The Dosadi Experiment

It was forced out of him.

McKie asked one of the guards for a notebook and stylus, wrote the Gowachin's name in it, adding the Phylum identification.

"Grinik of the Deep Swimmers," he said.  "How long have you been on Dosadi?"

The Gowachin took a deep, ventricular breath, remained silent. The security men appeared puzzled.  This interrogation wasn't going as they'd expected.  McKie himself did not know what to expect.  He still felt himself recovering from surprise at recognition of the badly erased Phylum tattoos.

"This is a very small planet," McKie said.  "The universe from which we both come is very big and can be very cruel.  I'm sure you didn't come here expecting to die."

If this Grinik didn't know the deadly plans of his superiors, that would emerge shortly.  McKie's words could be construed as a personal threat beyond any larger threat to Dosadi as a whole.  It remained to see how Grinik reacted.

Still, the young Gowachin hesitated.

When in doubt, remain silent.

"You appear to've been adequately trained for this project," McKie said.  "But I doubt if you were told everything you should know.  I even doubt if you were told things essential to you in your present position."

"Who are you?" Grinik demanded.  "How dare you speak here of matters which . . ."  He broke off, glanced at the two guards standing at his shoulders.

"They know all about us," McKie lied.

He could smell the sweet perfume of Gowachin fear now, a floral scent which he'd noted only on a few previous occasions.  The two guards also sensed this and showed faint smiles to betray that they knew its import.

"Your masters sent you here to die," McKie said.  "They may very well pay heavily for this.  You ask who I am?  I am Jorj X McKie, Legum of the Gowachin Bar, Saboteur Extraordinary, senior lieutenant of Jedrik who will shortly rule all of Dosadi.  I make formal imposition upon you.  Answer my questions for the Law is at stake."

On the Gowachin worlds, that was a most powerful motivator.  Grinik was shaken by it.

"What do you wish to know?"

He barely managed the words.

"Your mission on Dosadi.  The precise instructions you were given and who gave them to you."

"There are twenty of us.  We were sent by Mrreg."

That name!  The implications in Gowachin lore stu

"Continue."

"Two more of our twenty are out there."

Grinik motioned to the doorway, clearly pleading for his captive associates.

"Your instructions?"

"To get our people out of this terrible place."

"How long?"

"Just . . . sixty hours remain."

McKie exhaled slowly.  So Aritch and company had given up on him.  They were going to eliminate Dosadi.

"Where are the other members of your party?"

"I don't know."

"You were, of course, a reserve team trained and held in readiness for this mission.  Do you realize how poorly you were trained?"

Grinik remained silent.

McKie put down a feeling of despair, glanced at the two guards.  He understood that they'd brought him this particular captive because this was one of three who were not Dosadi.  Jedrik had instructed them, of course.  Many things became clearer to him in this new awareness.  Jedrik had put sufficient pressure on the Gowachin beyond the God Wall.  She still had not imagined the extremes to which those Gowachin might go in stopping her.  It was time Jedrik learned what sort of fuse she'd lighted.  And Broey must be told.  Especially Broey - before he sent many more suicide missions.

The outer door opened and the sub-commander leaned in to speak.

"You were right about the trap.  We mined the area before pulling back.  Caught them nicely.  The gate's secure now, and we've cleared out that last building."

McKie pursed his lips, then:

"Take the prisoners to Jedrik.  Tell her we're coming in."

A flicker of surprise touched the sub-commander's eyes.

"She knows."

Still the man hesitated.

"Yes?"

"There's one Human prisoner out here you should question before leaving."

McKie waited.  Jedrik knew he was coming in, knew what had gone on here, knew about the Human prisoner out there.  She wanted him to question this person.  Yes . . . of course.  She left nothing to chance . . . by her standards.  Well, her standards were about to change, but she might even know that.

"Name?"

"Havvy.  Broey holds him, but he once served Jedrik.  She says to tell you Havvy is a reject, that he was contaminated."

"Bring him in."

Havvy surprised him.  The surface was that of a bland-faced nonentity, braggadocio clearly evident under a mask of secret knowledge.  He wore a green uniform with a driver's brassard.  The uniform was wrinkled, but there were no visible rips or cuts.  He'd been treated with more care than the Gowachin who was being led out of the room.  Havvy replaced the Gowachin in the chair.  McKie waved away the bindings.

Unfocused questions created turmoil in McKie's mind.  He found it difficult to delay.  Sixty hours!  But he felt that he could almost touch the solution to the Dosadi mystery, that in only a few minutes he would know names and real motives for the ones who'd created this monster.  Havvy?  He'd served Jedrik.  In what way?  Why rejected?  Contaminated?

Unfocused questions, yes.

Havvy sat in watchful tension, casting an occasional glance around the room, at the windows.  There were no more explosions out there.

As McKie studied him more carefully, certain observations emerged.  Havvy was small but solid, one of those Humans of lesser stature who concealed heavy musculature which could surprise you if you suddenly bumped into them.  It was difficult to guess his age, but he was not Dosadi.  A member of Grinik's team?  Doubtful.  Clearly not Dosadi, though.  He didn't examine those around him with an automatic status assessment.  His reactions were slow.  Too much that should remain under shutters flowed from within him directly to the surface.  Yes, that was the ultimate revelation.  It bothered McKie that so much went unseen beneath the surface here, so much for which Aritch and company had not prepared him.  It would take a lifetime to learn all the nuances of this place, and he had less than sixty hours remaining to him.

All of this flowed through McKie's mind in an eyeblink.  He reached his decision, motioned the guards and others to leave.

One of the security people started to protest, but McKie silenced him with a glance, pulled up a chair, and sat down facing the captive.

The door closed behind the last of the guards.

"You were sent here deliberately to seek me out," McKie said.

It was not the opening Havvy had expected.  He stared into McKie's eyes.  A door slammed outside.  There was the sound of several doors opening and shutting, the shuffling of feet.  An amplified voice called out:

"Move these prisoners out!"

Havvy chewed at his upper lip.  He didn't protest.  A deep sigh shook him, then:

"You're Jorj X. McKie of BuSab?"

McKie blew out through pursed lips.  Did Havvy doubt the evidence of his own senses?  Surprising.  McKie shook his head, continued to study the captive.

"You can't be McKie!"  Havvy said.

"Ahhhhhh . . ."  It was pressed out of McKie.

Something about Havvy:  the body moved, the voice spoke, but the eyes did not agree.

McKie thought about what the Caleban, Fa