Are you all right? Chow Dai asked worriedly. You look ill.
I—I think I should just lie down for a while, he managed. It is
an—aftereffect of what was done to me. I apologize, but if I lie down for a
while, it will be all right.
He was a conscious combatant in the war raging inside him, and it had made him
physically ill, both feverish and upset. The tension and confusion were
enormous; he could not stand this much longer. Either something had to break or
he knew he might well die—die on the brink of possible success and escape in
which he was the only hope for these other people. Any moment now the guards
could come for them, so there was no time for such a fight. By now he knew he
really was Song Ching; there had been no tampering with Chu Li’s body or mind.
Chu Li was certainly dead, his body long sent to dust or turned to energy, and
she was responsible for that. It was an intolerable thought. It was intolerable
that she should live again while he was dead, no matter what the price of that
life might be, yet his memories even now were less than ghosts, mere wisps
fading with each passing moment, leaving only Song Ching.
The brain had several mechanisms for resolving such dilemmas, whether caused by
biological malfunction or trauma or otherwise induced, and all of them were
forms of what they called insanity. If it could not resolve the problems, the
brain got hung up in endless loops and the result was catatonia, but in this
case both sides had a sense of urgency and a single central purpose: escape.
Escape to the stars. The brain needed only a lie that both sides could accept
and believe; if that happened, then memories could be rewritten, attitudes
adjusted, and everything resolved to allow function. A new reality was called
for, and a very personal one.
In a miraculous revelation, she suddenly understood what had happened, and there
was no more fight, only awe at the justice of the gods. When the computer had
executed Chu Li, his soul had not gone on but had instead been placed in the
body of Song Ching, who had ordered the destruction of her own personality in
her plot. Her own soul had been cast adrift when this was done, and Chu Li’s had
filled the empty vessel in a measure of justice. The soul was shaped and formed
and purified or dirtied by its experiences in the flesh, but it did not retain
memories as such. Still, she knew it was Chu Li’s soul animating Song Ching’s
body and guiding her thoughts. That was true justice: The soul of the enemy who
was destroyed by her family was now in possession of her body, her memories, her
knowledge, and those would be used against her family and the system that
supported it. That was clearly the will of the gods.
There was a price for this, of course. Chu Li’s soul had not risen to be
purified; it remained the soul of a teenage boy. He was a man trapped in the
body and with the memories of a beautiful woman. It would be a frustrating
burden to carry, but the symmetry of the justice meted out by the gods required
it. Because the knowledge in her head was so vast, so complete, and so dangerous
to those who must be punished, it was a burden that had to be accepted. It left
someone with the means to avenge, and that had to be sufficient.
For now, the Chu Li masquerade had to be continued so that the primary goal
could be attained. Later there would be time for explanations and the truth. The
reclining figure sat up, saw the anxious Chow Dai, and smiled. I am all right
now, he assured her. I will be all right from now on.
She looked relieved. I was almost going to call the guard and have you looked
at. You really worried me.
He was glad she hadn’t done that, or the ruse would have been up right there.
There being no machines to measure and identify souls, it would have taken but a
moment for the stupidest of medics to realize that this was not a boy named Chu
Li.
He looked at Chow Dai’s ugly, scarred face and reflected on how truly ironic
this all was. He could do just as well looking like her; indeed, it would solve
some potential problems down the line. She, on the other hand, would prosper and
blossom with the body he wore. The scientists could make a sadist a gentle poet
and a peasant into an educated artist with their chemicals and processes, but
only the gods could switch souls. Although it would work out here, it was in a
way a reassuring thought: that there was one thing, at least, beyond science and
reserved for the gods.
Not long after, Chow Mai and Deng Ho were sent in to join them. Deng’s
conditioning still held; Chu Li hoped it would hold long enough to avoid any
complications. The two sisters rushed to each other and embraced and cried a
little. Deng grinned at Chu Li. Hello, Rat. Surviving?
Chu Li nodded. And you?
Deng gave a knowing smirk. No problems if you just shut your eyes, he
whispered, then grew more serious. They’ve been through even worse than us.
It’s crazy, but we’re going to some mad hell, and / feel sorry for them. Kind of
takes your mind off it.
Chu Li looked over at the sisters, who were chattering away in pure peasant
dialect. They seemed to be talking at the same time, and he guessed from the few
words he caught that they were using a kind of spoken shorthand, expressing
complete thoughts. That’s fine, he thought. He understood full well that the
monitors would never make sense of that garbage.
The girls had only a few minutes for their reunion, though. The door opened
again, and the duty guard stepped in.
You will all stand and be silent! he barked imperiously. You will now be
addressed by the captain of the vessel that will carry you to your final
destination! He was as stiff as usual, but nervousness was revealed in his eyes
and in small jerks of his head back toward the door.
Chu Li—he refused to think of himself as otherwise and certainly not as a she,
all physical evidence to the contrary—was startled that such a ship had a
captain at all. A steward perhaps, or even a jailer—but a captain?
They heard the barred gate open and then clang shut again, then the sound of
heavy footsteps approached the door, which the guard had continued to hold open.
When the captain walked in, the prisoners all gasped and stared at him as if he
were some sort of monster.
They are giving us to foreign devils!
Carlo Sabatini stopped and looked at the expressions of absolute fear and
revulsion on those four young faces and drank it in. Seeing the reactions of
people who had never in their lives seen anyone who was not Oriental was the
only bit of fun there was in this hick, provincial spaceport. These four looked
like they’d never seen anybody but a Han Chinese and the Mongolian guards
before.
My name is Captain Sabatini, he announced in flawless Mandarin, the result of
a session with a mindprint machine. I am master of the interplanetary ship Star
Islander which will take you from here to Melchior.
Three of the kids looked blank, but he noticed that the boy on his far right did
not seem to react at all. Clearly that one knew more than the others, and
Sabatini wondered why. He filed it for future reference.
The ship, as you may or may not know, is fully automated. It is piloted by a
machine that can make decisions far quicker than any of us and can fly the ship
as no human could. Basically, my job is to make sure it works correctly and to
be certain that any and all passengers and cargo get safely and comfortably to
their destination, as well as handling things at the ports. As you can see, I am
not Chinese, but rest assured, I am human. I have the same sort of blood inside
of me, and I work the same way.
They stared at him, still somewhat awestruck and not a little afraid. He was
imposing, standing over a hundred and eighty centimeters tall and weighing at
least ninety-five kilos of pure muscle. He had an olive complexion that in their
society would have marked him as ill and at death’s door, thick black hair with
some streaks of gray on the top and cut short on the sides, and a medium black
mustache. He wore a shiny black uniform with leather boots and belt; the shirt
was open at the top and exposed a fair amount of chest, covered in thick, black
hair. He even had hair on his arms and the back of his hands: thick, black curly
hair. The body hair in particular fascinated all of them. It was impossible not
to think of him as some big ape or gorilla wearing clothes.
Still, Chu Li was able to break the spell enough to think clearly. If he goes
along, then there is at least one space suit aboard.
We don’t normally take off from Earth, he told them, so this will be a rough
ride at the start. You will need to board the ship when it’s angled up, get into
seats as if it were lying flat, and get strapped in, and I do mean strapped.
Anyone who isn’t fully strapped in will die in the takeoff. Since some of you
might be tempted by that idea, we will have you restrained in place for that
part of the trip. Once we reach orbit and the artificial gravity in the cabin
stabilizes, you will get a measure of freedom, since I don’t want to have to
cart you to the bathroom or spoon-feed you, but you will still be under limited
restraint. I want no problems in our journey, which, if no unexpected problems
or emergencies develop, should take forty-one days. This is no interstellar
speed ship.
That impressed all four of them. The two boys, who at least understood what
spaceships were, still had trouble with that time span. The distance involved
was really beyond their comprehension.
Don’t be too downcast. At other times it might have taken up to a year to reach
Melchior. The positions are the best possible right now for the shortest
distance, which is why we are taking off now and why we have to do everything
exactly on schedule. Now, since we’re going to be together a long time, I want
to get some facts and rules straight before we even begin.
They just continued to gape at him.
First, and most important, you are booked not as passengers but as live cargo.
That puts you in the same class as dogs, cats, chickens, and horses. There are
two pressurized sections of the cabin. One is for people, the other is for
animals. The animal section has cages that are not very large and is otherwise
pretty dark and unpleasant. You will be placed initially in the human section,
but if any one of you causes me any problems at all, one or all of you will be
put back there and kept there for the duration of the voyage. They don’t even
have toilets back there, so think about it. Second, so I don’t have to look
behind me all the time, you will be shackled at all times and limited in the
area you can move. Still, some of you may figure that I’m only one man, and you
might try and get the best of me in a weak moment of mine. You might try. You
might even succeed, although I promise you that if you try and fail, you will
find me very unpleasant. But let’s say you succeed.
He could see in their eyes that this had crossed their minds. It always did, and
he’d transported tougher and nastier ones than these.
I cannot pilot the ship, he told them. I cannot even get to the bridge, since
it is without air or pressure, and so neither can you. No matter what happened