Bram looked into the other’s face. It was Waller, the man from the library annex. Bram mumbled a thank you.
“Pite told me what you’ve been doing,” Waller said. “But he isn’t familiar enough with molecular biology for me to get a very clear picture. You and I will have to get together for a talk sometime soon.”
Bram made vague noncommittal noises and walked on. Eena jumped up and squealed. “I knew you’d see the light some day! Didn’t I tell you? Isn’t he marvelous?”
Pite said sardonically, “Welcome to the human race, Brammo.”
Bram sat down next to Kerthin. Kerthin looked at him with tight fury.
“Kerthin, I’m sorry,” he said. “I had to know.”
“Oh, never mind!” she said, and looked away from him again.
Some latecomers arrived, the door was closed and barred behind them, and the meeting began in earnest.
“… and that’s about all there is to using firebottles. They’re very effective, especially against vehicles, and alcohol and glass containers are available everywhere. Just be sure to remember to soak the wick before you light it and throw it. Any questions?”
The speaker was another of the men Penser had brought with him from Juxt One, a hard-bitten man in his early forties who had given up seven years of his life to accompany Penser here. How had he learned about things like firebottles, Bram wondered, and had he ever used one, and if so, why and how?
A roundish girl with a bowl haircut stood up. “Wouldn’t it be dangerous to use one in a tree?”
“Who said anything about using one in a tree?” the man barked. “Where did you hear that?”
“I don’t know. I just thought —”
“Too much thinking can get you into trouble. And loose talk can endanger us all. Do what you’re told and don’t spend so much time thinking.”
“Please.” The gray-bearded man next to Penser raised a palm. “Gene brother Grome didn’t mean that as harshly as it sounded. But we must all learn to be careful. The fact is,” he went on smoothly, “a tree does not catch fire as easily as you might think — this is just theoretical — and we believe a firebottle could be used within an individual chamber without endangering the entire tree. Even if a fire were to spread for hundreds of miles along a branch, eventually it would burn its way through into vacuum, and the tree would be able to regrow and reconfigure over a period of time. So we believe — and again, we’re only talking theory — that firebottles might be a legitimate weapon against a particular sector of a tree. A sector inhabited by an enemy. But if worse came to worst, spin could be stopped, and fires would simply smother themselves.” He beamed at them. “But we aren’t talking about that, of course. We’re talking about ground targets.”
Through it all, Penser had sat silent and withdrawn, as if he were not a part of the weapons lecture. Now he raised his chalky face, and the room quieted to hear what he would say.
“We don’t seek violence,” he intoned as if from a distance, “but we must always hold ourselves in readiness in case violence is demanded of us. We all share the great dream, and that dream may not be denied. Those who attempt to deny us our dream will deserve rightful retribution.”
Eena squirmed in her seat next to Bram. “That’s right,” she whispered in ecstasy. “Burn them. Burn them all.”
Bram was appalled. Was this what it was about? Was this why Pite had made that clandestine survey of the starship? Did Penser intend to injure a tree?
There was a respectful silence after Penser’s words, and then the gray-bearded man spoke again. “Next, we’re going to hear from gene brother Sard on the subject of combat techniques.”
Sard was a brisk, stocky individual with close-cropped hair, dressed in the short robe and tights of Juxt One. Like Grome, he was in his forties — a good decade or two older than most of Penser’s new recruits from the Father World whom Bram saw about him at the meeting.
“Most of the disabling techniques we’ve developed were meant to be used against humans,” Sard said. “But many of them can be adapted for use against the Nar. For example —” He held up a bottle of an oily yellow liquid. “— the Nar are just as vulnerable to corrosive materials as humans are, and if you splash some into their eyes, or still better, toss it down inside that nest of tentacles, you’ve got a Nar who’s out of the action.”
Bram felt ill. On either side of him, Pite and Fraz were drinking in every word.
“Of course, you can’t break a Nar’s bones because he hasn’t any, and you can’t kick him in the crotch because he has five of ’em —” He smiled lewdly and got a laugh. “— without anything between ’em. But if you can slash a limb across its hydraulic channels, it’s as good as breaking a leg. Now, a Nar has more reach than a man, so remember — when you’re fighting against a human traitor, it’s clubs and fists, but for the Nar, what you want is a long pole to slash with.”
He held up one of the billhooks Bram had seen in the storeroom and feinted realistically with it.
“What about explosives, brother?” someone shouted.
“Not my department. You’ll be hearing from gene brother Hyd about that. But I can tell you that explosives are easily made, and you’ll be shown how. We’ll train explosives teams for the demolition work, but every one of you ought to have a working knowledge of how to make explosives out of common materials and how to use them.”
“Aren’t explosives dangerous to handle?” somebody else asked.
“Dangerous to enemies and deviationists, gene brother. If you’ve ever seen a being blown into small pieces, you’d appreciate what potent weapons they can be.”
Beside Bram, Eena shivered pleasurably. “I’m going to get on one of those explosives teams,” she whispered.
Bram looked over at Kerthin to see how she was taking it, but she was staring rigidly straight ahead. He couldn’t make eye contact with her.
“Now, here’s an item that’s really effective,” Sard went on. “We used them in fights against the opposition all the time. Easily concealed and a good way to break up a rally or teach someone a lesson.”
He held up a flat gray case shaped to fit a human hand. There was a glint of metal at one end, a ring of short little rods.
“A touch of high voltage that’ll knock your back teeth out or turn a Nar into a limp rag. I won’t tell you how we got to test one on a Nar except to say that the test subject never told the rest of the decaboos that these things exist. Oh, yes, and they’re very good for interrogation, too, when you apply them to the right places. We only brought a few of these with us, but they’re not hard to make. Somebody here promised to look into getting hold of a supply of microcapacitors.”
He looked questioningly at the gray-bearded man.
“Ah, yes,” the gray-bearded Juxtian said. “Pite, what have you to report?”
Pite stood up and struck an indolent pose. “It’ll take a couple more days. We’ve got an inside man at one of the transshipping points. The next shipment to go through will just disappear.”
“Can it be done without arousing suspicion?” the Juxtian asked.
“No problem,” Pite said, and sat down.
The meeting lasted until well into the sleeping period. There were going to be a lot of red-eyed humans going to work or other pursuits in the morning. Bram sat through the so-called training sessions with mounting horror and revulsion. They were acting as if it were some kind of game, an interesting abstraction: ordinary-looking people talking in reasonable voices about hitting folks over the head and blowing up vehicles and throwing corrosive chemicals at gentle beings who had never done them any harm.
At the end, Penser made a quiet speech, as if he were talking to each member of the audience individually. “Remember, a useful lie is better than a dangerous truth. There is a risk in coming together in large groups like this instead of compartmentalizing our organization so that no member knows too many others, but time is short, and we must come out into the open soon anyway if our great ob
jective is to be accomplished. We will act before serious opposition develops and before our enemies decide to take us seriously.”
Then there was the matter of selecting volunteers for further specialized training. “I’m going to talk to brother Hyd about making bombs,” Eena said. “How about you, Kerthin?”
Bram was relieved to see Kerthin shake her head.
Pite left the parcel of muscle-bound bullies he had drawn around him and sauntered over to Bram. “How about it, Brammo? Want to get in with my bunch and learn how to break heads?”
“I don’t think I’m the type,” Bram said steadily.
Pite laughed. “I didn’t think so. Go back to your trays and bottles. You’ll be called on to do your part when the time comes.”
“How can Penser be here,” Bram said, “when there are all those reports of his activities in the Juxt system during the last seven years and when he’s still beaming laser messages?”
They lay together in the nest, their unclothed bodies not touching. Kerthin held herself rigid, like a block of construction plastic.
“He arranged it before he left,” she said indifferently. “It was all carefully thought out — recordings, holos, ‘eyewitness’ accounts of having meetings with him. He has supporters at every level, I suppose one of them applied for a trip to the Father World and let Penser change places with him. Then they would have arranged for that person to disappear or take on a new identity. Same for the handful of helpers Penser brought with him. It would have aroused speculation if too many of Penser’s known supporters traveled here together.”
“How long have you known, Kerthin?”
“Not very long. Since just before Marg and Orris invited us to the treewarming. Pite and a few others have known for over a year. They’ve been waiting for this day to come for ten years, but they didn’t know exactly when it would be. Penser left instructions for a coded signal to be sent after he was already in transit. He didn’t want the word to get out too soon, but he wanted to give his followers here time to get organized.”
“Pite must have known when I met him that first time, the night of the Ascendist meeting.”
“I suppose so,” she said indifferently.
“Probably the code was in the message from Penser that was read that night. A prearranged phrase, maybe. That’s why Pite was so eager to go to the meeting. I don’t get the impression that he thinks very highly of the run-of-the-mill Ascendists.”
Kerthin made no reply to that. If anything, her body went even stiffer.
Bram drew a deep breath. “What in the name of creation is Penser planning to do here?”
“You heard him. He wants to build up an organization. An organization that’s stronger than the rest of the silly factions here. Hold ourselves in readiness, he said.”
“He has some specific act in mind. Something violent.”
“He doesn’t seek violence,” she said peevishly. “You heard him say that. Unless he’s forced to it.”
Bram turned on his side to face her. “How many followers does Penser have in this system? Fifty? A hundred? What could they possibly do against the wishes of the entire human community? And even if he succeeds in bringing another few hundred people over to his side, what then? What, with all this talk of explosives and slashing poles and electric shocks, could he possibly accomplish against a population of ten billion Nar?”
“Numbers aren’t important, Penser says. What counts is determination. There’s no way a soft, unorganized majority can resist a resolute minority.”
“You don’t believe that nonsense?”
“It isn’t nonsense!” she flared. “Anyway, he doesn’t have to fight ten billion Nar. He just —”
Bram’s skin prickled. “Just what?”
“Never mind.”
“Do you know? Or don’t they trust you, either?”
“If they don’t,” she said, “it’s because of you. Following me. Spying like that.”
“And now you’ve got to prove yourself to them?” he said bitterly. “Penser said I was going to be watched. Who’s going to watch me? You?”
She turned her face away from him. “Go to sleep,” she said.
A couple of Tendays passed. It was like living in a nightmare. Bram existed in a controlled daze, going through the ordinary routines of his life by rote. He went to his job at the biocenter every dawn and marked time until the quitting hour, doing enough work to get by. He wasn’t remiss enough to cause comment, but he was sure his inattentiveness was noticed. He attended the round of last-minute farewell parties that were being thrown for the departing Juxt One colonists and was distracted enough for human friends who knew him well to sense that something was bothering him.
“You don’t look well, Bram,” Marg said, peering at his face. “Pale. I don’t know, thin. Aren’t you feeling well?”
“I’m all right,” he said.
“He’s working too hard,” Orris said. “You ought to ease up a little, Bram. Have a holiday. Why don’t you lift up to the tree with us next Tenday? We’re having a last blast before departure. The party to end all parties. I’ll bet we’ll have two or three hundred visitors.” He looked around. “Where’s Kerthin?”
“She had a sculpture class. I’m sure you’ll see her before you leave.”
“Think about what I said. Bring Kerthin with you. The boats are all reserved — plenty of room for last-minute visitors. You can stay overnight. A couple of overnights! Most of the others will. We could sleep half the population of the quarter in the branch that’s assigned to us!” He winked. “Maybe you’ll like the accommodations so much that you’ll stay aboard — sail to Juxt One with us.”
Bram managed a laugh. “That sounds tempting.” He half meant it. At least Juxt One was a world without Penser.
For the moment he had lost interest in working on the protein coat of the carrier virus. It didn’t seem important, somehow. Immortality had waited thirty-seven million years. It could wait a while longer.
The equipment he had borrowed from the biocenter was pushed into a comer or stored in cupboards, out of the way, when his living quarters were invaded by the meetings that were being held there at night. Protesting to Kerthin did no good. “We’ve all got to do our part,” she said. “They needed a place where a study group could meet without attracting attention, and I volunteered. You ought to be grateful you’re not living with Eena. They’re manufacturing explosive pots at her place!”
Bram shuddered. That was true enough. At least he was under no risk of being blown to pieces in his own living chambers. Lethal objects were not in evidence at the study group meetings — unless it was possible to be bored to death by words. All of the rebels seemed to be humorless, excessively earnest people. They held endless discussions on subjects that came equipped with mind-numbing headings: “occupation and reeducation techniques for governing unenlightened populations”; “utilization of the political infrastructure of isolated communities”; “tactical ideology”; “rehabilitating the social defaulter”; “correct principles of Schismatist thought”; “the practical uses of force in political negotiations.”
Kerthin served refreshments while Bram half dozed through the rhetoric. Once Pite and a couple of his bravos showed up. They sat and listened, and at the end of the evening, when people started to leave separately in ones or twos as they had been instructed, they spoke quietly to one of the group members and accompanied him to the door. The man turned pale and went with them, smiling nervously. He did not show up at the next meeting.
At the biocenter, Bram avoided Voth as much as possible. Again, he was deceiving his old teacher, and it was too painful to be in his company.
It was temporary, Bram told himself. He was only waiting for something definite to go on before confiding in Voth. So far, this was only a bunch of people talking — and amusing themselves with deadly toys and deadly fantasies. But he couldn’t denounce people for talk and daydreams.
But partly, Bram admitted to himself in t
he dark and restless hours when he could not fall asleep, he was being dilatory because these were fellow human beings. Maybe Pite was right to some degree. One owed one’s phylum a certain loyalty. Bram was reluctant to expose the worst side of human beings to his old teacher.
So he waited.
And then it was too late.
“He’s a danger to us all,” said the worried-looking Ascendist on the platform. “These incidents can no longer be hushed up or explained away. Last night a young man was severely beaten up in a street fight. Broken fibs, contusions, head injuries. A Nar medical warden happened to be at the Quarter clinic when he was brought in. The victim himself covered it up — claimed he’d been in an accident. But the injuries weren’t consistent with his story. The warden didn’t pursue the matter, but you can be sure that he’s wondering about it.”
Bram recognized the speaker as Gorch, the man who had been accused of being a secret Schismatist at that first meeting behind the drink shop. But Gorch didn’t sound like a cupboard Schismatist anymore, now that brute reality had overtaken his foggy notions. He sounded like a badly rattled man.
“And that warehouse explosion two days ago,” Gorch went on. “Luckily no one was hurt. But you won’t find a person in the Quarter who believes it was caused by a gas leak, and the Nar aren’t stupid, either. It’s time for every faction among us to band together and put a stop to this nonsense. Penser’s group is only a small minority. We can’t allow it to compromise the party any longer.”
Scattered boos and catcalls greeted his words. Jupe, the bald-headed moderator, stepped in smoothly. “I’m sure we all appreciate your concern, gene brother. Now, if there is anyone else who wishes to speak —”
“I’m not finished yet!” Gorch protested. “What we all want to know is, what is Penser up to?”
More boos and catcalls were heard, this time coming with greater purpose from the people Pite had planted in strategic places throughout the audience.
Bram sat at the rear of the hall, with a goon on either side of him. The meeting place behind the drink shop was swollen with people this time. When he first had been here, there might have been fifty men and women in the rows of seats. Now there were ten times as many, not counting the tough-looking men in short-sleeved monos who stood with folded arms at the back of the hall.
The Genesis Quest Page 23