Out of Phaze

“Mach be one of them, of course; he gave Agape the code so they would know she came to them at his behest. I never sought to know that code; it was important that Mach grow unfettered by my domination. But now, if we don’t summon them, we shall shortly be captive again.”

Indeed, there was a swirl of air as the portal was opened above and behind them, and a clamor. Men were piling in.

Bane struggled with the logical brain he now had, as they rushed along. How could he get that code? It should be in Mach’s memory—but he had none of that. His own memories had come with him across the curtain between frames. Was there anything he could tap into?

They came to a dead-end. “Here there is a subway transport station for supplies,” Blue said. “I had thought to take it—but only the SW’s have access. No serfs or Citizens are expected to be here alone, and it isn’t watched. The machines have to be alerted.”

Heavy feet were thudding down the passage. Bane could tell by the sound that there were at least six men. The two of them had no reasonable chance to overcome that number.

Then something occurred to him. “If they accepted Agape—“ he said. “Where must the code be given?”

‘To one of these intercoms,” Blue said, indicating a small grille set in the wall.

Bane spoke to it. “Accept Agape’s code from Mach!” he said.

And the grille answered: “Accepted. What may we do for you?”

“Save us from those who pursue us!”

A panel slid aside, revealing a cargo capsule. “Enter.”

They climbed in. The panel closed behind them just as the first pursuer came into sight. The capsule began to move. It was cramped, as it was not intended for human beings, but satisfactory.

“You did it!” Blue exclaimed, dropping the Phaze mode of speech. “How did you know they would accept that? You have hardly seen this frame!”

“Principle of transfer. A message can be passed from one person to another, and if it be valid, it is accepted. They knew Agape’s code was valid, so when I invoked it by description, they understood.”

“You thought of something I did not—and thereby saved us some mischief,” Blue said. “I think you have an aptitude for this frame! Now I shall add my own wrinkle.” He addressed the capsule’s intercom. “Deposit us at the next station, then go on empty.”

The capsule slowed. “Why stop?” Bane asked. “They be surely in pursuit.”

“Exactly. They will also have men to intercept us at its destination.”

“Oops, aye!”

The capsule stopped. They hoisted themselves out. It went on. “Now they will be pursuing the decoy,” Blue said. “But we still have to get out of here, and they will be watching all the exits. In any event, we’re still under the desert, and I don’t care to breathe any more of this frame’s air. So we’ll go back.”

“Go back!” Bane repeated incredulously.

“Right to the Purple Estate,” Blue said, getting out of his clothes. “I have a little pseudoflesh left, enough to change our facial features. We shall become serfs.”

“Be that not risky?”

“Not as risky as our present course.”

To that Bane could only agree. Blue applied the pseudoflesh to Bane’s face, filling out his cheeks and chin, then did the same for himself. He adjusted their hair. Bane glanced at himself in the reflective surface of a panel, and found that the little bit of adjustment had changed his appearance drastically. Blue was good at disguises!

They took a capsule on the track going the opposite way. While they rode, they talked, and Bane found that he liked this man very well. Blue was, if anything, more open than his father, Stile, less guarded in what he said. He had indeed learned tolerance; Bane did not feel all like a machine in his presence.

They got out at the Purple Estate. This was a large station, with many supplies to be moved. They each picked up a box and carried it out of the station and into the Estate.

Things were in chaos there. It seemed that the Citizen had suffered burns and embarrassment, and was being treated. Foreman was furious, and taking it out on any lower serf he encountered. There had already been several firings, and more were in the offing. All this they gleaned simply by listening as they walked through the premises.

They carried their boxes on to the serf transport station. They waited their turn and boarded the ground shuttle, the boxes in their laps. No one questioned them. The shuttle filled with other serfs on errands, and started off. It left the dome and wheeled across the sand toward the main city of Dradom.

Thus they made it to freedom, the easy way. They left their boxes in the shuttle for return to the Purple Estate, and went to a phone. Blue called Sheen. “Come and get us,” he said, smiling faintly.

A private ship came for them. They boarded, and it took off. The seat belts released themselves, freeing them to walk about during the flight. Then the forward compartment opened, and Sheen and Agape walked into the main chamber.