Planet Probability

by Brian N Ball

  The Director shrugged. They were nothing to him.

  “Reinstated.”

  Liz whispered that she was resigning, but the Director had no interest. She left the low blue-pulsing room wondering what would become of Spingarn.

  Marvell said wistfully: “I wish there was some record of us, Liz! How about ape-men? But we could never do the body structuring—not real, I mean.”

  Liz smiled tolerantly.

  “That Alien helping me! Look what it did with Spingarn —imagine Marvell and the Alien in Plotting! What a combination!”

  “I think I’ll go to see Ethel,” said Liz.

  There were important matters to discuss.

  “Captain!” roared Hawk as they reached the inner recesses of Frames Control. “Look where the poxy dogs have brought me—loon-faced clockwork monkeys!”

  Deneb had gone, and Spingarn was before the robots who called themselves the Guardians. Squat and impressive, they had more authority than any human. All the long years of the accumulation of knowledge and understanding were at their steely fingertips. Why had the evil Director sent him into this robotic sanctuary?

  The robots raised steel claws in salute.

  “Four of ’em!” Hawk spat disgustedly. “And ’Orris babbling like a maniac out there! What’s an old soldier to make of it, eh, Captain?”

  “I don’t know either, Sergeant.”

  There was a strangely pitying look in the metal faces.

  “You were almost successful, Spingarn!” one of the Guardians announced.

  Almost…

  Spingarn sensed again some factor he could not calculate swimming below the level of his consciousness. Mazes of uncertainties and the higher math of Probability Curves danced through his consciousness. A sense of purpose was there too.

  “It’s gone,” Spingarn said firmly. “Gone.”

  “According to our readings, yes,” the second Guardian said. “Almost certainly gone, at least for a longer time than is necessary for the human race to consider.”

  Spingarn felt the long aeons of time carving tunnels through the Alien’s bizarre presence. When humans were no more, would it still live in its approximation of being?

  “There are still certain anomalies, you see, Spingarn,” the third robot suggested.

  “Aye!” muttered Hawk. “More Frog talk! Bowels of God, Captain, ye have a strange acquaintance!”

  “Wait, Sergeant,” commanded Spingarn.

  The first Guardian spoke again for all.

  “The Head of Disaster Control mentioned certain areas where your own random procedures were operative.”

  The four metal figures waited.

  Spingarn shivered. More of those blazing, weird adventures? But what of Ethel? The twins?

  “Deneb said he could clear them.”

  “He was wrong,” the fourth Guardian said. “You see, neither he nor his agents have your unique abilities.”

  “Or your experience,” the first Guardian added.

  “Knew the Devil of Devils wouldn’t be put down so easily!” snorted Hawk. “Cunning boggarts!”

  Spingarn relaxed. “Go on,” he told the Guardians.

  After all, he was the Probability Man.

  Ethel was unsurprised when he told her of the instructions he had received. She smiled, assured him that she was well-provided for—which she was—and asked when he would return. Spingarn was quite sure she did not listen to his answer.

  “I’m taking the sergeant,” he said.

  “What a good idea!”

  “And Horace.”

  “Now that is sensible! I wonder if Liz can come over for a little farewell supper. I’ll see!”

  The black and white collie bitch wagged her tail and followed Ethel.

  The ship was stained with the patina of galactic dust and cosmic radiance. Ethel brought the twins to see it shimmer, hover for a few seconds in an uncanny radiance as it held for a while an unreal balance between electromagnetic and gravitational forces, and then vanish in a blaze of fragmented molecules that still rang with the violence of imploding energies.

  They blinked and stared solemnly. Ethel sighed.

  “Daddy’s gone!” she told them. “Gone to see if he can make another legend for you darlings to hear one day! Gone beyond the stars and through the dark!”

  They laughed now.

  “Gone to the Changed Worlds,” she said softly. “I saw them with your daddy once. He’ll come back and tell you what he did.” She looked at the ringing space where the ship had stood. “He’ll come back,” she said to herself now. “He’s a hard bastard. He’ll have to be.”