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describe, then he did not die. Small quantities of the drug generate
great pleasure. An overdose can induce violent seizures which sometimes
result in death from double heart failure and so forth. But when
ingested, an amount on the order you describe does something entirely
different to us. Sufficiently massive amounts can trigger a-a change. Do
you have any idea what a physiocatalytic enzyme can do?"
"No. Should l?"
"I suppose not, since insofar as I am aware there are no human analogs.
It involves the hidden nature of the drug. Your body functions seize up,
the hearts stop, and you appear to be dead, but it's really a state of
incubation. The enzyme affects the entire system. Our cellular structure
is far more malleable than yours. It has to do with the way we
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were engineered to cope with dangerous environments." He gestured down at
himself.
"Tilis is the preferred mode, both for ourselves and for those we once
served. But they designed us very carefully, so that in a last-chance case,
on a world more hostile than anyone could imagine, we would still have a
chance to survive with the aid of the drug-enzyme. We would be capable of
little else but survival. As I said, the enzyme was to be employed only as
a last resort.
"After you ingest that much of the drug you lie very still for a short time
until the metamorphosis is complete. When you recover you're. . ."
Sykes was staring at the four bodies sprawled on the pavement. "Tell me
about it." He took a deep breath. "So what do you want to do, once you've
been metamorphosed or incubated or microwaved or whatever the hell it is
that happens to you? What would Harcourt do?"
Francisco was studying the silent warehouses. "He would not run far. It is
much too soon, after. The process of internal change takes days to
solidify. Other changes require rest in order to strengthen properly, much
as a newly emerged butterfly needs time to exercise its wings before it
tries to fly. He must wait for the process to finish. Then. . . " He
glanced back toward the patrol car. "We must explain some of this to this
man Whiltey."
Sykes looked in the direction of the idling cruiser. "I'll leave that to
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you. I ain't sure I understand it all myself."
"Very well. Afterward we must do what we can."
Whiltey didn't take the explanation very well, but the four bodies in the
street lent emphasis to Francisco's vague commentary. The cop had
questions, decided to ask them later. They had no trouble convincing him to
drive the car. He was glad of the protection it offered.
With Whiltey manipulating the door-mounted spotlight, the three of them
started toward the warehouse complex. As the uniform played the intense
light over buildings and shadows, Sykes and Francisco walked alongside the
slowly coasting car. Guns drawn and ready, their eyes flicked over every
alcove, every possible hiding place. Only the New-
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comer knew what they were really searching for. His companions, he
reflected, were the fortunate ones. Sometimes a little ignorance is a good
thing.
Sykes kept his voice down as he talked across the hood of the cruiser.
"I never thought I'd say this, but for once in my life I think I'm
willing to wait for backup. You sure we're goin' about this the best way,
George?" The image of the four dead men lying on the pavement behind them
was still fresh in his mind, not to mention the bent and torn back doors
of the coroner's wagon.
"We can't let him get away," Francisco muttered from the other side of
the slowly advancing patrol car.
Sykes squinted across at his partner. "Why the hell are you so dead set
against having backup?"
It was a while before the Newcomer replied. "Becausebecause of what might
happen if humans see what we are capable of becoming."
"But there's no more drug, and Harcourt's the only one who knows the
formula. You don't have to worry about that. You know he'd never entrust
it to anybody else. Maybe his boy Kipling, but that boy's dead for real."
"You understand that, Matthew. But how many others will? How much
sympathy can we expect if this becomes widespread knowledge?" He stared
hard at his partner. "How much sympathy would you have had if you'd
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