by Gardner Fox
Between the shrubs and flowering trees there was statuary.
The artistic efforts of a hundred planets were represented here, in white marble, in polished wood, in bronze and craystil. There were airy concepts by the neostractionists, the old standbys of the traditional school, delicacies in wire and metal strips by the starbolists. It was an enchanted world on which they walked, along paths of faintly glowing elstone. A pool bordered by blue cambraine held springwater in which the miniature fish of Dyarnal fled like silver shadows between blue and white coral carvings that made a submarine tridimensional fantasy. The pool formed a setting for a wire and iron abstraction by the most famous neostarist of them all, Dal Vra of Xaveria.
“It’s a wonderland,” breathed Mai. “I never knew anything like this existed anywhere.”
“You see what I mean now about his wealth?”
“I see, all right. What a romantic place! A woman might be willing to come here for a week just to carry its memory with her the rest of her life.”
A glittering metal robot slid out on soundless treads. “Please order food, if you desire it. Or drink. Or if you want rest, follow me.”
Carrick said, “I want to speak with Alton Raymond.”
“Alton Raymond is not at home. He is elsewhere.”
“When will he return?”
“This is classified information, not to be divulged.”
“It’s very important,” Carrick said, as to a child.
“This is classified information, not to be divulged.”
Carrick shrugged. “Where can I wait?”
“Only the private suite is reserved for Alton Raymond. The rest of his house belongs to you.”
“Well, now,” said Mai Valoris. “I need a bath and perhaps some Tauran lobsters with butter sauce and a tall cool drink of minsth.”
“Please follow me,” said the robot.
Mai looked back over her shoulder at Carrick. “See you later. If I find some clothes to wear, don’t be surprised at what I put on. I’m in rather a gay mood.”
Carrick found another servo-mechanism and directed it to bring him to a shower and to lay out a change of garments. He also ordered a steak and a double starigin cocktail.
He might as well make himself comfortable, he figured. He wondered if he were about to enjoy the condemned man’s last meal as he followed the robot under an arched gateway and along a wood-panelled hall.
An hour later, refreshed and ready to eat, he trailed behind one of the servo-mechanisms as it brought him to a dining chamber. He wore a loose shirt of iridescent purples and a pair of black cling-pants slashed with red. It was a little gaudy for his tastes but it was the most subdued of all the garments he found in the huge closet attached to the sleeping quarters where he changed.
Mai Valoris was waiting, her steaming lobster warming on a portable grille, in a translucent mist of red and gold splashes through which he caught glimpses of her skin tints. She laughed at his expression, came to her feet and pirouetted.
“You like?”
“I’m speechless,” he admitted.
She dimpled. “It’s fairly conservative—compared with some other things I found in the closet. Alton Raymond must throw some really jumping parties, when he has a mind to. He fascinates me more and more. I’m glad we came.”
“So am I—I think.”
She glanced at him in quick concern. “Anything wrong?”
“No, I guess not. I’ve never known him to be away from Skytowers very long, though. He’s like a big fat spider on its web, here in this eyrie. The stars come to Alton Raymond. He never goes to the stars. I can’t understand this absence. From what I can learn from the servo-mechanisms, he’s been gone three days. I’m beginning to wonder if he’s been killed, too.”
“Oh,” she said slowly.
His hand gestured her to the table. “We might as well eat,” he said, but she looked troubled. As she seated herself, she asked, “It spells hopelessness, doesn’t it? If anything’s happened to Raymond?”
He shrugged heavily, seeking refuge behind his steak while he tried to think out his situation. Should Alton Raymond be dead, he would be alone with Mai Valoris against the Empire. They could always run away, with the odds heavily in their favor that they would never be caught, but he wanted more than safety. He wanted freedom, freedom to come and go as Kael Carrick, not as Alpheus Neumann or any of a thousand other names he might use.
No use going to the other witnesses at the trial. They were officials of one sort or another, doctors, patsies and the like. Felton Pratt had been the one man to tie Kael Carrick irrevocably to the scene and time of the murder, and put a blip-gun in his hand.
Mai watched him carefully. She was coming to know his moods and worries, almost as if—she smiled faintly—as if she really were his wife. How wonderful it would be if he and I could stay here forever in this floating paradise! Her eyes touched the wood-panelled walls, the old drapes and tapestries that had been spaced out here from Earth.
There must be a thousand rooms in this sprawling mansion, each one fitted out in a different style. Her bedroom had been ultra-modern; this dining hall was a tri-dimensional cross-section of Fifteenth Century Earth Culture. Its magnificent chandelier was a masterpiece of the ironmonger’s art. The paintings in the frames set into the panels were originals, she’d bet; Alton Raymond would be satisfied with nothing less. She shuddered at their cost.
She was finished with the lobster and was sipping the minsth when a servo-mechanism rolled silently into the room. “You will come with me. At once. Alton Raymond is returning home.”
“I don’t hear the lift,” Carrick muttered.
“He is in the telestat. The ramp is coming out now. Soon he will be in the house. When that happens, every other human must go into the guard room.”
Mai shrugged her shoulders, looking across the table at him. Carrick sighed and pushed back. “I suppose we can bring our drinks?”
“Drinks and refreshments are available in all rooms of Skytowers. Especially in the guard room. You will be quite comfortable.”
They walked along behind the robot. When they came to a great metal door that rolled back silently at their approach, Carrick said, “I want you to deliver a message to Alton Raymond. It is a matter of life and death of two human beings.”
He paused. Robots were constructed with an inbuilt verboter unit, preventing them from either doing or not doing an action that might result in harm to a human. He hoped this robot had the necessary circuit relays which would enable it to act on a secondary order while it was carrying out its original command.
“Tell him Kael Carrick is here to see him.”
The robot was impassive, its crayolite body and quartzine eyes blank and enigmatic. Only its soundbox vibrated. “I shall so inform Alton Raymond. Now please to enter the guard room.”
They went into a large chamber fitted out as though it were another room for guests, which it was, with no indication of the fact that it was a prison cell as well. Thick carpets hid the floor. Soft chairs and divans invited the body to relax. There was a servo-bar along part of one wall, jutting out from the wooden panels, its counter lined with studs. The door slid shut behind them.
Carrick walked to a wall, rapped on it.
“I’ll bet there’s a solid six inches of steel behind this wood. You couldn’t get out of here with anything less than a thermarod. And I’ll bet even a thermarod wouldn’t work too well.”
Mai was rubbing her loosely covered arms with both hands, trying not to shiver. “I suppose he means well and that he does this to all his guests, no matter who they are, when he’s been away and is returning unexpectedly. It’s a safety measure. I understand it—but I don’t like it.”
Carrick walked to the servo-bar and pressed studs. Within seconds two frosted glasses on a tray lifted out of the hopper. The green liquid was minsth, his own starigin being pale amber. He carried them across to the girl.
Almost automatically, she sipped and
looked pleased. “It’s delicious.” Carrick tasted his starigin and nodded.
“How long will we have to wait?” she wondered.
“It all depends on the robot, I’d say.”
They found a lounge upholstered in that oddly streaked material called Centaurian velvet. Mai relaxed, head on the back-rest, both hands folded about her glass. Carrick sat close to her, so close that her thigh was warm against his own. Her nearness made him remember the telestat platform.
Covertly he studied her elfin face, the heavy yellow hair, the faintly slanted eyes that gave her such an exotic look. The ripe red mouth was slightly parted as if to aid her breathing. To his amazement he found his heart was pounding at a faster pace than normal.
He turned and put an arm about her shoulders, drawing her to him. Startled, Mai Valoris opened her eyes wide for a split second before she understood and came willingly into his arms. She lifted her mouth to be kissed.
The door slid open with a crash.
A fat man stood on the threshold, the panelled corridor and a servo-mechanism at his back. His fabrile suit had been faultless, once. Now its jacket was torn down the back and lacked a sleeve. One of the trouser legs was split from cuff to belt. His shirt was in tatters, his tie a mere rag at his throat. His hair was damp, matted to his skull.
Alton Raymond was white in terror. Sweat ran down his quivering cheeks. His eyes were distended and filled with horror.
Carrick got to his feet, stunned.
He had not expected this reaction from Raymond. It made no sense. Alton Raymond had nothing to fear from Kael Carrick. It was the other way around.
The fat man whispered, “You did right, Carrick. You did right to kill Hannes Stryker. He—”
His eyes rolled in his head and he shuddered.
Alton Raymond fell face down on the carpet.
CHAPTER SIX
LACKING AN order, the robot stood motionless in the corridor.
Carrick sprang toward the fallen man, dropping to a knee, putting a hand on him and rolling him over. Raymond was gasping like a fish. His entire body was wet with perspiration. Heat prostration? These were all the symptoms but they might also be the same for terror shock.
Mai was at the servo-bar, pressing studs.
She brought back a lavender drink and handed it to Carrick who slipped an arm about the fat man and raised him to a sitting position. He poured the medicinal vitoral down his throat slowly, so that none of it would spill out of his slack lips.
After a moment Alton Raymond opened his eyes. Some of the horror was gone and he tried to smile. “Too much for me, that—and now, seeing you here.”
“What do you mean by ‘that’?”
The fat man nodded, saying, “Tell you everything in a little while. Right now—bring me fresh clothes, a complete change from the skin out,” he directed the waiting robot. He sat there with his legs straight ahead, head bent a little, breathing heavily.
“A fool. I was a fool to go myself,” he muttered.
He put up a flabby arm, permitted Carrick to bring him to his feet. For the first time he saw Mai Valoris. He made a little bow; his eyes went over the thin gown that veiled her body and she could read the lecherous delight in them.
“Sorry, my dear. Been through a lot. This latest surprise,” his hand shook Carrick’s arm where it held onto him, “seeing my good friend Kael Carrick here, was a bit too much. You’ll forgive me?”
He didn’t wait for an answer but went across the room and sank into an upholstered chair. His puffy eyelids closed as if to gather strength into his brain.
“Bring me a drink, somebody. Candal, if you please.”
Mai carried the frosted glass to him, watched him while he swallowed all its contents. He lay there like a great white slug, licking his lips. Then he looked at Carrick.
“Why didn’t you say something at the trial, man? It would have made all the difference in the world.”
Carrick was nonplussed. “Say what?”
Raymond sneered, “The promised land. Utopia. It wasn’t paradise I found—but hell. Hades. The devil land.” His great bulk shuddered.
“I don’t know how you did it—got away from Dakkan planet, that is. It isn’t important, right now—the manner of your escape, I mean. The fact that you did escape is probably the most important thing that’s ever happened in the stars.”
Carrick stared at Mai above the fat man’s head. Alton Raymond began to pound his hand up and down on the chair arm. “How could we have been so blind? He was a genius. I know that. I’m a genius myself, in a different sort of way. I can recognize another one and I knew him well.”
He sat breathing heavily.
The servo-mechanism appeared in the doorway, rolled forward. Alton Raymond heaved to this feet with a smirk at the girl. “Excuse me, my dear. Got to change, make myself more presentable. Rooms off the west wall, dressing rooms with baths. Think of everything for my guests. This time I’ll be the one using the accommodations.”
He went across the room with surprising grace for such a heavy man. A door opened and closed behind him. The robot waited on its treads for new orders.
Mai said, “What was all that gibberish about?”
“I haven’t the faintest notion.”
“Your great man, Hannes Stryker, seems to have had feet of clay. One more illusion shattered.”
“Not yet,” he growled.
She stared at him, then turned on a heel and went to the servo-bar, pressing for another minsth. She stood leaning a hip against the grained bar-wood, sipping it. Carrick scowled at the carpet.
Alton Raymond did not reappear for close to an hour. When he did, he was a different man, newly shaved, his hair neatly combed, his expensive twell suit pressed and scented. You did not notice his immense bulk, now, the flabbiness of his body, the jowls that hung so loosely from his jaw. There was a dynamism in the man that shone out through his eyes and his quick movements.
“There, now,” he smiled. He bowed to Mai. “Introduce me, Carrick, if you please.” And when the introduction had been made, he asked, “Do you belong to my good friend, Kael Carrick, my dear?”
Mai Valoris hesitated for a fraction of a second. Then she inclined her head. “I’m afraid I do. He helped me get off Dakkan planet, you see.”
“Oh!” A film glazed his eyes, then Alton Raymond shook himself. “A pity. I make it a policy never to involve myself with a woman who belongs to a friend or—with a condemned criminal. It’s a matter of policy, you understand. A man of my importance has so many enemies, one dares not give them the slightest opportunity to hurt one.”
Mai throttled the laughter in her throat. She said gently, “I do understand, believe me.”
Carrick growled, “There’s plenty I don’t understand. You said you didn’t blame me for killing Hannes Stryker. I didn’t do it, but that’s beside the point. What I want to know is—what’s all this talk about a promised land turning into a hell?”
Raymond looked surprised. “You know as well as I do.”
“I don’t know a thing. Will somebody—somewhere—please believe that? I never killed Hannes Stryker. I helped him in some of his experiments, yes—but there was nothing so special in any of them that would justify his getting killed. Besides, I was only a tool holder.”
“What about Slarrn?” the fat man snapped.
“Slarrn? I never heard of it.”
Alton Raymond closed his eyes. “Are you trying to tell me you knew absolutely nothing about the experiment Stryker called Kay Gee 7?”
“Not a thing.”
The fat man opened his eyes and stared at him, hard. He drew a deep breath. “Would you submit to a truth test on that question?”
“Gladly. Anywhere you say. And at any time.”
“The time is now, the place is here. I have a small laboratory on a lower level where I bring technicians to carry out certain investigations. There’s nothing complicated about a truth-teller. I can work it myself. I’ve done so before, o
ften. Especially with my—lady friends.” He chuckled thickly and glanced at Mai Valoris.
“Let’s go, then,” Carrick growled.
The laboratory was half a mile long, lined with shelves and thermal units, computers and complex machinery the nature of which Carrick could not even guess. His impression of the room was glittering metal and pale green walls and ceiling, subdued light and soundproof floortiles.
Raymond gestured him into a small booth and swung a lens over his head. Wires connected the lens with a row of tiny bulbs inset into a metal panel above him. The fat man pressed a button.
The lights glowed red.
“What is Slarrn?” Raymond asked.
“I haven’t the slightest idea.”
“What do you know about experiment Kay Gee 7?”
“Absolutely nothing.”
“Did you kill Hannes Stryker?”
“No.”
“Do you know why he was killed?”
“No.”
The lights glowed red, unchanging.
Alton Raymond looked tired. He passed his hand across his forehead as he stared down at the man in the metal chair below the lens.
“The truth-teller isn’t infallible, of course. Otherwise it would have been used in the courtroom. Its evidence is deemed inadmissible for the Star Courts. But lesser folks—like me, for instance—accept it as gospel until proven otherwise. I think you’re telling the truth.
“And—this puts a new light on things.”
His hand stabbed out. The red lights died away.
Carrick went out of the cubicle and found Mai Valoris waiting on a stool in front of a wiring machine resting on a big power-drum. She scanned his face worriedly, then gave a sigh. She needed no words to tell her that the little session had gone fine for Kael Carrick.
“Now what?” she wondered out loud.
“Now I eat humble pie,” the fat man announced with a wry chuckle. “Like everyone else on the star worlds, I accepted the jury verdict that your friend here was guilty. Now I know I was mistaken, it makes a difference.”
He swung around on Carrick. “I’ll get the courts to review your case in the light of this new testimony that Slarrn is no paradise but just the opposite. I’ll demand a truth test in front of a court referee. I’ll clear your name.”