm could be given.
Opening the door, he stepped into the corridor outside. The Technarch's paranoia had kept it free of guards. At the far end a man in red and black glanced at him, curious but reassured by Dumarest's air of confidence.
Fifteen seconds later he ran directly into Major Keron and six of his men.
* * *
Yendhal said, "I want you to be certain as to what we are doing. You have heard of lie detectors?"
"Yes," said Dumarest.
"Then you will understand what this is." The physician gestured toward the assembled apparatus. "It is a development of my own with certain improvements over the standard model. Electrodes will register the tensions of your body, the degree of emitted sweat, the minute, muscular contractions impossible to avoid when uttering a lie. The truth needs no consideration and can be spoken without hesitation. A lie, no matter how well rehearsed, requires concentration and there is usually a small but measurable delay. You understand?"
"Yes," said Dumarest again. He was naked, strapped to a chair, electrodes fastened to a dozen points of his body, more sprouting from a band of metal about his head.
Calmly he stared about the laboratory. The place had a harsh, clinical smell and looked more like a hospital than an interrogation room. Yendhal, fussing over his equipment, seemed more like a schoolmaster about to conduct a routine experiment than an inquisitor. But his eyes held a ruthless dedication which betrayed his true nature.
"There is one other thing." Yendhal rested his hand on a tube aimed directly at a point between Dumarest's eyes. "This is a laser. If you lie it will burn a hole in your brain." He looked at someone beyond the range of Dumarest's vision. "Commence."
"Your name?"
"Earl Dumarest."
"Your planet of origin?"
"Earth."
"How did you arrive on Technos?" The voice was cold, emotionless, the studied modulation of a machine. Dumarest answered without hesitation.
"Are you an assassin?"
"No."
"Have you killed?"
"Yes."
"On Technos?"
"No."
"Why did you try to kill the Technarch?"
Dumarest remained silent.
"Answer the question. The laser will fire if you refuse."
"I cannot answer because the question is wrongly framed. You are asking me to give a reason for doing something which I did not do and did not intend."
"Did you intend to kill the Technarch?"
"No."
"Did you try to kill him?"
"No."
"Could you have?"
"Yes Vargas turned from where he stood before a sheet of one-way glass as Yendhal came toward him. The man is lying. He has found a way to beat your machine."
"Impossible!" The physician was emphatic. "No man can control his respiration, muscular response and nervous tension to that degree. I stake my reputation that he is telling the truth."
"But he was in my apartments! What reason could he have had unless he intended to kill me?"
Yendhal was patient. "He had no weapon, sire, and an assassin would have to anticipate the presence of your guard. Logic dictates that if he had intended to kill you he would have been armed."
Vargas frowned, reluctant to accept the conclusion, yet knowing it to be true. And the man had illustrated a weakness. Who would have thought anyone could enter from the disposal chute? Ruen should have thought of it.
Perhaps he had. The frown deepened as Vargas's suspicions began to feed on his doubts. Who could tell what had happened after he had fainted? Had the cyber hoped that the sudden strain would burst his heart? Had they been interrupted before killing him without trace? The coincidence was too much for him to believe. How had the man known which chute led to his rooms? And Ruen had made certain that the guard had been summoned and sent ahead.
He scowled, listening to the drone of question and answer from a connecting speaker. Was the man in the pay of some seditious element? Had the cyber lied in his assurance that there was no organized opposition to his plan to gain supreme power? And Yendhal, could he have rigged the machine so as to give harmless answers?
"You are a stranger on Technos?"
"Do you have friends on the planet?"
"No."
"Have you been here before?"
"No."
Check questions repeated at irregular intervals and in different phraseology. Standard procedure to catch a liar but now it was even more than that. The relentless barrage would numb the consciousness and induce a hypnotic condition in which the answers would come mechanically from the lower regions of the brain, thus bypassing the censor. Dumarest was being conditioned to answer without conscious volition.
"An unusual man, sire." Yendhal turned from the observation screen. "I have questioned Major Keron as to his activities. Apparently he reacted most violently to routine interrogation, attacking the guards at the threat of violence and making good his escape despite formidable obstacles. The incident is even more remarkable when we realize that he knew nothing of our culture and could not fully assess the difficulties he would have to overcome."
"Are you saying that he reacted instinctively?"
"Yes, sire, I am. Almost as an animal would react, sensing danger and taking action to avoid it, gauging situations as they arose and taking steps to elude capture. An intelligent animal, naturally, and one with a highly developed sense of survival. He must have spent much time on backward worlds among primitive cultures in which personal survival depended on individual strength and quickness. His reflexes are amazingly fast. So fast that they must operate independently of conscious thought. Logically it would have been wiser for him to have accepted Keren's punishment and bided his time. He must have reacted on a purely subconscious level, assessing the situation, judging the chances of success and moving into action all in the time it took for him to see the upraised club and realize its significance. A truly remarkable performance."