‘Haven’t seen you since you tried to shoot me,’ he said affably.
‘The situation has changed,’ she said, still smiling. The tormented look she had worn when putting him ashore on the island had entirely gone now.
‘Since you appear to have lost interest in the political situation,’ Hjanderson said dryly, rising to his feet, ‘it remains for me only to tell you that you are now a free man, Mr Leslie. Moreover, I think I can mention that it is possible you may eventually get seme sort of decoration; the BDCE, probably.
‘I’ll wear it all the time,’ Tyne promised, ‘but before you go, please tell me about the invasion – what’s happening, what’s been done about it?’
‘Miss Ittai can tell you the details,’ Hjanderson said smiling and extending a sharp hand. ‘Now you must excuse me; I have a news conference to attend. I am, of course, delighted to have been able to see you. I wish you good luck for the future.’
‘Of course,’ Tyne murmured vaguely. He turned to Benda before Purdoe had shown the Governor-General out. ‘I’d prefer to ask you this over a restaurant table, but what’s been happening that I don’t know about?’
‘Perhaps the table can be arranged later,’ she said. ‘From now on – whether that is what I want or not – I am on your side of the fence. I cannot go back to my people. That is why I have told the Governor-General the truth as I have found it to be.
‘The invasion plans, as I think you have heard, are false. And not they only. The RPF also was a spurious organisation! Don’t mistake me – a lot of its members genuinely wished for peace between Rosk and Man as I did and still do myself. But Tawdell Co Barr is, and must always have been, a puppet of Ap II Dowl’s. No doubt we should all have been wiped out when we had served our purpose.’
‘Budo Budda was out to kill you as it was,’ Tyne said.
‘Oh quite; I was merely expendable, I fear. Even Budda would not have known the RPF was a dummy front – otherwise he would not have been after Murray. Only Ap II and Tawdell Co Barr are supposed to know.’
‘And how did you find out?’
She shrugged her shoulders, her face puckered as she recalled that horrible moment of revelation.
‘For some time, small events in the Base had made me suspicious, but I really knew what was happening when we crashed near Sumatra Base and they neither opened fire on us nor sent a party out to pick us up. Their silence could mean only one thing: the plans were intended only for UNC eyes. They were false, designed only to scare Earth.’
‘They certainly did that,’ Tyne agreed. ‘This clears up one point that has been bothering me. I’d been wondering what this spool of microfilm was doing on Luna in the first place. Obviously it was planted there where its journey to your base would attract maximum attention.’
Benda Ittai began to look moist about the eyes, as the treachery of her fellow beings struck her afresh. Turning to Purdoe, who stood sympathetically by, Tyne asked, ‘What was Ap II Dowl’s idea in all this?’
With a barely perceptible gesture, Purdoe led Tyne to the other side of the room.
‘This is all very sad for the young woman,’ he said in an official voice. ‘You see the invasion scare was Dowl’s last bluff. When confronted in the Council with our knowledge of the plans, he would probably have said that he would call the attacking fleet off if we’d give him all Sumatra, or perhaps Africa as well, or half the globe, or whatever his megalomaniac mind conceived. He’s got nothing to back a real threat, Leslie. This was pure bluff from start to finish. You were really ill-advised, if I may say so, to get mixed up in it.’
‘We’ve all been chasing around risking our necks,’ Tyne said testily, ‘just to serve Dowl’s purpose. But how are you so sure it’s all bluff?’
For answer, the governor pulled a message form from his pocket and unfolded it daintily. Tyne recognised the flimsy as a signal which had come through secret government channels.
‘This arrived just before I summoned you,’ Purdoe said. ‘Please read it. You will find it enlightening.’
The message read: ‘Circulation: Govt Levels A-C only and List 566 as specified. Text begins: Hoyle Observatory, Luna, confirms Alpha Centauri about to go nova. Increase to apparent magnitude Minus One expected by end of year. This temperature rise will be sufficient to render life on its planets untenable. Authoritative circles confirm that first signs of nova effect would have been observable locally three generations ago in sunspot and radio phenomena. Rosk ship may therefore be regarded as lifeboat; no doubt other lifeboats dispatched to other nearby systems. Therefore chances of invasion now highly improbable, repeat highly improbable. Suggested course of action: summit announcement of text of this action, with warning to Ap II Dowl to settle down or move on. Text ends. 10/10/2193 Luna-Singa-Beam Y.’
Tyne put the flimsy down, slowly, blankly. Round his head ran some lines from an historical solid, the name of which eluded him; ‘Thus enterprises of great pith and moment, With this regard their currents turn awry, And lose the name of action.’ Was it Shakespeare? He was confused; from the diplomatic point of view, this, of course, was a triumph. The Rosks stood revealed in all their weakness, and could now be squashed as Earth saw fit. Yet in Tyne’s head, the picture of oceans steaming, babies cooking slowly in cellars, planets gradually turning to ashes, seemed to him something less than a happy ending.
‘I must say I have marked you down,’ Governor Purdoe said, regarding Tyne coldly, ‘as rather a hard and impertinent young man. How typical of your generation that you should have no reaction of this great news!’
‘Good heavens!’ Tyne exclaimed. ‘I was just thinking –’
‘Forgive me if I interrupt; no doubt you were thinking of your own personal glory; I can read you like a book. When Governor-General Hjanderson gave you your freedom, I hoped it meant you would leave here at once. Will you please do so now? And one thing – please take Miss Ittai with you. I understand she has formed an attachment for you; for me, that will always remain the ultimate proof of Roskian misguidedness.’
Tyne looked hard at the old man, so neat, so smiling. With unexpected self-control, he swallowed his anger. He wanted to say that it would be impossible to understand a Rosk as long as it was impossible to understand a man, but the words did not come. There were no words; he realised he could comprehend Purdoe no more than Purdoe comprehended him.
Frustratedly, he turned to Benda Ittai. Here at least was someone worth trying to comprehend.
He felt like spending a life at it.
‘Let’s go and find that restaurant table I was telling you about,’ he said, taking her arm.
She smiled at him. It was a very comprehensible smile.
Fourth Factor
The stallion moved slowly, as if aware he was nearing the end of his journey. Behind him lay the foothills of the mountains, behind him the sage, the shaggy wild lupin trees, the fetlock-high grasses. Now the ground was tame and planted. He walked beside a barley field; geese ambled reluctantly out of his path. The girl on his back was limp, one down-trailing arm swinging with his every movement.
She lay awkwardly across the jolting saddle, eyes half-shut, drinking in details of the settlement. Her horse carried her among the buildings now. They were all single-storeyed, with at least two sides of them built entirely of glass; none of them had gardens; what sort of people could so dislike privacy?
A number of cows wandered among the buildings and along the tracks. No doubt it was thanks to them she managed to get so far into the settlement without being noticed. Then a dark, authoritative man loomed before her, making soothing noises to her mount. She caught sight of a hand stormed with wiry black hair seizing the rein, and gently closed her eyes.
The stallion stopped and began to crop grass.
‘Doctor Eileen!’ the dark man called. ‘Come and take a look here, will you?’
Footsteps approaching, light but definite.
‘Anything to record, Doctor Saul?’ asked an efficient female voice.
>
‘There’s a stranger here,’ the dark man addressed as Doctor Saul said. ‘Looks like she needs aid. Better help me get her off the horse.’
‘We can take her into Gavin’s place,’ the woman assented. ‘I’ve got her legs.’
By now, other people had collected, watching or helping as the limp body was lowered from the saddle and carried into the nearby building which Doctor Eileen had designated as ‘Gavin’s place’. Inside, the girl was placed gently on a low couch.
‘I hope you don’t mind a strange girl on your bed, Gavin,’ Doctor Eileen said. ‘Perhaps you’d better give me your reactions to the situation.’
The voice that answered her was a young man’s, hesitant yet eager.
‘I don’t mind, Doctor Eileen. I’m glad if it helps her – if she’s in trouble, I mean. Apart from her hair being a bit mussed, she’s very pretty. Attractive, you know. She’s welcome to the bed.’
‘Couldn’t you phrase your feelings more accurately than that?’ Doctor Eileen asked, a hint of frost in her tone. She sounded as if she had a pencil poised above a notebook: a sharp pencil.
‘Oh. Sorry,’ Gavin said, pulling himself together. ‘What I meant to say was that, uh, my natural urge to be of assistance to anyone in trouble – I suppose she’s got some sort of neurotic swoon on, huh? – is, uh, reinforced by the stimulus of her physical good looks.’
‘Better,’ Doctor Eileen approved. ‘In short, your altruism is mixed with sexual desire.’
‘I didn’t say that! Did I, Doctor Saul?’
‘Your personal doctor is the one best qualified to reveal your inner feelings,’ the Doctor answered gently. ‘Now I think we’d all best get outside and confer on this situation. There’s little wrong with this young lady. Perhaps when we have come to a decision regarding her, she will have recovered consciousness.’
‘You too seem slightly perturbed about her, Doctor,’ remarked Doctor Eileen, as they moved away. ‘What is your ostensible reason for that?’
‘She is a fugitive, Doctor Eileen, by the looks of things. Now her maladjustments are in our hands. If I am perturbed at all it is only because I foresee an increase in our crop of significant situations.’
Their voices faded as they went out, merging into the murmur of talk coming from the crowd outside.
The girl on Gavin’s couch lay quite still, recalling in complete puzzlement the conversation she had just heard. Of course, she had been warned to look out for something odd … It had been all she could do to keep her eyes shut.
She opened them now.
With a shock, she found that, instead of the room’s being empty, as she had expected, a young man with a mournful expression was sitting close by, regarding her. He leant forward with an elbow on a knee. Their eyes met. His pallor changed to a pale port wine colour.
‘Uh …’ he said. He stood up and smiled diffidently. Perhaps he was twenty-three, her own age; only his complete lack of self-assurance made him look her junior.
You must be Gavin, she thought. And you are still under the stimulus of my good looks. But she kept her expression serious, fluttered her eyelids, and said drowsily, ‘Where am I?’
‘Are you feeling better?’ the young man asked. ‘There’s a mug of water here, if you feel up to taking a sip.’
He held it for her while she drank. It was good; she gasped with its coldness.
‘Now I feel well enough to talk a little,’ she said. ‘My name’s Dora; what’s yours?’
‘I’m Gavin Prouse. I – Oh, but I’ve just remembered.’ He became very agitated, and began to recite: ‘A complete cure cannot develop without complete data. To possess complete data, the Doctor must be present at every significant situation.’
‘What does all that mean?’ Dora asked, propping herself up on one elbow.
‘Why, it’s the basis of the whole treatment!’ Gavin exclaimed. ‘It means I mustn’t get into a significant situation with you; it would impede the analysis of my case. You mean to say you don’t know that?’
‘I can’t quite grasp it,’ Dora said cautiously.
He smiled with relief at her, and radiance replaced the lost look. For a moment his face was frank and handsome.
‘That’s my trouble too,’ he said. ‘Eileen – my Doctor – sometimes despairs of me. She says I oughtn’t to marry Jean until I’ve a better grasp of basic principles.’
Thrusting his hands in his pockets, he looked moodily through the glass wall behind the bed. Out in the sunshine, the conference was proceeding; Gavin detected Doctors Eileen and Saul among the crowd. It seemed to Dora, as she followed Gavin’s gaze, an odd sort of conference. Short bursts of talk were punctuated by silences in which most of the crowd took out pencil and paper and made copious notes. This settlement qualified for a high nonsense rating altogether, as far as she was concerned.
Gavin caught the puzzlement on her face. Instinctively, he reached out and patted her hand – withdrawing it instantly as if it had been burned.
‘I’d better go and get someone to act as locum for me till Doctor Eileen comes back,’ he mumbled, cheeks red again, ‘ – before this significant situation gets any more significant.’
He galloped out of the room, pausing only at the door.
‘I’ll be back,’ he said.
There was nothing in Gavin’s room to hold Dora’s attention: no ornament, no picture, no book; nor was she to see such things during her stay in the settlement. The furniture of the room, reduced to a minimum, was obviously home-made, solid but without style. Only something which stood in one corner and looked like a filing cabinet seemed out of keeping with the generally spartan air.
She was ready to sleep; the uncomfortable ride, stomach down across the horse’s back, had tired her. But just as she began to doze, Gavin returned with four other people.
They crowded round Dora’s couch, staring at her with a wonderful mixture of eagerness, fear, curiosity and welcome. Two of them were women – one a matron, the other no older than Gavin – one was a girl of perhaps fifteen, and the fourth was a white-haired man in his sixties, whom Dora took to immediately because he resembled Gavin and had the same mild manner.
‘I thought everyone was at the conference,’ Dora said finally, when it seemed as if nobody else was going to speak.
‘Oh, the conference is only for Doctors and Doctors’ doctors, naturally,’ Gavin replied, peering at her over the youngest girl’s shoulder. ‘We’re all patients; we don’t confer.’
‘She’s rather pretty,’ remarked the girl of Gavin’s age, in tones anything but commendatory.
‘That remark ought to be writ down,’ the old man said. ‘It’s a clue to your whole character, Jean, and Doctor Betty ought to have access to it.’
They began fishing for notebooks and pencils.
Ye Gods! Dora thought, patients is right – mental patients! Meanwhile, my patience is becoming exhausted.
She sat up and said pointedly, ‘Gavin, don’t you think you’d better introduce me to these – people?’
‘Uh, of course,’ Gavin said guiltily. ‘I was forgetting. I wonder why? Better make a note to tell Doctor Eileen; forgetfulness generally masks something pretty serious.’
‘Just you mind you ’fess up, Gavin!’ the youngest girl cried. ‘You just made a camouflaged plea of inadequacy and you know it.’
Gavin caught her by a skinny arm and dragged her in front of Dora.
‘This is my kid sister, Henrietta Prouse,’ he announced. ‘She’s the bright one of the family. Very likely she won’t be a patient.’
‘I’m gonna be a Doctor and find out more complexes than you ever dreamed of!’ Henrietta shrilled, skipping out of Gavin’s reach.
‘And this is my, uh, mother, Mrs. Maud Prouse. Mother, Miss Dora James.’
The matronly lady thrust out a hand and gripped Dora’s tightly. Her eyes gleamed with military good will, her chin jutted with benevolence.
‘We hope you’ll feel more than integrated while you’re wi
th us, Miss James,’ she said. ‘We welcome you to our familial conflict.’
‘Thank you, I’m sure. I’ll try not to add to your troubles.’
‘Ah, a deliberate, I see,’ Mrs. Prouse boomed. ‘So glad, m’dear. I’m the immediate type. The assertion–depression balance between us should be excellent.’
‘And this,’ Gavin said – rather hurriedly, Dora thought, and wondered if that was significant – ‘is my trial fiancée, Jean.’
He pushed forward the girl who had spoken of Dora as pretty. Jean qualified for the description herself. She had a good figure and a delicate face in which any token of weakness was belied by her penetrating eyes. They seemed to be especially penetrating when they turned on Dora.
‘Delighted,’ she said icily.
‘Likewise,’ Dora agreed. She thought: there’s something about that woman makes me want to push her over a cliff. It’s nothing personal; I just know she isn’t good for poor Gavin.
‘Uh, well,’ Gavin said. ‘Now we’ve all got to know each other – oh, sorry, Gramp! Almost forgot about you. Suppose Doctor Eileen ought to know about that too. Dora, this is my grandfather, Mark Prouse. Gramp, meet Dora.’
The old man came closer to the bed and extended a hand. His face was brown and amiable looking, Dora thought, all the nicer for a few wrinkles.
‘You don’t need to worry about me,’ he said, winking companionably at the girl. ‘When a fellow’s too old for a Doctor, he’s pretty unimportant.’
‘You mean – you’re cured?’ Dora asked.
‘No sir! I’m classified Incurable. Don’t you know that when a man’s fifty-five he’s judged beyond the help of Doctors? They let him alone then.’
At this Dora laughed; then she saw from the expressions round her that Mark had intended no joke and she lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.
‘No sir!’ Mark repeated. ‘No one’s ever heard of anyone being really properly cured.’
The Complete Short Stories- The 1950s - Volume One Page 62