For Love of Mother-Not - Alan Dean Foster [94]
“I recommend that we proceed with the attempt to regain control of Number Twelve.”
“We have reason to believe that MO operatives are now working in this region,” an old woman said from the far side of the comfortable room.
“What of it?” another woman asked sharply. “They’ve always been two steps behind us, and they always will be.”
“I wish I was as positive of that as you, Hanson,” the first woman said. “The longevity of the Society is the result of foresight and caution, not contempt for those who hold us in contempt” She looked up at their leader. “You’re sure about continuing to operate here, Cruachan?”
“More so than ever,” he told her. “We have too much invested in this Number Twelve not to continue.” He proceeded to recite the long list of factors responsible for his decision.
When he finished, a thin little man seated in the far corner of the room spoke out sharply in an incongruously deep voice. He had an artificial leg and heart, but the look in his eyes was as blindly intense as it had been fifty years earlier.
“I concur! The promise still lies here. If the subject is still accessible—”
“We have no reason to believe he is not,” Cruachan half lied.
“—then we have a chance to get to him before the MO insects do. As Cruachan says, we must balance the potential here against our own intensifying infirmities.” He kicked the floor with his false leg.
“Very well,” said the old lady who had raised the specter of Commonwealth interference. “I see that most of you are of a mind to continue with our work here. I must confess that I cannot muster an argument against Dr. Cruachan’s many good points. But we now have a new problem to overcome which will not be solved by a vote.
“Is it true that the last report from the camp places the subject in proximity to an Alaspinian miniature dragon?”
Cruachan nodded slowly. “The presence of the catalyst creature close to the subject was alluded to, yes.”
“Then how are we to proceed? Besides acting as a magnifying lens for any latent Talent the subject may possess, this particular animal is deadly in and of itself. If it has formed an emotional bond with the subject, it will be a much more dangerous opponent than any dozen MO officers.”
Cruachan waved her worries aside. “I’ve given the matter proper consideration. The snake will be taken care of, I promise you. If we cannot neutralize a mere reptile, then we have no business pretending to the ideals of our Society.”
“It is not a reptile,” a man near the back put in. He was glassy-eyed because of the thick contact lenses he was forced to wear. “It is reptilian in appearance, but warm blood flows in its veins, and it should more properly be classified as—”
“I don’t give a damn what Order it fits into,” Cruachan broke in impatiently. “The beast will be handled.” His brows drew together at a sudden thought. “In fact, if such a mental bond now exists, it is likely stronger than that which ties the subject to his adoptive parent.”
“Another chance for external control!” a woman exclaimed.
“Yes. Instead of presenting us with a new threat, it’s possible this creature may be our key to subject control. So you all see how seeming difficulties may be turned to our advantage.”
“Too bad about Haithness and the others,” one of the old men murmured. “I’d known Haithness for forty-five years.”
“So did I,” Cruachan reminded him. “We must not let her and Nyassa-lee and Brora down. If, as now seems likely, they have sacrificed themselves for the cause, they provide us with still another reason to press onward. As we shrink in numbers, so must we grow in determination.”
Murmurs of assent rose from, around the conference room.
“We will not abandon this subject,” Cruachan continued forcefully. “He will be brought under our wing by whatever means is required. I call for a formal vote for proceeding.”
Cruachan was gratified to see the decision to continue confirmed unanimously. Such decisions usually were; dissent had no place in an organization bent to such a singular