Balant: A Beginning

by Sam Smith

  I had not completed that research when the ship began slowing to take me into orbit around Balant. Although, according to the ship's clock, it was only midday I immediately took myself off to bed for four hours sleep.

  When I returned to the command room I beheld ahead of me the three yellow stars that I had first seen from the shuttle. Making minor adjustments to my course and speed, with mounting excitement, in happy anticipation of being reunited with my two friends, apprehensive of what may have befallen them, I closed on Balant’s sun. And there, suddenly discernible, was the white-veined blue disc of Balant.

  One orbit of its muddy green girdle showed me that I had arrived at dawn over the desert. Thankful that I did not have to wait, and so worry over what I had to do, I immediately made my descent. Compared to the shuttle, piloting the ship was a doddle. I coasted down over the desert and, where our shuttle had been, I told the ship to lower its landing gear. So smooth was my touchdown that I realised that I had vastly overrated Boss's prowess as a pilot.

  When the engines were turned off and I had assured myself that all was well with the ship, I looked out at the familiar mountains before me.

  Nothing moved. Not a bird, not even a leaf. Picking up the microphone from beside the seat I activated the loudhailer. Then I listened to my amplified voice boom up over the foothills.

  "Dag Olvess! Malamud Bey! This is Pi Pandy. I have come to take you home.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Reunion. Rejoicing. Histories joined. Revenge?

  They did not appear that first day.

  Growing weary of repeating my greeting, I recorded it, played it every five minutes. When, at sunset, there was still no sign of them, I ceased broadcasting, took the ship up and put it into an elliptical orbit that would bring me back over the desert at dawn.

  At sunrise I landed again in the desert below where our cave had been, and I resumed broadcasting. When I had been there an hour I took the ship ten kilometres along the mountainside, broadcast there for an hour. Then I moved another ten kilometres inland, broadcast there for another hour; and so on throughout the day. While the ship was stationary I paced the command room, scanned the forest with magnifiers; and then moved again. I had been gone altogether over two months: in that time they could have moved anywhere. At sunset I decided to give them one more day.

  Again I put the ship into an orbit that would bring me back to the desert at dawn. Full of foreboding I did not sleep well that night. At dawn I landed in the desert at almost the oceans’ edge, broadcast my message for an hour, then moved ten kilometres inland.

  I had eaten lunch when I came abreast of the lake, had been there twenty minutes, and was considering curtailing my stops to half an hour in order to cover more ground, when I noticed a movement further along the foothills. I adjusted and focused the magnifiers.

  Goosepimples crept over me. Sweat popped from me. There, amongst the desert scrub, in their brown leaf tunics, were my two friends.

  I grabbed up the microphone and, overriding the recording, I shrieked into it,

  "Dag! Malamud!" And, unable to articulate beyond that, I emptied my lungs in a yell of pure pleasure. Seeing their startled looks on the magnifier I ended with a chortle that rolled like thunder along those mountains. Then I had the ramp lowered and I was racing down through the ship.

  Leaping from the bottom of the ramp I ploughed across the desert. Dag and Malamud were running and shouting towards me. When I was ten meters from them I slowed, out of breath, to a halt.

  Dag too stopped. Malamud, when he caught up with Dag, held onto Dag’s arm to stop himself falling. Panting we three grinned stupidly at one another. They looked different. Thinner possibly. Malamud seemed taller. Tricks of memory; I shook myself. Malamud said,

  “Pi Pandy," as if to assure himself that it was indeed I. Then we laughed and, covering the last few meters, we embraced.

  Stepping back we looked one another over.

  "Come,” I said. "There's no time to lose." And I began walking back to the ship.

  "Who's ship is it?" Dag asked.

  "I suppose," I said with some surprise, "it's mine now.”

  "Who's your crew?" Malamud asked me.

  “You two are. Quickly," I urged them as they both paused to look questioningly at one another.

  They caught up with me, wanted to know how I had come by the ship. I told them that it was a long story, that I would tell them as soon as we were on our way. We mounted the ramp. Dag asked if this was the brigands' ship. Malamud asked what had happened to them. To all of which I replied,

  "Later.”

  "Is someone chasing you?" Malamud asked.

  "No," I said. "It's more important than that."

  "Were those guns I saw back there?" Dag asked.

  We had reached the crew's washroom. I showed them in,

  "Those are clean tunics." I had laid them out in readiness for them. "Some of these slippers should fit you. If not I'll get some more from the stores." They were both stood staring speechlessly at me.

  "Wash!" I told them, "You couple of scruffs. When I've taken off I’ll introduce you to the canteen.”

  "Real food?" Malamud's eyes opened wide.

  "Yes," I said as I left.

  “Oh civilisation..." Malamud began immediately divesting himself of his leaf tunic.

  By the time I had taken the ship out of Balant's orbit, had double-checked our course and arrived back at the washroom, they were washed and changed and awaiting me.

  "Slippers fit?" I asked them.

  "Bliss," Malamud said. "Food?”

  "This way."

  They followed me to the canteen.

  Although I myself was far too excited to eat, I served them space paella, sat with them at the table.

  "What happened to the brigands?" Dag had been looking around the empty canteen.

  "All in good time," I said. "The only way I can tell it is from the beginning." Dag nodded and began to eat. Malamud had already started.

  "You know I left the sanctuary to make sure the ship had gone?" Mouths full they both nodded. So did I proceed to tell them of my capture, of Zapper, of Boss, of the crew. I told them of our rendezvous with the Junua, of the murder of the technician, of the mysterious cargo, of Onam. When I told them of the slaves they glanced significantly to one another. Head bowed I confessed to them my shameful helplessness.

  "What else, though, could I have done?" I asked of them.

  "Nothing," Dag shook his head.

  (That same reaction I have received every time that I have told that story, have asked that question. No-one, I have found, thinks that I should have, could have done anything other than watch; that it would probably have been fatal and would have served no end to attempt to prevent it. With my rational mind I, every time, concur with them. Then my memory sees that shuffling column and my conscience cries out, “Coward!”)

  "We can help them now Pi," Dag quietly said.

  "That is where we are bound," I replied. “Why there was no time to lose."

  "Good man Pi," Dag reached over the table and gripped my wrist.

  Malamud wanted to know what we would do when we arrived at Onam. Before I could answer, however, he asked me wonderingly,

  "Were you going to go back there on your own?"

  "If you hadn't appeared today, yes. I've got to cancel that shame. As I had no choice when the crime was committed, so now I have no choice but to undo that crime. As you and Dag also now have no choice. Because, by the time we returned to civilisation to fetch help, they would all be dead. I took a calculated risk in coming to find you first. The three of us will stand a better chance, will only be outnumbered four to three."

  I stared hard at Malamud, begging him to understand, "'We have to do it ourselves."

  "But how will we...” Malamud began.

  “What happened after Onam?" Dag interrupted him.

  First I served them with ice cream, then told them of the change in Zapper, of Carthi's warring he
mispheres, of the armed valets, of Boss eating meat, of the ambush, of Zapper's death, of my gathering of evidence on my return journey alone to Balant... Malamud, when I had told of Boss eating the meat of that creature, had pushed away his fourth helping of ice cream. Now he watched it slowly melt.

  "So," I brightly began, "what happened to you two?"

  "When you'd gone, I climbed up the tunnel," Malamud said. "I heard voices — your voice — and then the ship came over. So we guessed they'd taken you. Then," he shrugged, "we didn't know what to do."

  Dag, with frequent interruptions from Malamud, took up their tale. They had stayed in the sanctuary another night, on the following morning had found the hatchet and the knife, so guessed that I had been disarmed and taken captive. Nevertheless they had searched the surrounding forest for my body. Not finding it they had concluded that I must have been taken alive. For the next few days they had lived in one of the caves along from our old cave.

  “But it was hopeless," Dag said, "As far as we were concerned you — being in the hands of those brigands — were as good as dead. We now had no means of leaving Balant; and, without the shuttle’s transmitter, no real likelihood of ever being rescued. So we talked it over..."

  “He talked it over," Malamud interposed.

  “...and we decided that we might as well resign ourselves to life on Balant, become Balantians."

  "He was even talking of getting married," Malamud raised his eyebrows.

  "So," Dag contained his exasperation with Malamud, “despite the prospect of disease, etcetera, we crossed the mountains, found our way to Ronan and Yolande's new settlement. And there, of course, we found no-one."

  One house in the settlement had been burnt to the ground. The three of us guessed now that that must have been Boss demonstrating the power of his guns and so intimidating the people, enabling them to be meekly herded up the ramp and into that long room.

  Dag and Malamud, on finding the settlement deserted, had assumed that Ronan had moved on further inland.

  "However," Dag said, "we did find some metal tools we thought they'd left behind.”

  "Tell him why we left there," Malamud told Dag, "and why becoming Balantians didn’t seem such a brilliant idea."

  “We spent one night in the settlement. In the morning we discovered that we were infested with tiny parasites. So, after we had washed every square millimetre of ourselves and our clothes, we took up residence in a single large cave on that side of the mountains. It's cooler over there. And, using the tools, I started gardening. It was quite civilised. I even found a knife sharp enough to shave with."

  "That's what it is!" I slapped the table, "Ever since I first saw you through the magnifiers, I knew there was something different. Your hair's shorter. And you, Malamud, have grown whiskers." I reached over to tweak one of the wispy brown hairs on his chin.

  "Careful," he ducked aside, "Don't want to harm them when I've been so long in cultivating them."

  So, Dag said, their days had passed. Then, yesterday, Malamud had come crashing through the forest telling him to listen. Very faintly my message had reached them.

  From at first believing that it was an auditory mirage, a shared hysteria, they had listened more; and, full of suspicion, having already once convinced themselves of my untimely death, they had eventually accepted the possibility that I could still be alive and had started back across the mountains. I had moved on. Night had come. By the time the ship had appeared that day, despite their many doubts and reservations, they had realised that they truly had had no choice but to take a chance that it was indeed me.

  "So what are we going to do when we get to Onam?” Malamud asked me.

  “We might have to fight,” I told them. "The four crewmen are all armed. They are all killers. You are both going to have to learn to fire guns.”

  "Right!” Malamud slapped his hands together, “When do we start?”

  "Tomorrow," I smiled at my friend. “Right now, let's sleep.”

  But, although their appetite was satisfied, their curiosity was not: my brief story had left too many hows and whys unasked.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Rehearsals. Release. Revenge?

  We had only four clear days before we reached Onam and much to do. But, knowing that the guards on Onam would be following space time, I woke Dag and Malamud early, according to their Balant hours, in order that they would more easily adjust back to space time.

  That first evening I had eventually shown them to their rooms on either side of mine. Their first night in beds, however, had proved as uncomfortable as mine had. Although I, comforted by the closeness of my friends, had slept deep and well, was awake bright and early and eager to make a start.

  While Dag and Malamud finished their breakfasts, I collected a gun, a belt and a holster for each of us from the stores. Returning to the canteen I told Dag and Malamud to put on the guns and to wear them all the time.

  "Is that really necessary?” Dag asked.

  "The guards on Onam,” I told him, "are killers. They have no regard for life."

  "I thought you said that we were going to try to free the slaves without a fight? Leave the guards there and report them to the police later?"

  "We have to be prepared for every eventuality," I told him. “And, if we are not prepared for this one, then we will be killed. Guns are an article of dress to them. They have to become second nature to us as well."

  I led them to the room where I had first been held captive. There I had filled a spacesuit with some old packaging and I had fixed it standing to a trolley. To the trolley I had secured three lines — one long line from the door and two shorter ones from either wall. To prevent any stray shots going through the hull I had closed off one at the partitions. The two shorter lines kept the spacesuit in front of that partition.

  First I instructed Dag and Malamud in the elementary use of their guns. Then, giving the spacesuit a shove down towards the partition, I told Malamud to shoot it. He hit its arm.

  “Aim always for the chest," I told him. “The force of the blast will knock it over backwards.” I pulled the spacesuit back to me, sent it trundling down to the partition again. Dag missed altogether. When it was my turn I knocked it over.

  I kept them shooting at the spacesuit the entire morning. Malamud soon became adept with the gun: he regarded its mastery in much the same light as the cultivation of a reflex skill for one of his games. While all I had to do was to imagine that the spacesuit was one of the guards and I hit it. Dag, however, did not seem able to overcome his distaste for the deadly weapon in his band. Even so, come the end of that first morning, I had them both standing with their backs to the spacesuit and not turning around and firing until I gave the command; and nine times out of ten they were hitting it.

  After lunch I gave them a complete tour of the ship, showed them where everything was to be found, including all of the crew's personal effects, which I had kept for the police. I also warned them about the armed valet in the room with the ingots. We finished off the afternoon by my insisting that they both get the feel of the ship’s two big guns.

  After dinner I took them up to the command room. There I began to teach them, in case anything should befall me on Onam, all the essentials they needed to know to be able to pilot the ship. Having taken them through the basic instructions, I quizzed them thoroughly before allowing them to go to bed.

  They slept soundly that night. The following morning I had them practising once more with their handguns. The afternoon and evening I had them in the command room learning how to plot a course, take sightings, use charts, instruct a minder; ending the day by testing them once more on all that I had told them — so too on the remaining two days.

  Malamud proved a brighter pupil than Dag. After their infestation on Balant, Dag had been ill for several days. On learning of that I had immediately given them both an antibiotic shot; but I doubted that Dag's inattentiveness was due to his illness.

  After our first day I
frequently felt myself under Dag’s scrutiny, an object of reappraisal. I had been witness to events barely credible to him, knew now the alienation which Zapper had felt from ordinary people. Between Dag and I now was such a gulf of experience. But it was not until our third day out, when Malamud complained that I was driving them too hard, that I realised that I had also unthinkingly taken charge of them.

  It was natural that I should have done so. To Dag the plight of the Balantian slaves was academic, to me it was real. I knew the guards. I knew what to expect on Onam. I knew the preparations that we should be making. And I knew how much depended on our being prepared. In effect I had become our leader, had assumed responsibility: I was the one who now made decisions for all three of us. Dag was having to accustom himself to being one of the led; and, compared to my resolve to free the slaves, his lack of certainty was all too apparent in his lack of concentration. His share now was irresolution, while I owned convictions.

  We arrived off Onam mid-afternoon. A hill of purplish rock had grown opposite the mine entrance. Having charted its position, I put the ship into geostationary orbit on the opposite side of the planet. I then suggested that we rest, if not sleep, for a few hours. We were going to land two hours after we had judged the guards to have gone to bed.

  We met in the canteen, finalised our plans. So that in the confusion of any battle we would not accidentally shoot each other, we were all three clad in the short pseudo-police tunics. Should we become separated we each carried a radio. Apart from the gun in my holster I also, following Zapper’s example, had one tucked Into the back of my belt. Dag and Malamud both claimed that the discomfort of that extra gun was too much of a distraction. I, though, like Zapper, was a prudent man, didn’t trust my precious life to one possibly unreliable weapon.

  I studied my two companions. Malamud fidgeted nervously, drummed his fingers on the table, got up to play one of the gaming machines, returned to the table, sat down and started drumming again. Dag remained sitting slumped in dejection.