"I didn't know who and what you were," she said flatly. "All I was certain of was that I knew who you weren't the man you claimed to be. I know Major Keren. Jack and I are old friends and I was expecting to see him when you arrived. I couldn't understand why you used his name and so I gave you something in the tisane. I wanted to render you helpless while I called Jack and made inquiries." She lifted one hand and touched the side of her jaw. "You gave me no chance for that. Do you often strike women?"
"Only when I suspect their motives. And the men waiting outside?"
She frowned. "I know nothing of that."
"Never mind." Mada, of course. She must have had him followed from the train. "But why should you have been afraid of me?"
"I'm from Loame," she said evenly. "That makes me an enemy alien. A planet at war is inclined to become hysterical and to see spies under every bed. You could have been sent to test my loyalty, to trap me in some way. It was a risk I dared not take." She saw the movement of his eyes. "Don't worry. This place isn't fitted with microphones. We have other ways to learn the truth."
Dumarest was grim. "So I discovered."
"You had a bad session," she admitted. "Far more intense than anyone has ever had before. You were exhausted when they carried you from the chair. I had to give you intravenous feeding with saline and glucose together with restoratives to avoid total physical and mental shock."
He could believe it. The questions had become hammers beating at the naked surface of his brain, each answer becoming a greater effort as he struggled against fatigue. Twice, he remembered, they had paused to give him water. Well, it was over now. They had searched his mind and learned what they wanted to know.
"What are the charges and when is the trial?"
Elaine said, "I don't know what you mean."
"Do I have to explain?" Dumarest was curt. "I have been questioned. All right. Now they know all they wanted to find out. The next step is surely to try me for breaking the law. What are the penalties for landing without permission, escaping from custody, theft and assault?"
"I don't know," she said. "But it doesn't matter. I don't think they intend to try you."
"Why not? This is a civilized world, isn't it? A highly sophisticated culture which operates on the basis of law. Or are they going to release me now they know I had no criminal intent."
"Not that either. Vargas-"
"Is a man," he interrupted. "The head of the council. Or are you saying that he has set himself above the law? Is that it?" He stepped toward her, gripping her shoulders as she made no answer. "And you are willing to work for a system like that? A society in which the individual has no rights at all? Are you so in love with slavery that you run to meet it?"
"I work here." She responded to his anger with a rising fury of her own. "I am a doctor and a skilled pathologist. I have degrees in ecology, botany, economics, social science, psychology, chemistry-" She broke off, eyes hard as they met his own. "What's the difference? You wouldn't understand."
"Try me."
"On Technos I am respected. I have a high position and live well. On Loame what would I be? The wife of a grower and a virtual serf. A-"
"A person who could entertain a guest without fear of a trap." Dumarest released her and stepped back. "You drugged me because you feared that very thing. And still you try to justify your blindness. Are you trying to climb higher still? To get a seat on the Supreme Council?"
"That's impossible! Only the native born are allowed to stand for the examinations."
"Not impossible. What about Mada Grist? She comes from Loame. She denied it but she lied. The color and texture of her skin is unmistakable."
"Mada Grist?" Elaine frowned, puzzled, her anger evaporating. "You know her?"
"Yes."
"And she looks like me?"
"Very much like you. You reminded me of her when we met. You have the same coloring and height, and even your figures are much the same. She is a little younger, perhaps, but that-" He broke off at the sound of her laughter. "Elaine!"
"You poor devil," she said. "Someone has been having a game with you. Mada Grist is eighty-seven years old."
Beyond the bars of the cell footsteps echoed from a point down the external corridor. As they grew closer Dumarest said, "Delay matters. We must talk."
"But-"
"Do it!"
He returned to the bed and lay supine, eyes closed and hands lax at his sides. He felt the woman lean over him and touch him with some instrument. The footsteps halted.
"Madam?"
"I am not finished. Leave me. I will call when ready." As the footsteps retreated she said, "What have we to talk about?"
"Mada Grist. Has she a granddaughter?"
"No. She has no children."
"The woman I am talking about wears a bracelet of gold on her left wrist. It is her identification. Does that mean anything to you?" He rose as she remained silent, turning to look into her face. "Well?"
"Members of the Supreme Council wear such a bracelet," she admitted. "But it could have been a forgery. How would you know?"
"I wouldn't, but the guards would, and could an impostor live in an apartment in the palace? And your friend saw her. Major Keron came looking for me. He seemed convinced she was genuine."
"No. It isn't possible. There must be some mistake."
"Such as?"
"Women are vain and old women more so. The wearing of masks has become fashionable. In a dim light you could have easily been mistaken."
It was possible, he had seen her only twice and both times the light had been poor. He remembered how she had prevented him from touching her face and his own suspicions that she wore a mask. But there had been no doubt as to the youth of her body.
"I told you that I knew her," he said. "I saw her naked. Her body is younger than your own." He saw the look in her eyes, the dawning comprehension. "You didn't know?"
"No. How could I have? I still can't believe it."
He was harsh. "You don't want to believe it because, if you do, it will shake your nice, tidy little world. But you work here. You must, have guessed. What do you do?"
"Tissue typing mostly. Taking cells to grow new organs in culture vats as replacement grafts for the war-injured."
"From the tributaries sent from Loame?"
"Mostly, yes. We have an extremely low rejection mechanism which makes culture growths ideal for surgical use. The donors aren't harmed, of course; they just lose a few cells which are quickly replaced by normal means. But the other-what you suggest-it's horrible!"
"But true. Mada Grist can't be the only one. There must be others, members of the Supreme Council wouldn't take the risk unless there was a reasonable chance of success." Or perhaps she had been desperate, he thought, her body so diseased that it was easier to give her a new one rather than a series of implants. The details didn't matter. The important thing was to convince Elaine of the inevitable consequences. "You are intelligent and must know what will happen. More and more old people will want new bodies and, for every one that does, one of your own people has to die. Technos will become a parasite on Loame. Your planet will be a farm for the production of young and healthy beasts. Their brains won't matter, only their bodies, fed and cosseted until they are needed. Cattle!"
Her hands tightened into fists. "No! It's too vile! It mustn't happen. It can't!"
"It will unless you stop it. The Technarch has everything in his favor. He can offer young bodies and extended life to those who are loyal. Already he has made himself the master of Technos, and soon he will be almost a god. And he has someone to help him do it. A creature of the Cyclan. My guess is that the cyber came here just before the wars started. Am I right?"