Code Of The Lifemaker

by Hogan, James

  "Oh hell, can't we wrap this up?" Andy Schwartz said. "I've gotta get the ship

  up to flight readiness. There's a lot to do."

  "Give them a few more minutes," Vernon said. "How often do you get a chance to

  talk to people like these?"

  Abaquaan eyed Vernon through his faceplate, nodded with a sigh, and instructed

  the transmogrifier, "Okay."

  "Pray describe," the plant invited the Renamer.

  "Male child bom of common parenthood," the Renamer said after a few seconds'

  thought. "The relationship thereof to either another male child, or to a female

  child."

  The screen presented:

  FUNCTION SUBJECT ADDITIONAL DATA

  Personal relationship Male child, same parents To another male/female

  child

  Abaquaan told the machine simply, "Brother."

  Back at the ship, the others had just arrived below the stair-head platform

  outside the midships lock. "I've got a hunch that Caspar still doesn't realize

  we've got the flyer too," Zambendorf was saying. "Certainly there's no question

  that the lander would have been a sitting duck over Padua, but the flyer's a lot

  smaller and more maneuverable. When the lander's picked people on radar up

  flying back to Genoa, everyone will be off their guard and not expecting us to

  show up anywhere else. I think there's an excellent chance we'd be able to pull

  off a quick dash in and out at rooftop level in the flyer."

  "I go along with Karl," Drew West said as he began climbing up to the platform.

  "We sent Moses in there. Trying to get him out again is the least we can do.

  It's worth a try."

  "Sure, but it's not the sentiment I'm arguing with, it's the practicality."

  Clarissa answered. "It's all right to talk about excellent chances, but you've

  never tried dodging those missiles, and I have. I'm telling you it's not a piece

  of cake."

  "We don't know what's happening in Padua—if anything is, or when, or even where

  Moses is," Joe Fellburg pointed out. "Exactly what would we be supposed to do—at

  what place, and at what time?"

  "I don't know either, but we can find out," Zambendorf said. "There has to have

  been a lot of talking going on between Leaherney's people and Henry. There might

  be records of the dialogues stored in the files where Dave Crookes or somebody

  could get at them. Maybe we'd pick up some clues that way. Or possibly we could

  find out who the transmogrifier operators are at Padua. They might have heard

  something. I don't know—All I'm saying is that we should give it a try rather

  than just quit."

  "Mmm, maybe ..." Fellburg murmured. He didn't sound wildly enthusiastic. He'd

  had some experience with smart missiles too.

  At that moment there was a click on the circuit as somebody switched through to

  a medium-range channel, and Vernon's voice came through excitedly from back at

  the Taloid camp. "Hey, Karl, everybody, don't go away—listen to this. We've just

  learned something from Nelson that maybe changes everything. He assumed we

  already knew about it because these guys think we know everything. Anyway ... it

  seems that Moses is Galileo's brother!"

  Fifteen minutes later, back inside the ship, Zambendorf called Thelma in the

  Orion and asked her to beam the call back down to the surface to connect to the

  communications set hidden in Arthur's conference room at Camelot. One of

  Arthur's knights answered, and went to fetch Arthur. Zambendorf transmitted some

  stills over the link from recordings showing Moses, but Arthur was unable either

  to confirm or deny that the figure shown was Galileo's brother. Galileo himself

  was elsewhere, but Arthur promised to send for him at once. Galileo called back

  over an hour later, after Arthur's staff eventually found him locked away in a

  workroom where he was constructing a model of the Satumian system of planet,

  rings, and moons from information that Massey and Thelma had sent him several

  days previously. Zambendorf showed Galileo the pictures and asked if the Taloid

  shown in them was his brother.

  Thirg, utterly bewildered at seeing for the first time the face of the fabulous

  Enlightener that the whole country was talking about—who had pacified the

  Waskorians, saved Carthogia from invasion, and now, allegedly, departed to put a

  permanent end to further Kroaxian mischief—confirmed to the Wearer that it was.

  "He is the brother of whom you spoke?" Kleippur asked incredulously as Thirg

  gaped at the Lumian long-distance seeing device. "The hearer who came to warn

  you when the Kroaxian Council ordered your arrest?"

  "It is he!" Dornvald exclaimed, having also just arrived. "Behold— the mystic we

  last saw praying to the skies with the villagers of Xerxeon."

  "He was convinced that his voices had led him there to see the fulfillment of

  some momentous destiny," Thirg said weakly, still staring at the viewing window.

  "It appears his inspiration was more substantially founded than I had credited."

  "How comes Thirg's brother, Groork, to this exalted station in which we now find

  him?" Kleippur inquired, pressing the button that would open the viewing

  vegetable's ears.

  Several hundred miles away across darkened deserts of rock-strewn hydrocarbon

  sands and mountains of naked ice, Zambendorf read the words that appeared on the

  screen in front of him. "I'll explain it all later. We may not have a lot of

  time," he said gruffly, and cut the connection.

  At one of the consoles across the aisle behind Zambendorf in the Lander's aft

  communications cabin, Hank Frazer was taking a return call from Dave Crookes. "I

  found out which operator had the most recent slot down there," Crookes said. "It

  was Sharon Beatty—one of our people from Leon Keyhoe's section. I talked to her

  about ten minutes ago. She said that the Taloids are staging a big public

  execution in Padua, and Henry got all excited and went galloping off to be sure

  not to miss it. All she knew apart from that, she said, was that it concerned a

  miracle-worker who's been causing Henry a lot of trouble lately. Is that enough

  for you to figure out the rest?"

  "It sure is," Frazer said. "Oh, and Dave, one more thing—did she have any idea

  when this was supposed to happen? Did you ask her that?"

  "Yes I did. She said about twenty hours from when Henry heard about it—that's

  something like ten hours from now."

  Back at the Taloid camp, Zambendorf, Vernon, and Abaquaan told Nelson that they

  had received word from the sky that a public execution was being arranged in

  Padua city, and it was Moses' desire that the intended victim should be

  saved—which they felt safe in presuming to be the case. They didn't say who the

  intended victim was, and Nelson assumed they were referring to someone that

  Moses had learned about after his arrival at the city. In response to their

  further questioning Nelson informed them that the customary place for conducting

  executions of major criminals and heretics was a high cliff located just outside

  the city. Here, before a natural public amphitheater, the victims were pushed

  from a wide rock ledge halfway up the face at the top of a long, ceremonial

  staircase, to fall two hundred feet into an open tank containing
some kind of

  corrosive liquid. This was the usual method of executing heretics, Nelson

  explained, because the procedure also embodied the elements of a trial,

  permitting a higher justice the opportunity to intervene in the event of

  wrongful conviction: According to doctrine, any innocent cast from the ledge

  would be snatched from death by the Taloid god before completing the fall.

  Apparently nobody had ever been snatched yet, which the Taloid priests contended

  was proof that they'd never issued a wrong verdict.

  Clarissa located the cliff on a series of reconnaissance pictures of Padua and

  its vicinity which she retrieved from the Orion's databank. It formed the end

  face of a ridge of craggy hills that descended almost to the city from a more

  distant range of higher mountains. Even more interesting was that the geography

  of the area seemed to make its own weather; Every set of pictures taken since

  the Orion's arrival, along with the accompanying sets of meteorological data,

  had shown a formation of apparently permanent low-altitude methane clouds only a

  thousand feet or so above the clifftop. That changed Clarissa's assessment of

  the odds considerably. "We could come in low along the ridgeline from the

  mountains in the rear, and probably get up inside those clouds right over the

  cliff without even the Taloids knowing we were there," she said. "They'd

  obviously be restricted to visual sighting since they don't have anything like

  radar. If the chance presented itself, yeah—maybe we could pull a quick grab and

  be back up again before they could react. Okay, you've sold me, Karl. I'll give

  it a try."

  "But no stunts or miracles, right?" Abaquaan said. "We just go straight down and

  straight up again."

  "Too right," Clarissa agreed. Her tone left no room for dissent. "Just a quick

  grab—no tricks and no clowning."

  "I agree, I agree," Zambendorf said, nodding. "All I'm interested in is getting

  Moses out if we can. I'm not asking for anything else to be changed. The

  operation is still scrubbed, and the lander goes back to Genoa with its crew and

  the Druids as agreed . . . except that we time it to coincide with our going in

  at Padua. Okay?" He cast his eyes anxiously over the faces around him.

  "Okay, boss—I'll buy it," Fellburg said resignedly.

  "I'm already in," Drew West reminded them.

  Abaquaan nodded his assent. "Aw, what the hell . . . We've scraped through

  everything else so far. Okay, let's do it."

  "Let's do it," Vernon repeated.

  Zambendorf looked at Vernon uncertainly for a second. "You don't have to get

  involved, you know. There's still plenty of room in the lander going back to

  Genoa."

  "I gave Moses his tablet, so it's my fault as much as anyone's that he's where

  he is." Vernon shook his head. "No, if there's a chance we might be able to get

  him out again, that's where I want to be."

  Zambendorf, apparently having half expected it, nodded briefly, and left the

  matter at that. "Fine. So let's get our things moved into the flyer and let Andy

  and his crew get on with whatever needs doing in the lander. Then let's get

  together again one hour from now and have another look at the layout around that

  cliff. There won't be any chance for an actual rehearsal for this performance,

  I'm afraid, so we'll have to make do with the next best thing—a lot of imaginary

  ones."

  36

  WEARING A LONG, HOODED CLOAK THAT HE HAD BARTERED FROM a peasant for his helmet

  and body armor, former private Sallakar pushed his handcart into the city's

  Central Square and selected a spot for himself in one of the normally busy

  comers of the market area, between a plating-salt vendor's stall and a wheelskin

  dealer. The square, however, was quiet for this time of late-bright, and many of

  the merchants had already closed down. Never mind, Sallakar thought—all the more

  business for those like himself who were still on the street to trade. And

  besides, his reason for hurrying to arrive ahead of the main body of the army

  was to enjoy a few hours of profitable monopoly before the competition appeared

  and drove down the prices. He threw back the cover of the cart to reveal a

  collection of rock and ice fragments, pieces of parachute silk, burned-out

  firework cannisters, and other oddments, and unfurled a sign which read:

  GENUINE MERACASINE HOLY RELICS

  GET YOUR ENLIGHTENER MIRACLE SOUVENIR HERE

  "Genuine relics, direct from the scene of the Meracasine miracles," he shouted.

  "Here is a rock that was melted by the Enlightener's thunderbolts—only five

  duodecs. Own your own miracle rock. Miraculously preserved cuttings of discarded

  angels' wings, guaranteed to keep demons from the house—seven duodecs.

  Angel-light pots, complete with sacred inscriptions; lengths of holy cords;

  pieces of heavenly flying-vestments; stones from the sermon hill, and lots more.

  Every item guaranteed to have been brought direct from the scene of the

  Enlightener's coming."

  A small group of unkempt, rough-looking idlers had stopped in front of the cart

  and was watching him curiously. Behind them a few people were looking on,

  apparently apprehensively, but most were continuing on their way, their eyes

  fixed solidly in front of them, or turning their backs to hurry away. Sallakar

  frowned. This wasn't at all the kind of reception that he'd anticipated. "Come

  on then, how about you, sir?" he said to the nearest of the ruffians in front of

  him—an ugly-looking character with a lot of unsmoothed, red-tinted facial

  plating, a soiled and torn jerkin, and a navigator's hat pushed jauntily to the

  back of his head. "A special price for this one only—three duodecs for this

  piece of Meracasine rock. An excellent talisman and warder-away of evil

  influences, oh yes. Brings good luck and protects your health. Do I hear an

  offer?"

  "You're outta your mind," the sailor commented sourly.

  "What are you trying to do—get yourself fizzed too?" one of the others asked.

  "Better lay off that kind of talk and just be grateful there aren't any guards

  within earshot," another advised.

  Sallakar gave them a puzzled look. "Didn't he show up here, then?" he asked

  them. "The whole city was supposed to have been converted by now."

  "Who?" the sailor asked.

  "The Enlightener. He was supposed to come here and call miracles down from the

  sky."

  One of the band laughed. "Oh, he showed up all right, but the miracles didn't.

  The priests will be throwing him off the cliff before bright's end. Where else

  d'you think everybody's going?"

  "Convicted as a blasphemer," another one said.

  "And he might not be the only one, from the way you're carrying on," a third

  commented. "But don't mind us—you go ahead. Two fizzings for the price of one

  would really make the day."

  "And we'd better be on our way," the sailor said to the others. "Or we'll miss

  even the one."

  Sallakar watched them walk away muttering and laughing among themselves, then

  turned round and hastily took down his sign and pulled the cover back over his

  cart. He stood thinking hard for a while and frowning perplexedly to himself
.

  Then all of a sudden a glint came into his eyes. He took a piece of marking

  stick from inside his robe,

  turned the sign over, and slowly and deliberately wrote on the back in large

  letters:

  BLASPHEMER SOUVENIRS AND RELICS

  BROUGHT BACK BY THE ARMY HE TRIED TO CORRUPT

  GET YOUR EXECUTION MEMENTO HERE

  Nodding in satisfaction, he rolled the sign up again, tucked it beneath the

  cover, then grasped the handles of his cart and moved away to join the general

  drift of the crowd toward the southern outskirts of the city.

  In a dungeon in the lowermost levels of the prison behind the Palace of the High

  Holy One, Groork sat on his rough bed of mill-swarf and lathe-turnings, staring

  forlornly at the bare ice floor. The nightmare, he had at last accepted fully

  and finally, was really happening. After dedicating his life unswervingly to

  upholding the Lifemaker's faith, denouncing its enemies, and taking scrupulous

  care never to permit an utterance that might be taken as contradicting the

  Church's teachings or denying its doctrines, this was the bitter end to which it

  had all brought him—convicted and condemned to die the death of a heretic and

  blasphemer.

  The injustice of his reward for ceaseless vigilance and untiring devotion was

  causing him to question seriously the whole foundation of his belief system for

  the first time ever. He had believed, and he had trusted; he had remained

  faithful in the face of adversity; he had never wavered. And now Frennelech, the

  High Holy One whom he had served selflessly as the Lifemaker's true worldly

  personification, had become the very instrument by which that service was repaid

  with betrayal and callousness. How, then, could such a Holy One personify an

  all-wise and all-knowing spirit, or be representative of such a being in any way

  whatever? Certainly in no way that Groork could see. And if he admitted that

  much doubt, what further credence could he give to any other facet of the whole

  system of credos and dogmas that was derived from the same suspect premises by

  means of the same dubious processes? None, obviously. But it was inconceivable

  that the Lifemaker's chosen method for communicating true knowledge could

  include suspect or dubious elements. Therefore it seemed to follow on principle