Phaze Doubt

Too late. There was a dull explosion, and a burst of radiation from the machine. Jod’e and Belle collapsed, and then Lysander, who was farther out and hit with less intensity, but still unable to escape it. He saw the ground advancing toward his head.

It seemed only an instant, but the sun had moved; it had been about an hour. Lysander woke to find a second, much larger flyer beside the first. A trainer robot was before him, its treads flattening the grass. “Identity?” it demanded.

Lysander knew that his retinal patterns would give him away soon enough anyway; there was no point in trying to give a false name. “Lysander. I work for Citizen Blue.”

“Confirmed. The identities of your companions?”

Were their patterns on file? Jod’e’s yes, but maybe not Belle’s. He might be able to help the unicorn go free. “Jod’e, employee of Citizen Troal. The mare has no human identity; she’s just a steed.”

“A unicorn steed,” the machine said. “They will be registered too.” It turned its lenses on Belle. “Stand, mare.” A beam touched her.

Belle, freed from the effect of the stun beam, climbed to her feet. She stood, uncertain what more to do.

The machine ground toward her. Suddenly another beam speared out. There was a sizzle, and a puff of smoke.

Belle screamed almost in the manner of a woman. She leaped up, but could not escape the pain. She had been burned on the flank. It was evident that though her hooves were adapted to heat, her hide was not.

She hit the ground running. In a moment she was far across the field.

“Why did you do that?” Jod’e demanded of the machine. “There was no call for—“

“All human forms will be registered by retinal pattern,” the machine said. “All animals will be branded. None will escape identification.”

“Branded!” Lysander exclaimed. But there was no more he could say; the deed was done, and he didn’t want to get Belle into any more trouble. It was better if they thought of her as only an animal.

“Enter the craft,” the machine said.

Jod’e hesitated. “Do it,” Lysander said. “We have seen that the invaders—or whoever is giving the orders now—have no compassion. They will stun us again if we don’t obey.”

She nodded. She knew it was true. They climbed into the flyer. There was barely room for the two of them, and none for the robot it had brought.

The panel closed. The flyer jerked aloft. They clung to each other to shield themselves from the buffeting.

“You can change form,” Lysander murmured in her ear. “Fly away. You’ve done all you could.”

“They know my identity,” she reminded him. “They’d only search me out, and punish anyone who helped me.”

He was silent. It was true. She was probably in for it, because she had tried to help him escape, and Alyc wouldn’t like that.

“I should have agreed to serve the Hectare,” he said. “And walked out when I had a chance.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” She leaned forward and kissed him.

“We’ll both pay for this break, as Belle did, but at least we tried.”

He kissed her back. “As romances go, this has been extremely brief. But if both of us should later find ourselves free...”

“Agreed,” she said. “Maybe this is just a temporary occupation, and the invaders will move on to another planet.”

“Somehow I fear not.” And such was his identification with his role that he felt real regret. He knew that the occupation was to be permanent. The Hectare needed the planet’s supply of Protonite, which was the finest known compact energy source, and they regarded the game setup as ideal for relaxation. They would desert the planet only when there was nothing remaining to make it worthwhile to exploit.

But his private requirement was clear: he had to escape the captivity of the Hectare and seek sanctuary with the native resistance movement. Once he had fathomed its nature and had identified all the key personnel, he would betray it to the authorities, and the planet would be secure. He was sure that there was such a movement; there always was. If the Citizens had known that Alyc was a Hectare agent and left her alone, it could only have been because they were hiding their true effort. Jod’e might have led him there, but they had been intercepted too soon.

That was surely Alyc’s fault. It was another irony that she had unwittingly allowed her personal desire to interfere with the larger plan of her true employer, the Hectare. If the resistance movement made mischief because the counteragent was nullified by a superficial agent—but it was his job to see that that did not happen. He had special training which would enable him to escape, but he would avoid drawing on that as long as he could, to maintain the semblance of untrained loyalty to the native culture.

Meanwhile he was truly regretful that he would be unable to have a fling with Jod’e. Alyc had been entertaining, in the human fashion, but Jod’e would have been delightful.

“I think I have fallen in love with you, this past hour,” Jod’e said.

“If you have, banish the notion!” he said, alarmed. “They could use it against you by threatening me!”