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Battle on Venus

Page 8

by William F. Temple


  “I’ve lived long enough,” said Senilde, “and I’ve discovered nothing worth eternal life.”

  “I spoke of a man’s mind,” said Leep, scornfully. “Yours is the mind of an infant—it never became anything else. A clever, tinkering infant, with certain technical aptitudes. Emotionally, spiritually, morally, intellectually you remained immature, with only one aim: pleasure—crude, immediate pleasure. There’s nothing in you of timeless serenity, the spirit of contemplation. No wonder you’re bored. The boon of immortality is wasted on you. Let me have it. I know how to use it. You go to Earth and have your childish fun. Maybe they’ll appreciate your surprise fountains and squeaking cushions there, and put you in the kindergarten where you belong.”

  Senilde’s slack mouth had been slackening still more. But now, suddenly, he shut it grimly. His pale eyes shone with hate. Leep had spoken truth, and the truth hurt.

  He spat at Leep: “I would never perpetuate a snarling, spiteful creature like you. Earth couldn’t offer me any pleasure to compare with just watching you starve to death. Which I shall do. No one can speak to me like that and expect to get away with it. You fear hunger and death more than anything. All right—you shall now suffer both… slowly. And to show you how worthless your so-called bargaining counter is, I’ll find the ship myself. George, Mara—come with me.”

  He led them to a wing of the house which they had not previously visited. They followed him through a doorway into a great covered space like an airplane hangar. Almost filling it, looming over them so that they had to crane their necks to see the top of it, was the largest tank George had seen yet. It was bigger even than the green triangle one which the wheeled torpedo had destroyed. But it carried no distinguishing mark and no gun. Also, it was of a different design, with a high turret crowned by a railed observation platform.

  “My war chariot,” said Senilde. “I used it to travel around and observe the battles. Its outline is filed by both the circle and the triangle forces—which means that it’s registered as a friend by both sides. But just in case of accidents or stray shells, it’s very heavily armored. It’ll stand up to almost anything—except a wheeled torpedo. But I never ran into any trouble with it. Usually, I stayed aloft on the platform, in the juiciest battles too.”

  “You seem to have gone to a lot of trouble to safeguard your immortality,”

  said George, dryly.

  Senilde said seriously: “If a shell blew me apart, I might take a long time to grow together again.”

  George’s imagination boggled at the vision. He wondered if Senilde were trying to fool himself or them. There must be limits to this immortality proposition.

  Senilde pulled a lever. The whole of the far wall split into two massive doors opening to reveal the gray Venusian landscape.

  “We shall probably have to go searching for some days,” said Senilde. “I almost forgot—you two have to eat. You’d better go and bring some of your food along, George.”

  George left. When he returned, carrying the provision box, the great tank was standing outside the doors in the overgrown garden; its engine beating steadily. Senilde and Mara were up on the observation platform, waiting. He clambered up steel rungs to them, carrying the box awkwardly. Mara inquired: “Did you leave any food for Leep?”

  “Of course not,” said George, irritably. “What, after he tried to sell us down the river? Besides, we’ve no guarantee we’ll find the ship on this trip. If we fail and have to return, the chances are hunger will have softened up Leep some. If we dangle a few food bars in front of his nose, he might give in and tell us where the ship is.”

  “Leep isn’t the sort to give in easily,” said Mara.

  “Neither am I!” snapped George.

  Senilde was listening and idly fingering pointers on a dial. He said: “All we require from Leep are two numbers—the numbers of the cross-lines to which to set these pointers. Then we’d only have to sit back, for the chariot would take us to the spot automatically. Maybe, in the end, I shall have to torture him.”

  His washed-out eyes began to glaze and his tongue began to lick his thick lips.

  “Let’s go,” said George, hastily.

  V

  FOR DAYS on end the great tank, quartering areas methodically, rumbled about the land. And there was an awful lot of land. The poor visibility made it necessary to beat back and forth across wastes which, had the light been better, could have been seen at a glance to be bare. Senilde treasured his telescope and used it all the time.

  They skirted mountain ranges, forded rivers, circled over endless plains. Occasionally they saw other tanks, static and silent, frozen in their tracks. The slow pace of their own tank was frustrating to George. He said to Senilde: “Damn this ponderous thing! Why didn’t you choose something faster, say one of those wheeled torpedoes?”

  “Because they’ve no accommodation for passengers. Because, unlike this tank, they’re not self-powered: to get one moving, I’d have to start the whole war up again. Because the torpedo shape is a target for all triangle forces. Reasons enough?”

  After a fruitless, eventless week, Senilde became bored and headed the chariot home. They expostulated but Senilde said: “I don’t want Leep to die while I’m wasting time out here. I want some fun out of him first.”

  George thought maybe Leep had had enough by now, too. Maybe he would be willing to talk.

  But he wasn’t, even though he was skeleton-thin and very weak. Senilde and George tempted him with food, but he only smiled faintly and said: “You know my terms.”

  Senilde said: “You have until sunset tomorrow, if you don’t die before then. After which, I’ll show you some old toys of mine. The electric rack. The eye magnet—it pulls your eye out slowly. The manicure set—it cuts your toes too. Have you ever been filletted hydraulically? It can be done artistically, and I assure you I’m an artist.”

  George was disgusted, but made no comment. He hoped Leep would talk first, but if not, he would never allow him to be tortured. Mara regarded Senilde thoughtfully, but likewise said nothing. That night George slept, using the provision box for a pillow. Mara had a soft spot for Leep, and George didn’t trust her.

  In the middle of the night Mara crept to Leep’s side with a double handful of food bars. He murmured, “Thank you, child,” and ate the lot without pause. Afterwards: “Oh, Mara, this cursed servitude of mind to food! Why weren’t we designed to live on air, as Senilde does? Why did you steal for me, child?”

  They were speaking softly in their language, Teleos off.

  “I’m a woman. I’m not hard, like a man. And I’m not ungrateful. In Fami, you often gave me good advice for nothing. I can’t let you die. Why don’t you try stealing for yourself, Leep? It’s so easy.”

  “George was sleeping with his head on the box. It was impossible—”

  “Far from impossible. I merely held his head up while I slid the box aside.”

  “I haven’t the touch for such feats… Mara, would you steal again for me?”

  “I’m… not sure. There are only a few bars left, and George must not go hungry—”

  “I don’t mean food. While you were all away, I searched the house, both physically and with my mind. There’s a room upstairs all of steel, and inside—I divine it —is a sealed bottle containing the preparation which bestows immortality. Senilde has preserved it all this time. One needs such a tiny dose!

  But the steel door is locked. And it’s ringed with protective devices—toothed traps that would bite off your hand, poisoned needles which shoot from hidden sockets… I know where they are. But I don’t know how to make them harmless. Such things were used in Fami, as you know. A skilled thief like you, plus my knowledge, could defeat them. Then we could both become immortal, and defy that wretched Senilde.”

  She said: “I don’t want to be immortal. On the other hand, I don’t want to be dead. And Senilde will try to kill me when he discovers what I’ve done.”

  “If you could cover your trace
s, he may not discover it for a long time. Meantime, you must escape.”

  “Why should I run these risks for you? No!”

  “I’m not asking you to do it for nothing. In return I would give you the position of the spaceship. Then you and George can escape in Senilde’s war chariot—it’s his only available conveyance: he can’t overtake you. Go to the ship; go to Earth with George—Senilde can’t reach you there.”

  “Maybe he can.”

  “No, Mara, you over-estimate him. His body may be immortal but his mind is nearing second childhood. It shows all the symptoms: frequent memory lapses, wandering attention, fits of petulance…People who never really grow out of their first childhood are prone to early mental decay. In a few years Senilde will become a witless and vacant-minded fool, forgetting even his own identity, wandering aimlessly round, never able to die.”

  Mara shuddered. “Horrible!”

  “But a fact. Well, Mara?”

  After a few moments: “I’ll do it,” she decided.

  Characteristically, she began right away. Leep took her to the door of the steel room upstairs. He indicated the positions of the murderous safeguards. She felt around the door with supersensitive finger-tips and probed cautiously with her knife.

  At last, she said: “I’m sure I can nullify these traps and open the lock. But I need some lengths of thread.”

  Her knife flashed. Before he realized it, Leep lost one sleeve of his grimy tunic. Expertly, Mara began pulling threads from it. Leep said, unexpectedly: “And I need some water.”

  He disappeared quietly downstairs.

  When he returned, some time later, he was carrying two small flasks, one empty, one filled with water.

  Mara had rendered the thief traps impotent and was manipulating, like a puppeteer, some dozen threads she’d inserted in the lock. Soon, three almost simultaneous clicks sounded.

  “It’s open,” she announced.

  Leep sighed. He put the flasks in his pockets, grasped the door handle with both hands, and heaved with his enfeebled strength. The thick door swung open. A cloud of yellow fog rushed out at them with a faint whoomph. Its acrid tang invaded their nostrils and brought tears to their eyes. For a few moments of strangulation they shared the same belief: that they’d sprung the ultimate deathtrap, the room itself full of poison gas, under pressure.

  Then the gas, heavier than air, settled to waist-level, then knee-level, and drifted slowly along the passage floor.

  And left them alive, but gasping and semi-blinded by tears. Leep wheezed: “Sorry, Mara, my faculty missed that trick. I hope there aren’t any more.”

  She gasped: “Why didn’t it kill us?”

  “It may yet—by delayed action. But that could save us.”

  He pointed. In the room, now almost clear of the fog-like gas, was a grey metal table. On it stood a small glass bottle, three-quarters full of a liquid colorless as water.

  “The elixir of life,” said Leep, and went to examine it. Satisfied, he poured the liquid carefully into his empty flask. Then filled the bottle to the same level with water from his other flask, and recapped it.

  He said: “This dodge was to make it appear nothing had been touched if Senilde happened to check up. Little point to it now, though—he’d notice the gas had been released.”

  He returned the flasks to his pockets and came out to watch Mara removing the threads from the door.

  She said: “I can’t leave these here or he will check up. When the door is shut and locked again, he should have no reason to be suspicious.”

  “Ah, but I am suspicious,” said Senilde’s voice right behind them. They spun around. He’d climbed the stairs silently and was grinning at them.

  “I was always a suspicious man,” he continued. “Hence my little mechanical watchdogs. You seem to have muzzled most of them, but I imagine the gas surprised you. It’s harmless stuff, though—I didn’t wish to have poison gas billowing around the house merely because of some stupid thief. Not that it would have harmed me, but I used to have guests in those days… No, it’s only a scent to spread the alarm. Enough flowed downstairs to irritate my sense of smell and awaken me—I’m a light sleeper. Of course, I knew it meant someone was attempting to steal my elixir. Now, just move away there.”

  They moved back, and Senilde came to peer into the room.

  “Good,” he said, seeing the bottle on the table. “I caught you before you—”

  Mara’s shoulder, with all her weight behind it, caught him by surprise before he had time to switch on his protective stunner. He staggered through the doorway, tripped and fell against the table. It overturned. The bottle smashed on the floor.

  His cry of angry surprise was cut short as Mara and Leep together slammed the steel door. It locked itself automatically with rapid triple clicks. Leep and Mara exchanged smiles.

  “That,” said Leep, “has simplified your escape greatly. Now Senilde won’t be able to set any of the war machines hunting after you. He can stay in there and rot for ever.”

  “Oh, Leep, you couldn’t be so cruel!”

  Mara was aghast at the vision of Senilde, unable to die, imprisoned in that small room until his wits left him.

  “Have you forgotten he intended to starve and torture me to death?”

  “No, but you must make allowances for his age and mental disintegration. You said yourself he was never more than a child. Promise to set him free after George and I have gone to Earth in the space-ship.”

  Leep hesitated, then shrugged. “I promise.”

  “You made me another promise, too.”

  “You mean the numbers? Oh, yes. They are five-three-eight-two and nine-nine-four-five.”

  Mara memorized them. Then she hurried down to the lounge. The gas, of which there was now no trace, must have spread itself too thinly to affect George, who was still fast asleep, his head pillowed uncomfortably on the food box.

  Mara shook him awake. She outlined the situation, though George’s sleep-dulled brain was slow to get it into focus.

  Then he said: “We’d better clear off now. Waiting for daylight could be risky. Senilde has a way of keeping tricks up his sleeve. He might pull another rabbit out of the hat yet.”

  “You’re sure you can drive the chariot?” Leep asked, just arriving.

  “I know how to start and stop it. It drives itself once the map references are set on the navigating control, and we know those now,” said George. “Come on, Mara.”

  He picked up the box, then frowned. It was lighter than it had been. He opened it and stared at the few remaining bars.

  “Mara!” he said, sternly.

  She said quickly: “There’s enough for us till we reach the ship. You have plenty more in the ship. And Leep won’t need any more.”

  Leep held up his flask, and smiled. “This is all the food I shall ever need now.”

  The war chariot plowed on through the night, its searchlights stabbing ahead of it. Although it was cold, George stayed up on the platform. He knew there was a long way yet to go, and the chariot was slow. He couldn’t expect to sight the ship until the next day, at least. But he was restless and uneasy. Mara slept tranquilly in the cabin below.

  Captain J. Freiburg rose at dawn and took a look around. Nothing had changed. There lay the ship, its fins straightened, everything repaired except the radio. All completed well ahead of his pessimistic schedule. There were the joined lengths of cable spraying from the ship’s waist to an arc of white circle tanks. All was set to begin the slow hauling of the ship back onto its tail.

  There was just one hitch. Around a week ago, they’d discovered that none of the tanks was receiving any power. Since then, too, no plane had crossed the sky, no moving vehicles had been seen, no gunfire had been heard. Every day, every hour on the hour, they’d tested the tanks. Still no power. This morning Freiburg climbed into a tank and turned the engine switch. Then jiggled other switches. No sign of response. He was losing hope. He had really lost hope of George Starkey�
��s return. He was sure the explorer had crashed and was dead. Nevertheless, from force of habit he scanned the dull sky. No distant spot which might be a helicopter was visible. The mate came up, yawning. “Nothing doing, sir?”

  “No. The armistice continues. Or else the war has ended for good and all. In which case, it’s ended us, too, I’m afraid. That’s unless we can trace the white circle G.H.Q. I’ll give them a couple more days to start up again. If they don’t, then you’ll have to take Sparks and go out looking for ’em, mister.”

  “Right, sir,” said the mate, joylessly.

  In the strong light of the artificial sun, Leep’s skeletal body, motionless on a divan, looked like a corpse on a bier. In fact, it was burning with inextinguishable life and his mind was ranging far into the universe. He was aware of the dark abyss which began where the stars of the galaxy thinned away to nothing. Of molten metal moving sluggishly through channels in Venus’s crust. Of the circulating cells of his own flesh. Of electrons and protons, electro-magnetic waves, and all the vibrations of the spectrum. And of Senilde’s wild and sudden irruption.

  Senilde seemed the least important of these visions, and soon vanished. But presently he returned, this time making greater impact than all the wonders of infinite space.

  For he jumped on the divan and kicked Leep off onto the floor. Then kept kicking him.

  Leep found meditation difficult. He sat up, protesting.

  “You dirty little schemer, you helped them escape!” roared Senilde.

  “They’ve taken my chariot, and my telescope was in it!”

  He raged aloud about the spilt and lost (as he thought) elixir, about his imprisonment, and about the loss of Mara—it appeared he’d planned to have her for himself. But the thing which made him see the deepest red, the thing he harped on continually, was the loss of his new toy—the telescope.

  “George broke the bargain!” he shouted. “ ‘Switch off the war and you can have the telescope,’ he said. You heard him, Leep. And now he’s taken the telescope back. Very well, then—he can have the war back. And what a war it’ll be this time! I’ll blow the whole planet apart!”

 

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