Trag merely raised his eyebrows.
“Tell me, Trag, what is your opinion of subliminal conditioning?”
Trag’s bleak eyes widened fractionally. “The Council of the Federated Sentient Planets has declared any form of subliminal projection morally criminal and punishable by expulsion from the Federation.”
“Then if I were an Elder,” Lars said in a quiet, faintly amused tone, “I wouldn’t be so quick to accuse anyone else of having highly suspicious credentials.”
“If you will assist us to install the next two crystals, Trag, I believe we may be able to prove our allegation,” Killashandra said.
“If you cannot prove this allegation, Killashandra Ree, you are liable to severe discipline and censure.”
“Then isn’t it convenient that I’m right?”
“Guildmember, I have been subjected to subliminal conditioning,” Lars said, as if he sensed her minute uncertainty. Trag turned his penetrating stare on the islander.
“The insidiousness of subliminal conditioning, Lars Dahl, is that the victim is totally unaware of the bombardment.”
“Only if he is unprepared, Guildmember. My father, late an agent of the Federated Council, was able to safeguard me, and other friends, against electronically induced subliminals. Which, I might add, are particularly adaptable to the heavy emotional experience of the sensory organ.”
“Late an agent?” Killashandra fancied she saw some diminution of Trag’s intractability.
“Trapped here by the same restraint which keeps Optherians from competing in galactic enterprise,” Lars replied. “Contact with the Federated Council has only just been reestablished after nearly thirty years – ”
She and Trag heard the minute sound at the same instant and assumed suitable poses of interrupted labor when the door panel slid open. Mirbethan escorted the lunch table which the security guard wheeled in.
“If you’ll just leave it there, Mirbethan,” Killashandra gestured with a hand full of brackets while Trag and Lars bent over an already sited crystal, “we’ll take a break shortly.”
“Not the one they expect, either,” Lars murmured when the door panel had closed. Trag favored him with another unnerving stare. Lars returned it equably, with a slight bow toward the manual case. “After you, Guild-member.”
“Why three more crystals?” Trag asked.
“This loft is half the size of the available space behind the organ console on stage,” Lars said. “We think the subliminal programming equipment is hidden behind that wall, and accessed by a musical key activated from this manual. We have reason to believe that Comgail, who is alleged to have smashed the crystal,” Trag’s eyebrows raised, “was killed because he had discovered that musical key, not because he was injured by the shards or because he had destroyed the manual. That would have only got him sent to rehab.”
“Who is responsible for the subliminal programming?”
Lars grinned maliciously, “My own personal candidate is Ampris; he is musically trained.”
“It wouldn’t take musicality to strike notes in the right sequence,” Trag said.
“True, but he knows as much about the organ as every performer must and he became head of the Conservatory about the time the subliminal conditioning started. It began shortly after my father arrived, and he was here to investigate thc first request for the revocation of the planet-bound restriction. Then, too, Torkes has always favored the propaganda control of population. But what one Elder does, the others invariably condone. And subliminal conditioning sustains them in their power.”
“Arrange for me to meet your father, Lars Dahl.”
Lars grinned. “His credentials are as suspicious as mine, Guildmember. I doubt we could reach him. In any event, we are here, close to the damning proof of what we suspect. Surely a bird in hand – ”
“Bird?” The word exploded from Killashandra, a result of the tension she felt and a combination of surprise and respect for Lars’s sterling performance under Trag’s unnerving scrutiny.
“Perhaps the analogy is wrong,” and Lars shrugged diffidently. “Well, Guildmember? Have I my day in court, too?”
“Three more crystals?” Trag’s manner gave no indication of his thoughts.
“Two more,” Killashandra said, “if we are using the original key.”
Trag made a barely audible grunt at that comment before he reached for the next crystal and motioned Lars to place his bracket.
Killashandra could not keep her mind entirely on the task at hand for she suddenly realized just how much rested on the truth of the dissidents’ contentions. Had she indeed allowed a sexual relationship to cloud her judgment? Or favorable first impressions from Nahia, Hauness, and the others to color her thinking? And yet, there was Corish von Mittelstern, and Olav Dahl. Or was that convoluted situation carefully contrived? She might be out on a limb, the saw in her own hand, she thought as she delicately tightened the bracket on the second crystal. She didn’t dare look at Lars across the open case as they straightened up.
Expressionless as ever, Trag handed Lars the tuning hammer. Lars gave Killashandra a rakish and reassuring grin and then tapped out the sequence: da da da-dum, da da da-dum. For one hideous moment nothing happened and Killashandra felt the last vestige of energy drain from her body with the groan she could not stifle. A groan that was echoed by a muted noise and a slight vibration in the floor. Startled, she and Lars looked down but Trag remained with his eyes fixed on the ceiling.
“Clever!” was his comment as the wall sank slowly and, to their intense relief, noiselessly apart from the initial protest. “Clever and utterly despicable.” As soon as the descending wall reached knee height, Trag swung over it, Lars right behind him.
For a heavy man, Trag moved with considerable speed and economy of motion. He did a complete circuit of the room, his eyes sweeping from one side to the other, identifying each bank in the complicated and extensive rack system, and the terminal which activated the units. He completed his circuit at the three heavy cables that provided the interface between the two sets of computers.
“No one has been in here for some time,” he said finally, noting the light coating of dust on the cabinets
“No need, Guildmember.”
“You may address me as Trag.”
Lars grinned triumphantly at Killashandra, where she stood, resting her ear against the door panel. Nothing must interfere at this critical moment.
“Trag. The yearly dose for Optherians occurs shortly before the Festival season begins, and the tourists arrive. All Optherians are given the ‘opportunity and privilege,’ ” and Lars’s voice was mildly scornful, “of attending the preliminary concerts for the current year’s Festival selections. The Mainlanders get their dose then, to keep them contented while the tourists are here. Then, the tourists get theirs, which includes sufficient Optherianisms to prevent them from accepting messages from strangers for posting once they return to their homes. Some don’t, you know, having fallen for the vastly superior and secure Optherian natural way of life.”
Trag dropped his gaze from the fascinating cable. “How many escape these conditioning sessions?”
“Not many Mainlanders, though there are a few who independently discovered the subliminal images.” Lars turned to Killashandra. “Nahia, Hauness, Brassner, and Theach. Over the last ten years, they’ve been able to warn those they felt could be trusted.”
“Do the Elders know that some escape?” Killashandra asked.
“There is a head check at the concerts which simultaneously registers with the Central Computers.”