Code Of The Lifemaker

by Hogan, James

  "Christ, that's terrible!" Dulaney exclaimed. "What happened to them?"

  "Oh, they're okay," Bob's voice answered. "Our guys at the base saw them coming

  on the recce scopes and got the hell out. The base was evacuated—of personnel,

  anyhow—it seems they left a lot of equipment behind. Must have been a real

  panic."

  "Who was in charge down there?" Dulaney asked, dismayed.

  "Caspar Lang and Giraud. They got away in one of the military landers with the

  last of the garrison, but they hadn't arrived back at the Orion when the message

  was transmitted. Apparently they weren't being very communicative, so no one was

  too sure exactly what had happened. We're standing by for an update."

  Dulaney frowned to himself for a second or two. "If they've been kicked out of

  Padua and we don't even have a base there anymore, it means the whole Paduan

  program just came apart at the seams."

  "I know—that's why I thought you ought to hear about it," Bob said.

  "Any more?" Dulaney asked.

  "Not for now. Shall I call through there again when we get the next bulletin?"

  "Yes, do that. Thanks, Bob. I'll talk to you later." Dulaney cut the call and

  looked up at the numb faces across the table. "Well, I guess you all heard that.

  It sounds as if they've really screwed up this time. Let's wait and see what

  comes through next. . . ." His eyes came back to Ramelson. "Anyhow, in the

  meantime, where were we? You were just about to say something, I think, Burton."

  Ramelson emitted a long, remorseful sigh. "I agree with Phil," he replied. "The

  most charitable view we can take is to attribute it all to psychological

  breakdown within the mission's directorate, caused by a combination of high

  stress, excessive demands of responsibility, and totally unforeseen effects of

  the remote extraterrestrial environment. It's imperative that the situation be

  remedied immediately, before we run into any further misadventures. My proposals

  are therefore as follows:..."

  38

  CAPTAIN MASON OF THE U.S. SPECIAL FORCES ACKNOWLEDGED THE call on the monitor

  panel inside the guardroom of the main perimeter gatehouse at Genoa Base One.

  "Taloid riders and vehicles approaching the gate, sir," the voice of Pfc.

  Caronetti reported from the searchlight post on the upper level. "Some of the

  passengers appear to be Terrans." At the same moment the screen in front of

  Mason came to life to show the view being picked up by a rooftop camera. A

  procession of walking wagons and mounted Taloids was approaching along the broad

  avenue between steel lattices, girderwork frames, and pipe-draped processing

  tanks that led from the city. The pace was slow and easy, giving no cause for

  alarm.

  "I wonder what the hell this is," Mason muttered over his shoulder to Petrakoff,

  the guard sergeant.

  "Five'11 get you ten it's Zambendorf and his people showing up at last,"

  Petrakoff said.

  Mason stared at the screen for a few seconds longer, and then nodded. "Yeah . .

  . you're probably right, Jan. You'd better alert the Base Commander. Call three

  more of the guys out front and get them helmeted up on standby. I'm going

  outside to join Pierce and Macnally and find out what's happening."

  In the first of the open carriages behind the advance guard of Genoese cavalry,

  Zambendorf was sitting between Abaquaan and Arthur, facing Galileo and Moses,

  who had their backs to the raised platform supporting the seats of the two

  Taloid coachmen. The rest of the team was in the second carriage with Leonardo,

  the Genoese mapmaker, and Lancelot, Arthur's knight who had brought Galileo out

  of Padua. Various aides and officials from Arthur's court followed in the train

  behind, which included Leonardo's family, Lord Nelson, and a representative

  contingent of Druids.

  The advance guard emerged into the clear area in front of the main gate through

  the perimeter fence of Genoa Base, and moments later a searchlight beam swung

  round to illuminate the procession in brilliant white and transform the

  surrounding structures into ghostly skeletons of steel standing out vividly

  against the background darkness.

  "I don't see Tango Baker Two anywhere," Abaquaan said, turning in his seat to

  scan the immense, squat, stubby-winged forms of the surface landers, parked amid

  floodlit clutters of service gantries, maintenance platforms, cargo hoists, and

  access ramps on the far side of the fence. "Andy and the boys must have gone

  back up to the ship already."

  "Well, at least they should have come out of it all with their noses clean,"

  Zambendorf answered.

  "Let's hope so."

  After snatching Moses from the cliff at Padua, Zambendorf had decided to fly

  directly to Camelot, Arthur's residence, to deliver Moses safely into the

  Genoese care and reunite him with his brother, Galileo, before the team gave

  itself up to the Terran authorities at Genoa Base. The Genoese had insisted,

  however, on making the occasion one for all kinds of elaborate farewell

  formalities which had involved seemingly half the Taloids in the country, and

  the team had remained there, resting and eating in the flyer, for fully

  twenty-four hours. To minimize the risk of the proceedings' being distastefully

  interrupted, the team had maintained a strict communications blackout, omitting

  even to contact Massey and Thelma, since a genuine ignorance of the team's

  whereabouts would be less likely to compromise their position in the face of

  questioning by Leaherney's people. Finally, to round everything off in style,

  Arthur had proposed a grand procession across the city to carry the team to the

  Terran base; not wishing to risk unwittingly giving any offense, Zambendorf had

  accepted the offer, leaving the flyer parked in Arthur's rear courtyard to be

  collected later by its rightful owners.

  It had been a good try, Zambendorf thought to himself, and even if in the final

  part of it all they hadn't succeeded in rendering Padua completely harmless, at

  least the nation of Genoa had been kept intact for the time being. He could only

  hope that the team's gesture would attract enough attention to cause the

  mission's directors to have second thoughts about the whole question of

  Terran-Taloid relationships, and hopefully would stimulate a more enlightened

  outlook among the policymakers on Earth. And if it turned out that he had soured

  his backers and promoters sufficiently to permanently impair his career, then

  that was just too bad. He had stood by the principles that mattered on his own

  scale of values and had achieved something that he believed worthwhile. He had

  done as much as anyone could have, and the future could take its course. He had

  no regrets.

  "See how brightly the violet halos shine around the Lumian flying-ships,"

  Kleippur said from beside the Wearer. "Dost thou still see them as magic beasts

  sent from heaven, Groork?"

  Groork shook his head. "Nor the Lumians as angels. What more dismal a prospect

  could be imagined than that all the universe's knowledge could be contained in

  one ancient book? Nothing new to discover? Nothing more to be learned? Never

  again the excitement of exploring the unknow
n? How pathetic is the future that

  some would wish upon themselves!"

  "Your future, at least, promises to be a busy one," Thirg said. "The answers to

  the questions that I hear you asking now will not spin themselves into skeins of

  words as effortlessly as before, however, I fear."

  "Maybe so, but thou shalt see that my energies are undiminished, and the

  mystic's passion is not quenched but merely redirected," Groork replied

  confidently.

  "The application of this industriousness to the studies into which thou hast

  declared intent to launch thyself will show interesting results indeed, if my

  prognostications serve me well," Kleippur commented.

  "I do not doubt it," Thirg said, sighing. He still hadn't recovered fully from

  the astonishment with which he had learned of Groork's escapades in the

  Meracasine and at Pergassos, and his even greater amazement at observing his

  brother transformed into a staunch advocate of the methods of impartial

  questioning and objective inquiry. Now that Groork had flown through the sky,

  his latest passion was to view firsthand the other worlds that Thirg had told

  him about, and he had been pestering the Wearer for an opportunity to go on one

  of the voyages that the Lumian flying-ships made to the Great Ship beyond the

  sky.

  As for Carthogia, while the threat from the Kroaxians had been temporarily

  extinguished, the longer-term future was far less certain. The issuing to

  Eskenderom of weapons sufficiently potent to have deterred the Wearer from

  honoring his pledge to Groork seemed to confirm that the Lumian king was firmly

  committed to promoting rivalry among the Robian nations in order to obtain their

  dependency and ultimately their complete subjugation. It was unlikely,

  therefore, that Kleippur would see his realm free to determine its own destiny;

  the Lumian conditions for supplying the weapons that Carthogia needed would

  doubtless entail sacrifice of its independence just as surely as would conquest

  by a reconstituted Kroaxian army at some later date.

  On the other hand, it seemed that despite their arts and their skills, the

  Lumians were as divided among themselves as the royal houses and the clergy of

  Kroaxia and Serethgin. There were other, more powerful kings in Lumia than the

  king who ruled the Great Ship, the Wearer had said, and the Lumian system of

  government constrained the actions of its kings, making them very much subject

  to the approval of their citizens. The Wearer's many friends who held positions

  of high office in the trades guilds of Lumian town criers and heralds would

  spread the news far and wide of the Wearer's willingness to anger the Great

  Ship's king and face imprisonment in protest against Robia's treatment. That the

  Wearer and his followers had chosen to defy the Great Ship's king and were

  willing to face imprisonment upon their return was evidence that integrity and

  high moral principle were not unknown among Lumians, and that was grounds enough

  for hope. Kleippur, therefore, characteristically coming to the conclusion that

  all was not necessarily lost, had refused to allow his capacity for action to be

  weakened by an unduly pessimistic outlook and braced himself to face the future

  with fortitude and the resolve to make the best he could of such opportunities

  for bettering his situation as might present themselves. And a better example

  than that to model his own attitude on, he wouldn't find anywhere, Thirg had

  decided.

  Three figures in Terran military suits walked forward from the gate as the

  procession drew up. "Well, I suppose this is it, Otto," Zambendorf said. "Thank

  Arthur and his people again for their hospitality and tell them it might be a

  while, but I'm sure we'll be back to see them again sometime." Abaquaan relayed

  the message via the transmogrifier, and Arthur responded in like vein. Clarissa,

  Vernon, West, and Fellburg came forward from the second carriage, and after a

  final round of handshakes and salutations, Zambendorf turned to face the three

  soldiers waiting patiently behind him. "Thank you for the courtesy, er . . .

  Captain, isn't it? Well, everyone's accounted for. We're all yours."

  "Captain Mason, Special Forces," a voice replied. The figure wearing a captain's

  insignia peered at the nametag on Zambendorf's suit and at the tags of the two

  others nearest him. "You are Zambendorf and his people, I take it."

  "Of course we are. Who else did you expect to come wandering in from the surface

  of Titan?"

  "It's good to see you back. A lot of people were getting worried." Behind Mason,

  several soldiers left the guardhouse to open the gate, and another group of

  figures was approaching from the base administration building.

  "Well, aren't you supposed to arrest us or something?" Zambendorf said.

  "No," Mason answered. "I guess you're maybe gonna have to answer a few questions

  about stealing that lander, but you probably had your reasons ... I don't know.

  Anyhow, we don't have any orders that say anything about arresting anybody. The

  Base Commander should be on his way here now. He'll know a lot more than I do."

  Zambendorf blinked with surprise at the mildness of the reception. "This is

  amazing," he murmured, more to the others with him than to Mason. "I'd have

  thought Leaherney would have been more upset about what happened to Henry's

  army. In a way I feel quite disappointed."

  "Maybe we didn't achieve as much as we thought," Abaquaan said uneasily.

  "Even Caspar Lang wasn't bothered? I figured he'd be apopleptic," Clarissa said.

  Mason looked puzzled behind his faceplate. "What does it have to do with them?"

  he asked. "They're all out—finished. General Vantz is in charge of the mission

  now."

  "Out?" Zambendorf repeated incredulously. "Who? When? How?"

  "Leaherney, Giraud, Lang," Mason told them. "I guess a whole heap of crud

  finally hit the fan somewhere back home. A directive came through to the Orion

  about twelve, maybe fourteen hours ago, relieving them of command, effective

  immediately, and putting the mission under full NASO control. They upset the

  Taloids over at Padua somehow and got their asses kicked outta the base

  there—musta had something to do with that. Anyhow, here's Mackeson, the base

  chief, now."

  The group from inside the base arrived and began to usher Zambendorf's party

  through the gate. "Harold Mackeson, NASO—Genoa Base Commander," the most

  prominent among them announced in an English accent. "Glad to see you're all

  safe. Welcome back again. When it started looking as if you might have had an

  accident, O'Flynn finally owned up about the flyer. Do you know, he'd been

  faking the log all the time and nobody missed it—extraordinary! We've been

  calling you nonstop, but heard no reply. Is the flyer okay?"

  "Yes, and not far from here," Zambendorf said as they all began to walk toward

  the administration building. "I gather there have been some changes."

  "Oh, you wouldn't believe the ruckus: Giraud and Lang getting thrown out of

  Padua; the base there being abandoned; Leaherney's whole team out on their ear

  ... There's been more going on than in all the time the Orion's been in orbit."

  "What happe
ned at Padua?" Zambendorf asked.

  "Well, Henry's gone, with his chief priest and just about all the others that

  Giraud and Company were dealing with," Mackeson replied. "It seems the Paduan

  Taloids had some kind of revolution and got rid of the whole bunch. Vantz—he's

  in charge now—has sent down an exploratory team, who have managed to make

  contact with the new leaders that seem to be emerging from it all."

  "What started this revolution, or whatever it was?" Abaquaan asked.

  "I don't know if you heard about it, but some kind of new, nonviolent religion

  broke out suddenly among the Druids, then became all the rage in Henry's army

  and messed up his invasion plans . . . something to do with some Taloid messiah

  who appeared out of nowhere. Well, apparently this messiah and his religion

  finally found their way to Padua. Result—out with Henry, and out with our

  arms-dealers. To be honest with you, old boy, I can't say I'm all that sorry to

  hear it either."

  Zambendorf stopped walking abruptly. Mackeson halted a split second later and

  looked back with a puzzled expression. "What was that again?" Zambendorf said.

  "What's happened with the Paduans?"

  "A new religion is sweeping the whole country," Mackeson answered. "They say

  everybody's equal, they won't kill, they won't fight wars, and they've told us

  where to shove our weapons."

  Zambendorf swallowed hard. The formula sounded very familiar. "If that's true,

  then the Paduans aren't very likely to try attacking Genoa again," he said.

  Mackeson snorted. "Oh, from what I've heard, you can put any thoughts like that

  completely out of your head, old chap. The Genoese are their brothers now.

  Everyone's their brother. They aren't going to be attacking anybody."

  Gasps of surprise were audible from the rest of Zambendorf's party. "My God! Do

  you know what this means? ..." Zambendorf looked back toward the gate, where the

  Taloids were standing and watching, their hands lifted in a final salute. He

  looked back at Mackeson, waved his arms excitedly, and pointed. "That's Arthur

  and his advisors. The messiah's there too, with his brother. They don't know

  about any of this yet. We have to tell them!"

  "What?" Mackeson sounded bemused. "That' s absurd. How could a messiah cause all

  that fuss and not know about it? Be sensible old boy, please."