But the querulous man had stirred something up. The import of all that Penser had said was dawning on everyone.
“I’ve got a new world to go to!” someone yelped. “It’s called Juxt One, and there’s a whole new life waiting for me there. Steal the tree if you think you can get away with it. But I want to be sent back to Lowstation, too!”
“Why are we standing around listening to this stuff?” growled a young man with two or three friends around him to egg him on. “There’s more of us than there are of them. Let’s get ’em! We’ll tie them up and hold them for the Nar inspection team!”
A clump of earth flew past Penser’s ear, just missing him. He didn’t even flinch.
“Get that man,” he said.
A flying wedge of Penserites armed with clubs and chunks of rock forged through the crowd and descended on the dissenter. Arms rose and fell. Grunts of effort were mixed with howls of pain.
Orris strained forward, his eyes dilated with horror. “They’ll kill him!”
Bram grabbed a handful of singlet. “There’s nothing you can do.”
Up front, the Penser supporters had formed a solid phalanx to prevent anyone from getting through to the platform. The crowd swirled in confusion. There were little eddies of activity where the Penserite forces had previously marked out potential trouble spots and now moved in to quash resistance before it could get started. Nothing much had a chance to get started. The crowd was disorganized. Until an hour ago they’d been having a party. They were deprived of anyone they might have rallied around as soon as he raised his head. The Penser minority had the advantage of a single purpose. People dodged the clubs, glad to get out of the way. Debating societies got started on the fringes. There was a babble of voices, randomized crowd motion.
Then four Penser minions appeared from a side tunnel, carrying a curious long bundle. Other Penserites cleared a path for them, and they dumped the bundle on the platform, almost at Penser’s feet. The bundle writhed and showed itself to be still alive.
A horrified buzz went up as the bunched limbs untangled themselves and people realized that they were looking at a Nar. It was in a bad way. It didn’t seem to be able to move purposefully. It tried to raise itself a couple of times and flopped down again.
“We found it in one of the branching xylem passages,” said one of the men who had brought it. “It was on its way down here from the Nar sector. There were two of them.”
“Did the other one get away?” Penser said.
“No, gene brother Penser.”
The dazed Nar by now had succeeded in getting its lower limbs underneath itself. But they remained weak and flaccid, without the hydrostatic stiffening needed for walking. A peculiar wail came from the being’s central orifice — a sound Bram had never heard from. a Nar.
“What’s wrong with it?” Orris said in a whisper.
“I think I know,” Bram said.
The decapod, if it was regaining its senses, must have been bewildered at suddenly finding itself in the midst of a huge mass of human beings. It managed to drag itself along feebly on three arms toward the nearest human it could see — Penser, who stood with folded arms watching it while it inched toward him, reaching out pitifully with the two remaining tentacles, forgetting that it could not make meaningful contact that way with a man.
Bram held his breath. Everyone else in the vast wooden amphitheater seemed to be just as mesmerized.
And then Pite stepped forward out of Penser’s ring of advisers, holding one of the flat gray cases that Bram had seen before — the device that had needed the high-voltage biocapacitors. Pite touched the thing to the Nar, somewhere near the waist, and the graceful many-limbed body jerked in reflex agony and went limp again.
Penser stepped forward and gestured scornfully toward the mass of mindlessly weaving limbs. “Behold your master,” he said. “Does anyone doubt now that we shall prevail?”
A prolonged sigh went up from the human spectators. Somewhere nearby, Bram heard a woman sobbing with emotion.
Any remaining resistance collapsed at that moment. The sight of the helpless Nar quivering at Penser’s feet subdued the onlookers as nothing else could have done. Quiet, stunned, they allowed themselves to be rounded up and herded into small groups under guard.
The young Penserite in charge of Bram’s group turned out to know Kerthin. He was friendly to Bram. “It won’t be too long,” he confided. “Penser apologizes for any discomfort, but he can’t have people wandering around until the tree is secure. Everybody stays in the farm chamber till then. There’ll be food, water, and we can rig up some kind of privacy for the women. Kerthin’s gone with a search team to the living quarters to requisition blankets for everybody for tonight. And the commissary people will set up a soup kitchen as soon as they round up cooking utensils and things. Pick yourself a good spot to camp. How about that sheltered corner over by the hydroponic tanks? There’s a threefamily taking it over, but I can roust them out if you and your friends want it.”
“N-no,’ Bram said. “I could help with one of the collection teams. There’s going to be a few thousand bowls and other necessities to lug back here.” He added hastily, “You’ve seen me at some of the meetings, haven’t you?”
In the back of his mind was a vague, half-formed idea of somehow getting away, finding his way to the Nar sector, warning them.
The guard shook his head. “Sorry. Word’s come down. Not that we don’t trust collaborationists like yourself, but Penser doesn’t take chances. Only the actives allowed out for now, and believe me, even they’re going out in mutual-watch groups. Later, maybe, there’ll be something for you to do. Can’t have a friend of Kerthin’s assigned to digging latrines.”
He laughed, and Bram smiled weakly.
He was helping Orris hang plastic sheeting to enclose a small area for women with small children when the expeditionary force filed by on its way to the tunnel entrance. It consisted of more than half of Penser’s available personnel — the fittest and toughest-looking men and a handful of women. Evidently Penser’s judgment was that about fifty of the trained combatants, plus the more sedentary reserves, would be sufficient to keep the cowed tree dwellers and their junketing friends under control.
The formidable-looking troop was loaded down with makeshift pikes, clubs, axes, bottles of inflammables, and lumpy sacks containing what Bram supposed were the claylike balls that exploded when you lit the wicks that were embedded in them. The section leaders carried the gray hand-held electrical devices — evidently there weren’t enough of them to go around.
Pite was among them, a club in his hand and a knife lashed to a short stick dangling from his belt. The electrical weapon was looped over his shoulder.
He saw Bram and came over.
“Sorry we can’t take you with us, Brammo,” he said, mockery in-his voice. “I don’t know if you’d fit in just yet. But it won’t take us long to clean out the yellowlegs. Then we’ll send a couple of the lads to fetch you. We might need a biologist to tell us if the Nar at the pumping station in the trunk is feeding in the right hormones to make the leaves spread for travel.”
“That was a filthy thing you did to the Nar you captured, Pite,” Bram said evenly.
“He was the lucky one,” Pite said with a V-shaped grin, and rejoined his men.
Bram watched them march off down the broad main corridor until they were out of sight around a bend. His stomach was churning. He looked down at his hand and found that he had made a fist.
“Don’t let it get you down,” a voice said behind him. “There’s nothing you can do.”
Bram turned and saw Jao, the red-bearded physicist who was migrating to Juxt One to become a brewmaster. The jaunty smile was in place, but it seemed a bit forced.
“There has to be a way,” Bram said.
It occurred to him that unless something was done soon, Jao would not be seeing Juxt One. But then, it must have occurred to Jao, too.
Jao gave a hairy-shouldered
shrug. “I was down a secondary branch working with my yeast vats when they took over. They sent a couple of very competent fellows to come get me. It took about ten minutes for their team to empty out all the subbranches in that area. You don’t argue with those fellows.”
“You look as if they scuffed you up a little,” Bram said. “You should have gone quietly.”
Jao had streaks of dirt across his forehead and forearms, and his singlet was marked with grimy spots. “Me? No. I’ve been digging latrines. They put them in the cabbage patch. After all the care we gave those seedlings. I tried to tell them, but they wouldn’t listen. We won’t be able to grow anything there but bush crops now.” He heaved a mighty sigh. “I suppose when you haven’t had the experience of living aboard a tree, things like that don’t matter to you. But they’d better learn fast.”
“How are they going to get to the Nar sector?”
“There’s a transportation system through the tracheids and dry ducts. Not continuous, because the treefitters used existing channels, but it won’t take them long to find the transfer points.”
“How long will it take them to reach the Nar sector?”
“With a gang that size and the need to maintain surprise, probably ten or twelve hours. They’ll be doing a lot of it on foot, taking detours. If you or I were to go straight up by crawlbubble and cable pod, we could do it in an hour.”
“If there were only some way to warn the Nar.”
Jao shook his fiery mane. “The communication line’s under guard, and all the radios’ve been confiscated.”
“The Nar they took prisoner!” Bram said desperately. “He’ll be missed.”
“Maybe,” Jao said. “After six or seven hours. If he was due back, that is. And by the time they spend the next few hours looking for him, it’ll all be over. As for me, I’m going to get myself a bowl of soup over at that pot they’ve got going and let the big brains worry about what happens next. Coming with me?”
“Not right now,” Bram said. “I’m going to see if I can get permission to help that Nar prisoner.”
The decapod’s name was Sesh-akh-sesh, and he was in a bad way. Bram propped him at an angle and poured a trickle of water down his gullet from a bucket he had found. After a while a little color came back to the ciliated lining, and Bram felt the tentacles stiffen a little.
“Thank you,” the Nar said. A couple of the primary eyes focused cloudily on Bram. Bram could see the burn marks from the electrical device Pite had used near the lower waist: a circle of round dots that were raw purple against the yellow skin.
“I’m sorry, but there’s no food here that you’d be able to eat,” Bram said. “I’ll see what I can do about that later on.”
The food, Bram thought somberly, would have to come from the Nar sector of the tree. One way or the other.
“I do not desire to eat,” Sesh-akh-sesh said. “But you are thoughtful.”
“I’ll try to get something from the human medical supplies to treat that burn, though. A nonorganic ointment ought to be all right.”
He wondered how much success he’d have persuading his captors to get him a medical kit from the living quarters. They had allowed him to drag Sesh-akh-sesh to a spot where he’d be more comfortable and to do for him whatever he could, but they had declined to give him a hand. They didn’t seem to care at all what happened to the injured Nar. And Bram’s fellow detainees were skirting this section of the platform or looking on furtively from a distance, afraid to get involved.
The decapod struggled to raise himself slightly. “You are the Bram who is the protégé of Voth-shr-voth, are you not?” he said.
“Yes,” Bram said, startled. “I am that Bram.”
“He spoke to me of you, and from the core. You are as harmonious as he said you are. One has the illusion almost of touch behind your words in the Small Language.”
“You know Voth, then?”
“I have that honor. We both were chosen as members of the certification commission making final inspection of this tree.”
“What? Voth here, on the tree?”
“Surely you knew that?”
“N-no. I mean I didn’t realize …” Bram remembered that Voth had said something to that effect, but he hadn’t paid much attention at the time. All of a sudden a terrible thought struck him.
“Sesh-akh-sesh,” he said urgently. “The humans who attacked you said there were two of you. That you were the lucky one. Is Voth
The decapod began trembling. His nervous system had been overtaxed by the electrical shocks. He must have been under considerable strain trying to preserve the normal Nar amenities with Bram.
“I don’t understand …” Sesh lost control of voice production for a moment, and there was that peculiar wailing sound again as his vocal syrinx went flabby and wind sighed at random through its air passages. “We saw the humans and greeted them, but they did not reply, and then they were on us like omophage beasts with sticks and sharp things. My touch fellow tried to flee, and they hacked him down. I tried to speak in comity, but then, at the touch, I was helpless …”
“You got a severe electric shock. Then they did it to you again, here. Sesh-akh-sesh, you must tell me. Was your companion Voth?”
The decapod recovered from his momentary confusion. “No, Voth-shr-voth did not come to the human zone today. He was to inspect the biological systems at the central pumping station.”
Bram felt his knees go weak with relief. But it was only temporary. Voth was in great danger. He leaned over the shivering decapod. “Thank you, Sesh-akh-sesh. This is a terrible thing. Please believe that all humans are not to blame. These creatures that attacked you are indeed like phage beasts. But they prey on us as well as on you.”
The decapod repeated, “I do not understand,” and Bram knew that whatever the outcome of Penser’s mad adventure, the Nar would never look at their human creations in the same way again.
Pseudonight obscured the far reaches of the immense xylem cavity and turned the huddled shapes of sleeping people into vague silvery silhouettes. The bright tubes needed for photosynthesis had dimmed about an hour ago, leaving only a tracery of biolights providing enough illumination to mimic a fabric of spun stars. Here and there a sudden brutal dazzle of uncovered biolanterns showed where Penser’s jailers were checking on sleepers.
Bram lay motionless under his blanket, waiting for his guard to doze off again. He’d seen the man’s head nodding twice, but both times the guard had jerked himself awake again. He was about twenty feet away. He’d made himself comfortable, too comfortable, with his back against a plant tub and his hand resting lightly on the end of the club that he’d laid conveniently on the ground beside him.
Orris had been a nuisance. He had come to squat beside Bram after the lights went out, to worry out loud about the effect that all the excitement might have on Marg’s pregnancy. Bram was a biologist. Did he know if stress and the hardship of sleeping on the bare floor could cause her to lose the implant? Bram had soothed him, but had intimated that it could not hurt to return to Marg’s side and give her a sense of security. At last Orris had taken the hint and stumbled off in the dark to rejoin his bride.
There were two guards at the tunnel mouth nearest Bram’s spot, one on either side. One of them, Bram had noted, was restless. He kept deserting his post to talk to the man opposite, or to wander a little way uptunnel, or to visit the latrine. The latrine was on the opposite side of the tunnel mouth, and people from Bram’s side had to cross in front of the two guards to get to it. They received a desultory glance in the subdued glow of the biolight tube that traversed the lower reaches of the dome in the area unless they stopped to loiter in front of the entrance or look down the tunnel. In that case, one or the other of the guards would tell them to move on.
Bram had a secret — a small knife he had found in the medical kit that the Penserites had grudgingly allowed him to borrow from the miscellaneous supplies that had been retrieved from
the living quarters. If the Penser people had seen it in the kit, they hadn’t paid any attention to it. As a weapon it was worthless: The blade was blunt-pointed and only an inch or so long. It was made for slicing or scoring, not stabbing. But the blade was very sharp — sharp as a razor. Bram had it hidden under his garments, along with a roll of bandages.
Bram’s chaperone let his chin drop to his chest again, and this time it stayed there. After a moment, Bram heard a strangled snore.
He got to his feet carefully, leaving his blanket crumpled in a not very convincing semblance of a prone shape. If the guard woke up now, he would say that he had to visit the latrine. But he did not want the man wondering why he was taking so long. It would be fatal if the guard came after him to check and alerted the tunnel guards.
Trying not to look furtive, he navigated his way through the field of sleeping bodies. Someone else was coming back in the same direction, diluting any attention Bram might get — that was good. The restless tunnel guard gave Bram a cursory glance, then went back to talking to a female colonist who didn’t seem to mind consorting with her captors; perhaps she was one of the Penser sympathizers who had scouted out the layout of the tree for him.
Bram crouched behind the improvised screen that had been erected around the ditches in the cabbage patch. The screen consisted of black plastic tarpaulins draped over an arrangement of garden poles. Cautiously he worked one of the poles loose. The tarpaulin sagged a little at that point but was otherwise undisturbed. He peeked between the plastic sheets. The guard was still talking to the girl. So far Bram had attracted no notice. He got out the little knife and lashed it to the end of the garden pole with a length of bandage.
Now he had to wait. He put the pole down where it would be partially obscured by the skirt of the tarpaulin.
The Genesis Quest Page 27