by E. C. Tubb
Dumarest rose and left them arguing. Outside the blue sun was setting, the one of somber red lifting above the horizon. Here there could be no night or time of darkness-always one or more of the suns would ride in the sky.
Without the sight of stars would those who had lived here have ever guessed at the tremendous majesty of the universe? Had they grown introverted, using their skill and energy to turn one planet into a paradise instead of forming a thousand into living hells? Was that the basis of the legend, the moral truth it held?
But if people had lived here what had happened to them? Where were those who had built and lived in the city?
"Earl?" He turned. Embira had come to join him at the open port. "Is that you, Earl?"
"Yes, couldn't you tell?"
"The metal," she said. "Of the hull and that you wear. They merge-is it you?"
For answer he took her hands. They were cold, trembling, a quiver which grew as suddenly she pressed herself hard against him.
"Earl! Please!"
A woman lost and needing comfort. He held her close, one hand stroking the mane of her hair, the other about her shoulders. Suffused by her femininity it was hard to remember she was blind, that she couldn't see his face, his expression. That she knew him only as an aura distinguished by the metal he wore, the knife he carried.
"Earl!"
"I'm sorry." He eased the grip of his arm, a constriction born of protective tenderness. "Did I hurt you?"
"A little, but it was nice." She spoke with a warm softness. "Nice to feel you close to me, Earl. I feel safe when you are. Less afraid."
"Still afraid, Embira?"
"It's this place, this world. It is so empty and the sky so threatening. Will we be leaving soon?"
"Yes, soon."
"And then, Earl?" She waited for the answer she hoped to hear, one he could not give. "Will you stay with me? Will you?"
"For as long as necessary, Embira."
"I want you to stay with me for always. I never want to be without you. Earl, promise me that you will stay!"
"You should rest, Embira. You must be tired."
"And you?"
Deliberately he mistook her invitation. "I've work to do, Embira. I'm going to examine the area around the ship."
* * *
He walked a mile in a direct line from the city, cutting a path when the vegetation grew too dense, pausing often to listen, dropping at times to rest his ear against the ground. The stillness was complete.
A heavy, brooding silence which was unnatural. The vegetation provided good cover for game and there should have been small animals if not larger beasts, but he saw nothing, not even the trails such animals would have made. The air, too, was devoid of birds and he could spot no sign of insects. The bushes must be hybrids, propagating from roots alone, the flowers and fruits an unnecessary byproduct.
He cut one open and sniffed at the succulent mass of orange pulp. As he'd expected, it was seedless. The blooms were the size of his opened hand, waxen petals of a pale amber laced with black. Like the fruits they had no discernible odor.
The result of intensive cultivation, he decided, or a freak mutation which had spread to become dominant. The moss would be a saprophyte, feeding on decaying leaves fallen from the bushes. Dead animals would also provide food, and in the past perhaps, the moss had not waited for the beasts to die.
Back at the ship Dumarest learned a decision had been reached.
"Acilus is going to use explosives." Marek gestured toward the city. "He's taken Timus and Jarv with him and all are loaded with charges."
"The captain overrode my authority." Sufan Noyoka radiated his anger. "The man is a fool. Who knows, what damage he might do? What treasures might be lost? Earl, if we could talk?"
He led Dumarest to one side, out of earshot of Marek and the two women who stood at the open port. Embira, asleep, was in her cabin.
"I am worried about the captain, Earl," said Sufan quickly. "He holds the loyalty of the crew. If he should break into the city he might forget that I command this expedition."
"So?"
"Remember why you are here. The women will obey you-Marek too, perhaps-but if it comes to the need for action strike first and strike hard." The man bared his teeth, his face grown ugly. "I will not be cheated by greedy fools!"
"As yet you haven't been."
"No, but I am aware of the possibility. Go after them, Earl. If they breach the wall make them wait. I must be the first into the city."
As was his right, and Dumarest was content to let another be the target for any unexpected danger. As he strode down the hacked path Marek fell into step behind him.
"We tested the wall, Earl," he said. "While you were away. It is adamantine. Acilus hopes to penetrate it with shaped charges but I doubt if the ship carries enough to do the job." Pausing, he added, "They are armed."
With the weapons carried in the hold-the captain would have thought of that. Guns to kill anything in the city-or anyone who tried to stop him. Dumarest halted at the edge of the wide clearing. Against the wall Acilus was setting packages, Timus at his rear, the navigator to one side. Their voices carried through the still air.
"Set another just above the first. Not there, Jarv, you fool, there!"
"A heavy charge, Captain."
"We could need it. The detonators?"
"Here." Small in the distance Timus held them out, watched as Acilus thrust them home.
"The fuse," he rapped. "Quickly."
There was no obvious need for speed, but Dumarest guessed the loom of the blank wall must have unnerved him, the impression of watching eyes. He saw flame spring from the captain's hand, more flame sparkle from the length of black fuse.
"That's it. Now run!"
Dumarest joined them as they reached the trail, following as they ran to the mound, dropping behind its shelter. Marek dropped beside him. The engineer, panting for breath, said, "Fifty seconds. I've been counting. In less than a minute it will blow."
"Why didn't you use an electronic detonator?"
"We tried, Earl, it didn't work. Don't ask me why. I wanted to rig a launcher but the captain was impatient." Timus glanced to where Acilus crouched like an animal on the ground. "When he gets that way you can't argue with him. Thirty seconds."
A time unnecessarily short but one which dragged. Jarv Nonach wheezed, sniffed at his pomander, stared up at the sky.
"Five seconds." He frowned as they passed. "Minus three if I've counted right."
A navigator was accustomed to check the passage of time as a runner was of distance. His frown increased as still the charges didn't blow.
"Thirty seconds, Captain. You sure you set the detonators correctly?"
"Shut your mouth!" Acilus's tone revealed his doubt. "We'll give it a while longer."
Another three minutes during which his patience became exhausted.
"Give me another fuse and some more detonators," he snapped. "I'll fix this."
"No!" Dumarest rose to catch his arm. "Don't be a fool, man! Give it more time. What are you using, impact charges?"
"Safety plastic," said the engineer. "You could shoot a gun at it and it still wouldn't explode."
"Not if you hit a detonator?" Dumarest snatched the weapon from where it hung on the man's shoulder. "At least it's worth a try."
The gun was cheap, a rapid-fire light machine gun meant to be cradled in the arms, used to lay a rain of bullets without regard to accuracy. A short-range weapon good for street fighting but very little else. Dumarest lay on the summit of the mound, checked the sights, and fired a burst at the charges. He might as well have fired into empty air.
"You're wasting time," said Acilus. "'You could shoot all day and never hit a thing. The fuse must have burned out. We'll have to fix another."
Dumarest fired again with no better result. As the magazine emptied he said, "Give me another."
"No!" The captain knocked aside the gun Jarv held upward. "We'll do it my way."
&nb
sp; "Why bother?" Marek was bland. "There's a lot of wall," he reminded. "Why not move along it and try somewhere else?"
"No need. The charges are set If the fuse hadn't burned out-"
"You can't be sure it did."
"To hell with you. I'm sure. Timus, Jarv, let's get at it!" Acilus sucked in his breath as neither moved. "Get on your feet, damn you! That's an order!"
Timus said, "We're not in space now, Captain. You want to risk your neck, that's your business."
"Jarv?" His eyes were murderous as the navigator shook his head. "So that's it. Cowards, the pair of you. I'll remember that."
Dumarest said, "Be sensible. Do as Marek suggests."
The final straw which broke the captain's hesitancy. "You!" he said. "By God, you overrode me once, you won't do it again. In space or on land I give the orders. Refuse to obey and it's mutiny. Remember that when we're back in space!"
A crime for which eviction was the penalty, a revenge Acilus would take later if he could. Dumarest watched as the man ran down the trail toward the edge of the clearing. Dust rose beneath his feet as he headed for the wall and the massed charges set and waiting. He reached them, busied himself with the fuse, and then, without warning, they blew.
A gush of flame blasted from the wall, dimming the suns, shaking the air with the roaring thunder of released destruction. Dumarest dropped, blinking to clear his eyes from retinal images, but there was no shower of debris.
When he looked again he could see nothing but a drifting plume of dust, a hole gouged in the ground, a wreath of smoke.
Acilus had vanished, blasted to atoms, and the wall reared as before, untouched, pristine.
Chapter Twelve
Timus Omilcar poured himself wine and said bitterly. "Over a hundred pounds of explosive and nothing to show for it but a hole in the ground and a missing captain. Want a drink, Earl?"
"That damned wall." The engineer lifted his glass, swallowed, sat scowling at the bottle. "We can't drive a pick into it, we can't touch it with lasers, and we can't blow a hole through it. The city's there-but how the hell do we get inside?"
A problem Dumarest was working on. From metal rods he had fashioned a grapnel, the tines curved, sharpened, a hook-eye supplied for a rope. He fitted it as Timus reached for the bottle.
"A hundred feet, Earl," he reminded. "A hell of a throw."
And no surety the tines would catch, but it had to be tried. At the foot of the wall Dumarest studied it, eyes narrowed against the glare of the red and yellow suns. With legs braced be swung the grapnel, threw it, the barbs hitting well below the summit of the smooth expanse. Another try threw it higher, a third and it was close to the top. On the second following try the hooked metal fell over the edge, to fall as Dumarest gently tugged at the rope.
A dozen attempts later he gave up. The summit of the wall was too smooth to offer a hold and he was sweating with the effort of casting the grapnel. Dropping the rope he rested the side of his face against the wall and studied the unbroken expanse. Light shimmered from it as if it had been polished. Even at the place blasted by the explosives it resembled the sheen of a mirror. Against his cheek it felt neither hot nor cold, the temperature equal to his own.
Entering the ship he heard voices raised in argument.
"Do you think I gimmick the fuse?" The engineer's voice was a roar. "Is that what you're saying?"
"I'm trying to understand." Usan Labria was sharp. "You gave him the detonators and fuses, right?"
"Yes."
"And you didn't go back with him when they failed to work. So-"
"So you think I refused because I knew the charges would blow? Woman, you're crazy! You know anything about explosives?"
"A little."
"Then listen. The stuff was safety plastic and you could hit it with a hammer and it would remain inert. Earl shot at it with no effect. The detonators were chemical-cascade; three units-the first blowing the second, the second the third, the third doing the job. "Got that?"
"The fuse?"
"Again chemical. Regular burn and normally you could set a watch by it, but things can happen. A fuse can volley- burn faster than expected, the flame jumping at accelerated speed. Or it can die, but when it does there's always the chance that it's still alive. The flame just moves slower, that's all. Acilus knew that but he was too damned impatient." Timus ended bleakly, "It cost him his life."
They were all in the salon aside from Embira, Usan Labria breathing deeply, the locket containing her drugs clutched in one hand. Pacula rose as Dumarest entered.
"I'd better go and look after the girl."
"Leave her." Marek toyed with his cards. "She isn't a baby."
"She's blind. Have you forgotten?"
"We're all blind when asleep, my dear." He turned three cards, pursed his lips, then gathered up the deck. "You worry about her too much."
"And you too little."
"Not so." Marek smiled, his teeth, sharp and regular, flashing in the light. "I think of her often and, when she is close, it is easy to forget her disability. Her charms negate her lack of vision and it would be no handicap. After all, are not fingers the eyes of the night?"
"You're vile!"
"No, my dear," he said blandly. "Not vile-human. She is a woman, is she not? And I am a man."
"Degenerate filth!" She stood looking down at him, her eyes cold. "I warn you, Marek Cognez. If you touch her I'll-"
"Do what?" He rose to face her, his eyes as hard and bleak as her own. "You threaten me? That is a challenge I am tempted to accept. And if I should take the girl what could you do? Nothing. Nothing."
"Perhaps not," said Dumarest. "But I could. Touch Embira and you'll answer to me."
"A challenge multiplied." For a moment Marek held his eyes, and then abruptly, shrugged and smiled. "You make the odds too great, Earl. A woman, what is that to come between friends? And we are friends, are we not?"
Dumarest said, "Pacula, if you're going to the girl go now." As she left the salon he sat and looked at Marek. "One day you'll go too far. And you're wrong about Pacula not being able to take revenge. Any woman can use a knife against a man when he is asleep. She may not kill you, but she could ruin your face and teach you what it is to be blind."
"And you, Earl?"
"I'd kill you."
A cold statement of fact which the man accepted for what it was. Even so, the devil within him forced him on.
"An interesting development, Earl. Had another man made that threat I would assume him to be in love with the girl. Or are you anticipating the future and the enjoyment of unsullied goods?"
Timus said quickly, "Be careful, Marek."
"Another warning? This seems to be a time of warnings. Even the cards are full of dire prophecy. A pity the captain had no trust in my skill. But then-one less and the more to share."
"The more of what?" Jarv Nonach gestured with his pomander. "As yet we have found nothing, and unless we can break through the walls, we'll remain empty-handed. Did you have any luck?"
"No," admitted Dumarest.
"Then what is left?" The navigator looked from one to the other. "I say we should leave here and return later with rafts and-"
"No!" Sufan's hand slammed on the table. "No!"
"What point in staying? With the captain dead I am in command of the Mayna. I am a fair man and as eager as any of you to find treasure, but the wall beats us. How long are we to sit looking at it? I say we leave. With rafts and other equipment we could crack that city open like a nut."
"We stay!" Sufan Noyoka was trembling with passion. "To have come so far, to have risked so much-we stay!"
"For a little longer." The navigator rose, his face drawn, determined. "But not for too long. I command the Mayna now and when I leave you may come or stay as you wish."
Dumarest said, "We are partners, Jarv. Sufan Noyoka leads this expedition."
"Then why doesn't he accept the obvious? It's our lives as well as his. Acilus is dead-how many more must follow
him? Without equipment we haven't a chance. No, Earl, I've decided. One more day and then I leave."
A threat he might have carried out had he been allowed, but when the blue sun rose and the yellow sank he was dead.
* * *
Dumarest heard the cry and was running, catching Usan Labria as she fell, following the finger of her pointing hand.
"Earl," she gasped. "I found him. The navigator-under that bush."
She was quivering, her lips blue, pain contorting her raddled features. Dumarest passed her to Timus as he came running, Marek at his side.
"Earl?"
"Take her back to the ship. Get hold of Pacula, she knows what to do."
"And Jarv?"
"I'll see what's wrong."
There was nothing he could do. The man sat with his back against a bole, his head slumped forward down on his chest, one hand clenched at his side, the other open, the pomander lying an inch from his fingers. Dumarest halted Marek as he moved forward.
"Wait. Look around. See if you can spot tracks of any kind."
"On this moss?"
"The stems could be broken. Look."
A heavy weight would have left an impression but nothing could be found aside from the marks of the navigator's footprints and those left by Usan and themselves. Dumarest quested in a wide circle, frowning as he rejoined Marek.
"Nothing?"
"No."
"Which means nothing jumped him from the vegetation," mused Marek. "He must have come out here to sit, maybe to think and plan, resting his back against the bole and then something happened. But what? There seems to be no sign of a struggle. Poison of some kind? Those blooms, Earl! The bush he is under bears blossom. Could they have emitted a lethal vapor of some kind?"
"Perhaps." Dumarest glanced at the sky. This world was strange, beneath the varying influence of the suns anything could happen. "Be careful now, don't get too close."
Holding his breath he lifted the dead man's face. It was tranquil, the open eyes glazed, the lips slightly parted. The skin was cool and a little moist. Death had come quickly.
Marek said, "Shall we bury him, Earl?"
"If you want to, go ahead."
"And you?"
"I've work to do in the ship."