For Love of Mother-Not - Alan Dean Foster [18]
“We’ll run across her again someday, when our methods are improved,” Haithness said coolly. “Then we’ll deal with her properly.”
“I’m not sure I’d want to chance it.” Nyassa-lee looked back at the screen. “Meanwhile, it would be good to keep in mind the fact that the potential of this Number Twelve theoretically exceeds even that of the girl.”
“True,” Cruachan admitted, studying the figures, “but it’s clear that his development has been much slower. We should have plenty of time to cope with any maturing Talent and make certain it is safely contained, for the child’s benefit as well as our own, of course.”
“Of course,” Haithness agreed calmly. “I am curious to know how you propose to accomplish that. You know how volatile a Talent can become if stressed.”
“Yes, the girl gave us an impressive demonstration of that, didn’t she?” Nyassa-lee’s fingers brought forth fresh information from the console.
Another call sounded from across the room. “Brora says he’s now convinced that the new arrivals at the port have nothing to do with the agricultural station. They have not stopped by the Agri section of government house; they are gathering instead in the subterranean quarter.”
“Tell Brora to speed things up,” Cruachan replied. “I definitely want the installation broken down by midnight.”
“Yes, sir,” the communicator responded briskly.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Haithness reminded the tall man. “How are we going to handle this one? If we try direct control as we did with the girl, we risk the same consequences. There is no way of predicting how a subject may react.”
“Remember that the girl was still in infancy when we encountered her. We wrongly mistook her age for harmlessness. There was no reason to appeal to in her case— she was too young. I never expected that to work against us.”
“It doesn’t matter. The important thing is that he is still unskilled in the use of his Talent. That is also what makes him dangerous.” Haithness indicated the figures on the screen. “Look at those. Undisciplined or not, we must handle this Number Twelve with extreme caution. We need a check of some kind, something strong enough to mute any juvenile emotional reactions.”
Nyassa-lee glanced back and up at her colleague. “But we cannot wait.”
“I agree with you there. This may be our last chance to gain control and direction over a subject with such potential. We don’t want to waste our chance.”
“I am aware of the considerations and risks,” Cruachan assured them both. “I do not intend that we should try, as we did with the girl, to gain control directly. Instead, we will try to obtain control over someone who exercises control over the subject. Is there anyone who fits the requisite pattern?”
Nyassa-lee turned back to her keyboard. There was a pause before she replied, “One. It appears that the subject was purchased from government control by an elderly woman. She has raised the boy as her own.”
“Surrogate mother,” Haithness murmured. “That’s good. It is virtually made to order. We could not hope for a stronger emotional bond.”
There was no warmth in the voice of Haithness. Only one thing mattered to her: the success of the experiment. Time was running out for the Society, she knew; they had no way of knowing when the authorities might close in on them forever. They needed a success now, and this boy might be their last chance.
“I see one possible drawback,” Cruachan said while pondering the information glowing on the screen. “The woman in question, the surrogate mother, is of an advanced age, though apparently healthy.” He nudged Nyassa-lee, who obediently made room for him on the edge of the chair.
Cruachan fingered controls and frowned when the information he sought did not appear on the screen. “No detailed medical information on her. It could be difficult.”
Haithness shrugged indifferently. “It does not matter what her condition is. We have to proceed regardless.”
“I know, I know,” Cruachan replied impatiently. “Our course is set, then. We