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.Bending to fix the pillow, or to prevent my seeing the incident which had just occurred?, Matron Trenter was thrown off balance and grabbed the headboard.“Sorry, Lord Chrome!” the tall orderly said as he shot back a glance of quick appraisal.I shook my head that it didn’t matter, and we continued on our way.The two different forms of address tugged at my mind.Vortex had used Lord Chrome over the public address system; this orderly with his gift of an atom-pistol and a plan of escape had also called me that.But just now the girl had cried out “Free-man,” coupling it with “betrayed,” the first word Rond H’Lokk had learned on our planet.And I was to hold Trenter hostage and escape? Absurd.If the Scientific Advancement Committee would risk Vortex’s wrath and that of the Greater Council, why should they care about a demented old woman? They couldn’t be less interested.So she was valueless, especially as a shield.Probably only part of a counterplot, a ploy to distract me so the orderlies could overpower me more easily.Nearing the half-way point now.My hand closed around the pistol, flicked off the safety, and angled it into the mattress.I squeezed the trigger.Nothing.Sweat broke out across my forehead as I squeezed and squeezed again the empty atom-pistol given me to serve as an escape weapon.Escape from this? I almost laughed at the hopeless thought.Escape? Never.Never.The word seemed to turn with the wheels as they carried me closer to the mold-green technicians with their attitude of waiting spiders.Never? Never more to know there’d been a magnificent godlike King Vortex? Or valiant Warriors such as Ron and Tor? Or an enchanted dwelling like the Cabin and its oasis and marvelous jewel-eyed birds and a magical catlike creature whose blind farewell had brought tears, unknowing, to my eyes? Never more to know these things? Lose even the memories of them forever?The wheels rolled me closer to the sterile stink of the Restoration area.And now, now the answer turning with them was truly “Never!”My fingers tightened around the handle of Ron’s dagger.Fight my way free from this place of death, he’d said, but how, when there was no way? I could dispatch a goodly number of blundering orderlies before they subdued me, but escape? Impossible!‘Not impossible,’ an inner voice argued.‘Escape.Take Rond H’Lokk’s dagger, his ceremonial dagger, and do his bidding: Escape!”Becoming very still inside, I asked.Waited.Asked.Again waited, and again asked.All at once what he meant became clear to me.Yes, and it must be done now, before the rolling wheels had made another circle.As if attuned to my thoughts, the bed’s wheels jolted to a halt, jammed and tangled in strips of adhesive meant to hold flat an electronic cable which crossed our path.The orderlies both stepped to the foot of the bed and struggled to lift it clear as a suddenly very lively Trenter fairly flew to aid them.I brought out two dragon’s eggs, pinched and threw them, then ducked with eyes squeezed shut.Flashes of heat against me, a trio of shrill screams in my ears.With Ron’s dagger clutched tightly in my hand, I vaulted free of the bed and whirled to face the sea of orderlies which foamed up over the edges of the arena.“No!” The yell tore itself from my throat.“Never!”A quickening courage came to me.I turned Ron’s dagger upon myself and plunged it into my chest.In.And sharply up.Choking, shuddering pain.Gouts of blood, strong and bright, spurting from my mouth to stain the floor, spreading out there like a cloak.“My Warrior’s cloak.of my own blood.but mine at last!”As I struggled for breath enough to utter “Vortex” one last time, I choked again and crumpled down upon that crimson cloak.Everything darkened and the world spun away from under me.XIXSo it was that Death came to me.Scoff if you will, but in truth, that is what happened.Using time-tested methods of hypothermia, my temperature was lowered immediately, drastically, with packs of cold cubes and a refrigerated couchlike support.My brain arteries were force-fed mechanically until my metabolism had slowed to a near standstill.A solution of potassium ions was then injected to stop my heart, which up to that point had still been valiantly beating.With no heartbeat, or circulation, or reflexes and no electric signals coming from my brain, I was legally dead.The progress of the operation was governed by a series of checks and balances.On the positive side the main factor was the rainbow injections, plus whatever fortifying the Immortals had done while dipping into my interior.On the negative side was my use of Ron’s dagger as an escape route.Its metal had been saturated with radiation from Londra’s needle-bullet, so each surface sliced by the dagger had to be dealt with first as an atomic wound before being coaxed back into the jigsaw puzzle which was once a heart.Jamison, a fellow patient in the next suite of the preferential-care unit, was also recovering from heart surgery; replacement of the aortic valve and installation of a nuclear-powered pacing device.The price exacted by CenMed’s “youth-serum” was considerable!Before well enough to have the movable wall separating our rooms taken away, though, I had a lonely period in which to think.No Vortex with soothing, alien words this time, nor, something said, would there ever be again.Only my interior voices, stronger, surer of themselves, questioning, criticizing, telling me to stop being a pawnlike object in an unknown game.A new attitude began, forceful enough to make me wonder if die Immortal’s ministrations had taken proper effect.Typical was the first exchange between Jamison and me, after the folding panels had been removed.Our beds were repositioned so we could regard each other without strain, and my doctor cautiously set in motion the mechanism to raise me nearer an upright position.Jamison’s did likewise.We each lifted a hand to the other in greeting.Jamison spoke first.His heart, he humorously claimed, with all its new artificial hardware, probably was in much better shape than mine, reconstructed as it was from those shreds I’d left them to work with.When I made no reply, Jamison struggled to raise himself slightly.His doctor and attending orderly leaped to support him.“Colonel Jamison, please!” Readjusting the pillow, the doctor counseled, “I’ve warned you, sir, this kind of exertion simply cannot be tolerated.Not as yet.Rest and quiet conversation only.Nothing more.”“But Chrome must understand, Doctor!”“I do, Jamison, very well
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