Complete Short Fiction (Jerry eBooks)

by James H. Schmitz

  For three or four minutes, the great barrier drank them in greedily.

  Then the U-League Depot stood quiet again.

  1968

  THE TUVELA

  First of Two Parts. The “tuvela” concept was an alien race’s term for something they feared in the human race. Perhaps, if they’d read “The Hunting of the Snark,” they’d have called the girl a Boojum!

  I

  As the pain haze began to thin out, Ticos Cay was somewhat surprised to find he was still on his feet. This had been a brutally heavy treatment—at moments it had seemed almost impossible to control. However, he had controlled it. The white-hot sensations, which hadn’t quite broken through with full impact into consciousness, faded to something like a sullenly lingering glow. Then that faded, too. His vision began to clear.

  Cautiously he allowed himself to accept complete awareness of his body again. It was still an unpleasant experience. There were sharp twinges everywhere, a feeling of having been recently pierced and sliced by tiny hot knives; the residue of pain. The lasting damage caused by one of these pain treatments to the human nervous system and sensory apparatus was slight but measurable. The accumulative effect of a series of treatments was no longer slight; and there had been over twenty of them during the past weeks. Each time now, taking stock of the physical loss he had suffered during the process, Ticos wondered whether he would be forced to acknowledge that the damage had spread to the point where it could no longer be repaired.

  However, it hadn’t happened on this occasion. His mind was fogged over; but it always was that way for a short while after a treatment. Reassured, he shifted attention from his internal condition to his surroundings.

  The big room had come back into focus. Most of it was dark because the demons had cut out all but a central section of the ceiling illumination. There remained a pool of light which enclosed most of the long worktable against which he leaned and the raised platform twenty feet away from where they were watching him. The shelves and walls beyond, the rows of biological specimens, the arrays of analyzing and recording equipment, were in darkness.

  Ticos Cay looked about, taking it in, drawing the trappings of reality back around him. He looked last at the demons.

  “You succeeded again in avoiding the feeling of pain?” asked the small one of the three.

  Ticos considered. The identity of the small demon was still blurred but coming clear. Yes, his name was Koll . . . the Great Palach Koll. One of the most influential among the leaders of the Everliving. Second in command of the Voice of Action . . .

  Ticos admonished himself: Be very careful of Koll!

  He made a sound between what might have been a muttering attempt to speak and a groan. He could have replied immediately. But it wouldn’t do to think foggily while being interrogated—and particularly not while being interrogated by Koll.

  The three stared silently, unmoving. Their skins, harnesses and other equipment gleamed wetly as if they had come out of the sea only minutes before entering the room. Which might be the case; salt water was the demons’ element, and they became sick and uncomfortable if they remained too long away from it. The one to the right of Koll held a device with a glowing blue eye. When the glow brightened, a pain treatment was about to begin. The one at the left of Koll had a weapon trained on Ticos. These two were squat-heavy creatures hunkering on muscular hopping legs. Ticos had been obliged to watch one of their kind wrap his arms around the rib cage of a man and crush the man slowly to death.

  It had been done at Roll’s direction. The big demons were underlings; they were called Oganoon by the Palachs. Koll was of the same species but not large or heavy. Like many of the Great Palachs, he was a wrinkled miniature, not much more than a foot high. Cloaked and hooded, he looked like a shrunken mummy. But he could move like springing steel. Ticos had seen Koll leap eight feet to plunge a paralyzing needle into the eye of one of the Oganoon who had angered him. He struck five or six times, so quickly that the victim seemed to stiffen in death without understanding what had occurred.

  Ticos strongly preferred not to anger Koll. But he needed as long a period of silence as Koll would permit to clear his head for the questions that would be directed at him. He had been maintaining a precarious balance between considerations on that order for some time. He waited until the speaking slit above Roll’s eyes writhed open, then said, “I could not avoid all the pain. But it remained tolerable.”

  “It remained tolerable!” the speaking slit repeated as if Koll were musing over the statement. Ticos was accustomed to the fact that many of the Everliving had an excellent command of human speech, but Roll’s voice still seemed unnatural to him. It was a deep warm voice, rich and strong, which shouldn’t be issuing from such a malevolent little entity. “These children are afraid of you, Dr. Cay,” it told him. “Did you know that?”

  “No, I didn’t,” Ticos said.

  “At a tenth of the setting used here,” Koll explained, “these instruments are employed to punish them for serious offenses. They are in terror of them. They are afraid of you because you seem able to bear agony beyond their comprehension. And there are other reasons . . . your communicator has recorded six call signals during the past two days.”

  Ticos nodded. “So I heard.”

  “You predicted that one of the so-called Tuvelas would attempt to contact you here.”

  Ticos hesitated, said, “The term Tuvela is yours. The person to whom you refer is known to me as a Guardian.”

  “Apparently the same class of creature,” said Koll. “A creature assumed by some to possess abnormal qualities. Among them the quality of being invincible. Dr. Cay, what do you know of these remarkable qualities—if they exist?”

  Ticos shrugged. “As I’ve told you, I’ve known of the Guardians and of their function in our civilization for a relatively short time. They operate very secretly. I’ve had personal contacts with only one of them. She appears to me to be an exceptionally capable human being. But if she or the Guardians generally have abnormal qualities, I don’t know of them.” He added, “Evidently the Everliving know more about the Guardians than I do.”

  “That is possible. You said they claim to be immortal.”

  Ticos shook his head. “I was told they’ve developed methods of restoring youthful health to an organism and maintaining it for a long period. I was not told they were immortal. To me the word does not have significant meaning.”

  “The concept of immortal entities is meaningless to you, Dr. Cay?”

  Ticos hesitated again because this could become dangerous ground in speaking to a Palach. But he said, “Who can prove he was immortal before he’s reached the end of time?”

  Kofi’s dark face twitched. He might have been amused. “Who indeed?” he agreed. “Describe to me your relationship with these Guardians.”

  Ticos had described that relationship to Kofi several times before. He said, “Two years ago I was asked whether I would enter their service. I accepted.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m aging, Great Palach. Among my rewards was to be instruction in the Guardians’ methods of obtaining longevity and regaining the advantages of youth.”

  “They’ve given you such instructions?”

  “I’ve been instructed in some of the fundamental approaches. My progress evidently is satisfactory.”

  “In what way do you serve them, Dr. Cay?”

  “I’m still undergoing a training process and haven’t been told what my service is to be. I assume that my scientific background will play a part in it.”

  “The nerve controls you practice to distort the effects of the pain-giver were acquired through the longevity exercises?”

  “Yes, they were.”

  A long pause followed his reply. Kofi’s speaking slit had closed and he remained unmoving. The lower sections of his double-lensed eyes were lidded; the upper sections stared with a kind of baleful blankness at Ticos. The hulking servitors had become equally immobile, probably
as a sign of respect. Ticos wasn’t sure what the pause meant. The same thing had occurred during earlier interrogations. Perhaps the tiny monster was simply reflecting on what had been said. But he appeared sunk in a remote trance. If he was addressed now, he would ignore it, and he seemed unaware of motion about him. Ticos suspected there was the equivalent of human insanity in Koll. Even Great Palachs of his own rank seemed afraid of him, and he treated them with barely veiled contempt. His dark cowl and cloak were of utilitarian material and often indifferently clean, while they concealed their dwarfish bodies under richly ornamented garments, gleaming with jewels. Apparently they preferred to avoid Koll’s company; but his influence on them was very strong.

  The speaking slit above the eyes twisted open again.

  “Dr. Cay,” Roll’s voice said, “I become increasingly inclined to add you to my museum of humanity. You have seen my collection?”

  Ticos cleared his throat. “Yes,” he said.

  “Of course you have,” Koll said, as if the fact had just occurred to him. “I showed it to you. As a warning not to lie to us. In particular, not to lie to me.”

  Ticos said warily, “I have been quite careful not to lie to you, Great Palach.”

  “Have you? I’m not at all certain of it,” said Koll. “Do you believe that the person who is attempting to reach you by communicator is the Guardian of whom you told us?”

  Ticos nodded. “Yes. The Guardian Etland.”

  “Why should it be she?”

  “No one else has the call symbol of my communicator.”

  “Because you were to remain isolated here?”

  “Yes.”

  “The Guardian Etland supervises your training?”

  “Yes.”

  “You describe her as a young female,” said Koll.

  “I said she appears young,” Ticos corrected him. “I don’t know her age.”

  “You say that these Guardians or Tuvelas have developed a form of longevity which provides even the appearance of their species’ youth—”

  “The Guardian Etland has implied that.”

  “And yet,” said Koll, “you tell us the Guardians assigned you the task of searching here for substances among the life forms of this world which promote longevity. What interest could the Guardians have in research which yields them no more than they possess?”

  Ticos shrugged. “I know they’re testing me in various ways, and it may be that this is their manner of testing my ability as a biochemist. But it’s also possible that they’re still interested in finding simpler or more dependable methods of gaining longevity than their present ones.”

  “What part does the use of chemicals play in their present methods?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve described the basic approaches I was told to practice. I’ve been given no hint of the nature of more advanced longevity procedures. My research is confined to the observation of effects in my test material.”

  “You’ve suggested that research at this level could be of value to the Everliving—”

  “I haven’t suggested it,” Ticos said. “I realize, of course, that a number of Palachs observe my test results and analyze the substances involved.”

  “Don’t let yourself assume their scientific interest assures your continuing safety, Dr. Cay. Our methods of obtaining individual longevity require no improvement. I’m certain you are lying to us. I intend to determine in what manner you are lying. Why did you request permission to respond to the Guardian’s call?”

  “I explained my purpose to the Palach Moga,” Ticos said.

  “Explain it to me.”

  Ticos indicated the equipment and specimens in the darkened recesses of the room. “This project is the Guardian Etland’s responsibility. I and my training are her responsibility. Until your arrival she came here at very regular intervals to inspect the progress I made. Since then she hasn’t come here.”

  “What do you deduce from that?”

  “It’s possible that the Guardians know of your presence.”

  “I don’t consider that a possibility, Dr. Cay.”

  Ticos shrugged. “It’s the only explanation I see for the Guardian Etland’s failure to maintain her schedule. The Guardians may prefer you to leave quietly before there is a general disturbance. If I’m permitted to turn on the communicator when she signals again, we may learn that the Guardian is on her way here to speak to the Everliving rather than to me—”

  “She would come knowingly into the area we hold?” said Koll.

  “From what several Palachs have told me,” Ticos remarked, “it would not be surprising conduct in a Tuvela. If it is true—”

  “We’ll assume it isn’t true, Dr. Cay.”

  “Then,” said Ticos, “I should still be permitted to take the call and attempt to divert her from visiting me at this time. If she does not know you are here and arrives, she will discover you are here. And even if you are able to prevent her from leaving again—”

  Koll made a hissing sound. “If we are able to prevent her from leaving?”

  “Your own records, as you’ve implied to me, indicate that Tuvelas are extremely resourceful beings,” Ticos observed mildly. “But if you should capture or kill the Guardian, others will come promptly in search of her. Eventually your presence must be revealed.” He shrugged. “I don’t want these things to happen. As a servant of the Guardians, it is my duty to prevent them from happening if I can. As you’re aware, I’ve been attempting to persuade some of the Everliving that your plans against my species must be abandoned before a general conflict becomes inevitable.”

  “I know that,” said Koll. “You’ve had an astonishing—and shameful—degree of success. The Voice of Caution becomes increasingly insistent. Even the suggested use of your communicator is supported. Is it possible, Dr. Cay, that you are a Guardian who allowed himself to be captured in order to confuse the Everliving and weaken their resolution?”

  “No,” Ticos said. “I’m not a Guardian.”

  “You’re a Hulon?”

  “Since that’s the name you give the general run of humanity, yes, I’m a Hulon.”

  “It was the name we had for a vicious and stupid creature we encountered in our past,” Koll remarked. “We destroyed the creature, so the name was free to be bestowed again. Despite your efforts, our plans won’t be abandoned, Dr. Cay. I know you’re lying. Not too clumsily, but it will not be long before we put your story to the test. Now attend to your collection here—and reflect occasionally on mine.”

  Ticos did not see him make any gesture, but the Oganoon on Koll’s right snapped the nerve-torture instrument to one of the harness straps about its bulky body and half turned. The tiny cowled mummy made one of its startlingly quick leaps and was perched on the underling’s shoulder. The group moved off the platform and along a raised walkway towards the exit door, the armed servitor bringing up the rear, backing off in short powerful hops, weapon still pointed alertly at Ticos Cay. The lighting brightened back to normal in the big room.

  Ticos watched the three vanish through the door, heard the heavy click of its locks. He drew a somewhat shaky breath, picked up a boxed device from the worktable and fastened it by its strap to his belt. It was a complicated instrument through which he controlled temperature, humidity, radiation absorption levels and various other matters connected with his biological specimens in different sections of the room.

  His hands were unsteady. The interrogation hadn’t gone to his liking. Koll wasn’t his usual savagely menacing self—and that in spite of some deliberate provocation. He’d made use of the pain-giver only once. Koll, for Koll, had been affable.

  It seemed a bad sign. It indicated that Koll was as confident as he appeared to be that he could dispel the doubts Ticos was nourishing in other leading Palachs by proving their prisoner had misinformed them. And, as a matter of fact, Ticos had totally misinformed them. Over a course of weeks he’d created a carefully organized structure of lies, half-truths and disturbing insinuations
designed to fill the Everliving with the fear of Man, or at any rate with the fear of Tuvelas. Who, as far as Ticos Cay knew, didn’t exist. Sometimes he’d been hard put to remain consistent, but by now the pattern was so familiar that it held an occasional illusion of truth even for him.

  It had been effective in restricting their plans until now. In spite of Koll, it might remain effective—but that depended on a large factor of chance. Ticos sighed inaudibly. He’d reduced the factor as much as possible, but it was still too large. Far too large!

  He moved slowly about the room, manipulating the studs of his device now and then, tending to the needs of the biological specimens. He’d never been able to determine whether he was under visual observation or not, but it was possible, and he must not appear too concerned. Occasionally he felt the floor lift and sink under him like the deck of a great ship, and then there would be a heavy sloshing of sea water in the partitioned end of the room. His communicator was in there. A permanent post of Oganoon guards was also in there to make sure he didn’t get near the communicator unless the Everliving decided to permit it. And the water covering most of the floor was there because the guards had to keep their leathery hides wet.

  From the energy-screened ventilator window near the ceiling came dim sounds like the muted roaring of a beast. That and the periodic heavings of the floor were the only indications Ticos had been given for the past several days that the typhoons still blew outside.

  Rain squalls veiled half the sea below the aircar. It was storm season in the southern latitudes of Nandy-Cline. The horizon loomed blue-black ahead; heavy swirling cloud banks drove across the ocean to the south. The trim little car bucked suddenly in twisting torrents of air, was hauled about on its controls and, for the moment, rode steady again along a southeasterly course.

  Inside the cabin, Nile Etland stabbed at a set of buttons on the panel communicator, said sharply into the transmitter, “Giard Pharmaceuticals Station—come in! Nile Etland calling . . . Giard, come in!”