Vance, Jack - Demon Prince 2 - The Killing Machine

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The Killing Machine

By Jack Vance

Book 2 in the "Demon Prince" Series

From "How the Planets Trade," by Ignace Wodleckt:

Cosmopolis, September, 1509:

In all commercial communities, the prevalence or ab-

sence of counterfeit money, spurious bills of exchange,

forged notes-of-hand, or any of a dozen other artifices to

augment the value of blank paper is a matter of great con-

cern. Across the Oikumene, precise duplication and repro-

ducing machines are readily available; and only meticulous

safeguards preclude the chronic debasement of our cur-

rency. These safeguards are three: first, the single negotia-

ble currency is the Standard Value Unit, or SVU, notes for

which, in various denominations, are issued only by the

Bank of Sol, the Bank of Rigel, and the Bank of Vega. Sec-

ond, each genuine note is characterized by a 'quality of au-

thenticity.' Third, the three banks make widely available the

so-called fake-meter. This is a pocket device that, when a

counterfeit note is passed through a slot, sounds a warning

buzzer. As all small boys know, attempts to disassemble the

fake-meter are futile; as soon as the case is damaged, it

destroys itself.

Regarding the 'quality of authenticity' there is naturally

a good deal of speculation. Apparently in certain key areas,

a particular molecular configuration is introduced, resulting

in a standard reactance of some nature: electrical capacity?

magnetic permeability? photo-absorption or reflectance?

isotopic variation? radioactive doping? a combination of

174 THE DEMON PRINCES

some or all of these qualities? Only a handful of persons

know and they won't tell.

Gersen first encountered Kokor Hekkus at the age of nine.

Crouching behind an old barge, he watched slaughter, pillage, en-

slavement. This was the historic Mount Pleasant Massacre, notable

for the unprecedented cooperation of the five so-called Demon

Princes. Kirth Gersen and his grandfather survived; five names be-

came as familiar to Gersen as his own: Attel Malagate, Vtole Fa-

lushe, Lens Larque, Howard Alan Treesong, Kokor Hekkus. Each

had his distinctive quality. Malagate was insensate and grim, Viole

Falushe gloried in sybaritical refinements, Lens Larque was a meg-

alomaniac, Howard Alan Treesong a chaoticist. Kokor Hekkus was

the most mercurial, fantastic, and inaccessible, the most daring and

inventive. A few folk had reported their impressions: uniformly they

found him affable, restless, unpredictable, and infected with what

might have seemed utter madness, except for his demonstrable con-

trol and strength. As to his appearance, all had different opinions.

He was, by popular repute, immortal.

Gersen's second encounter with Kokor Hekkus occurred in the

course of a routine mission Beyond, and was indecisive-or so it

seemed at the time. In early April of 1525, Ben Zaum, an official

of the IPCC,* arranged a clandestine interview with Gersen and

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proposed a stint of "weaseling"-that is to say, an IPCC investi-

gation Beyond. Gersen's own affairs had come to a standstill; he

was bored and restless, and so agreed at least to listen to the prop-

osition.

The job, as Zaum explained it, was simplicity itself. The IPCC

had been commissioned to locate a certain fugitive: "Call him 'Mr.

Hoskins,' " said Zaum. So urgently required was Mr. Hoskins that

at least thirty operatives were being despatched to various sectors

of the Beyond. Gersen's job would be to survey the inhabited lo-

calities of a certain planet: "Call it 'Bad World,' " said Zaum, with

a knowing grin. Gersen must either locate Mr. Hoskins or establish

as a definite certainty7 that he had not set foot on Bad World.

Gersen reflected a moment. Zaum, who reveled in mystifica-

*IPCC-Intemorld Police Coordination Company in theory, a private organization pro-

viding the police systems of the Oikumene specialized consultation, a central information

file, cnminological laboratories, in practice, a supergovernmental agency occasionally func-

tioning as a law in itself

THE KILLING MACHINE

17')

tion, on this occasion seemed to be outdoing himself. Patiently

Gersen began to chip away at the exposed part of the iceberg, hop-

ing to float new areas into view. "Wliy only thirty weasels? To do

the Job right, you'd need a thousand."

Zaum's wise expression gave him the semblance of a large blond

owl. "We've been able to narrow the area of search. I can say this

much, Bad World is one of the likelier spots-which is why I want

you to take it on. I can't overemphasize how important all this is."

Gersen decided he didn't want the job. Zaum had determined-

or was under orders-to maintain as much reticence as possible.

Working in the dark irritated Gersen, distracted him, and so re-

duced his effectiveness-which meant that he might not return

from the Beyond. Gersen wondered how to turn down the job with-

out alienating Ben Zaum and so drying up a pipeline into the IPCC.

"What if I found Mr. Hoskins?" he asked.

"You have four options, which I'll name in order of decreasing

desirability. Bring him to Alphanor alive. Bring him to Alphanor

dead. Infect him with one of your horrible Sarkoy mind-drugs. Kill

him outright."

"I'm no assassin."

"This is more than simple assassination! This is-confound it,

I'm not permitted to explain in detail. But it's truly urgent, I assure

you of this!"

"I don't disbelieve you," said Gersen. "Still, I won't-in fact, I

can't-kill without knowing why. You'd better get someone else."

Under normal circumstances, Zaum would have terminated the

interview, but he persisted. Gersen thereby was given to understand

that either qualified weasels were hard to come by or that Zaum

regarded his services highly.

"If money is any object," said Zaum, "I think I can arrange-"

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"I think I'll pass this one up."

Zaum made a half-serious display of beating his forehead with

his fists. "Gersen-you're one of the few men whose competence

I'm sure of. This is a murderously delicate operation-if, of course,

Mr. Hoskins visits Bad World, which I myself think is likely. I'll

tell you this much: Kokor Hekkus is involved. If he and this Mr.

Hoskins make contact-" He flung up his hands.

Gersen maintained his attitude of disinterest, but now all was

changed. "Is Mr. Hoskins a criminal?"

176 THE. DEMON PRINCES

Zaum's bland brow creased in discomfiture. "I can't go into

details."

"In that case, how do you expect me to identify him?"

"You'll get photographs and physical characteristics; this should

suffice. The job is perfectly simple. Find the man: kill him, confuse

him, or bring him back to Alphanor."

Gersen shrugged. "Very well. But since I'm indispensable I

want more money."

Zaum made a peevish complaint or two. "Now as to definite

arrangements: when can you leave?"

"Tomorrow."

"You still keep your spacecraft?"

"If you call the Model 9B Locater a spacecraft."

"It gets you there and back, and it's suitably inconspicuous.

Where is it docked?"

"At Avente Spaceport, Area C, Bay 10."

Zaum made a note. "Tomorrow go to your spaceship, make

departure. The ship will be provisioned and fueled- The monitor

will be coded to Bad World. You will find a folder with information

regarding Mr. Hoskins in your Star Directory. You need only per-

sonal effects-weapons and the like."

"How long am I to search Bad World?"

Zaum heaved a deep sigh. "I wish I could tell you. I wish I

knew what was going on. ... If you don't find him within a month

after arrival, it's probably too late. If we only knew for sure where

he was going, what were his motivations. .. ."

"I gather he's not a known criminal then."

"No. He's lived a long, useful life. Then he was approached by

a man named Seuman Otwal, who we suspect to be an agent of

Kokor Hekkus. Mr. Hoskins, according to his wife, thereupon

seemed to go to pieces."

"Extortion? Blackmail?"

"In these circumstances-impossible."

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Gersen was able to elicit no more information.

Arriving at Avente Spaceport somewhat before noon of the fol-

lowing day, Gersen found matters as Zaum had stated. Boarding

the spartan little spacecraft, he went first to the Star Directory,

where he found a manila envelope containing photographs, plus a

printed description. Mr. Hoskins was shown in various costumes,

headgear, and skin-toning. He appeared a man in his late maturity,

THE KILLING MACHINE 177

with a big loose body, affable large eyes, a wide mouth with heavy

teeth, a small rapacious nose. Mr. Hoskins was an Earthman: so

much was clear from his clothes and skin-toning, which were gen-

erally similar but different in detail to those of Alphanor. Gersen

put the folder aside, reluctantly decided against a visit to Earth,

where he probably could identity Mr. Hoskins. Such a detour would

take too much time-and undoubtedly get him into the IPCC's

blackbook. He made a final check of the boat, called Port Control

for departure processing.

Half an hour later, Alphanor was a shining orb astern. Gersen

engaged the monitor, and watched as the nose of the boat swept

across the sky, finally to point in a direction sixty degrees off the

baseline between Rigel and Sol.

The Jarnell Coverdrive now seized the ship, or, more accu-

rately, created conditions where a few pounds of thrust caused near-

instantaneity of transfer.

Time passed. Random photons curling and seeping through the

Jarnell laminae entered the ship, to allow the outside universe to

be seen: stars by the hundreds and thousands, drifting past like

sparks on the wind. Gersen kept a careful astrogational record, fix-

ing on Sol, Canopus, and Rigel. Presently the ship crossed the sep-

aration between the Oikumene and the Beyond, and now law,

order, civilization had no formal existence. Projecting the line of

travel, Gersen finally was able to identify Bad World: Carina LO-

461 IV in the Star Directory, Bissom's End in the terminology of

Beyond. Henry Bissom was seven-hundred-years dead; the world,

or at least the region surrounding the principal town Skouse, was

now the preserve of the Windle family. Bad World was no mis-

nomer, thought Gersen; in fact, should he put down at Skouse with-

out good reason-offhand he could think of none-he would

without fail be picked up by the local platoon of the Deweaseling

Corps.* He would be rigorously questioned. After which, if he were

lucky, he would be allowed ten minutes to leave the planet. Ifwea-

seling were suspected, he would be killed. Gersen thought harsh

thoughts concerning Ben Zaum and his overelaborate secrecy. Had

he known his destination, he might conceivably have set up some

kind of cover.

The single intei-world organization of Be\ond, existing only to identify and destroy un-

dercover agents of the IPCC

17S THE DRMON PRINCES

Ahead a greenish-yellow star of no great luminosity clung to

the crosshairs, waxing brighter and larger. Presently the intersplit

kicked off; ether collapsing in upon the ship sighed and shuddered

through all the atoms of ship and Gersen himself: a sound to set

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the teeth on edge, but which perhaps wasn't even real.

The old Model 9B coasted through space. Nearby hung Bis-

som's End-Bad World. It was a smallish planet, cold at the poles,

with a chain of low mountains forming a cincture of the equator,

like a weld joining the two hemispheres. To north and south ran

belts of sea, shallowing somewhere near 50 degrees latitude to bay-

ous and jungles, beyond which were swamps and morasses all the

way to the permafrost.

On a windy plateau sat the town Skouse, an irregular huddle of

dingy stone buildings. Gersen was puzzled. Why would Mr. Hos-

kins want to come to Bissom's End? Far more pleasant refuges

existed- Brinktown was almost gay.. . . But he was taking too much

for granted: Mr. Hoskins might never come near Bissom's End,

with the whole mission a mare's nest; indeed, Zaum had emphasized

as much.

Gersen examined the planet under the macroscope, finding lit-

tle of interest. The equatorial mountains were dusty and barren,

the oceans were gray and mottled with the shadows of low scudding

clouds. He turned his attention back to Skouse, a town of perhaps

three or four thousand population. Nearby was a scorched field

bordered by sheds and warehouses; evidently the spaceport. No-

where were luxurious mansions or castles to be seen, and Gersen

remembered that the Windles inhabited caves in the mountains

behind the town. A hundred miles to east and west, evidences of

habitation finally dwindled to wilderness. There was a single other

town, beside a dock extending into the North Ocean. Nearby was

a metal-processing plant, so Gersen deduced from slag tailings and

several large buildings. Elsewhere the planet showed no signs of

human occupation.

If he could not visit Skouse overtly, he must do so surrepti-

tiously. He picked out an isolated ravine, waited till evening shad-

ows crossed the area, then settled as swiftly as possible.

He spent an hour adjusting to the atmosphere, then stepped

out into the night. The air was cool; like that of almost every planet

it had a distinctive tang, to which the nostrils quickly become

dulled: in this case a bitter chemical exhalation mixed with some-

THE KILLING MACHINE

179

thing like burnt spice, the one apparently derived from the soil, the

other from the native vegetation.

Gersen invested himself with various tools of the weasel trade,

winched down his platform flyer, set forth to the west.

The first night Gersen reconnoitered Skouse. The streets were un-

paved and aimless; there was a commissary, several warehouses, a

garage, three churches, two temples, and a tramway with spindly

tracks leading down toward the ocean. He located the inn; a square

three-story structure built of stone, fiber panels, and timber. Skouse

was a dull town, exuding a sense of boredom, sluggishness, and

ignorance; Gersen assumed the population to have little more status

than serfdom.

He concentrated his attention on the inn, where Mr. Hoskins,

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if he were present, would almost certainly take up residence. He

was unable to find a window to look through; the stone walls re-

sisted his eavesdrop microphone. And he dared not speak to any of

the patrons who at various times during the night staggered out

and away through the twisting streets of Skouse.

The second night he had no better success. However, across

from the inn, he found a vacated structure: apparently at one time

a machine-shop or fabricating plant, but now given over to dust

and small white insects unnervtngly like minuscule monkeys. Here

Gersen ensconced himself and through the entirety of the greenish-

yellow day kept watch upon the inn. The life of the town moved

past him; dour men and stolid women wearing dark jackets, loose

flapping trousers of brown or maroon, black hats with upturned

brims, went about their affairs. They spoke in a broad flat dialect

that Gersen could never hope to imitate; so died a tentative plan

to secure native-style garments and enter the inn. In the late after-

noon, strangers came into town: spacemen by their costumes, from

a ship that apparently had only Just landed. Gersen fought off

drowsiness with an antisleep pill. As soon as the sun descended,

bringing a mud-colored twilight, he left his hiding place and hur-

ried through the dim streets to the spaceport. Sure enough, a large

cargo-ship had put in and was now discharging bales and crates

from its hold. Even as Gersen watched, three members of the crew

left the ship, crossed the floodlit fore-area, showed passes to the

guard at the wicket, and turned down the road toward town.

180

THE DEMON PRINCKS

Gersen joined them. He gave them "Good evening," which

they returned with civility, and inquired the name of their ship.

"The Ivan Garfang^ he was told, "out of Chalcedon."

"Chalcedon, Earth?"

"The same."

The youngest of the group asked, "What kind of a town is

Skouse? Any fun to be had?"

"None," said Gersen. "There's an inn, and very little else. It's

a dull town and I'm anxious to depart. Are you carrying passen-

gers?"

"Aye, we've one aboard, and room for four more. Five, should

Mr. Hosey disembark, as I believe is his plan. Though for what

purpose he comes here-" the youth shook his head in incompre-

hension.

So, thought Gersen, it was to be as easy as that. Who could

Mr. Hosey be but Mr. Hoskins? And now, where did Kokor Hekkus

fit into the picture? He led the three spacemen to the inn and

entered with them, by all appearances their shipmate and, so, secure

against deweaseler suspicion.

Gersen cemented the association by calling for a round of

drinks. There was nothing to be had but beer, which was thin and

sour, and a white pungent arrack.

The interior of the inn was cheerful enough, with the tradi-

tional bar, and fire blazing in the fireplace. A barmaid wearing a

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limp red smock and straw slippers served the drinks. The youngest

of the spacemen, who called himself Carlo, made overtures, to

which the maid responded with a look of uncomprehending con-

fusion.

"Leave her alone," advised the oldest of the spacemen whose

name was Bude. "She's not all there." He tapped his forehead sig-

nificantly.

"All the way we come, to the back of Beyond," grumbled Carlo,

"and the first woman we spy is a half-wit."

"Leave her for Mr. Hosey," suggested Haivy, the remaining

spaceman. "If he disembarks, he'll have a long, dull time of it."

"Some sort of scientist?" asked Gersen. "Or a journalist? They

sometimes choose to visit odd places."

"Devil knows what he is," said Carlo. "He hasn't spoken more

than two words the entire trip."

The conversation changed. Gersen would have liked to talk

THE KJLIJNG I\'L4CHINE

181

more of Mr. Hosey, but dared not ask questions, which Beyond

almost always implied a sinister aftermath.

A number of locals had entered the inn, and stood before the

fire drinking pints of beer at a gulp, and talking in their flat voices.

Gersen took the bartender aside and inquired regarding accom-

modation.

The bartender shook his head. "It's been so long since we've

housed anyone that our beds are all stale. You'll do better back on

your ship."

Gersen looked across the room to Carlo, Bude, and Halvy.

They showed no disposition for imminent departure. He turned

back to the bartender. "Is there someone to run an errand to the

ship for me?"

"There's a boy in the back who might oblige."

"I'll speak to him."

The boy was duly summoned: a blank-faced youth, the son of

the bartender. Gersen tipped him liberally and made him repeat

three times the message he wished delivered. "I'm to ask for Mr.

Hosey and say he's wanted at the inn immediately."

"Correct. Be quick now, and there may be more money for

you. Remember, give the message to none but Mr. Hosey himself."

The boy departed. Gersen waited a moment, then sauntered

from the inn, and followed the boy to the spaceport, keeping well

to the rear.

The boy was known to the guard at the spaceport, and after a

word or two was allowed onto the field- Gersen approached as close

as he dared, and standing in the shadow of a tall bush watched and

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waited.

Several minutes passed. The boy emerged from the ship-

alone. Gersen grunted in disappointment. When the boy came out

into the road, Gersen accosted him. Startled, the boy yelped and

sprang away.

"Come back here," said Gersen. "Did you see Mr. Hosey?"

"Yes sir, so I did."

Gersen brought out a photograph of Mr. Hoskins, flashed a

light. "This gentleman here?"

The bov squinted. "Yes sir. The very same."

"And what did he say?"

The boy glanced sidewise, whites of his eyes gleaming. "He

asked if I knew Billy Windle."

182

THE DEMON PRINCES

"Billy Windle, eh?"

"Yes sir. And of course I don't. Billy Windle's a hormagaunt.

He said to tell you, if you were Billy Windle, to come to the ship.

I said no, vou were a spaceman. And he said he'd deal with none

but Billy Windle himself and in person."

"I see. And what's a hormagaunt?"

"That's what we call them here. Maybe on your world you've

a different name. They're the folk who soak up other folk's lives

and then go off to live on Thamber."

"Billy Windle lives on Thamber?"

The bov nodded earnestly. "It's a real world, never think dif-

ferent. I know, because the hormagaunts live there."

Gersen smiled. "As well as dragons and fairies and ogres and

Underlings."

The boy said dolefully, "You don't believe me."

Gersen brought forth more money. "Return to Mr. Hosey. Tell

him that Billy Windle waits for him in the road, and bring him out

here to me."

The boy's eyes rolled in awe. "Are you Billy Windle?"

"Never mind who I am. Go give Mr. Hosey the message."

The boy returned to the ship. Five minutes later, he came down

the gangramp followed by Mr. Hosey-who was quite definitely

Mr. Hoskms. They set forth across the field.

But now^ floating down through the dark sky came a whirling

disk of red and blue lights, which swooped and settled to the

ground. It was a sumptuous flying car. decorated in the most elab-

orate fashion, with colored lumes, golden scrolls, and fluttering

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fronds of green and gold. The rider was a slim, long-legged man

with muscular shoulders, as flamboyantly dressed as his boat. His

face was tinted black-brown; his features were flexible, regular,

youthful; he wore a tight turban of white cloth with a pair of ro-

guish tassels hanging by his right ear. He was charged with nervous

vitality; jumping to the ground, he seemed to bounce.

The boy and Mr. Hoskins had halted; the newcomer walked

swiftly across the field. He spoke to Mr. Hoskins, who seemed sur-

prised and gestured questioningly toward the road. This must be

Billy Windle, thought Gersen, gritting his teeth in frustration. Billy

Windle glanced toward the road, then made an inquiry of Mr. Hos-

kins, who reluctantly seemed to assent, and tapped his pouch. But

in the same motion he produced a weapon, which he displayed to

THE KILLING M.4CHINE

183

Billy Windle in a nervous truculent fashion, as if to emphasize that

he trusted no one. Billy Windle merely laughed.

Where did Kokor Hekkus enter the picture? Was Billy Windle

one of his agents? There was a simple and direct way to find out.

The guard at the gate was watching the confrontation with fasci-

nated attention. He did not hear Gersen come up behind him; he

felt nothing as Gersen struck him a deft blow, which instantly in-

duced unconsciousness. Gersen donned the guard's cap and cape,

marched officiously toward Billy Windle and Mr. Hoskins. They

were engaged in a transfer: each held an envelope. Billy Windle

glanced toward Gersen, waved him back toward the gate, but Ger-

sen continued to approach, trying to appear obsequious. "Back to

your post, guard," snapped Billy Windle. "Leave us to our affairs."

There was something inexpressibly dire in the poise of his head.

"Pardon me, sir," said Gersen. He jumped forward, clubbed at

Billy Windle's gorgeous headgear with his projac. As Billy Windle

staggered and fell, Gersen raked Mr. Hoskins' arm with a low-

charge jolt, jarring loose his weapon.

Mr. Hoskins cried out in pain and astonishment. Gersen

scooped up Billy Windle's envelope, reached for that which Mr.

Hoskins held. Mr. Hoskins staggered back, then as Gersen raised

his projac, halted.

Gersen shoved him toward Billy Windle's air-car. "Quick. Get

aboard. Or I'll punish you."

Mr. Hoskins' legs were rubbery; lurching and tottering, he

moved at a shambling trot to the air-car. As he climbed aboard, he

tried to stuff the envelope into his shirt; Gersen reached, snatched;

the envelope tore; there was a brief struggle and Gersen held half

the envelope, with the other half somewhere on the ground under

the boat. Billy Windle was staggering to his feet. Gersen could

delay no longer. The air-car controls were standard; he thrust the

lift-arm far across. Billy Windle shouted something Gersen could

not hear, then, as the air-car slanted up, brought forth his projac,

fired. The bolt sang past Gersen's ear, cut diagonally across Mr.

Hoskins' head. Gersen fired back as the air-car swung across the

sky, but the range was long and he merely kicked up a blaze of

lambent dust.

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High above Skouse, he swerved, flew west, settled beside his

spaceboat. He carried the corpse of Mr. Hoskins aboard, and aban-

doning the bedizened air-car, took the Model 9B into space. He

THE DEMON PRINCES

184

engaged the intersplit and now was safe: no known human effort

could intercept him. Mission accomplished in a workmanlike fash-

ion, without undue exertion: Mr. Moslems killed and en route to

Alphanor, as per instructions. In short, sheer routine. Gersen

should have been pleased, but this was not the case. He had learned

nothing, succeeded with nothing; nothing except the paltry business

for which he had been sent to Bissom's End. Kokor Hekkus had

been involved in the affair; with Mr. Hoskins dead, Gersen would

never know why or how.

The corpse was a problem. Gersen dragged it into the rear

locker, shut the door on it.

He brought forth the envelope he had taken from Billy Windle,

opened it. Within was a sheet of pink paper on which someone had

written in florid purple ink. The message was titled: How to become

a hormagaunt. Gersen raised his eyebrows: Jest? Somehow he did

not think so. Gersen read the instructions with a small frisson of

horror tickling at his neck. They were unpleasant.

Aging is pursuivant to a condition in which the ichors of

youth have been exhausted: so much is inherently obvious.

The hormagaunt will desire to replenish himself with these

invaluable elixirs from the most obvious source: the persons

of those who are young. The process is expensive unless

one has access to a sufficient number of such persons, and

in this case he proceeds in the following fashion:

Instructions followed:

From the bodies of living children, the hormagaunt must

procure certain glands and organs, prepare extracts, from

which a waxy nodule might ultimately be derived. This

nodule implanted in the hormagaunt's pineal gland forfends

age.

Gersen put the letter aside, and inspected the fragment he had

wrenched from Mr. Hoskins. It read:

-crimps, or more properly, bands of density. These ap-

parently occur at random, though in practice they are so

casual as to be imperceptible. The critical spacing is in

THE KILLING MACHINE 185

terms of the square root of the first eleven primes. The

occurrence of six or more such crimps at any of the des-

ignated locations will validate-

Gersen found the reference incomprehensible, but vastly intriguing:

what had Mr. Hoskins known so valuable that it might be traded

on an even basis for the secret of perpetual youth?

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