Worlds Apart

by J. T. McIntosh

  "You should have acted like a human being, and I'd have led you to Lemon that first day, God help me!"

  Corey gave an order. And Pertwee knew that he wouldn't see anyone again until the Clades had found the new Mundan settlement, for Corey meant what he said. Pertwee was taken along a narrow corridor and left in a steel room which was as black and silent as the grave.

  "The sword again, Lieutenant," said Corey, when Pertwee was gone. "As before."

  Once more the tip touched Toni's breast. "Is what Pertwee said true?" Corey demanded.

  Silence. Again a spurt of blood. Mathers licked dry lips delicately.

  Phyllis said: "I think, Sir, she wants him to kill her."

  Corey cursed. "What can you do with these people?" he demanded. "How can you get them to answer a simple question?"

  "Ask it," said Toni wearily. "Without swords or torture or threats. I don't care any more. Is it true? I don't know. It could be. It could be a lie. Nobody ever told me."

  The commodore's mood changed as Toni spoke so disinterestedly, so apathetically. "Have we broken you at last, little Mundan?" he asked with interest, almost with amusement.

  "Not by what you've done," said Toni quietly. "By what you are, perhaps. Are you really men and women, you Clades? Or do you just look like the human beings I know?"

  Corey struck her across the face.

  "Yes, that's right," she said. "That's exactly what I meant."

  The commodore turned on his heel. "Back to Mundis," he ordered. "We'll search every square inch until we find these people. And when we do, they'll surrender or die."

  "Sir," said Sloan slowly, "that's a matter for . . . "

  He was going to point out that they had nothing to lose by a friendiy approach to the Mundans, when at last they found them; that their orders had been to help the Mundans, not destroy them; that Toni's people might be strong and as stubborn and courageous as she was; that they were the Clades' fellow men, after all, in a galaxy short of that commodity after the solar system had destroyed itself; and above all that the commodore, though the supreme commander, was not the Clades, just one man . . .

  But Corey said coldly: "I know what you are going to say, Captain. I regard it as mutiny. Do you still wish to say it?"

  "No, sir," said Sloan expressionlessly.

  He might have the balance of power and he might not. He wasn't prepared to put it to the test yet.

  2

  It was almost dusk, but there was still plenty of light. Rog sat on a rock spur, alone, twenty feet up, and looked and thought.

  Freedom had stopped growing. The rest of the work was refinement. There was a lump in Rog's throat at the beauty of it. Could. there ever have been a city as beautiful? Everything was graceful, pleasing, giving a sense of completeness. One looked at the city from one angle, and everything fitted in satisfyingly with everything else; one moved a few steps to the left or to the right, and there was a subtle, kaleidoscopic change.

  Nothing in that city was pretentious, and nothing was humble. Every house was proud to be a house, glad that no other house was exactly like it. The halls and theaters and ballrooms were grander than any house, but none were allowed to be vain or sensual or febrile. Solidity and grace were mingled as far as possible; nothing in Freedom was thin or spidery, though there were plenty of slender lines, and nothing was heavy or massive.

  It was Abner Carliss's dream, and now the whole human race could share it, if they would. Rog smiled as he realized that Abner had planned the whole so that statues would be a false note. One couldn't imagine a statue in Freedom. So there would be no statue to Abner Carliss, the only Mundan so far, Rog thought, to whom they might have erected one.

  The evening sun still shone on the city, but the ground below Rog was in black shadow. He saw the white movement, however, which meant that someone was coming to talk to him, and waited philosophically.

  It was June. She climbed surefootedly beside him and sat with him. He knew she wouldn't speak if he frowned or gave any other sign that he didn't want her to speak. That had never changed.

  "June," he said, "can I say something that ought to be said without having you think at once I want rid of you?"

  She started, but his tone was kind. She said cautiously: "Does that mean that you don't want rid of me, but . . . " Her voice broke, despite her care.

  He took her in his arms. "That was just what I /didn't/ want," he said gently. "Look, June, stop blaming yourself for everything. If our marriage has never really come alive, it's not your fault, do you understand? Do you think you could stop blaming yourself? Try, anyway."

  He kissed her forehead. "Then, perhaps," he said quietly, "it really will come alive."

  "You mean," she said, "I might still have a child."

  "Hell, no," said Rog a little impatientiy. He was impatient with himself principally. He shouldn't have allowed her to think that -- now it would be difficult to clear the idea from her mind. "There are plenty of children. That's not as vital as it used to be. Even if we don't have children . . . "

  But suddenly, as he spoke, he knew it wasn't going to work out, anyway. After all these weeks, all that had happened, she was still too much in awe of him. She couldn't share his life because she didn't try. She would never step up beside him. She'd always stay a few steps lower down.

  So he added, rather absently: "Anyway, it may be my fault there are no children. I didn't have any with Toni either."

  He had done all he could about June, he felt. The rest was up to her -- he might be wrong. He put her from his mind, though his arms were still about her.

  The first day on which the Cladss might have been back, if it had gone to Outpost and returned immediately, was past. They hadn't been ready then. But it was reasonable to suppose that it would search the dead world for at least a week; with Pertwee doing what he could to keep them there. Then, too, they might spend quite a while searching Mundis before they found Freedom.

  But the sands were running out. In the next week, Rog calculated, on the basis of facts Bentley had supplied, the long-delayed encounter would come.

  They had set up listening posts five miles from Freedom, each with someone on duty day and night. Seconds would count; the sentries had had nothing to do but close a switch, and Freedom would be ready. That meant a big wastage in trained manpower, though. Dick and Bentley between them had built a simple alarm which would be triggered by the sound of the Clades' engines over silent Mundis. At one after another out-post the alarm was installed. Now Freedom trusted entirely to it for the first warning. A split second after the first murmur of engines was picked up five miles away, everyone in Freedom would be alert, waiting.

  Now that Freedom had the tools and equipment to do jobs easily, Rog had had a funkhole dug several miles from the city. There were always a hundred people there. Rog didn't like the idea, but he felt this had to be done. If the Clades appeared and it and Freedom destroyed each other, at least there would be people left to start again. Or, a little better, if there was rescue work to be done, there would be a hundred rescuers. Alice was left in charge of that party, and Dick was generally with them.

  There was more protection than there seemed to be for those who remained in the city. And the buildings themselves could take a lot more than one would imagine, looking at them. The Carliss-Foley-Mitchell combination built gracefully but cunningly. Strength was a prerequisite, though it might be strength hidden, even strength denied.

  The city was strong and there was protection against blast for everyone who would be in it, because Rog was calculating on a strong possibility that an atom bomb would be detonated in the air above Freedom. Twenty-five men with three beams had no job but to watch the smooth metal keel of the Clades, two-thirds of the way along, at the point from which a bomb would emerge if Corey should decide the Mundan city must be destroyed. Whenever there was a crack in the blank metal, those beams would meet on it. And the bomb, though it would do Freedom no good, would do the Clades much less,

>   This was the bad time for Freedom, the waiting time. If he could, Rog would have sent for the Clades. People would go mad under a strain like this. Already Alice had been sent four gunners who thought they had seen the Clades.

  And with the recollection Rog realized that he should never be so far from his post, now. He was fully three hundred yards from it, with no means of getting there but running. A minute . . . and Freedom might he gone in a minute.

  He stood up. June stood with him. "Rog," she said, "let's call it off, shall we?"

  It took Rog long seconds to fix his mind on what she was talking about. At first he thought she meant call off the Clade-Mundan dispute, and wondered if there was some way of doing that which he had never noticed.

  "I know why you did it," said June. "You had to marry someone. But it doesn't matter now, or for a long time. You should be free, not having to think about me."

  "June . . . " said Rog. He wanted to say what he knew she still wanted to hear. But to Rog, honor and kindness and chivalry were subject to common sense. It would he better for June, for him, and for Abner if June, instead of having her impulsive suggestion refused, should find it acted on at once.

  "You're perfectly right, June," said Rog warmly. He knew he was hurting her, but believed it was a clean hurt. "Don't let's play out a fantastic situation because we won't admit we made a mistake."

  He couldn't see June's face in the darkness. He was glad; this was one time when he didn't want to see it.

  3

  "There!" said Corey exultantly.

  He didn't have to give any order; it had been given long ago. The Clades, having sighted something which was clearly the Mundan settlement, though there was no time to see any details, instantly withdrew again. It had been nosing along quietly, and now as it dropped to the ground whatever it was that had been seen was over the horizon.

  Toni was brought into the big observation room in the nose of the ship, in the care of Phyllis. Soon afterwards Pertwee appeared, still blinking. Toni cried out at sight of him. His skin was white and he had a ragged beard. He had been allowed to keep himself clean, for the Clades were risking no disease, but he was shaky on his feet and seemed to have difficulty in keeping his balance.

  Sloan was there, and Fenham came in silently as Pertwee's eyes slowly learned to give his mind clear images again. The sound of feet in the corridors of the ship was a dull roar.

  Mathers came in with a dripping print. It was a picture which had been taken in the few seconds when the Mundan town had been visible from the ship. Corey scrutinized it.

  "Plan Three," he said.

  Sloan was looking at the picture now. "I don't like the look of this, sir," he said, "That city -- "

  "I don't recall asking for your opinion, Captain," said Corey. "All discussion is over. This is action."

  "But Plan Three, sir -- "

  "That'll do, captain."

  "I wish to support Captain Sloan, sir," said Phyllis. "I think I know what his objections are. I agree."

  "This," the commodore declared slowly, "is a fighting ship, manned by a trained fighting force, and this is the first opportunity it has had to fight. And immediately we sight the probable enemy, two of my chief officers suddenly decide -- "

  "Pardon me, sir," said Phyllis. "I think you know there is nothing sudden about this."

  Pertwee, gradually coming to life after an eternity when the only event was a meal or an opportunity to wash or change his clothes in pitch blackness, looked up with his old keenness at that. Phyllis was burning her boats. She had decided, apparently, after a glance at the print of the Mundan City, to throw in her lot with him, Toni, and the Mundans. Later it might be too late to jump. PertWee noticed, too, that Sloan, without orders, was recording the proceedings.

  "I am with you, of course, sir," said Mathers.

  "Then relay Plan Three."

  There were two control rooms in the ship, and this, exposed as it was, wasn't either of them. Corey's order placed Mathers at the board which was rather a communication point than anything rise. Corey nodded to Fenham, and she went out again, presumably to one of the control rooms. Phyllis and Sloan exchanged glances which weren't lost on Pertwee. One or both of them should have been employed instead of Fenham and Mathers, it seemed.

  Mathers at the board could see very little. Corey meant to give the orders, so Mathers didn't have to see. The signals were pre-arranged, coded. As the situation changed Corey would give an order, Mathers would interpret it, relay a laconic signal to some point in the ship, and there someone would do something he was standing ready to do.

  A speaker at Mathers's left ear said "Ess two."

  "Landing complete, force clear," said Mathers.

  They couldn't see it from the observation room, which at the moment showed only a few square yards of bracken, but a big land force had been disembarked. At the signal that the landing was complete, the ship rose again. Wyness must be in command of the land force, Pertwee realized.

  The ship moved forward, and Pertwee's eyes completed their recovery just in time for him to see the city as soon and as plainly as the others did.

  He knew he was there largely so that his reactions could be studied, and had determined not to give anything away, whatever happened, whatever he saw. But as he saw what the Mundans had done he gasped in amazement.

  To Pertwee what Corey did then was insane, for one glance at the city had shown Pertwee that the Mundans had succeeded in everything they had attempted. As a community they had suddenly, brilliantly, found the Midas touch. But what Corey had seen was different. He saw a clean, graceful city, open, defenseless. He saw slender, effete buildings that would hardly survive a storm on Secundis. He saw open spaces and freedom in every sweeping line of the Mundan settlement.

  He saw beauty. Beauty was weakness. There could be no strength, nothing for Clades to fear, in that city.

  He spoke rapidly to Mathers, and the Clades swooped on the city. Even inside it they could hear every word from the amplifiers at full power.

  "Your leaders will march out and we shall pick them up. They will bring back to you the terms of the Clade-Mundan alliance. Do not be alarmed. There will be no disorder. Anyone making a disturbance will he shot. You have ten minutes. Your leaders will march out and we shall pick them up. They will bring back to you the terms . . . "

  There must have been other recordings waiting to be relayed by amplifier to the Mundans. The commodore, on a glance at the city, had decided which would be the first message to pass between Mundan and Clade. And that was it.

  Pertwee had never in his life felt more helpless. He almost wished that he was down below with a rifle, however futile a rifle might be. Then he could do something, if it was only to fire a useless shot that wouldn't even reach the steel hide of the monster over the city.

  Toni was staring at the wonderful sight below. Sloan and Phyllis stood immobile, knowing that for them this was more than a battle, it was a personal issue. If Plan Three worked, Corey was right, they were wrong, and Corey would take full advantage of it.

  Two minutes.

  Then alarm bells rang. Mathers snapped a speaker switch. "Heavy beam on tail," said a voice. Corey barked something, Mathers spoke rapidly, flicking switches. Long seconds, then two miles away something concealed in the grass of the plain glowed, exploded, and was suddenly a ridiculous little puff of smoke. The beam had been traced and destroyed.

  "Heavy beam on tail," the speaker reported, "From other side of city this time."

  "Plan Sevenl" said Corey. Mathers moved again, and the ship lurched as acceleration gripped it. "Heavy beam on tail," said the speaker. "Bombs ready," Mathers reported. Corey gestured impatiently.

  Something dropped from the ship, well forward. It wasn't an atom bomb, and it wasn't aimed at the city. This was a demonstration, now that a demonstration was obviously necessary. It would shatter every window in the city, but wouldn't do much more damage than that.

  Something happened to it. There was
another ridiculous little puff of smoke, in mid-air this time.

  "City center, full power," said Corey.

  "You can't!" Sloan shouted. "Even if we all die . . . "

  "City center, full power!" Corey barked.

  Mathers leaned forward, Then he dropped away from the switchboard. Phyllis had shot him through the head so that his body couldn't continue its movement and press the switch. Corey whirled, his gun in his hand. But Sloan was going to need all his allies, particularly Phyllis. He kicked the commodore's wrist and the gun slid along the floor.

  Phyllis didn't know it, but she had saved the Clares, not the Mundans.

  It was only three seconds later that the ground slid under the ship and the six people in the room, five alive and one dead, were thrown violently across it. "Tail gone,"sald the speaker, with gloomy finality.

  There was no defense against the atom. And Mundis, after all, had used it first.

  The ground force was beaten by an old weapon. Several things were ready, but when one of the watchers in the pillboxes well clear of the city reported that the Clades had no masks, Rog merely opened the cocks and Freedom was surrounded by a belt of heavy, rolling gas. None of the Clades died, except one who shot himself in falling.

  But none of them remained on their feet either. And the ship, just to prove the Mundans still had the Midas touch, dropped into the belt of gas too, with all its airvents open, its tail gone and the hull split in places by the heavy landing. By that time the issue wasn't in doubt -- but it could have been a lot more difficult and costly for Rog and the Mundam.

  4

  "And that," said Bentley, "was why we were conditioned against nuclear energy. There's no defense. Used efficiently, as you used it, Rog, it may mean victory without loss. It isn't often used like that."

  He noted with mild irritation that Rog wasn't listening. They were walking along the corridor that ran round the new Council Chamber. It wasn't finished. Hardly any interiors were, so far. Rog was looking about him, wondering what Abner meant to do to the bare walls and roof.