Cerberus: A WOLF IN THE FOLD (15 page)

 
I arose in the body of Dylan Kohl, feeling somehow exhilarated, high,
powerful
. I went over to the dressing table, took the small bottle there and crept over to my old body, sleeping uneasily in the lounge chair. Carefully I placed it under his nose and pressed the stud, releasing a tiny whiff of vapor, which was quickly inhaled.

 
The body sagged slightly and the breathing became deeper, a bit labored but no real problem.

 
I shook him. "Dylan? Wake up." I shook harder. "Wake up, Dylan!" I almost shouted in his ear, and there was no reaction.

 
Satisfied, I clicked on the stopwatch,
then
tried moving the body. Though Dylan was a strong woman, she was still weaker than I was used to being as a man; I tried all sorts of ways to rouse the sleeper but got nowhere.

 
Finally I sat down on the bed to wait it out, going over every few minutes and trying again to rouse the unconscious form. About the fourth or fifth time I tried, the figure groaned a little and turned slightly. I reached over and clicked off the watch.
Twenty-four minutes and a few odd seconds.
Time enough.

 
Another minute or so, and I was able to shake Dylan awake. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes for a moment, seemingly unable to get his bearings, then sighed and looked at me. "So it
does
work."

 
I nodded, "Twenty-four minutes, with my additional body weight. I'll bet it's longer for your body.
Any ill effects?"

 
"I feel dead tired but otherwise nothing much," Dylan replied,

 
"Now it's your turn," I said.
"Hippogryph."

 
The posthypnotic command took effect, sending her under quickly. With only a minimal briefing—we'd been over this again and again earlier in the day—I went back over to the bed and stretched out. It was several minutes before I could relax enough to drift into sleep. The old excitement, the old fun of this sort of thing was rising fully in me once again.

 
We were able to get a reversal on me in
under
three hours, which was very good indeed, and then I tiptoed quietly into Sanda's partitioned and shielded side to do much the same thing. I was tired, yes, but the hypnotic state was somewhat restful in and of itself and this was far more important. I could call on mental reserves when necessary.

 
I didn't use the nuraform on Sanda, since I didn't need to—my body had already proven out—and I didn't want any risks in her condition to
her
body.

 
Sensorily, her body was also far different from Dylan's or my own. The fetus inside her was far enough along that even now it had its own unique Warden pattern, one that I could sense, although its own Wardens were out of reach to me, must as the Wardens in the molecules of the ship itself or the dock or the bed. It was a curious feeling.

 
Arising in her body was also something of a shock, as I was very much aware of the pregnancy and the vast differences in my new body, a body in a condition far stranger than merely the gender change from male to female and back again. My awakening on the prison ship that first time had almost been disappointing in that it felt so
little
different Sanda was a far more startling experience.

 
But I had proved my theory and the heart of the scam.
Proved it absolutely.
I didn't know why someone else hadn't thought of it, too—but then again, maybe someone had. If so, it would take a rare sneaky mind like my own, since it required
a knowledge
of hypnotism and the body as well, and had involved an
awful
lot of homework that I would have found nearly impossible had I not worked at Tooker and had its vast computer system to play with.

 
Sanda's body was a marvel to me; I don't know how anybody can cope with it. It was awkward, and I felt bloated, and there were other sensations a bit too odd to describe. I began to get some appreciation of why she wanted out of this routine, although I couldn't believe it was liie this most of the time. Still, I had to hang on for a bit, bring Sanda, now in my body, around and awake, and check out the one nagging doubt I had about my chosen personnel.

 
It was the first tune she'd been in a man's body and awake and under control, unlike the hypnotic experiment earlier on the deck. She took some delight in the body, and in exploring it. I suspected the additional contrast between the body I was now in, in the condition it was— roughly eight months pregnant—and my own top physical form only added to her pleasure.

 
"Can't I stay like this a while?" he pleaded. "It feels so—
free!"

 
I shook my head sadly.
"No, not now.
You have to learn how to exchange for next week, and it's already close to dawn."

 
"Oh, please! Just for one day? You don't know what it
means!"

 
"I think I do," I sympathized, "but, no.
Control, Sanda.
We'll do this again tomorrow night if the House is willing to let you stay another night, as I suspect they will. We don't have much time, and we have a lot of practice to do,"

 
He pouted. It was amusing to see the characteristics of Sanda in my body, as it had tickled me to see some legit switchers in similar circumstances. We learn our sexual and personality moves early, on, and even on a body-switch world these come through—on people with a clear •sexual identity, such as the three of us.

 
"I think we ought to get to this," I told him. "It's getting late, and you might get your wish by just keeping me up a little longer." I was somewhat concerned. The unfamiliar-feeling body would cause enough problems, but I was becoming more and more awake. Sanda, in this body, had had a lot more sleep than Dylan or I had had.

 
Sanda seemed to sense that, too, and seemed determined to keep the argument going until it would go his way by default. Realizing this, I snapped, "Will I have this problem again next week, when our lives depend on it?"

 
That brought him up short, and sounding a little apologetic, he replied, "Look. I'm sorry. I won't cross you up."

 
"I know you won't," I said softly,
then
said, "Hippo-gryph."

 
Thank heavens for posthypnotic suggestion, I thought with relief. That was my ace in the hole for the next weekend too, of course. I crossed my fingers on that one, lay down, and tried to get some sleep, which was a long time coming. The longer it took the more afraid I became of being trapped in this body, and the harder it was to get to sleep because of that fear. I finally managed, though, cheating a bit with some autohypnosis.

 
The sun was bright and it was late in the morning when Sanda, again herself, somewhat ruefully awakened me.

 
One more day of rehearsal, going over everything again and again, testing .things out again and again, and one more night of testing, this time with Dylan doing the double switching, and we were as ready as we'd ever be. If Otah was as good as his word, I had one extra setup to accomplish on my own, and then a little sadistic fun, and we'd be ready for Friday afternoon.

CHAPTER SEVEN - Final Set-up and Much Prayer

Tuesday afternoon, while I was still at work, I got a call from Sanda telling me that a package had just been delivered to her at Akeba House. After I knocked off for the day, I went down there to get it

 
I met her at the gatehouse, and we walked along the wood walk to the sea. We looked down on the Hroyasail fleet, already tied up below, but I wasn't about to disturb Dylan at this point. She had her work to do and I had mine.

 
"I still can't believe there's a whole business in supplying special parts for computers and stuff like that," Sanda told me.

 
I grinned. "There's always
,some
service like that, and people like Otah to provide it."

 
"But what would anyone use it for, except maybe to commit a crime?"

 
"Some of it's undoubtedly for that, but not much, or the authorities would shut 'em down," I told her. "A lot of it is for people making their own modifications in their own home or business equipment—modifications not approved by the manufacturer, who wants to control everything about his machines. Some of it is to modify stock security systems so somebody can't get the master keys and defeat them. And some of it, like our cover story, is due to people forgetting to fix stuff that's required by borough code, like fire and police alarms, because they were lazy or because they were too cheap to get a maintenance contract, only to be caught with their pants down when inspectors pull a surprise."

 
She shrugged and looked suspiciously at the unopened parcel. "How can you be sure it'll work? Or that Otah hasn't cheated you by supplying some standard part?"

 
"He wouldn't stay in business long if he did that, but if he has, then the plan won't work and we'll have to figure out something else, that's all."

 
"Why so many, then?"

 
I grinned wider.
"Because the breakdown has to look natural.
These are the same standard chips used in the old and venerable system this borough's had for years, only with slight changes. They're designed to react to different loads on the system. We can't just have something break once—they'll just come and fix it. We have to have a repeated series of breakdowns, and that means we have one go bad, get fixed, then another go, and so forth."

 
"But won't that attract suspicion, too?"

 
"You don't know machines. When one part goes, others often follow. No, the more failures they find, the more the blame will be laid to the antiquated system finally giving up under the strain of years. Trust me—it's my business."

 
She put her arm around me. "I
do
trust you, Quin. It's just all so—so
incredible.
I could never have come up
With
an idea as crazy as this."

 
"Yeah," I said. "That's why people like me—the good guys
and
the crooks—get away with so much. The average person, even the average law enforcer, just doesn't have the kind of mind to figure out things like this."

 
"You'd think they'd learn."

 
"They did," I told her. "They created a corps of specialists in the Confederacy for people who thought like this, to catch them."

 
"Sounds fascinating.
But surely somebody by now would have designed a foolproof system."

 
I had to laugh. "The ultimate foolproof system is invented every year or two and has been since the dawn of time. It usually lasts only until the next genius figures out how to beat it."

 
Even you, Wagant Laroo,
I thought, looking out across the ocean to the southeast.
No fortress has ever proven impregnable, nor is the best security without flaw. I'm coming for you, Wagant Laroo. One day, step by step, I'm coming. And not even your alien friends will be able to save you from me.

 
Despite my glib assurances to Sanda, I didn't trust any bootlegger for anything. Wednesday I checked out the circuits in the lab. It was a fascinating business, a computer so small you could hardly see itvsrith the naked eye, but it was naturally centuries out of date. What could be done with computers now was nothing short of awesome —but it hadn't been done, out of fear by power-loving, weak-kneed leaders who feared just who or what would be in control of humanity if they went too far. Here on Cerberus, where the system was even more retarded, I suspect that scientists from centuries earlier could probably have understood what I was doing.

 
Human history had always been like that—centuries, even millennia, of incredibly slow, creeping advance, followed by a few centuries of exponential multiplication of knowledge, followed by a collapse, a setback, and more lengthy periods of backwardness. We are hardly as backward as some, but the analogy still held. This was not an age of great advancement, if only for political reasons, nor the century for it. We were Neanderthals, primitives who could set the air conditioner on in our caves and drive comfortably down to the dinosaur pits.

 
The chips checked out perfectly. Otah's people had done a good job, and now it was up to me to be worthy.

 
Wednesday evening I checked out a company flier, which wasn't unusual, since I was due the next day in Comora, about a hundred and ten kilometers north, for a reorganizational meeting—standard stuff. What wasnt standard was where I went that evening after changing into a Tooker Service Systems uniform and, with a little easy sleight of hand, picking up an official repairman's tool
kit.