The first that the monks ahead of him knew of his approach was the whistling sound of the ring.
‘Defend!’ Those with auras knew exactly what to do on this command and moved forward to protect the others.
‘At last one comes slowly enough for us to be prepared.’ The reply sounded confident.
‘It's the prisoner! He must not get through!’ On this command, some monks moved out towards the centre of the corridor.
The encounter was inconclusive. The ring could not penetrate the auras, but they could, equally, not move into its path. The monks all pushed forward, and Paul found himself retreating slowly. The ring was pushed back and held him in the centre of its orbit. He had no method for controlling it, other than stopping it completely. The guards had swords. They could not reach him, but he thought they could throw them. But they seemed only to follow actions that they had been trained in. The whole group moved slowly along the corridor.
Suddenly he felt a large metal object in his back. He turned in fright to see a ring about four feet across, with six smaller rings resting on it, evenly spaced around it. He was just able to let it past, without having his own ring touch the wall. Falling back slightly as it approached, the monks watched as it stopped in the gap between them and Paul. The first small ring lifted off and started to orbit, spiralling out from the carrier, gaining speed as it went. It was followed by a second and soon they were both filling the width of the corridor and moving too fast to be seen. The monks tried pushing at them with their auras, but the central ring was held firmly in place. Paul stopped the motion of his own ring.
The new rings were powerful, but the entire system was all at a single level and two of the guards started to duck under it. The next two rings anticipated this and moved slightly upwards, before moving into elliptical orbits which took them close to the floor and ceiling, as well as the walls on either side. The two guards found their path blocked and started to move towards the remaining gaps at the edges near the floor. The sophisticated symmetry of the completed pattern made Paul stand in awe of the intelligence which controlled it. The final two rings flew in figure of eight orbits, threading through the carrier and completing the barrier. Looking back helplessly to their commanders, the two guards could move no further. They realised too late what was going to happen. With a surge of energy that made the lights pulse, the entire pattern started to rotate, gathering speed. The two guards had no time to move, cry out, or, Paul hoped, feel pain.
Even the all-pervading death that he had seen since escaping from his cell had not begun to prepare him for this. He stared in disbelief at the floor where they had been. There was simply nothing there. A few pathetic fragments, spread across the floor and even clinging to the walls were all that remained of the two lives that had existed a few moments before. His senses were overpowered, he felt his body swaying. He could see that even the monks who were used to the brutality of the planet were not prepared for this. Their masks of self-confidence evaporated as they looked in horror at the appalling beauty of the monster they faced. When the lights blazed on with the next power surge, Paul saw the terror in their eyes as they struggled to maintain their auras.
The larger ring shot forward with a power far greater than anything they could withstand. The auras imploded with a flash of blue light and Paul found himself alone. He watched as the small rings, having killed their enemies, landed back on the carrier, and it returned to Lynella. He wondered if she realised what she had done. Walking forward and gasping for breath as he choked on the sights and smells that he encountered, he tried to fix in his mind an image of the playful girl in the Southern Castle.
Approaching the outer door, he saw a group of injured men and women who were struggling with another stretcher. None of them recognised him and, by helping them, he was able to pass unnoticed out of the entrance cave into the daylight. As they emerged, fresh stretcher-bearers took over and led them out of the trees at the base of the hill.
The scene in front of him showed the strength of the organisation of the monastery. Across the open ground around the crucible and up to the edge of the source, ordered groups were forming. The injured were being directed towards a makeshift treatment centre on the western side. Paul followed his small group, waiting for the moment when he would be required to speak, and his accent would give him away.
As the injured were taken away, he found himself standing alone, wondering what to do next.
‘Are you all right?’ The kindly enquiry came from an elderly lady who was approaching him with a worried expression.
He just looked at her.
‘Don't worry. We all feel like that. Why don't you sit down over here?’
She led him in silence to one side and, having cleared the space, turned her attention to the next group of wounded who were approaching. Seeing his chance, Paul slipped away. Moving purposefully through the crowds, nobody challenged him until he was close to the edge of the source. He was spotted, but far too late. He was easily able to cross the line of marker stones and his pursuers stood helplessly, bound by the compact, as he ran along the path Lynella had created for him with the ring that had burst out of the monastery, leading directly towards the landing field.
From his vantage point on the side of the hill, the Abbot saw his escape, cursed, and resolved to teach his guards to limit their observation of the compact when it interfered with their duty. From his vantage point further up the hill, Angus also saw his escape and resolved to be there to help him when he returned, as he surely would.
23
The pile driver lay on its side in the precise centre of the compound. The wire rope fixed to the end of it stretched up into the darkness to where the lights of the shuttle could be seen, and the dull roar of its engines heard. The two fitters on either side were fixing the filler caps to the tanks of diesel fuel and oil which would be sufficient to drive piles for the next twelve hours. Standing back, they each gave the all clear to the officer who spoke into his communicator, ‘Shuttle 15, you are clear to lift’
‘Lifting now. Back with the last one in fifteen minutes,’ came the clear reply as the rope pulled tight and the pile driver swung away across the site.
Below him, the pilot could see the twenty sets of floodlights around each of the piling gantries. Ten were stretched out in a long arc around the edge of the landing field, placing piles to support the torus. His destination, however, was one of the gantries grouped in the large excavation in the centre where the hub would land. As he approached it, the piling ganger reached out and caught the nylon rope hanging below the driver, to guide it onto the pile but the pilot's skill was such that it dropped neatly into place with little help. The ganger unhooked the lifting rope and signalled to the shuttle, which moved on to the next rig. The piling gang opened the fuel and oil valves and connected the piston to the winch at the top of the gantry. Raising the piston to the top of its stroke, they let it fall. On cold days it sometimes took several attempts to get the driver to fire but this was a warm night and it went first time. Each of the twenty machines fired every three seconds, creating a strange rolling rhythm which echoed out across the forest.
Having delivered the last driver for fuelling, the pilot flew north to collect some tree trunks for machining down into piles. The season had been changing and the cloud cover which had been almost continual since their arrival on the planet was less frequent now. Quite often, he was sure that he could see lights far away from the site, but he was under strict orders never to fly over to them. Their job was to mine the minerals and get out.
He arrived at the area that was being cleared for the mine. Since the earthmoving for the landing field had been completed, all of the plant was working at clearing the overburden. He could see lines of headlights moving out towards the spoil heaps. Ahead of the earthmoving, the forest was being cut.
‘This is shuttle 15 come to collect some timber.’ His call on the radio was answered with a flashing signal light which guided him towards one
of the logging gangs who had cut a trunk which was large and straight enough and had chains already looped around it for the lift.
A few minutes later, with the trunk securely suspended below the shuttle, his routine was interrupted by a radio message; ‘This is Atlanta calling on all channels. There is a significant magnetic disturbance from north of the landing field. Stand by for emergency evacuation if seismic activity occurs.’
He could see no sign of any disturbance affecting the lights below him but, following set emergency procedures, he flew clear of the worksite and dropped the tree trunk. Turning the shuttle, he then flew to a holding position above the mine compound. He could see headlights converging from all directions below him as he called to the duty officer on planet, ‘This is shuttle 15 on station above the mine.’
Looking north, he was sure that he could see even more lights than normal, way beyond the areas where ship personnel were permitted to go, but this could not be discussed on the radio. He heard more and more shuttles report in with their position as they stood by to evacuate but he could still see no sign of any difficulty below him.
Looking up again, he saw a dark red glowing streak appear across the forest. It flashed in from due north and seemed to embed itself in one of the spoil heaps surrounding the mine, sending a small shower of earth into the air.
‘This is Atlanta. Magnetic activity is decreasing. We shall be over your horizon and unable to check the field for the next forty minutes. Remain on evacuation alert for this period.’
With nothing to do, he watched as the number of lights in the distance slowly increased, until they were obscured by the dawn.
Standing in Captain Turner's office at noon that day, he gave a full account of what he had seen. As he had expected, the officers were very interested but gave him strict orders not to discuss the matter with anyone else.
Two hours later, the Captain was standing in front of an area of recently disturbed earth on the side of the mine spoil heap. He was watching an excavator digging into it. It was not working very efficiently because a member of the ship’s crew was driving it, but it did not have to dig very far.
The driver swivelled the machine to face him and signalled to him to have a look in the hole. He ran forward to look and saw the surface of a smooth metal object. Backing away, he told the driver to dig around it and soon watched it being dragged clear. Checking it with a Geiger counter, he found no trace of radioactivity.
‘Let’s clean it up a bit and have a look.’
The few chosen crew members he had brought with him moved quickly on his command and cleared the remaining earth from it. The ring could now be seen to be perfectly formed and undamaged. It measured at least six feet across and he guessed it would weigh several tons.
‘Cutting that path through the forest didn't even damage the surface.’
The officer's remark led to the obvious conclusion. The Captain stated it, ‘If this spoil heap hadn't been here, it would have reached the landing field.’
‘And carved a hole through everything in the way,’ the officer added.
Looking closely, they found runes in the surface of the ring, which just confirmed their conclusion that it was artificial.
‘We're going to take it back on the shuttle,’ the Captain ordered. ‘I want it put behind my office and securely covered. I don't want the Director using my ship to start a bloody war about this.’
The loading operation was almost complete when the sentries heard movement in the forest. Looking down the path formed by the ring, they saw Paul. His clothes were torn, and he looked pale, but he seemed to be fit, and he called out to them when they saw him.
24
Captain Turner welcomed him into the office, ‘Come in Paul. I'm sorry you had to wait so long but I think that we have a lot to discuss and I wanted a chance to hear it all without being interrupted.’
If shipshape meant anything, the site office was shipshape. When it had been Paul's office, the walls had been off white and spattered with mud from where he had shaken his boots off. They were now clean and newly painted in brilliant white. An outer office had been built and nothing as dirty as muddy boots ever penetrated this inner sanctum to offend the owner of the spotless carpet. The rhythm of the pile drivers was the only reminder of the world outside.
The room was dominated by a magnificent mahogany desk with an equally imposing chair behind it, finished in leather and more mahogany. Paul was surprised to see that the ship's Captain was not, however, using it. He was sitting in one of two comfortable chairs arranged around a low table in front of the desk. In keeping with the shipshape office, this had a bottle of brandy and two gleaming glasses on it. The Captain gestured for him to sit in the other chair and poured him a large measure.
Paul had appreciated the clear afternoon to wash, change, eat and gather his thoughts before this interview. Their brief ride back in the shuttle had been, by mutual consent, silent. He raised his glass and sipped a first taste from it but offered no verbal reply. The Captain continued, ‘I just checked the records, I see that you were away for three days in week 30 and then went off again in week 32. That was 16 weeks ago.’
Paul finally spoke, ‘I can explain it. I was only trying to protect the ship. Does the Director know?’
‘He knows you were gone but he doesn't know you're back. As you can see, I've got my own men down here now.’
‘So, I see.’
Paul had not returned the glass to the table; he was slowly rotating it in his fingers and the gleam was being replaced with fingerprints. His hands were sweating. They both knew that if the Director found him, he would be imprisoned on the ship and his chances of surviving the return journey would be slim. He asked the obvious question, ‘Will you protect me?’
‘I will if I can. I could probably hide you on the ship but there's no way for you to get a share when we get back.’
‘No, I don't want to go back.’
‘You what? Come on. All alone?’
‘You're not going to believe this but there are people out there.’
This remark stopped the conversation dead. The Captain knocked his drink back in one, poured himself another and placed the glass carefully on the table. Paul began to tell him the whole story of what he had seen in the Southern Kingdom and later in the monastery. The Captain frequently stopped him to question the detail. He found himself able to answer all the technical points but totally unable to explain how humans had arrived on the planet at a time when the earth was navigated with sailing ships.
The bottle was less than half full when the steward came in to serve dinner. The Captain changed the subject while he was in the room.
‘That design you did for the pile drivers was really ugly, but they've done a hell of a job.’
‘How are you doing on the programme?’
‘Just about on target. When we first got here, we were horrified by what was being done but when we looked into it in detail, we found it was all like the design for the pile drivers.’
Paul looked puzzled, ‘Very cryptic, George, but what do you mean by that?’
‘It was a mess, but I think you would have completed it more or less on time.’
‘You mean it wasn't beautiful, but it worked?’
‘Couldn't have put it better myself.’
Paul felt quietly satisfied and proud of what he had done.
The Captain grinned and continued, ‘In fact that could well be the story of your life.’
The steward laughed as he left the room and closed the door behind him.
‘Not any more,’ Paul replied.
The Captain looked puzzled, ‘How do you mean?’
‘I want help to rescue Lynella. I'm sure she's still in there.’
‘You really expect me to risk everything, so you can chase after the girl?’
‘Look, George, seriously, I am sure that she risked her life to get me out.’
George did not look convinced.
‘And if we don't d
o something either she or the Abbot could attack Atlanta.’
‘OK, I'll think about it. You just lie low while I try to sort things out.’
25
Sensing Paul's escape, Lynella knew that the time had eventually come when she must face the real challenge. At one level, it was very simple; the machine must be destroyed. It was a threat to the kingdoms and a threat to Paul's ship. She was exhausted but if she worked carefully, she could cause damage that would take at least a generation to repair. The Abbot had tried to trap her, but she had broken through and now had complete control.
Looking, analysing and understanding were all part of the necessary preparation. The correct key rings must be selected for destruction. Drifting through the pathways, she slowly explored every detail. She must know it before she could kill it. Letting her mind move down, she saw the single massive iron ring in the base of the machine that was used to store energy until it was needed. Moving up to the level at which she was sitting, she looked carefully at each of the nodes in front of the other chairs. Two of these were destroyed with the monks who occupied them dead, presumably still slumped in the chairs behind them. Each of the others was slightly different to match the personality that worked with it. In places, she could detect elements of ruined former nodes which had been built over but still showed traces of the many minds which had been subjugated in the creation of what she must now destroy entirely.
She moved further up still, to the base of the power cables and out to every part of the monastery. With little effort, rings could be moved along the corridors but with no other life present there was little point in this, so she returned to the centre.
Time lost all meaning as she went back along every pathway. There could be no harm in spending a few minutes looking. This was, after all, what had drawn her in from the far side of the Kingdoms.
Ringships Page 15