Dimension A

by L. P. Davies

  “They’ll know by now we’ve slipped out of their clutches,” Lee observed unnecessarily.

  “All that activity won’t be for our benefit,” Maver said. “They’ve something more important on their minds. But I think they will make an effort to find us. Helpless though they must know we are, we still constitute something of a hazard.”

  Rubbing the overnight stubble on his chin he moved to stand at the rim of the ledge, looking towards the left, the route we would have to take to reach our hill. The mists were clearing more rapidly in that direction. Through ragged gaps we could see glimpses of the lowlands, but the hollows were still filled with dense whiteness.

  Lee produced a flattened loaf from his pocket, broke it, and bit on the crust.

  “A sketchy breakfast,” he mumbled through a full mouth, “and then we hit the trail again. Get moving while we’ve still got that stuff to hide us.”

  But his uncle wasn’t sure that this was such a good idea. The mist would afford cover, he conceded, but it would also hide the spined shrubs. Making my own frugal meal of bread and water, I left them to their Weighing up of the pros and cons, and was thankful later that I wasn’t called upon to make the casting vote. Lee, unaided, was able to persuade Maver that the advantage of the mist outweighed its disadvantage. The mist, clearing again on the right, revealed the village and its activity, a sight that put the finishing touch to his persuasions. If we could see the Toparians, then it would be only a matter of time before they spotted us. Withdrawing ourselves and our still-more-or-less-white shirts into the cave, we made final preparations for the move, such as they were— merely a matter of finishing off the bread and each; having a drink of water, Lee holding one of the bags while his uncle drank.

  A quick glance outside showed that the village was hidden again. But it was obvious by the dissolving tendrils that it would not remain so for long. We left our cave to make our way as quickly as we could along the ledge, trying to put as much distance as possible between ourselves and the village while the mists persisted. Lee took the lead, carefully avoiding mist-pooled hollows which might contain shrubs. From time to time we could catch the sound of distant voices. Oddly, they seemed to come from all directions. We rounded an elbow of rock and Lee came to a halt, dropping to his knees, motioning for us to do the same. There were no drifting clouds here to hide the scene. We could see how the lower slopes and the flatlands beyond were alive with moving figures.

  Not a dozen yards below us a line of six Toparians, all bearing heat-projectors, toiled along a path that ran parallel to the way we had been going. So close were they that if we had spoken they would certainly have heard. I looked back. Behind them, a little lower down, another armed party was climbing the slope at an angle. On a still lower level was a third group. I looked back then towards the cave. It was still in sight, almost hidden by the rock projection, but I could see the ledge and the Toparians who clustered there.

  “Looks like we moved off just in time,” Lee whispered softly, small triumph in his voice at this vindication of his earlier persuasions.

  “We’re not out of the woods yet,” I whispered back.

  Certainly, we could not stay put—the climbing party was headed straight in our direction. At least the way ahead seemed clear, just as long as the file below didn’t change its mind and start to climb. I didn’t think they would. I had the feeling that this activity was an organised search, that each level of the slopes was being systematically combed.

  Maver worriedly rubbed the overnight stubble on his craggy chin.

  “I recognise none of the faces,” he said in an undertone. “Strangers … And obviously well organised. A new departure for these people.”

  The same thought occurred to Lee and me at the same time. He put it into words while I was seeking tactful phraseology.

  “You don’t think this could be Adam’s hand at work?”

  “It is a possibility,” Maver said. “And if he is responsible, then it would appear he has profited by his stay in our world.”

  The party below had moved out of sight, hidden now by a series of jagged pieces of rock, their shape that of the spiked back of a mythical dragon. We took the opportunity to make our own move, crouching, working our way along the ledge. But as ledges have a habit of doing, it petered out, leaving us with no alternative but to drop to a lower level. And that new level was a hollow filled with mist. A steep gully —a kind of fireman’s chute—led towards it, and Lee, heedless of his uncle’s muttered warning, went slithering down. The bottom of the gully itself was clear, and so Lee was safe enough from the danger of the spines. As I was preparing to follow, lowering my legs over the brink, Lee moved away, his legs becoming swallowed by the mist. I slid down, more clumsily than Lee had done, dropping sideways when I hit the bottom. His sudden exclamation I took at first to be the result of my awkward descent. But it wasn’t. He stopped, bent double, then came stumbling back towards me, falling to the ground as I came to my feet. He had his hand clamped tightly about his ankle, and I knew, with a cold thrill of fear, what must have happened.

  “Like a needle,” he said, and even tried to grin. “My leg’s gone to sleep.”

  The professor, his face filled with concern, looked down at us from the top of the chute.

  “It doesn’t hurt.” Lee massaged his ankle. “Just nothing—dead. Just as if …”

  And then his voice trailed away, his eyes closed, and he slumped back.

  I knelt at his side. He was unconscious. I looked back up at the Professor and he nodded reassurance of a kind.

  “Nothing permanent. I have seen this happen before. There’s no lasting effect. But it will be some time before he regains consciousness.”

  Filled with relief, at least on that score, I turned to look at the hollow. The mist filled the bottom completely. It would be foolish to go through the mist, impossible to go round. I turned back to look up at Maver, and I didn’t have to say anything. He had lowered himself to his stomach and was leaning out over the top of the narrow gully, his reaching hands beckoning.

  It was going to be no easy job getting Lee’s unconscious body back up again. I dragged him into a sitting position, his head lolling on his chest like that of a sawdust-filled marionette, and then I lifted him as best I could until he was lying backwards in the gully. After that it was a matter of pushing him up an inch at a time, steadying him, until Maver was able to grasp his shoulders. Between us we managed it. The Professor reached down again, this time for my benefit. I scrabbled my way up and then flopped to the ground, not enough strength left even to get to my feet.

  I think I knew then our position was hopeless. With Lee the way he was, it would be impossible to carry on. Our only hope—and a faint one at that— was that we might be able to find some nearby place of concealment where we could wait until Lee recovered.

  I managed to come to my knees. Ahead, the ledge narrowed until it became impassable. The rocky wall behind us towered smoothly upwards without a single break in its red surface. I looked back the way we had come. Not a dozen yards away one of the lines of Toparians was coming towards us. Our recapture was as inglorious as that—as ignominious as the first time when we had been caught with figurative pants down.

  The Professor clasped his hands in a wry gesture of resignment. I remember wondering whether I ought to climb to my feet with my hands over my head in the approved fashion. But maybe our Earth-style type of surrender would have no meaning for these people. And I remember thinking too, in the few seconds it took them to reach us, that when they had made prisoners of us this time they would take damned good care we didn’t escape again. Any hope of ever reaching our hill and the door was finally, irrevocably squashed.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  There was nothing gentle about our capture this time. One of the Toparians, a scowling, burly type with the unusual adornment of a beard, grabbed my shoulder roughly, hauled me to my feet and then jerked his heat-projector at Lee’s unconscious body in an unmistakable
command. I stooped to set my hands under the limp shoulders. Maver took hold of the feet. There were a few moments of delay while one of the Toparians slid efficiently down the gully to retrieve the two water-bags we had dropped in the hollow. Shouts were exchanged, and the parties that had been scouring the slopes started to make their way back to the level ground.

  Burdened as Maver and I were, it was a long, slow journey back to the village. A journey, for my part, made all the more uncomfortable and miserable by the knowledge of our hopeless position, by wondering what the future held in store for us now, and by the continual jabbing of a projector in my back as the bearded Toparian at my heels tried to make me move faster. I really came to hate that particular gentleman. It was a relief when we finally emerged from the palm plantation that fringed the settlement. Having been given no opportunity of resting, of lowering the dead weight of my load to the ground, my arms felt as if they were being pulled from their sockets. By the way the Professor was staggering, he was in worse shape than I was.

  I was a little surprised to be marched back to the same house we-had left not all that long ago. Ungentle hands thrust us inside. The door was slammed violently behind. We lowered Lee to the ground, and while I dragged him to the wall so that I could prop him against it, Maver flopped down on the chair, closing his eyes.

  Lee showed no signs of regaining consciousness. He had been out for quite some time now. Rubbing his hands, even slapping his cheeks, produced no result. I sat back on my heels and looked at Maver, worry making me unreasonably angry with his closed eyes and slumped posture.

  “How long?” I asked sharply.

  “Eh?” He opened his eyes.

  “How long does it take this damned stuff to wear off?”

  “Varies,” he replied wearily. “So I’m told.” He shook himself into full awareness. “I suppose it depends upon the depth of penetration, how much of the sap has been released into his blood stream. His trousers will have protected him to some extent. Don’t worry, Morton. He should be recovering soon. When he does, he will probably feel rather ill.”

  But I felt I couldn’t, just couldn’t stand round and wait; I had to do something, anything…

  “Water,” I said, and went quickly to the bathroom, there to soak my handkerchief in the contents of the glass ewer. When I returned, Maver was kneeling at Lee’s side. He looked up. “Pulse strong enough. He’s all right.”

  I dabbed the impassive features. When that produced no effect I squeezed the handkerchief over his face, letting the water splash over him.

  Lee stirred and opened his eyes, blinking up at the ceiling. His gaze travelled down the wall, touched on the window, passed across the table, and came to rest on my face.

  His smile was a ghost. “Home, sweet home,” he said. The ghost-smile faded. “Hell,” he whispered, and closed his eyes again.

  “How are you feeling, Lee?” Maver asked.

  “Groggy.” Lee opened his eyes again so that he could do full justice to his grimace of discomfort. “Decidedly off-colour. Those things must pack a punch like the kick of a mule.”

  He leaned forward to massage his legs.

  “Feeling coming back.” He looked past me at his uncle. “Sorry about getting us all in trouble again.” His gaze came back to me. “Another round-up. Did I miss anything, Gerald?”

  “No excitement. They came, they saw, and they frogmarched us away.”

  “So we’re—”

  He broke off as the door crashed open. I sprang to my feet. Maver seemed too weary to show any reaction.

  Two armed Toparians stood arrogantly in the doorway. Between their shaggy heads I could see two more waiting outside. Ignoring Lee and me, the first two marched towards Maver and grasping his arms, made it very clear that he was to accompany them. He obeyed with a kind of couldn’t-care-less resignation. The door slammed behind them, and I went quickly to the window to watch them marching him away. They marched with almost military precision, one in front, one on either side, one behind, projector tubes carried at a precise angle. A firing squad escorting their victim to the place of execution. I found the sight disturbing to say the least. I craned to look sideways. Three men were on duty outside the door.

  “What’s going on?” Lee cried behind me. He was trying to struggle to his feet. I went to help.

  “What have they done with him?” he asked.

  I nodded backwards. “They’ve taken him towards the centre of the village.”

  “Why take only him?”

  “No doubt we’ll find out in due course,” I said with more calmness than I was feeling.

  “If they do anything to him—” he said through his teeth, and left the rest unspoken, perhaps conscious of the futility of any threat he could make.

  “Can you walk?” I asked him then.

  Lee tried a couple of lurching steps. “More or less. Still numb, like treading on wool.” He shook himself free from my help. “I’ll manage …”

  There was no point in discussing our predicament, in trying to figure out what they intended doing with the Professor. Picking up my soaked handkerchief I took it to the bathroom to rinse it out in the ewer, mainly for something to do. The mirror showed me a face of streaked grime, fiery red skin, and unkempt hair that was barely recognisable. The day-old beard didn’t help the picture any. I would have given a lot for a comb and a razor. The Professor, beardless, must have had access to some kind of razor. I searched but found nothing. It seemed the Toparians didn’t believe in leaving potential weapons about the place.

  I stripped to the waist and plunged my face into the bowl, flooding off as much dirt as I could, afterwards dabbing myself dry with a handful of leaves. As I reached for my shirt there came the sound of the outer door being opened and closed. I went hurriedly back to the main room.

  The Professor was back—and what relief there was at the sight of him, standing by the table, staring down at it, one hand absently playing with the cord about his waist. He looked very old and very tired.

  Lee limped awkwardly to his side, made to speak, and then thought better of it. Maver was silent for a while. Then he sighed heavily, straightened his shoulders and spoke to a point somewhere between us.

  “Adam—” he said in a quiet, strained voice. “They took me to Adam. In one of the houses … The place was fitted up like—like a battle headquarters. He’s changed … I was right—he has learned from his stay on our world. A dictator—obviously—oh, no mistaking it. He’s set himself up as some kind of dictator.”

  “Throwing his weight round,” Lee said. “And he was always such a quiet chap. Butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. So now it’s a touch of the Hitlers. Or should it be the Mussolinis? And it is to invade Earth?”

  Maver nodded.

  “The village is packed with men. Hundreds of them. More coming in all the time. And the hills”— Maver gestured vaguely—“Adam told me—boasted —more out there, waiting. He said he would have at least a million men waiting, ready to go through the door when it opens.”

  I asked, “Is that all he wanted to see you for—to show off?”

  “No.” Maver looked straight at me. “No. For another reason, Morton. He’s had time to work on the men of this village. He’s sure of their loyalty. Or is almost sure. But those from the other villages are a different matter. There’ll be many waverers, those who refuse to believe that he has been through to our dimension and returned here safely. When the time comes—he made no bones about this—there will be many who will be too frightened to follow into the unknown. And he has to be sure they will follow blindly. He has to prove himself to them, prove his courage by venturing into the dangers of the unknown. That is how he has it planned. He has to make himself into some kind of superman in their eyes. Then they will accept him as their leader. He will be able to dominate them, and they will obey his commands without question. Not a new idea …”

  “Prove to them?” Lee was puzzled. “How the devil does he intend doing that? You mean, wait till
the door opens, go through and then come back again?”

  “No, Lee.” Maver looked down at the table again. “There would be no time for that sort of thing. The men must be waiting, ready to surge through without any delay at all. No—it’s something else he has in mind. He wants to do something no other Toparian has ever done before.”

  I guessed then what was coming. “The Vorted Nests.”

  “He knows, of course, that you two have been through the force field and returned safely. But he is keeping that knowledge to himself. The Toparians who saw you enter the field are from another village. The people here know nothing of what happened. Adam has worked out a plan. He believes that there is something in your alien make-up that enables you to pass unharmed through the field. So—”

  “Escorts,” Lee said. “Just the two of us?”