Various Fiction

by Robert Sheckley

  When the shell split into a gigantic mouth—for this was the criatin method of feeding—Barrent jammed his sword into the opening. The criatin expired with gratifying promptness.

  The victory left Barrent standing alone on the bloodstained sand. The rest of the prisoners were either dead or too badly maimed to fight. Barrent waited, wondering what beast the Games Committee had chosen next.

  A single tendril shot up through the sand, and then another. Within seconds, a short, thick tree was growing in the Arena, sending out more roots and tendrils, and pulling all flesh, living or dead, into five small feeding-mouths which circled the base of the trunk. This was the carrion tree, indigenous to the northeastern swamps and imported at great expense. It was said to be highly vulnerable to fire; but Barrent had no fire available.

  Using his sword two-handed, Barrent lopped off vines; others grew in their place. He worked with frantic speed to keep the vines from surrounding him. His arms were becoming very tired, and the tree regenerated faster than he could cut it down. There seemed no way of destroying it.

  His only hope lay in the tree’s slow movements. These were fast enough, but nothing compared with human musculature. Barrent ducked out of a corner in which the creeping vines were trapping him. Another sword was lying twenty yards away, half-buried in the sand. Barrent reached it, and felt a vine close around his ankles.

  He hacked at it, and other vines coiled around his waist. He dug his heels into the sand and clashed the swords together, trying to produce a spark.

  On his first try, the sword in his right hand broke in half.

  Barrent picked up the halves and kept on trying as the vines dragged him closer to the feeding mouths. A shower of sparks flew from the clanging steel. One of them touched a vine.

  With incredible suddenness the vine burst into flame. The flame spurted down the length of the vine to the main tree system. The five mouths moaned as the fire leaped toward them.

  If matters had been left like that, Barrent would have been burned to death, for the Arena was nearly filled with the highly combustible vines. But the flames were endangering the wooden walls of the Arena. The Tetrahyde guard detachment put the fire out in time to save both Barrent and the spectators.

  Swaying with exhaustion, Barrent stood in the center of the Arena, wondering what would be used against him next. But nothing happened. After a moment, a signal was made from the President’s box, and the crowd roared in applause.

  The Games were over. Barrent had lived through them.

  Still nobody left their seats. The audience was waiting to see the final disposition of Barrent, who had passed beyond the law.

  He heard a low, reverent gasp from the crowd. Turning quickly, Barrent saw a fiery dot of light appear in mid-air. It swelled, threw out streamers of light, and gathered them in again. It grew rapidly, too brilliant to look upon. The dot became a red and yellow globe about twenty feet in diameter, its lowest curve not quite touching the ground. It grew again. The center of the globe became thinner; a waist appeared, and above the waist the globe turned an impenetrable black. It was two globes now, one brilliant, one dark, joined by a narrow waist. As Barrent watched, the dark globe lengthened and changed into the unforgettable horn-headed shape of The Dark One.

  Barrent tried to run, but the huge, black-headed figure swept forward and engulfed him. He was trapped in a blinding swirl of radiance, with darkness above it. The light bored into his head, and he tried to scream. Then he passed out.

  CHAPTER 19

  BARRENT recovered consciousness in a dim, high-ceilinged room. He was lying on a bed. Two people were standing near by. They seemed to be arguing.

  “There simply isn’t any more time to wait,” a man was saying. “You fail to appreciate the urgency of the situation.”

  “The doctor said he needs at least another three days of rest.” It was a woman’s voice. After a moment, Barrent realized that Moera was speaking.

  “He can have three days.”

  “And he needs time for indoctrination.”

  “You told me he was bright. The indoctrination shouldn’t take long.”

  “It might take weeks.”

  “Impossible. The ship lands in six days.”

  “Eylan,” Moera said, “you’re trying to move too fast. We can’t do it this time. On the next Landing Day we will be much better prepared—”

  “The situation will be out of hand by then,” the man said. “I’m sorry, Moera, we have to use Barrent immediately, or not use him at all.”

  Barrent said, “Use me for what? Where am I? Who are you?”

  The man turned to the bed. In the faint light, Barrent saw a very tall, thin, stooped old man with a wispy moustache.

  “I’m glad you’re awake,” he said. “My name is Swen Eylan. I’m in command of Group Two.”

  “What’s Group Two?” Barrent asked. “How did you get me out of the Arena? Are you agents of The Black One?”

  Eylan grinned. “Not exactly agents. We’ll explain everything to you shortly. First, I think you’d better have something to eat and drink.”

  A nurse brought in a tray. While Barrent ate, Eylan pulled up a chair and told Barrent about The Black One.

  “Our Group,” Eylan said, “can’t claim to have started the religion of Evil. That appears to have sprung up spontaneously on Omega. But since it was there, we have made occasional use of it. The priests have been remarkably cooperative. After all, the worshippers of Evil set a high positive value upon corruption. Therefore, in the eyes of an Omegan priest, the appearance of a fraudulent Black One is not anathema. Quite the contrary, for in the orthodox worship of Evil, a great deal of emphasis is put upon false images—especially if they are big, fiery, impressive images like the one which rescued you from the Arena.”

  “How did you produce that?” Barrent asked.

  “It has to do with friction surfaces and planes of force,” Eylan said. “You’d have to ask our engineers for more details.”

  “Why did you rescue me?” Barrent asked.

  Eylan glanced at Moera, who shrugged her shoulders. Looking uncomfortable, Eylan said, “We would like to use you for an important job. But before I tell you about it, I think you should know something about our organization. Certainly you must have some curiosity about us.”

  “A great deal,” Barrent said. “Are you some kind of criminal elite?”

  “We’re an elite,” Eylan said, “but we don’t consider ourselves criminals. Two entirely different types of people have been sent to Omega. There are the true criminals guilty of murder, arson, armed robbery, and the like. Those are the people you lived among. And there are the people guilty of deviational crimes such as political unreliability, scientific unorthodoxy, and irreligious attitudes. These people compose our organization, which, for the purposes of identification, we call Group Two. As far as we can remember and reconstruct, our crimes were largely a matter of holding different opinions from those which prevailed upon Earth. We were nonconformists. We probably constituted an unstable element, and a threat to the entrenched powers. Therefore we were deported to Omega.”

  “And you separated yourselves from the other deportees,” Barrent said.

  “Yes, necessarily. For one thing, the true criminals of Group One are not readily controllable. We couldn’t lead them, nor could we allow ourselves to be led by them. But more important than that, we had a job to do that could only be performed in secrecy. We had no idea what devices the guardships employed to watch the surface of Omega. To keep our security intact, we went underground—literally. The room you’re in now is about two hundred feet below the surface. We stay out of sight, except for special agents like Moera, who separate the political and social prisoners who belong in Group Two from the others.”

  “You didn’t separate me,” Barrent said.

  “Of course not. You were allegedly guilty of murder, which put you in Group One. However, your behavior was not typical of Group One. You seemed like good potentia
l material for us, so we helped you from time to time. But we had to be sure of you before taking you into the Group. Your repudiation of the murder charge was strongly in your favor. Also, we questioned Illiardi after you had located him. There seemed no reason to doubt that he performed the murder you were charged with. Even more strongly in your favor were your high survival qualities, which had their ultimate test in the Hunt and the Games. We were badly in need of a man like you in our work.”

  “Just what is your work?” Barrent asked. “What do you want to accomplish?”

  “We want to go back to Earth,” Eylan said.

  “But that’s impossible.”

  “We don’t think so,” Eylan said. “We’ve given the matter considerable study. In spite of the guardships, we think it’s possible to return to Earth. We’ll find out for sure in six days, when the breakout must be made.”

  Moera said, “It would be better to wait another six months.”

  “Impossible. A six months’ delay would be ruinous. Every society has a purpose, and the criminal population of Omega is bent upon its own self-destruction. Barrent, you look surprised. Couldn’t you see that?”

  “I never thought about it,” Barrent said. “After all, I was part of it.”

  “It’s self evident,” Eylan said. “Consider the institutions—all centered around legalized murder. The holidays are excuses for mass murders. Even the law, which governs the rate of murder, is beginning to break down. The population lives near the edge of a pandemic. And rightfully so. There’s no longer any security. The only way to live is to kill. The only way to rise in status is to kill. The only safe thing is to kill—more and more, faster and faster.”

  “You exaggerate,” Moera said in his own defense.

  “I don’t think so. I realize that there seems to be a certain permanence to Omegan institutions, a certain inherent conservatism even to murder. But it’s an illusion. I have no doubt that all dying societies projected their illusion of permanence—right up to the end. Well, the end of Omegan society is rapidly approaching.”

  “How soon?” Barrent asked.

  “An explosion point will be reached in about four months,” Eylan said. “The only way to change that would be to give the population a new direction, a different cause.”

  “Earth,” Barrent said.

  “Exactly. That’s why the attempt must be made immediately.”

  “Well, I don’t know much about it,” Barrent said. “But I’ll go along with you. I’ll gladly be a part of any expedition.”

  Eylan looked uncomfortable again. “I suppose I haven’t made myself clear,” he said. “You are going to be the expedition, Barrent. You and only you. Forgive me, have I startled you?”

  “Yes,” Barrent said. “Let me think about that for a moment. I should be used to surprises.”

  CHAPTER 20

  ACCORDING to Eylan, Group Two had at least one serious flaw: the men who composed it were, for the most part, past their physical prime. There were some younger members, of course; but they had had little contact with violence, and little chance to develop traits of self-sufficiency. Secure in the underground, most of them had never fired a beamer in anger, had never been forced to run for their lives, had never encountered the make-or-break situations through which Barrent had lived. They were brave but unproven. They would willingly undertake the expedition to Earth; but they would have little chance of success.

  “And you think I would have a chance?” Barrent asked.

  “I think so. You’re young and strong, reasonably intelligent, and extremely resourceful. You have a high survival drive. If any man could succeed, I believe you could.”

  “Why send just one man?”

  “Because there’s no sense in sending a group. The chance of detection would simply be increased. By using one man, we get maximum security and opportunity. If you succeed, we will receive valuable information about the nature of the enemy. If you don’t succeed, if you are captured, your attempt will be considered the action of an individual rather than a group. We will still be free to start a general uprising from Omega.”

  “How am I supposed to get back to Earth?” Barrent asked. “Do you have a spaceship hidden away somewhere?”

  “I’m afraid not. We plan to transport you to Earth aboard the next prison ship.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “Not at all. We’ve studied the landings. They follow an invariant pattern. The prisoners are marched out, accompanied by the guards. While they’re assembled in the square, the ship itself is undefended, although loosely surrounded by a cordon of guards. To get you aboard, we will start a disturbance. It should take the guards’ attention long enough for you to get on the ship.”

  “Even if I get aboard, I’ll be captured as soon as the guards return.”

  “You shouldn’t be,” Eylan said. “The prison ship is an immense structure with many hiding places for a stowaway. And the element of surprise will be in your favor. It’s the first time in the history of Omega that something like this has been attempted.”

  “I’ll be captured when the ship reaches Earth.”

  “Not if you disguise yourself as a member of the ship’s personnel,” Eylan said. “Remember, the inevitable inefficiency of a huge bureaucracy will be working for you.”

  “I hope so,” Barrent said. “Let’s suppose I reach Earth safely and get the information you want. How do I send it back?”

  “You send it back on the next prison ship,” Eylan said. “We plan to capture that one.”

  Barrent rubbed his forehead wearily. “What makes you think that any of this—my expedition or your uprising—can succeed against an organization as powerful as Earth?”

  “We have to take the chance,” Eylan said. “Take it or go down in a bloody shambles with the rest of Omega. I agree that the odds are weighted against us. But our choice is either to make the attempt or to die without making any attempt at all.” Moera nodded at this. “Also, the situation has other possibilities. The government of Earth is obviously repressive. That argues the existence of underground resistance groups on Earth itself. You may be able to contact those groups. A revolt both here and on Earth would give the government something to think about.”

  “Maybe,” Barrent said.

  “We have to hope for the best,” Eylan said. “Are you with us?”

  “Certainly,” Barrent said. “I’d rather die on Earth than on Omega.”

  The prison ship lands in six days,” Eylan said. “During that time, we will give you the information we have about Earth. Part of it is memory reconstruction, part has been skrenned by the mutants, and the rest is logical constructs. It’s all we have, and I think it gives a reasonably accurate picture of current conditions on Earth.”

  “How soon do we start?” Barrent asked.

  “Right now,” Eylan said.

  First, Barrent received a general briefing on the physical makeup of Earth, its climate and major population centers. Then he was sent to Colonel John Bray, formerly of the Earth Deep Space Establishment. Bray talked to him about the probable military strength of Earth as represented by the number of spaceships around Omega and their apparent level of scientific development. He gave estimates of the size of the Earth forces, their probable divisions into land, sea and space groups, their assumed level of efficiency. An aide, Captain Carell, lectured on special weapons, their probable types and ranges, their availability to the general Earth population. Another aide, Lieutenant Daoud, talked about detection devices, their probable locations, and how to avoid them.

  Then Barrent was turned back to Eylan for political indoctrination. From him, Barrent learned that Earth was believed to be a dictatorship. He learned the methods of a dictatorship, its peculiar strengths and weaknesses, the role of the secret police, the use of terror, the problem of informers. There was a great deal to remember.

  When Eylan was finished with him, Barrent went to a small, beady-eyed man named Raint, who lectured on Earth’s
memory-destroying system. Using the premise that memory was destroyed to render opposition ineffective, Raint went on to construct the probable nature of an underground movement on Earth under those circumstances, and how Barrent might contact them, and what the underground’s capabilities might be.

  Finally he was given the full details of Group Two’s plan for him to board the ship.

  When Landing Day came, Barrent felt a definite sense of relief. He was heartily sick of day and night cramming. Any sort of action was better than that.

  CHAPTER 21

  BARRENT watched the huge prison ship maneuver into position and sink noiselessly to the ground. It gleamed dully in the afternoon sun, tangible proof of Earth’s long reach and powerful grasp. A hatch opened, and a landing stage was let down. The prisoners, flanked by their guards, marched down this stage and assembled in the square.

  As usual, most of the population of Tetrahyde had gathered to watch and cheer the disembarkation ceremony. Barrent moved through the crowd and stationed himself behind the ranks of prisoner’s and guards. He touched his pocket to make sure the gun was still there. It had been made for him by Group Two fabricators, completely of plastic to escape any metals detector. The rest of his pockets were stuffed with equipment. He hoped he wouldn’t have to use any of it.

  The loudspeaker voice began to read off the prisoners’ numbers, as it had when Barrent had disembarked. He listened, knees slightly bent, waiting for the beginning of the diversion planned by Group Two.

  The loudspeaker voice was coming to the end of the prisoner list. There were only ten left. Barrent edged forward. The voice droned on. Four prisoners left, three . . .

  As the number of the last prisoner was announced, the diversion began. A black cloud of smoke darkened the pale sky, and Barrent knew that the Group had set fire to the empty barracks in Square A-2. He waited.

  Then it came. There was a stupendous explosion, blasting through two rows of empty buildings. The shock wave was staggering. Even before debris began to fall, Barrent was running toward the spaceship.