Planet of the Damned bb-1

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Planet of the Damned bb-1 Page 15

by Harry Harrison


  “That’s the part that doesn’t make sense,” Brion said. “The magter have survived and climbed right to the top of the evolutionary heap here. Yet they are suicidal. How does it happen they haven’t been wiped out before this?”

  “Individually, they have been aggressive to the point of suicide. They will attack anything and everything with the same savage lack of emotion. Luckily there are no bigger animals on this planet So where they have died as individuals, their utter ruthlessness has guaranteed their survival as a group. Now they are faced with a problem that is too big for their half-destroyed minds to handle. Their personal policy has become their planetary policy—and that’s never a very smart thing. They are like men with knives who have killed all the men who were only armed with stones. Now they are facing men with guns, and they are going to keep charging and fighting until they are all dead.

  “It’s a perfect case of the utter impartiality of the forces of evolution. Men infected by this Disan life form were the dominant creatures on this planet. The creature in the magters’ brains was a true symbiote then, giving something and receiving something, making a union of symbiotes where all were stronger together than any could be separately. Now this is changed. The magter brain cannot understand the concept of racial death, in a situation where it must understand to be able to survive. Therefore the brain-creature is no longer a symbiote but a parasite.”

  “And as a parasite it must be destroyed!” Brion broke in. “We’re not fighting shadows any more,” he exulted. “We’ve found the enemy—and it’s not the magter at all. Just a sort of glorified tapeworm that is too stupid to know when it is killing itself off. Does it have a brain—can it think?”

  “I doubt it very much,” Lea said. “A brain would be of absolutely no use to it. So even if it originally possessed reasoning powers they would be gone by now. Symbiotes or parasites that live internally like this always degenerate to an absolute minimum of functions.”

  “Tell me about it. What is this thing?” Ulv broke in, prodding the soft form of the brain-symbiote. He had heard all their excited talk but had not understood a word.

  “Explain it to him, will you, Lea, as best you can,” Brion said, looking at her, and he realized how exhausted she was. “And sit down while you do it; you’re long overdue for a rest. I’m going to try—” He broke off when he looked at his watch.

  It was after four in the afternoon—less than eight hours to go. What was he to do? Enthusiasm faded as he realized that only half of the problem was solved. The bombs would drop on schedule unless the Nyjorders could understand the significance of this discovery. Even if they understood, would it make any difference to them? The threat of the hidden cobalt bombs would not be changed.

  With this thought came the guilty realization that he had forgotten completely about Telt’s death. Even before he contacted the Nyjord fleet he must tell Hys and his rebel army what had happened to Telt and his sand car. Also about the radioactive traces. They couldn’t be checked against the records now to see how important they might be, but Hys might make another raid on the strength of the suspicion. This call wouldn’t take long, then he would be free to tackle Professor-Commander Krafft.

  Carefully setting the transmitter on the frequency of the rebel army, he sent out a call to Hys. There was no answer. When he switched to receive all he heard was static.

  There was always a chance the set was broken. He quickly twisted the transmitter to the frequency of his personal radio, then whistled in the microphone. The received signal was so loud that it hurt his ears. He tried to call Hys again, and was relieved to get a response this time.

  “Brion Brandd here. Can you read me? I want to talk to Hys at once.”

  It came as a shock that it was Professor-Commander Krafft who answered.

  “I’m sorry, Brion, but it’s impossible to talk to Hys. We are monitoring his frequency and your call was relayed to me. Hys and his rebels lifted ship about half an hour ago, and are already on the way back to Nyjord. Are you ready to leave now? It will soon become dangerous to make any landings. Even now I will have to ask for volunteers to get you out of there.”

  Hys and the rebel army gone! Brion assimilated the thought. He had been thrown off balance when he realized he was talking to Krafft.

  “If they’re gone—well, then there’s nothing I can do about it,” he said. “I was going to call you, so I can talk to you now. Listen and try to understand. You must cancel the bombing. I’ve found out about the magter, found what causes their mental aberration. If we can correct that, we can stop them from attacking Nyjord—”

  “Can they be corrected by midnight tonight?” Krafft broke in. He was abrupt and sounded almost angry. Even saints get tired.

  “No, of course not.” Brion frowned at the microphone, realizing the talk was going all wrong, but not knowing how to remedy it “But it won’t take too long. I have evidence here that will convince you that what I say is the truth.”

  “I believe you without seeing it, Brion.” The trace of anger was gone from Krafft’s voice now, and it was heavy with fatigue and defeat “I’ll admit you are probably right. A little while ago I admitted to Hys too that he was probably right in his original estimation of the correct way to tackle the problem of Dis. We have made a lot of mistakes, and in making them we have run out of time. I’m afraid that is the only fact that is relevant now. The bombs fall at twelve, and even then they may drop too late. A ship is already on its way from Nyjord with my replacement. I exceeded my authority by running a day past the maximum the technicians gave me. I realize now I was gambling the life of my own world in the vain hope I could save Dis. They can’t be saved. They’re dead. I won’t hear any more about it”

  “You must listen—”

  “I must destroy the planet below me, that is what I must do. That fact will not be changed by anything you say. All the off-worlders—other than your party-are gone. I’m sending a ship down now to pick you up. As soon as that ship lifts I am going to drop the first bombs. Now—tell me where you are so they can come for you.”

  “Don’t threaten me, Krafft!” Brion shook his fist at the radio in an excess of anger. “You’re a killer and a world destroyer—don’t try to make yourself out as anything else. I have the knowledge to avert this slaughter and you won’t listen to me. And I know where the cobalt bombs are—in the magter tower that Hys raided last night. Get those bombs and there is no need to drop any of your own!”

  “I’m sorry, Brion. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but at the same time I know the futility of it. I’m not going to accuse you of lying, but do you realize how thin your evidence sounds from this end? First, a dramatic discovery of the cause of the magters’ in-transigency. Then, when that had no results, you suddenly remember that you know where the bombs are. The best-kept magter secret.”

  “I don’t know for sure, but there is a very good chance it is so,” Brion said, trying to repair his defences. “Telt made readings, he had other records of radioactivity in this same magter keep—proof that something is there. But Telt is dead now, the records destroyed. Don’t you see—” He broke off, realizing how vague and improvable his case was. This was defeat.

  The radio was silent, with just the hum of the carrier wave as Krafft waited for him to continue. When Brion did speak his voice was empty of all hope.

  “Send your ship down,” he said tiredly. “We’re in a building that belonged to the Light Metals Trust, Ltd., a big warehouse of some kind. I don’t know the address here, but I’m sure you have someone there who can find it. Well be waiting for you. You win, Krafft.” He turned off the radio.

  XVII

  “Do you mean what you said, about giving up?” Lea asked. Brion realized that she had stopped talking to Ulv some time ago, and had been listening to his conversation with Krafft. He shrugged, trying to put his feeling into words.

  “We’ve tried—and almost succeeded. But if they won’t listen, what can we do? What can one man possib
ly do against a fleet loaded with H-bombs?”

  As if in answer to the question, Ulv’s voice drowned him out, the harsh Disan words slashing the silence of the room.

  “Kill you, the enemy!” he said. “Kill you umedvirk!”

  He shouted the last word and his hand flashed to his belt. In a single swift motion he lifted his blowgun and placed it to his lips. A tiny dart quivered in the already dead flesh of the creature in the magter’s skull. The action had all the symbolism of a broken lance, the declaration of war.

  “Ulv understands it a lot better than you might think,” Lea said. “He knows things about symbiosis and mutualism that would get him a job as a lecturer in any university on Earth. He knows just what the brain-symbiote is and what it does. They even have a word for it, one that never appeared in our Disan language lessons. A life form that you can live with or cooperate with is called medvirk. One that works to destroy you is umedvirk. He also understands that life forms can change, and be medvirk or umedvirk at different times. He has just decided that the brain symbiote is umedvirk and he is out to kill it. So will the rest of the Disans as soon as he can show them the evidence and explain.”

  “You’re sure of this?” Brion asked, interested in spite of himself.

  “Positive. The Disans have an absolute attitude towards survival; you should realize that. Not the same as the magter, but not much different in the results. They will kill the brain-symbiotes, even if it means killing every magter who harbours one.”

  “If that is the case we can’t leave now,” Brion said. With these words it suddenly became clear what he had to do. “The ship is coming down now from the fleet. Get in it and take the body of the magter. I won’t go.”

  “Where will you be?” she asked, shocked.

  “Fighting the magter. My presence on the planet means that Krafft won’t keep his threat to drop the bombs any earlier than the midnight deadline. That would be deliberately murdering me. I doubt if my presence past midnight will stop him, but it should keep the bombs away at least until then.”

  “What will you accomplish besides committing suicide?” Lea pleaded. “You just told me how a single man can’t stop the bombs. What will happen to you at midnight?”

  “I’ll be dead—but in spite of that I can’t run away. Not now. I must do everything possible right up until the last instant. Ulv and I will go to the magter tower, try to find out if the bombs are there. He will fight on our side now. He may even know more about the bombs, things that he didn’t want to tell me before. We can get help from his people. Some of them must know where the bombs are, being native to this planet.”

  Lea started to say something, but he rushed on, drowning out her words.

  “You have just as big a job. Show the magter to Krafft, explain the significance of the brain-parasite to him. Try to get him to talk to Hys about the last raid. Try to get him to hold off the attack. I’ll keep the radio with me and as soon as I know anything I’ll call in. This is all last resort, finger in the dike kind of stuff, but it is all we can do. Because if we do nothing, it means the end of Dis.”

  Lea tried to argue with him, but he wouldn’t listen to her. He only kissed her, and with a lightness he did not feel tried to convince her that everything would be all right. In their hearts they both knew it wouldn’t be but they left it that way because it was the least painful solution.

  A sudden rumbling shook the building and the windows darkened as a ship settled in the street outside. The Nyjord crew came in with guns pointed, alert for anything.

  After a little convincing they took the cadaver, as well as Lea, when they lifted ship. Brion watched the spacer become a pinpoint in the sky and vanish. He tried to shake off the feeling that this was the last time he would see any of them.

  “Let’s get out of here fast,” he told Ulv, picking up the radio, “before anyone comes around to see why the ship landed.”

  “What will you do?” Ulv asked as they went down the street towards the desert. “What can we do in the few hours we have left?” He pointed at the sun, nearing the horizon. Brion shifted the weight of the radio to his other hand before replying.

  “Get to the magter tower we raided last night, that’s the best chance. The bombs might be there… Unless you know where the bombs are?”

  Ulv shook his head. “I do not know, but some of my people may. We will capture a magter, then kill him, so they can all see the umedvirk. Then they will tell us everything they know.”

  “The tower first then, for bombs or a sample magter. What’s the fastest way we can get there?”

  Ulv frowned in thought. “If you can drive one of the cars the off-worlders use, I know where there are some locked in buildings in this city. None of my people know how they are made to move.”

  “I can work them—let’s go.”

  Chance was with them this time. The first sand car they found still had the keys in the lock. It was battery-powered, but contained a full charge. Much quieter that the heavy atomic cars, it sped smoothly out of the city and across the sand. Ahead of them the sun sank in a red wave of colour. It was six o’clock. By the time they reached the tower it was seven, and Brion’s nerves felt as if they were writhing under his skin.

  Even though it looked like suicide, attacking the tower brought blessed relief. It was movement and action, and for moments at a time he forgot the bombs hanging over his head.

  The attack was nerve-rackingly anticlimactic. They used the main entrance, Ulv ranging soundlessly ahead. There was no one in sight. Once inside, they crept down towards the lower rooms where the radiation had been detected. Only gradually did they realize that the magter tower was completely empty.

  “Everyone gone,” Ulv grunted, sniffing the air in every room that they passed. “Many magter were here earlier, but they are gone now.”

  “Do they often desert then: towers?” Brion asked.

  “Never. I have never heard of it happening before. I can think of no reason why they should do a thing like this.”

  “Well, I can,” Brion told him. They would leave their home if they took something with them of greater value. The bombs. If the bombs were hidden here, they might move them after the attack.” Sudden fear hit him. “Or they might move them because it is time to take them—to the launcher! Let’s get out of here, the quickest way we can.”

  “I smell air from outside,” Ulv said, “coming from down there. This cannot be, because the magter have no entrances this low in their towers.”

  “We blasted one in earlier—that could be it. Can you find it?”

  Moonlight shone ahead as they turned an angle of the corridor, and stars were visible through the gaping opening in the wall.

  “It looks bigger than it was,” Brion said, “as if the magter had enlarged it.” He looked through and saw the tracks on the sand outside. “As if they had enlarged it to bring something bulky up from below—and carried it away in whatever made those tracks!”

  Using the opening themselves, they ran back to the sand car. Brion ground it fiercely around and turned the headlights on the tracks. There were the marks of a sand car’s treads, half obscured by thin, unmarked wheel tracks. He turned off the lights and forced himself to move slowly and to do an accurate job. A quick glimpse at his watch showed him there were four hours left to go. The moonlight was bright enough to illuminate the tracks. Driving with one hand, he turned on the radio transmitter, already set for Krafft’s wave length.

  When the operator acknowledged his signal Brion reported what they had discovered and his conclusions. “Get that message to Commander Krafft now. I can’t wait to talk to him—I’m following the tracks.” He killed the transmission and stamped on the accelerator. The sand car churned and bounced down the track.

  “They are going to the mountains,” Ulv said some time later, as the tracks still pointed straight ahead. “There are caves there and many magter have been seen near them; that is what I have heard.”

  The guess was correct. Befo
re nine o’clock the ground humped into a range of foothills, and the darker masses of mountains could be seen behind them, rising up to obscure the stars.

  “Stop the car here,” Ulv said, “The caves begin not too far ahead. There may be magter watching or listening, so we must go quietly.”

  Brion followed the deep-cut grooves, carrying the radio. Ulv came and went on both sides, silently as a shadow, scouting for hidden watchers. As far as he could discover there were none.

  By nine-thirty Brion realized they had deserted the sand car too soon. The tracks wound on and on, and seemed to have no end. They passed some caves which Ulv pointed out to him, but the tracks never stopped. Time was running out and the nightmare stumbling through the darkness continued.

  “More caves ahead,” Ulv said, “Go quietly.”

  They came cautiously to the crest of a hill, as they had done so many times already, and looked into the shallow valley beyond. Sand covered the valley floor, and the light of the setting moon shone over the tracks at a flat angle, marking them off sharply as lines of shadow. They ran straight across the sandy valley and disappeared into the dark mouth of a cave on the far side.

  Sinking back behind the hilltop, Brion covered the pilot light with his hand and turned on the transmitter. Ulv stayed above him, staring at the opening of the cave.

  “This is an important message,” Brion whispered into the mike. “Please record.” He repeated this for thirty seconds, glancing at his watch to make sure of the time, since the seconds of waiting stretched to minutes in his brain. Then, as clearly as possible without raising his voice above a whisper, he told of the discovery of the tracks and the cave.

  “… The bombs may or may not be in here, but we are going in to find out. I’ll leave my personal transmitter here with the broadcast power turned on, so you can home on its signal. That will give you a directional beacon to find the cave. I’m taking the other radio in—it has more power. If we can’t get back to the entrance I’ll try a signal from inside. I doubt if you will hear it because of the rock, but I’ll try. End of transmission. Don’t try to answer me because I have the receiver turned off. There are no earphones on this set and the speaker would be too loud here.”

 

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