CHAPTER III
He bound himself over to the surgeon later that afternoon, after money to the amount of ten thousand, nine hundred thirty golden stellors had been deposited to his name in the Royal Borlaam Bank in Galaxy Square, and after he had seen the neuronic mesh that was embedded in the bodies of Benjin, Oversk, Dorgel, and Razumod. Greater assurance of good faith than this he could not demand; he would have to risk the rest.
The surgeon's quarters were farther along the Avenue of Bronze, in a dilapidated old house that had no doubt been built in Third Empire days. The surgeon himself was a wiry fellow with a puckered ray-slash across one cheek and a foreshortened left leg. A retired pirate-vessel medic, Herndon realized. No one else would perform such an operation unquestioningly. He hoped the man had skill.
The operation itself took an hour, during which time Herndon was under total anesthesia. He woke to find the copper operating-dome lifting off him. He felt no different, even though he knew a network of metal had been blasted into his body on the submolecular level.
"Well? Is it finished?"
"It is," the surgeon said.
Herndon glanced at Benjin. The little man held a glinting metal object on his palm. "This is the control, Herndon. Let me demonstrate."
His hand closed, and instantaneously Herndon felt a bright bolt of pain shiver through the calf of his leg. A twitch of Benjin's finger and an arrow of red heat lanced Herndon's shoulder. Another twitch and a clammy hand seemed to squeeze his heart.
"Enough!" Herndon shouted. He realized he had signed away his liberty forever, if Benjin chose to exert control. But it did not matter to him. He had actually signed away his liberty the day he had vowed to watch the death of the Seigneur Krellig.