Shakedown

by Terrance Dicks

  Bernice considered. ‘You say these bandits prey on passing travellers?’

  ‘Regrettably, that is so.’

  ‘They can’t make much of a living.’

  ‘I do not follow the logic of your argument.’

  ‘One landing a day? And today, only one traveller? Not what I’d call rich pickings.’

  Hapiir gave a high-pitched whistle of exasperation.

  ‘This is a quiet time. When full term begins, there will be many landings and many travellers.’

  ‘And another thing,’ said Bernice. ‘That bandit knew my name. He wasn’t just some casual airway robber, he was waiting for me.’

  This time there was a little silence before Hapiir replied.

  Then he said reluctantly, ‘It is feared that there are those on the University staff who sell information. If the bandits learn of the arrival of a distinguished visitor they set an ambush. You are an archaeologist, are you not? No doubt the bandit hoped you were carrying valuable alien artifacts. He planned to take you to the inner desert and rob you.’

  ‘That sounds like a hell of a well organized operation,’ said Bernice. ‘I thought this place was a haven of peace and scholarship. It’s beginning to sound more like good old Chicago. Do any of your visitors make it back home alive?’

  ‘Thousands of scholars visit Sentarion every year,’ said Hapiir. ‘Most of them enjoy a happy and rewarding stay. Please do not judge us by this one unfortunate incident. Now, if you will forgive me, I must concentrate on piloting the ‘thopter. You would not wish to experience two crash landings in one day.’

  Hapiir’s jaws closed with an audible click and Bernice sat back in her seat, allowing him the last word. It was all plausible enough, she thought. But was it true?

  They were high over the city by now, and Bernice studied it in fascination. Incredibly, it all seemed to be one huge building, stretching as far as she could see. Or rather a series of buildings linked by passages and walkways at every level. The buildings resembled fantastic castles, decorated with towers and turrets and battlements and spires. They were constructed from some gleaming white crystalline substance, shot through with occasional flares of colour. In between the castles were squares with fountains and patches of vivid green that looked like parks and gardens.

  Far below her tiny figures scurried across the walkways, moving from one building to another. Ornithopters of all colours, shapes and sizes fluttered between the towers like giant moths.

  Bernice leaned forward. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she said.

  ‘It is the City,’ said Hapiir proudly. ‘Once it was a handful of buildings in an oasis, the home of a few poor scholars. Gradually it grew. Room after room was added, dwelling after dwelling, libraries, dormitories, laboratories...Now it is as you see.’

  The ornithopter swooped down between the buildings and glided to land on a ramp that projected from one of the towers. Spindly green figures hurried out and secured it with ropes, dragging it into a huge airy chamber. Bernice climbed down and looked around. There were rows and rows of ornithopters with folded wings. Even as she watched, one moved towards the ramp.

  Reflecting that a car park was a car park anywhere in the cosmos, Bernice turned and saw that Hapiir was bowing formally.

  ‘Welcome to Sentarion, Domina,’ he said. ‘I hope you will forget the unfortunate incident of your arrival and enjoy a fruitful and rewarding stay with us.’

  ‘What did you call me?’ asked Bernice curiously.

  ‘Domina. It is the customary term of address for distinguished female scholars.’ Hapiir looked anxiously at Bernice, taking in her dusty jeans, worn field-boots and many-pocketed safari-jacket. ‘You are a female? My experience with alien species is rather limited.’

  ‘Don’t worry, you got it right,’ said Bernice.

  ‘Our current Chancellor is a historian and the universities of Old Earth are his special field. We have adopted many of their customs and practices. He is looking forward to meeting you.’

  ‘Not like this,’ said Bernice firmly. ‘First I need to clean up and change.’

  ‘If you will follow me, I will take you to your quarters.’

  Clad in the gorgeous scarlet robes of a Master of Arts of the University of Antares, Bernice followed Hapiir along a wide crystal colonnade that ran along the outside of the tower.

  (Her quarters had turned out to be a bare cell-like room with a bunk bed, a table, a chair and some simple sanitary arrangements. It was evident that Sentarion was a place for plain living and high thinking.)

  Other life-forms strolled along the lofty colonnade, some human or humanoid, others not. Many were insectoid, like Hapiir, though with an astonishing number of variations in basic size and shape. Quite a number wore the same odd-looking head-dress, a round cap surmounted with a square board, with an ornamental tassel in the centre.

  As they passed Bernice, these head-dresses were solemnly raised. Equally solemnly, Bernice inclined her head inside her scarlet hood.

  ‘Considering that they’d originally been made for the Doctor, the robes fitted her surprisingly well. The Doctor, as he modestly said, was a Doctor of practically everything. With so many degrees, he could easily spare one for her.

  Some day, vowed Bernice, she’d go to university, complete her studies and become a real professor not a fake one. Some day...

  They turned off the colonnade, went down a short corridor hung with rich tapestries, and halted outside a set of double doors. The doors swung open, and Hapiir waved Bernice inside. The doors closed behind her.

  She found herself in a big comfortable study, its walls lined with books – not discs or tapes or holovid reels but actual books! A richly coloured carpet covered the floor, there were massive leather armchairs, polished mahogany tables, old pictures on the walls in massive gold frames.

  Behind the huge leather-topped desk on the other side of the room, a towering figure rose and came forward to greet her.

  Bernice found she could take the Lord Chancellor’s appearance in her stride. An outsize beetle had tried to assassinate her and she’d been given a big grasshopper for her guide.

  Why shouldn’t the Lord Chancellor be a giant soldier ant?

  The Chancellor’s shiny black segmented body was wrapped in a long black academic gown and one of the strange hats was perched on his narrow insectoid head. Glowing black eyes, ablaze with intelligence, studied her intently, and a fore-claw reached up and raised the incongruous academic hat. ‘Greetings, Domina.’

  The voice was deep and mellow.

  Bernice bowed low. ‘Greetings, my Lord Chancellor.’

  The deep voice went on, ‘You come to us, recommended not only by your own most excellent qualifications’ – a claw gestured towards her academic robes and Bernice felt a twinge of shame – ‘but also by your association with our old friend the Doctor.’

  Does the Doctor have well-placed and influential friends everywhere in the cosmos? thought Bernice. Yes, he probably does.

  ‘For the Doctor’s sake, I pledge the University’s aid,’ said the Chancellor. ‘How may we assist you?’

  ‘I am conducting research into the Rutan-Sontaran conflict.’ There was a moment of silence.

  ‘I could wish you had chosen some other subject,’ said the Chancellor regretfully. ‘But a pledge is a pledge, and I owe the Doctor much.’ He paused. ‘Both for his sake and yours, I must warn you to proceed with discretion. Both races are secretive and suspicious – paranoid even. Your researches may be resented, perhaps opposed. Sentarion is not always as safe as it may seem.’

  ‘I’ve discovered that for myself,’ said Bernice deliberately. ‘I ran into a specimen of your local bandits as soon as I arrived. One of the Harrubtii...’

  She gave him a brief account of events at the spaceport.

  The Chancellor listened with absorbed interest. When she had finished he said, ‘My most profound apologies for your unhappy experience. However, you seem to have coped with it most resourcefully.’
He paused for a moment. ‘Who told you the Harrubtii were robbers?’

  ‘My assigned mentor, Hapiir.’

  ‘Strange that he should make such an elementary mistake.’

  ‘I don’t understand, Lord Chancellor.’

  ‘The Harrubtii would think robbery beneath them. One could scarcely call them bandits.’

  ‘What are they then?’

  ‘They are assassins.’

  ‘Why should they want to kill me?’

  ‘Why indeed? Usually, the Harrubtii only kill each other; they engage in endless blood-feuds. Occasionally, however, for an important customer and for a very high fee, they will hire out their services.’ The Chancellor settled back in his chair, folding his six legs. ‘I regret to say, Domina Bernice, that someone very rich and very powerful desires your death.’

  ‘But that’s impossible,’ said Bernice. ‘Why should anyone want to kill me? I accept what you say about my research, but surely no one would kill me to stop me doing it?’

  ‘Perhaps there may be some other reason,’ said the Chancellor. ‘Strangely enough, given their profession, the Harrubtii are also our greatest religious zealots. If they thought you intended to pry into matters of religion, they would be totally ruthless. Possibly someone has misinformed them as to the purpose of your visit?’

  Possibly someone has, thought Bernice. If, as the Lord Chancellor had suggested, someone wanted her dead, putting the local religious fanatics on her trail would be a very good way to achieve it.

  That someone must know of her mission and be ready to go to any lengths to stop her succeeding. Which meant that there was something on Sentarion for her to find out.

  Maybe her trip to Sentarion wasn’t such a sideshow after all.

  4

  Blasphemer

  Bernice Summerfield was silent and thoughtful as she made her way back along the endless colonnade.

  Her guide Hapiir gave her a worried look.

  ‘You seem preoccupied, Domina. Your interview with the Chancellor did not go well?’

  ‘Perfectly well, thank you. The Chancellor was most charming.’

  ‘Yet you seem concerned. Is something troubling you?’

  ‘Yes. You are, actually.’

  ‘But in what way, Domina?’

  ‘I was wondering why you told me the Harrubtii were simply bandits. Your Chancellor says they are assassins. He said they were religious zealots as well. He seemed to think that someone might have told them I intended to pry into their religious secrets. Why didn’t you tell me any of this?’

  Hapiir glanced round, lowering his voice to make sure they were not overheard. ‘I was ashamed, Domina, afraid that you would think we were barbarians on Sentarion. Also, I wished to spare you alarm.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘To be attacked by casual bandits is bad enough. But to be the target of the Harrubtii – they are relentless fanatics.’

  ‘Wouldn’t it have been better to tell me the truth? If I know the real danger, I have a better chance of dealing with it.’

  ‘That may well be so, Domina. My intentions were for the best. If I was in error, I am very sorry.’

  Hapiir sounded sincere enough, thought Bernice. All the same, he was one of the few to know the time of her arrival.

  He hadn’t turned up to the rescue until she had dealt with things herself.

  And not telling her of her real danger made her an easier target for any future attack.

  Hapiir had tried to play down the assassination attempt from the beginning. Perhaps he was just concerned to keep up the good name of the University, as he claimed. Or perhaps he had other motives.

  They turned off the colonnade and walked along the narrow corridor that led to her quarters.

  Hapiir paused by her door. ‘Dinner will be served in the Great Hall very soon, Domina. You will hear the bell. You can find your way by following the others. I will meet you tomorrow morning in the Main Library at the beginning of the First Quarter. Anyone will tell you the way.’

  Inclining his tall spindly body in a bow, Hapiir turned and scuttled away with unseemly haste, as if anxious to avoid more awkward questions. Or perhaps he was just embarrassed. There was just no way of knowing who you could trust.

  Telling herself she was rapidly becoming paranoid, Bernice pushed open her door – and found the contents of her pack scattered all over the room.

  It had been tipped out and the contents thoroughly searched. It could hardly have been Hapiir, he’d been with her – except when she’d been in the Lord Chancellor’s study. Would he have had time? Of course, there was no reason to assume he was working alone. He could have tipped off an accomplice that she was out of her room.

  Even if Hapiir was innocent, it was quite possible that her mysterious enemies – the Harrubtii perhaps, or whoever was behind them – would have agents amongst the University staff and servants.

  Cursing silently to herself, Bernice took off her scarlet robes, changed into dark trousers and tunic, and set about tidying away her things into the built-in shelves and cupboards provided. At first she thought nothing had actually been stolen. Then she realized – her blaster had gone.

  By the time she finished her task the clamour of a great bell was echoing along the corridors.

  Draining the last of her Eridanean brandy to give herself courage, Bernice went out into the corridor and joined the stream of hungry scholars heading for dinner.

  The Great Hall was a huge cathedral-like space, with an elaborately decorated arched roof. It was filled with row upon row of stone tables and stone benches, arranged on two levels. The lower level filled the body of the hall. At the back of the hall, a smaller number of tables ran along a raised dais.

  The lower tables were mostly unoccupied and Bernice realized that this was because term hadn’t started yet. Only the staff of the University and visiting scholars, like herself, were in residence.

  Unsure of her place in the academic scheme of things, Bernice found a seat at one of the smaller tables on the dais, already half-filled by an assortment of human, humanoid and non-human scholars.

  Scurrying beetle-like servants hurried about the hall, carrying steaming tureens of soup, loaves of coarse bread, great bowls of fruit and salad, and earthenware jugs.

  As soon as Bernice sat down, one of them poured her a bowl of soup. Another poured a glass of sparkling green liquid from a jug. She swigged it down and grimaced. It was fruit juice.

  ‘If you were hoping for champagne, or even a simple vin de planet, you’re out of luck,’ said a voice from the other side of the table.

  Bernice looked up and saw a large, plump, red-faced, white-bearded man in an embroidered tunic. He had a sunburned bald head, sparkling blue eyes, and the broken-veined nose of a dedicated drinker.

  ‘The Sentarrii believe that alcohol clouds the intellect and blurs reality,’ he went on.

  ‘Well, of course it does,’ said Bernice. ‘Otherwise there’d be no point in drinking.’

  He held out his hand. ‘Professor Lazio Zeman. Xenosociology.’

  ‘Professor Bernice Summerfield. History and Archaeology.’

  They shook hands.

  ‘I hope they haven’t passed a Prohibition law,’ said Bernice. ‘I once visited a town where they tried that. It didn’t work.’

  ‘Prohibition only applies on University premises,’ said Zemar. ‘There are a few low dives scattered around the University, mostly in Old Town. They cater for the alien element – meaning us! I think I can claim to know them all.’

  Bernice looked hard at him. He looked amiable and harmless – and she had to start finding her way around sooner or later.

  ‘You wouldn’t care to show a newcomer around, would you?’

  He bowed his head. ‘I should be most happy to give you a guided tour.’

  Bernice finished her vegetable soup and helped herself to a bowl of chopped green salad.

  ‘You’re on! All this healthy living is getting me down.’ />
  While they ate, Zemar gave her a quick run-down on Sentarion society. ‘There are an infinite number of variations, but just three main divisions. The smaller black ones are the workers, the builders, the cleaners and servants – like the excellent creatures looking after us now. They work hard, speak little and never complain. The green ones are civil servants and functionaries. They are meticulous and pedantic, obsessed with rules and correct behaviour. You‘ll be assigned one as a mentor.’

  Bernice selected a peach-like fruit from the bowl on the table. ‘I’ve already got him. His name’s Hapiir.’

  ‘An excellent fellow,’ said Zemar. ‘You couldn’t do better. Where was I? Finally we have the dominant species, the Sentarrii themselves. Highly evolved, dispassionately intelligent, devoted to scholarship in all its forms. A most mysterious species.’

  ‘Mysterious how?’

  ‘The Sentarrii evolved from soldier-ants – one of the most implacably ferocious life-forms in the universe. Yet at some stage in their history they underwent a kind of mass conversion, and dedicated themselves to non-violence and to scholarship. At the same time their technology made a kind of quantum leap.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  Like most academics, Zemar couldn’t resist the temptation to lecture. ‘Most technological civilizations evolve in much the same way. Fossil fuels, steam-power, the internal combustion engine – and then atomics. It’s only when they’ve already polluted most of their planet that people start looking for something better. But the Sentarrii bypassed all that and went straight for electricity – with solar power as their prime energy source.’

  Apparently the crystalline rock of which all the buildings were built actually stored solar energy. Entire buildings acted as giant storage units.

  ‘The ornithopters are solar-powered as well,’ Zemar explained. ‘There are solar panels on the wings – they replenish their energy as they fly. So, no roads, no rail, ships, no hovercraft – and no pollution. The ‘thopters take care of all transport. They’re not fast but they’re cheap, and they keep going for ever.’

  ‘What about space travel?’

  ‘They don’t bother with it. They let the cosmos come to them!’