by Bob Shaw
occasional patches of subdued ochres to indicate land.
"It looks as though we could all end up with wet arses," he said somberly, gazing down through a porthole at the great convex shield of the planet.
It is not too late to abandon your insane scheme. Divivvidiv turned his black-drilled eyes towards Toller. There is nothing at all to prevent you from going home and living out your life in security and comfort.
"Are you trying to undermine our resolve?"
I am doing what you told me I must do in order to preserve my life—giving you sound information and advice.
"Do not become over-zealous," Toller said. "The only information I require from you at this stage concerns the drop to the surface. Are you positive you have made the due allowance for crosswinds? While 1 have no wish to descend in the sea, I have an equally strong aversion to the idea of landing in the heart of the city."
You can trust me—all relevant factors have been taken into consideration.
Divivvidiv had scarcely left his restraint net since the ship had been turned over at the midpoint of the flight, his time being spent in hushed meditation and the issuing of numerous demands for course and speed adjustments. Toller had formed the opinion that the alien, even with his awesome talents, had found it much more taxing to guide the ship while it was travelling "backwards" and he was referring to marker stars which were opposed to the direction of flight.
Now, however, with the ship in orbit at the fringes of Dussarra's atmosphere Divivvidiv was in a much more relaxed and accessible mood. It was obvious that he feared the descent through the planet's atmosphere, but—for some reason peculiar to his kind—the fact that it involved no hand-to-hand killing enabled him to face the ordeal with much the same fortitude as a reasonably courageous human.
He had already donned his silver skysuit in preparation for quitting the ship—an event due in less than one hour— and was concerning himself with his food supplies. When told that Kolcorronian rations consisted largely of strips of desiccated beef and fish, augmented by disks of compressed grain and dried fruit, he had insisted on bringing provisions of his own. The alien food seemed to consist mainly of varicolored cubes of tough jelly which had been wrapped in gold foil. Divivvidiv had taken a number of them from a pocket and was carefully scrutinizing the gleaming blocks, possibly in search of a tidbit.
Toller was again struck by his composure and, doing his utmost to foresee adverse factors, wondered if Divivvidiv was in possession of whole realms of knowledge of a kind which had not even been hinted at in all their telepathic exchanges. As an exercise in practical strategics, Toller tried to project his mind thousands of years into the future of the Kolcorronian civilization, with emphasis on the technology of warfare, and on the instant an alarming vision blossomed behind his eyes.
"Tell me something, greyface," he said. "That thing you call the Xa . . . It is a mere machine, isn't it?"
Basically—yes.
"And you have endowed it with the ability to see, with utmost clarity, objects which are thousands of miles away?"
Yes.
"It therefore seems eminently logical to me that your home world, the cradle of your civilization, would be plentifully provided with similar machines." Toller paused to let his words have effect and the alien was able to follow his line of thought unaided by speech.
You are quite wrong! Divivvidiv injected amusement into his reply. There are no devices detecting this ship and giving warning of its presence. We do not keep a watch on our skies. Why should we?
"To warn you of invading armies . . . enemy forces."
But where would such invaders come from? And why
should another culture act in a hostile manner towards Dussarra?
"Conquest," Toller said, beginning to wish he had never started the exchange. "The desire to conquer and rule. . . ."
That is tribal thinking, Toller Maraquine—it has no place among civilized communities. Divivvidiv returned his attention to the sorting of his food cubes.
"Complacency is the enemy of. . . ." Toller, to his annoyance, found himself unable to complete what he had hoped would be an aphorism. Becoming restless, he operated the handle of the air machine, mixing a fresh charge of firesalt with the water in its wire mesh reservoir. Divivvidiv had shown an interest in the device at the start of the flight, and had explained that air was made up of a mixture of gases, one of which—oxygen—supported life, fed fires and led to the rusting of iron. When firesalt came into contact with water it gave off copious quantities of oxygen, thus enabling the ship's crew to survive long journeys through interplanetary vacuum. Toller had made a written note of the new scientific knowledge for the benefit of interested parties back in Prad, even though he did not care to speculate on their chances of receiving it.
It would have been a simple matter to bring the ship down to a level where the surrounding air was breathable, shut down the main engine and bail out. That way they would have been quitting a vessel which appeared to be at rest, and the whole business of getting into the fallbags and linking them together would have been comparatively easy. However, Divivvidiv had objected that the inert ship would then follow roughly the same path down through the atmosphere as the three parachutists, arriving at the surface like a bomb which could possibly claim Dussarran lives.
Toller had not been unduly alarmed at that prospect—he regarded the entire alien population as sworn enemies—but he had accepted the argument that his bargaining position could be compromised by the unnecessary loss of life. There was also the consideration that he wanted to land stealthily, and not to the accompaniment of a huge explosion.
For those reasons the ship had been turned on its side after being brought into the atmosphere and had been aimed in a direction which, according to Divivvidiv, would allow it to fall harmlessly into the sea. The main engine was still firing, with the controls lashed at the minimum thrust setting, and now Toller and Steenameert were faced with the problem of keeping hold of their prisoner while abandoning a ship which was building up a respectable speed. Divivvidiv, being much lighter than the other two, would fall through the air at a lesser rate. He had only to get free once and the laws of physics would see to it that his escape was made good as the vertical separation between him and the humans increased.
Toller had been very much aware of the problem and had insisted on all three being connected by a single strong line before emerging from the ship. There was only one exit, which was located in the middle section, and it had been kept as small as possible to preserve the structural integrity of the hull. In consequence, the three had been forced to cling to one another in a kind of distasteful intimacy while Toller pulled back the greased bolts. The door was a truncated cone, so that interior pressure would force it tighter into the seals of the frame, and it took all the power of his free arm to wrench the crafted wooden disk backwards into the ship.
A howling blast of icy air battered at Toller's skysuit. Tightening his grip on Divivvidiv's slight figure and Steenameert's encircling arm, he launched all of them out into cold white sunlight. They tumbled in the ship's slipstream. An instant later their ears were assailed by a stuttering roar and the universe turned a blinding white as they were engulfed in the choking gases of the condensation trail.
The roiling dazzlement went on for a matter of seconds, and then they were adrift in the sterile sunlit air, hundreds
of miles above the surface of Dussarra. All about them was a panoply of stars, galaxies and frozen comets in which the ship's exhaust formed a glowing cloud as, holding to a freakishly steady course, the vessel dwindled from their perceptions. The only way now in which Toller could return to his home world was by using the alien magic of a matter transmitter, but he had little time at that stage to ruminate over the situation.
Being adrift in a planet's upper atmosphere, with nothing but thousands of miles of empty air yawning below, was a harrowing experience even for a veteran Kolcorronian skyman, and Toller knew it had to
be correspondingly worse for Divivvidiv. The alien was not quaking, but the movements of his arms and legs seemed aimless, and there were no wisps of mental communication from him.
"Let's get him into his fallbag before we all freeze to death," Toller said. Steenameert nodded and they drew themselves close to Divivvidiv on the common line. The alien's bulky parachute hampered them in the task of drawing the fleece-lined sack up over his head and adjusting the various closures and ventilation ring.
This is more comfortable than I had expected, Divivvidiv told them. I may be able to sleep and dream during the fall —but what will happen if I have difficulty in getting out of the bag when it is time to use the parachutes?
"Put your mind at ease," Toller called into the neck of the bag. "We will not allow you to bounce."
The scarf covering most of his face was already stiff with frozen exhalations and in spite of the protection of his skysuit he was beginning to shiver. He separated from the alien and struggled into his own fallbag, a job he accomplished slowly because of the awkward presence of his sword. He began to feel oddly guilty as he realized he was in a way looking forward to a spell in the bag's snug and undemanding warmth.
As soon as he had cocooned himself he closed his eyes and prepared to doze. He was falling towards the planet, but it was going to be quite some time before his speed built up enough to produce slipstream sounds. For the present all was quiet, and he was very tired, and nothing was required of him. . . .
Toller awoke an indeterminate time later and knew at once that there was darkness outside. Dussarra's shadow had swung round to encompass the three specks of life which, having surrendered themselves to the planet's gravity, were making the long pilgrimage from the fringes of space. Suddenly curious about how the alien world would look at night, Toller roused himself, opened the neck of the fallbag and peered out.
He could see the featureless shapes representing Steenameert and Divivvidiv close by, outlined against the silver blazes of the universe, but his gaze was captured and held by the spectacle of the enigmatic planet laid out below him. The visible hemisphere was mostly in darkness, with only a slim line of blue-white radiance adorning its eastern edge. Toller had seen Land and Overland in similar conditions many times, but there the areas where night held sway had always been dominated by a slumberous blackness which was only relieved by astronomical reflection. He was unprepared for his first glimpse of the nightside of a world which was the home of an advanced technical civilization.
The major land masses, which had appeared insignificant in daytime, were glittering networks of yellow light. Islands appeared brighter in contrast to the surrounding darkness, but even the oceans were plentifully speckled with points of brilliance which conjured in Toller's mind visions of gargantuan ships, as large as cities, engaged in global commerce. The planet might have been a vast metal sphere pierced in a million places to emit light from an interior source.
Toller gazed down at it for a long time and then, feeling subdued and chastened, pulled the neck of the fallbag
up over his head and closed it to shut out the intrusive cold.
He knew he had been deceived and trapped the instant his feet touched the ground.
The three parachutes had opened almost in unison above a night-black landscape in which the only sign of habitation was a thin line of lights, several miles away to the west. There had been no wind to complicate the touchdown for the inexperienced Divivvidiv, and Toller had felt a resurgence of his old optimism as the trio sank into a starlit expanse of grassland. He had prepared himself for a gentle impact, the sensation of his boots going into yielding turf, the feel and smell of grass. . . .
All visual indicators had remained unchanged. As far as the evidence of his eyes was concerned, Toller had touched down in what could have been the rolling savannahs of his home world. Steenameert and Divivvidiv were not far away to his left. They too were standing in grass—and yet Toller could feel flat masonry beneath his feet. He and his two companions were alone in an open stretch of empty pasture —and yet he could hear movement all around, sense the pressure of minds.
"Defend yourself, Baten," he shouted, drawing his sword. "We are betrayed!"
He turned towards Divivvidiv, snorting in his rage, but the swaddled figure of the alien was nowhere to be seen. It was as if he had ceased to exist.
Put the weapon down, Toller Maraquine. Divivvidiv's tone was both kindly and contemptuous. You are surrounded by more than a thousand stability officers—many of them armed —and any hostile action on your part will most surely result in your death.
Toller shook his head and spoke in a growl. "I can take many of them with me."
Possibly, but if that were the way of it you would never see your female again. She is only a few miles from here and within a matter of minutes you could be in her company. Alive you might, possibly, be of some comfort or service to her; but if you are dead. . . .
Toller allowed his sword to fall, heard it ringing on stone pavement, and his eyes filled with tears of frustration.
Chapter 14
It was not until Toller and Steenameert had submitted to the pressure of many hands, and to having their wrists bound together behind their backs, that the alien scales were lifted from their eyes. Retinal communications were permitted to pass to the brain, unaffected by external forces, and suddenly the two Kolcorronians could see normally again.
Night still reigned, but the perceived starlit meadows had been replaced by a complex diorama of dimly lit buildings in the middle distance and ranks of shadowy Dussarran figures in the foreground. Toller guessed he was near the center of an enormous plaza. The surrounding buildings were delineated by gentle curves, in contrast to the rectangular architecture of his home world, and their outlines were punctuated by slim trees which swayed continuously although the humid night air was perfectly still. The only familiar element Toller could find was the face of Steenameert, turned towards him above a sea of industrious, seething, black-clad alien figures.
"It seems that you have won," Toller said, fighting to keep his voice steady. "Sorcery prevails over strength."
Divivvidiv moved a little closer through the crush of odorous bodies. For your own good, Toller Maraquine, put behind you all your primitive ideas about sorcery. There are no unfair advantages in nature. What is commonplace to my people seems magical to yours, but that is simply because we are more advanced in every branch of learning.
"It is as good as magic when men are deceived by their own eyes."
That was simply done. When I was close enough to the ground I was able to enlist the telepathic aid of some of my fellow Dussarrans. As soon as you and your companion were sufficiently outnumbered we were able to dictate what you could see, in the same way that a crowd can drown out a single voice. Nothing magical about it!
"But you cannot deny that luck was on your side," Toller grumbled, feeling himself being pushed towards a vehicle which had arrived in the vicinity. "For us to land where we did—so close to a city, in the midst of your lackeys . . . That had to be magic or blind luck."
Neither! Divivvidiv and Toller were losing sight of each other in the press of bodies, but the alien's silent words were clear. As soon as I had given warning of what was happening my people took control of the local wind cells and guided us to this spot. I told you at the outset, Toller Maraquine—your mission had NO chance of succeeding.
I am now returning to my post, so it is unlikely that we will ever see each other again, but you have no need to fear for your life. Unlike you Primitives, we Dussarrans do not. . . .
Uncharacteristically for Divivvidiv, the incisive quality of his thought processes faded. There was a moment of woolliness, shadings of what Toller half-identified as guilt, and then the psychic contact was broken. The concept of telepathy was so new to Toller that he felt a dull amazement at even being able to think in such terms, but he was left with the conviction that the alien had suffered an unexpected crisis of conscience, perhaps trigg
ered by the stresses of the fall from the edge of space.
Guilt! The word was a spiteful mosquito hovering and dipping in Toller's confused consciousness. Is greyface lying to me? Are Baten and I being tricked? Are we being led meekly to our deaths?
Clumsily and inexpertly, he tried to reach out with his mind to the one Dussarran he knew, but there was only an echoing mental silence. Divivvidiv had withdrawn, was lost behind the palisades of his previous existence, and there was
no time for retrospection. The vehicle which had nuzzled through the nocturnal ferment of the alien cityscape looked like nothing so much as a huge black egg. It floated a hand's breadth above the seamless pavement. An opening appeared in its side with no apparent aid from mechanisms that Toller could visualize—in one instant the shell was complete, in the next there was a circular entrance to a redly glowing interior. Dozens of hands were pushing him and Steenameert towards it.
Toller's first instinct was to resist with all the power he could muster, but one part of him had somehow come to hope that Divivvidiv was not entirely his enemy. It was a slim hope—based on little more than certain nuances of thought and the notion that the alien might have a sense of humor—but it was the only dim guide star remaining to him.
With Steenameert jostling against him he clambered into the vehicle, feeling it rock slightly under the shifting of their weight. The door flowed itself out of existence, like molten metal closing in response to surface tension, and a sudden pressure under foot told them the vehicle was rising into the night sky. There were no seats, but that was of no importance in the cramped interior because the thickly quilted skysuits of the two Kolcorronians largely filled the available space. It was easier to remain standing. Toller had been too hot for some time, but was only becoming aware of it as stealthy rivulets of sweat darted down his back.