"Are off. When the power went down, so did they. So much for Okasan's loyalty gene."

  "Well, for that sample yes. But I'm sure he made copies—lots of them."

  "No," Lani said. "That was the only one. Streig wouldn't allow it to be copied—wouldn't even let anyone else near it. Before the probe I heard him tell the techs to disable the auto-replicating protocols. I guess he wanted to control the only copy."

  "Well!" Tristan said, feeling his spirits lift. "At least we've accomplished one of our goals. Now we've got to get you and Okasan out of here."

  "Which will be a much taller order," Callin said. "But first"—he tossed Tristan the pistol from his belt—"let's do some damage before we leave. You start here, I'll start at the far end of the hall."

  He backed out of the door and disappeared.

  Tristan looked at Lani, then at Streig's remains. "I'm sorry you had to see that. I lost control and—"

  "It's all right," she said, but he didn't quite believe her. "If anyone deserved it..." She looked around. "They took my clothes."

  "I saw some in the outer chamber. You get them while I start ruining their data banks."

  Tristan watched Lani hurry out, then turned and stared at Streig's remains. Such an evil and powerful man should have been harder to kill. And yet he'd bled and died as quickly and easily as the lowliest DNA adaptee. Nothing special about his passing except that it was, Tristan hoped, more painful than most. And that hadn't been gratuitous. Streig had earned it.

  Tristan hefted his pulser, dialed it to max power, and began firing.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  "They've cut off our power," Krek said.

  Tristan had just stepped out of the elevator with Lani, expecting to find the Security post as bright as he'd left it. But it, too, was lit only by the emergency ceiling panels.

  "When?"

  "Not long. We saw it coming. We knew from the read-outs that they were evacuating all the subterranean levels, and then we saw them cutting off power, level by level, until the black-out reached us."

  "Mute," Callin said, hefting his pulser. He'd taken a solo ride on the elevator before Tristan and Lani. "I wanted to recharge this."

  Between the two of them, they'd done considerable damage to the Datacenter, going from booth to both, frying all the cat's eye depositories and melting all the transcribing and replicating units they could find.

  Tristan said, "I'm sure the armory here's loaded with fresh pulsers." He turned to Krek. "Is Okasan free yet?"

  Krek shook his head. "Not yet. Too many bars and the cutting is maddeningly slow."

  "Can I see her?" Lani said.

  She'd reclaimed her clingsuit, yet she stood about a meter away, arms folded across her breasts as if still naked, and gazed in awe at Krek and the other mimes. Tristan had noticed that she'd kept to the far side of the elevator car on their ride up from the Datacenter. He'd so wanted to hold her but hadn't dared—not with these bloody, scaled arms. He'd hoped to be able to flux back to Trev once he got her up here, but that didn't seem wise now. The situation was deteriorating and he'd need every iota of this masque’s dragon vitality.

  Leaving Krek and Callin behind, Tristan led her back to the holding cells. As they entered the area he heard Okasan crying out to whoever would listen.

  "Leave me, I tell you! Every minute you waste with me lessens your chances of getting out alive!"

  "Okasan!" Lani cried.

  She ran toward cell door but had to stop short because of the mime working with the laser.

  Okasan smiled with relief and squeezed her fingers between two of the horizontal bars.

  "Lani! They didn't hurt you! Oh, I'm so glad! I would have felt responsible." Her smile faded. "I'm responsible for so much already."

  Lani reached out and caressed the old woman's fingers.

  "No. I'm all right. Tristan saved me. And Okasan—the loyalty gene...the only copy is gone...destroyed."

  "But Streig—"

  "Gone too. Tristan...took care of that."

  Okasan looked him over Lani's shoulder. "This is Tristan?"

  Tristan nodded. "It's me, Okasan. And it's destroyed."

  Okasan's gaze seemed to wander into space. "Then the secret of 662RHC is a secret again. All mine."

  Tristan leaned forward to see how the cutting was going.

  Not well. Only two of the lower bars had been removed, and the laser was barely half way through one end of the third. Okasan might be able to slip her legs through to the knee, but certainly no farther.

  Tristan's mood, boosted by the freeing of Lani and the destruction 662RHC, plunged.

  At this rate, they'd all be killed before Okasan was free. He cudgeled his brain for a solution. How could he speed this up?

  And then Krek slithered in. "They've shut off the power to the chutes."

  Lani turned from Okasan and looked at them. "Then we're trapped—as locked in as Okasan."

  "Not necessarily," Tristan said. "We may be able to route some emergency power to them."

  "I wouldn't count on that, brother," Krek said.

  Tristan shrugged and turned away. He'd worry about the chutes later. Right now he had a more pressing problem: freeing Okasan.

  "I have an idea," Okasan said. "There's some sort of a plate in the wall here to the side of the door. It's just opposite the lock mechanism on your side. If I can get it open, maybe I can find a way to bypass the lock."

  "Really?" Krek said. "How's it fastened to the wall? Can it be pried off?"

  "I don't think so," she said. "Slip one of your pulsers under the bar and I’ll try a beam on it. Certainly can't make things worse."

  "Anything's worth a try," Krek said. He pulled a pistol from his bet and handed it to the leech mime using the laser cutter. "Here. Push this under."

  As the leech mime slid the pulser under the bars, Okasan glanced up. Her eyes locked with Tristan's for an instant and he cried out at the terrible resolve he saw there.

  "No! Don't give it to her!"

  But too late. Okasan snatched up the weapon and backed away from the door.

  "Why not?" Krek said. "What's wrong?"

  But Okasan answered for him.

  "You cannot get me out in time," she said softly. "You are all very brave and I am so very touched by this grand gesture on my behalf, but the sad hard truth is that, no matter what you do, I will still be in this cell when Flagge Security reclaims this post. And they will reclaim it. The only variable is how many of you will die in the process. If you stay here trying to free me, you'll all die."

  "We're not leaving you," Krek said flatly.

  "I know that," Okasan said. "And so I must leave you."

  No, Tristan thought, knowing what Okasan was about to do. Not now, not after I've learned who you are...

  A chorus of pleas rose from Lani, Krek, and the others as they realized what Tristan had already guessed.

  Okasan closed her eyes and shook her head. "Thanks to Tristan, the world just got a reprieve from 662RHC. But if I'm alive when Security retakes this post, someone else from FCI—another Streig—will have me probed again. And Flagge Glom will once more have the key to domination. I cannot allow that to happen."

  "Okasan," Tristan said, and heard his voice teeter on a sob. "Mother...please!"

  "Mother..." she said, gazing at them with moist eyes. "For so long I have been ashamed of the misuse of my mDNA. But now, looking at you, seeing through the frightful shapes you've assumed, I find something good and noble. I'm proud of you—all of you."

  "Keep cutting," Krek told the leech mime. "We'll get you out."

  "The best thing you can do for me is survive. That is the greatest gift you can give me. Live on to find and free other mimes. When the word of your revolt spreads, it will set other mimes to thinking. You've started a fire here—spread its flame across the globe, across the planets. But to do that, you must leave me here. Good bye."

  A chorus of pleas arose from Lani and Krek and other mimes who had been drawn into the cell area, but Tristan had been struck dumb by the intensity of the strange emotions roiling within him. He gripped the bars, wanting to squeeze through them and grab this old woman, embrace her and tell her that he'd just found her and he couldn't—wouldn't—lose her now.

  But Okasan ignored the desperate cries. With calm deliberateness she moved to the shelf that served as the cell's bed and lay down on her back. She made an adjustment on the pulser pistol, then pressed its muzzle against her chest, over her heart.

  She turned her head toward them. "Go. Please. Don’t watch this."

  But Tristan wasn't leaving, and neither was anyone else. Their pleas merely increased in volume.

  "Very well," Okasan said with a tremulous smile. "Good-bye."

  With Lani's screams in his ears, Tristan finally found his voice, but his intended shout of protest emerged as a wail of anguish.

  And that clogged in his throat when he saw Okasan's thumb depress the trigger, saw her body shudder as the beam drilled a hole through her heart. Her arms spasmed and the pulser clattered to the floor. Her body stiffened, arched slightly for and instant, then went limp.

  The cries and pleas died, strangled by the horror of the scene before them, replaced by groans and sobs. Lani turned and clung to Tristan for an instant, then pushed away—repulsed by the drying gore, by his dragon skin?—and stumbled away.

  Tristan didn't go after her. He stayed where he was, staring through the bars, feeling as if he were coming apart.

  Okasan...Teresa Goleman...his mother...was dead.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Finally, after each of the mimes had paid his respects to Okasan's remains, and the door to the cell area was sealed closed with spot welds, Krek gathered his troops and addressed them. He struggled to clear his throat.

  "As you know, power to the chutes has been cut. And try as we might, we haven't been able to restart the grav attenuators. Unless someone comes up with a brilliant idea, we're stuck."

  "Not necessarily," Tristan said, his mind racing.

  He'd been frantic, trying to think of a way out of this trap. Not simply because he wanted to save Lani, but because Okasan had given them a mission: spread the mime revolution. He'd vowed to honor her last request.

  "The chutes are dead, brother. Just dark and empty shafts."

  "Exactly," Tristan said. "Dark and empty. With handholds running their entire length. We can climb out."

  Krek brightened as the other mimes murmured appreciatively.

  "Mute me, he's right!" Callin said. "They won't be expecting that." He clapped Tristan on the shoulder and laughed. "Aren't you all glad I insisted on bringing him along?"

  That lightened the grim mood, but only briefly.

  "How far up do we have to go?" Lani said.

  "Twenty stories," Tristan said.

  "I can't climb that far."

  "You won't have to," he told her. "I'll carry you."

  "As Trev?"

  Tristan could tell by the look in her eyes that she was hoping he'd say yes. But that couldn't be.

  "No. Trev couldn't climb twenty stories either. But with the vitality and special musculature of this fighting 'plate, I can get both of us out."

  "How? You'll need both hands."

  "I'll work something out."

  While Krek was directing his fellow Proteans into the dark up chute, Tristan scavenged belts and holsters from the dead Security men and fashioned a makeshift harness for Lani.

  Krek waited for them in the empty vestibule and helped strap Lani to Tristan's back.

  "There," Krek told her after he'd tightened the last strap. "You hold on tight around his neck and you'll be fine."

  Tristan noticed that she hesitated an instant before wrapping her arms around his scaly neck. He could almost feel her skin ripple with revulsion.

  "Don't worry," he told her. "It won't be long."

  "I hope not," she said. "Will you be able to climb all that way with my extra weight?"

  "That'll be the easy part. The real challenge will be staying ahead of Security."

  "Enough talk," Krek said. "You two are the last. Get started. I'll bring up the—" He stopped and cocked his head, listening. "What's that? Coming from the other chute."

  He slithered over and stuck his head through the down-chute opening—and jerked it back just as a barrage of finger-thin red beams lanced from above.

  "Bots!" he cried. He twisted toward Tristan. "Get moving! Now!"

  Tristan felt Lani's arms tighten around his neck as he swung into the shaft. The counterattack had begun. He'd hoped to have a little longer to put some distance between himself and the Security bots. The winged ones flew, the boxy ones rolled, both forms were heavily armored, and once they got moving they were almost impossible to stop.

  As soon as their controllers saw that the post was deserted, they'd repower the up chute and send the bots screaming after them.

  As he started his ascent, Tristan noticed Krek heading back toward the Security post.

  "Krek! This way! Where are you going?"

  "Get moving!" he said, waving Tristan off. "I'll draw them off."

  "No!" Tristan cried. "They'll fry you!"

  "They've got to catch me first. I'll make them think we've retreated to the Datacenter. By the time they find out it's just one mime, you'll be back in the tunnel. Now move! If they see you, they'll figure out what we're up to." He waved. "Remember me to the family and tell them not to waste time mourning. Tell them to get free. That's all that counts now."

  Tristan knew Krek was right. Proteus's only hope was this sort of diversionary tactic. But it tore the heart out of him to watch Krek slither back into the Security post and know it was the last time he'd ever see that noble mime.

  Tears blurred Tristan's vision as he started to climb. Only days ago he would have found Krek's decision utterly incomprehensible. But now...if Lani weren't here, he might have offered to stay in Krek's place and send the leader up to guide his mime troops to safety.

  He blinked to clear his vision and concentrated on finding the hand holds in the darkness and climbing as quickly and silently as possible.

  He reached the opening for the S-24 level and found it empty, faintly lit by emergency panels. Good. If all the subterranean levels were this deserted, they just might make it.

  Suddenly Lani whispered in his ear. "Tristan, look. Down there."

  Tristan glanced down and saw a winged Security bot glide into the chute. His heart began hammering. Did they suspect?

  He swung out of the chute into the twenty-fourth level vestibule. Pulser out and ready, he crouched to the side, just beyond the opening, praying they hadn't alerted the bot's infrared sensors and motion detectors. He didn't count on it. Two bodies harnessed together like his and Lani's put out a lot of heat. But he could always hope. After a certain interval, he'd hazard a look into the chute.

  He began counting.

  And didn't get very far before the gleaming black wedge of a Security bot glided through the opening, it's left wing tip only inches from his nose.

  Tristan didn't hesitate. He grabbed the wing and rotated it away from him so to expose the bot's tail section. Everyone knew bots were vulnerable aft, and everyone considered it useless knowledge. Bots never retreated. They kept coming until they were downed or had nothing left to kill.

  But Tristan was looking at the thrusters and guidance ports of one such aft section right now.

  "Close your eyes," he told Lani, then turned his head as he pumped three blasts into it.

  The bot took off like an orbital shuttle, careening off the walls, then spinning into a nearby hallway.

  Tristan was already on the move—back into the chute and climbing as quickly as he could. Had to be further up before more bots arrived. And he had no doubt more would be coming. Whoever was running them would split off a few from the Security post counterattack to see what had happened on level twenty-four. Which was good: more time wasted searching an empty floor while Proteus made its escape.

  The others were far ahead of him, but they'd be waiting. The plan was to regroup in the vestibule on S-5, and move to the tunnel en masse.

  The climb seemed endless, and Lani's extra weight took its toll. His muscles burned, his lungs labored, but he wasn't sweating—dragon skin, he guessed, didn't perspire.

  Finally, he reached S-5 and found the others clustered in the twilit vestibule outside the chutes. Waiting for him...and one other.

  As Tristan loosened the harness and released Lani from his back, Callin scuttled to the chute entrance and looked down. "Where's Krek?"

  Tristan had dreaded this moment all the way up.

  "He's not coming."

  Callin's voice rose above the shocked babble. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  Tristan told them of Krek's sacrifice. Silence followed. Was it his own guilt, or did he see an unasked question in their eyes?

  Why didn't you stay?

  "Let's go back for him!" someone said.

  Amid a chorus of agreement, the group surged toward the down chute. Tristan stepped in front of them, blocking their way.

  "No! Stop! Krek's last words to me were, 'Tell them to get free. That's all that counts now.' You've got to honor that."

  "Maybe you leave a brother behind," Callin said, pushing toward the chute, "but we don't."

  "Damn it!" Tristan said. "Your brother—our brother—is sacrificing himself so that we can get away, and fight on. Our mother did the same. So now you're heading back down there to make their deaths meaningless. The gloms will wipe us out, and Okasan and Krek will have died for nothing. Is that what you want?"

  Callin stood poised on the edge, ready to push off with his eight legs, but he didn't move.

  "Okasan and Krek..." Tristan whispered. "They both had the same last wish: Get free. Freedom's down the hall. We'll live to fight another day. And we'll make the gloms wish they'd never heard the word 'mime.'"

  Finally Callin turned to Tristan. "You're right. It feels wrong, but..."

  Tristan motioned toward the hallway. "Let's go."

  Keeping Lani at his side and slightly behind him, he led the way out of the vestibule. He was about to step into the hall when a warning flashed through his brain. He held up his hand and stuck his head around the corner—