Free 03. Quest for the Well of Souls by Jack L. Chalker Page A

the host body senses—sex, masochism, sadism, whatever, at no risk to the Yugash inside. And they can trigger such sensations by stimulating the centers responsible for such feelings in the brain. It is only a matter of experimenting to find where each is and what each does."
    Serge Ortega shivered. "But you are not like this?" he prodded, somewhat discomforted.
    "Most Yugash are not," the Ghiskind assured him. "Overall, the percentage of basically good to basically bad people is probably about the same as with any other race. I can guess your thinking. Some terrors of your own people's past—particularly the institutional ones— may have been caused by Yugash, but we have never been many and we reproduce slowly or not at all in hostile environments. Possibly my most terrible suggestion is that most such activities are not Yugash-derived but native-born."
    He made a good if uncomfortable point. Ortega did not belabor it.
    "So that cult is no longer the dominant factor in Yugash, and the government's a nothing. This means that you represent—who, then?"
    The Ghiskind had no trouble with this one. "As I said, Yugash is divided into and ruled by business clans. Some, like my own, are at their saturation point in Yugash. We can not expand, we can only stagnate at present levels. My own business is enough removed from your kind of life that even explaining it is impossible. But there are a great many hexes—Northern mostly, but a few Southern as well—who can use our skills. However, with the cult still around—and the embargo has been in effect for so long it's an institution taken for granted—we cannot deal with anyone. My company, therefore, has sent me on a twofold mission. For one thing, to deny the Torshind and its kind any new outlet to other worlds and races. Second, to restore Yugash's credibility by working in joint operations with others, in the North and the South, to a positive end and in an honorable manner—and, in so doing, to reopen those long-dead channels of communication."
    What he said was plausible. "But what guarantees do I have?" Ortega asked, apologetic. "I mean, I have only your word . . ."
    The Ghiskind had a ready reply. "There are ways to prevent a Yugash from entering and controlling a body," it replied. "We will reveal these to you. Also, occupation isn't as simple a matter as you think. Were I to try and seize your body now, you would fight me—and the stronger mind would win. Even if I gained control, it would take practice to learn your nervous system properly so that I could control you and not kill you. And, remember, we do not have a spaceship pilot!"
    That, of course, was the clincher.
    "All right, then, Ghiskind, I think we have a deal. I had the pressurized hardware made up a long time ago, but it'll have to be checked out, possibly refitted." He paused for a moment, as if in thought, then added, "You realize, of course, that if we can not get into the computer I intend to destroy things so that nobody else will ever get there, either."
    The crystal shook again, apparently nodding. "Of course. Were it not for the potential threat to the Well itself I would say blow the ship now and be done with it."
    "The Yaxa group is at least two months from completing its hardware," Ortega noted. "Shall we say—thirty days on this spot?"
    "Done," replied the Ghiskind. "In the meantime, let me acquaint you with the terrain and logistical problems involved. I assume you have already talked to the Bozog?"
    Ortega smiled. "Oh, yes. Those little rolling bastards shouldn't be underestimated. If we can get them a pilot, they can get the ship."
    He sighed, suddenly deep in thought. Then he reached over with his lower right hand and pulled open a drawer, taking out a thick file. chang was written on its cover.
    Now, after all these years, I can pay my own debts, he thought. He punched an intercom button with his middle right hand.
    "Sir?" came the crisp voice of a female Ulik.
    "Zudi, tell the Ambreza