“It is not necessary to scream or struggle,” said a cheerful voice high above her. “Nor is it productive to do so. Such actions are quite pointless, since you are in no conceivable danger.”
Tatty drew in a deep breath, ready to scream anyway. Before she could begin, a dim red glow filled the air. It gave her a first faint view of her surroundings. Instead of screaming, she gasped, gaped, and stared around her.
She was in a thiefhole!
The secret rooms were almost a legend, mysterious pockets scattered through the deepest reaches of the basement warrens. They were the Scavvies’ final sanctuary, the hiding places for hunted criminals and contract-breakers. Their locations were passed on only by word of mouth, from one generation to the next. Earth’s official authorities found it best to deny their very existence, since they were unable to locate and destroy them.
Tatty had never been in a thiefhole before, but she knew it at once from Gallimaufry rumor and descriptions. This one was tucked away behind the main air-pipes. The room was ten meters long, five meters high, and less than two across. A crude tap to the basement power lines in one corner fed the glowing fluorescents. They had been modified, to throw a murky red light through the long room. Another tap, this one to the air-pipes, provided just enough circulation to keep the air breathable. On the far wall stood an ancient food synthesizer, not apparently in current use. Next to that was a long painted screen of dull silver, shielding part of the room from view.
“You know where you are?” said a gentle voice from behind the screen.
“Yes. I am in a thiefhole.” Tatty tried to keep the tremor out of her voice.
“Exactly so. With your permission, then.” The light suddenly snapped off — without her permission. Tatty felt chilly electrodes attach to her body, and something else that she could not identify. She shivered.
“These are for my convenience, not for your discomfort,” said the cheerful voice. “You will not be aware of them after a few moments. Do not worry, the lights will return shortly.”
“Who are you?”
There was a high-pitched laugh in the darkness. “Now, Princess Tatiana Sinai-Peres, you know very well who I am, as surely as your name is Tatty Snipes. Otherwise you would not be here.”
“You are Skrynol. The Fropper who has been treating Esro Mondrian.”
“Indeed I am.”
“Well, you may call it treatment if you want to.” Tatty’s courage was returning, and with it anger. “So far as I can see, you’ve been making him worse. God, I wish I had never mentioned your name to him. Put some damned lights on in here! You may be able to see in the dark, but I cannot.”
“Your wish is my command.” The lights came on again, but there was no sign of Skrynol. “Even if you had not brought him,” said the voice behind the silver screen, “someone else would have. It was absolutely necessary that I should meet him, and absolutely essential that I should treat him. Tatty Snipes, can you describe Esro Mondrian to me? How well do you know him?”
“As well as I know anyone!” But then some tone in Skrynol’s gentle voice made Tatty think again. She had not asked herself those questions for a long time. “He is the most intelligent and hard-working man that I have ever met,” she said at last. “But sometimes I wonder if I know him at all. Sometimes I think that he is genuinely fond of me. And sometimes I think that he is a monster, somebody who cares for no one and who will use anything and anyone for his own purposes.”
“Yet you are longtime lovers. And still you work for him!”
“I know.” Tatty’s laugh was harsh self-mockery. “You don’t need to tell me what a fool I am. It’s my own fault — but sometimes I think Esro can persuade me to do anything if he tries hard enough.”
“You do know him, very well. But there is one thing that perhaps you do not realize about him. Mondrian is in some ways the most valuable person in the solar system. He is also the most dangerous human in the Stellar Group. Esro Mondrian is the reason — the sole reason — that I am here on Earth.”
Tatty saw a monstrous shadow cast from behind the screen. Then a worse reality appeared, a gigantic stooped body shuffling forward on multiple jointed legs. She shrank back, as the Pipe-Rilla came slowly forward and squatted at her side.
“I have decided that I will gain nothing by concealing the truth from you.” Skrynol’s mild and cheerful voice did a lot to offset the Pipe-Rilla’s frightening appearance. “I know that you are afraid, but there is truly no reason for fear. I will not harm you. Come, Tatty Snipes, you are a brave woman and you know that we are a peaceful species. I need your help.”
Tatty stared at the long body crouching next to her. It had been strangely modified from the picture-book form, with fleshy forelimbs replacing the usual clawed ones. “I don’t see how I can possibly help you.’’
“I do.” The tall body stretched higher and leaned away, sensing her discomfort at its closeness. “Let me at least describe to you the problem. The Stellar Group members have been studying the human species for centuries — as intensively as humans have I am sure been studying us. In each generation, we strive to identify those humans whom we believe have unique powers for good or evil. Our record of such behavior prediction is excellent, but occasionally we find an anomaly, a human being who seems a total enigma. Such an individual must be watched closely, so that the potential for harm is never realized. And in the case of Esro Mondrian, we have the extreme anomaly: a human of exceptional abilities, whose own compulsions are so strong that they could lead him to self-destruction. And far more than that. Those compulsions imply danger for the whole of the Stellar Group.”
“That’s ridiculous. I said I don’t understand him fully, and I don’t. But I’ll tell you one thing that I am sure of. Esro likes you — Pipe-Rillas, and Tinkers, and Angels.”
“I agree. It makes no difference. Mondrian is not a simple man. There are others, like Commander Brachis, who hate all aliens in a direct and predictable way. We can allow for that, plan for it, and live with it. Mondrian is far more difficult. He likes us, but in some ways he cannot tolerate us. At a deep level he cannot stand the threat that the Stellar Group represents to him.”
“How can you possibly be a threat to Esro?”
“We do not know. Mondrian remains a mystery, even after all my work with him. In such a situation, the human solution might well be that we must destroy him. But that avenue is not open to our kind. We must help Mondrian. We must find the source of that destructive drive, and we must eradicate it from him. That is where you can assist us.”
“You don’t understand. I’ve tried to help Esro — God knows I’ve tried. But I can’t reach him, really get through to him. He’ll never tell me what ails him.”
“If it makes you feel better, I too have been unable to penetrate that shield, although my whole life and training have been for just such a purpose. But in my sessions with Mondrian I have become sure of one thing: he is torn apart by conflicting drives. He has the capacity for love, but it is drowned by internal fear. He is obsessed by the escaped Morgan Construct. Do you know why?”
“The Construct has to be destroyed. He’s been working for that, night and day.”
“He has been working, yes. Work is his life. But did you know that Mondrian originated the program for the Constructs? It was begun at his initiative. When the escaped Construct became a danger to everything in the Stellar Group, the ambassadors reluctantly decided that it must be destroyed. I do not question their decision. But I know that the decision to leave Esro Mondrian in charge of the operation was an awful mistake. He needs the Construct.”