The 38th Golden Age of Science Fiction MEGAPACK

by Chester S. Geier

  Reid told Lain of what had taken place during the trip. Lain’s bony face grew sombre.

  “John, you’ll remember that I’ve warned you of Norlin being a troublemaker. There’s no telling what he may do now. Things have gotten so bad here in camp that the Arkites would grasp at almost any opportunity offered them.”

  “What do you mean?” Reid asked, frowning. “You aren’t suggesting that Norlin and the Arkites will go running off toward the city, are you?”

  “Not exactly, John. Look here—wars have been fought over issues less great than the present one; the Solar System itself was destroyed over an empty, ideal. The Arkites have suffered enough already. What you’re asking now will mean sure death for a lot of them. You just can’t expect them to follow you that far. Then what other course of action is left for them to take?”

  * * * *

  “Rebellion?” Reid whispered. His voice rose in a sudden burst of impatience. “But, good heavens, Doug, civilization is founded upon blood and sweat! They’re to be expected; you can’t built without them. Perhaps a lot may perish in the building—even I may be among them—but what does it matter, provided that something has been accomplished in pushing the race a step or two nearer toward its goal of glory and greatness?”

  “I know that, John—but do the Arkites see it that way? Greatness and glory are meaningless to them in their present situation. What they want most is decent food and shelter, cleanliness and sanitation. They know they could find that in the city.” Lain took a deep breath; his eyes dropped to his feet. When he spoke again, his voice faltered.

  “John, I’m afraid that we’ve both bitten off more than we were able to chew. We thought we could play Gods with the Arkites, but we haven’t been very successful. Not for many, many years to come could we provide all the comforts and conveniences that the city offers now. Maybe—maybe it’s best if we were to go to the city.”

  “Doug—you too!” Reid’s cry was agonized, as though wrung with sudden, terrible pain. He grasped Lain’s arms, staring at the other with wide, incredulous eyes.

  And then his hands dropped to his sides. He stepped back, his face a hard mask.

  “Doug, not even your doubt will turn me aside from the goal I’ve set for the Arkites. It’s the right one and the only one, and if neither you nor they can see that, then you’re only making things harder for yourselves. Because reach it we must—and shall. I won’t permit a small thing like comfort for a present few to stand in the way of the future of our race.”

  “John, wait!” Lain held up an imploring hand. “I’m not doubting you. I was only suggesting the only alternative to the present situation. I followed you this far—and I’ll continue to follow you, you know that.”

  Reid turned aside with steely purpose. “So much for that, then. We’re leaving New Terra, and that’s final. You and I will get to work upon the engines immediately. And as for rebellion among the Arkites in the meantime”—and his lips thinned against his teeth—“I’ll take care of that!”

  Reid mounted the slope and vanished into the Parsec. When next he appeared in camp, the ominous shape of a blast-gun was strapped to his hip. Eyes widened at sight of the weapon, then grew narrow and vengeful. The Arkites gave way before him wherever he went, as though he had suddenly become something alien and deadly.

  Reid said nothing in explanation as to the appearance and purpose of the weapon. His watchful eyes told him that the Arkites knew. He gave terse instructions for the partial dismantling of the camp, and the packing up of tools and supplies. Then he started once more for the Parsec to aid Lain in overhauling the engines.

  “John, wait a moment.”

  It was Susan, waiting for him just at the edge of camp. She indicated the blast-gun on his hip.

  “Why are you wearing that?”

  “You ought to know. You’ve seen the way things are shaping up in camp. Have you come to tell me that you wouldn’t scratch my eyes out for the chance to go to the city and live a life of luxury and ease?”

  Her grey eyes were dark. “Not exactly. But—but if I were to tell you that, would you believe me?”

  “Believe you?” Reid snorted disdainfully. “Are you trying to make me think that you’d be willing to pass up this chance to get back to the easy life you’ve known—pretty dresses, perfume, jewelry—all the other things a woman loves?”

  “Yes,” she answered, very softly.

  “Susan!” Reid grasped her by the shoulders, his fingers biting deep into the soft skin. “Look at me, girl! Are you playing with me? What do you mean?”

  Her solemn gaze met his bewildered one. “John, do you know what I was before the war? A deb—a silly playgirl. My father had loads of money, and there was never a thing I had to do. I wasted my time in a constant round of wild, foolish parties. But the war and the life here on New Terra both have taught me something. I discovered a purpose in life, a reason for being. I’ve had to work and suffer with the rest—but, John, I’ve enjoyed it! For the first time in my life I was doing something real and vital. I was actually useful!”

  “Yes, but I don’t see—”

  “Wait. John, I’m probably one of the very few here who really believes in your dream. I want to see the foundation laid for a new and better civilization. And I’d be willing to work for it, for I’ve found happiness in working, accomplishing. But the others don’t and just can’t see it that way. They’ve suffered terribly—more so, lately, with the heat and the drought. They know, if they left New Terra, that they’d have to suffer again—perhaps more intensely on another world. They can’t take any more; they’re cracking up now. And I can’t bear it, John!” Susan’s flow of words ended in a sudden sob. Her small face grew appealing; her lips trembled.

  “I don’t care for myself,” she went on. “But I can’t and won’t let them suffer any more. They’re whispering about revolt down in camp. Oh, of course, I know about it. And I can’t let that happen, either, for it’ll mean hurt and death to many.” She paused; her grey eyes went dark again.

  “John, I know how you feel about me. It’s so obvious—Look, then, if—if I gave myself to you, would you take the step necessary to avoid further suffering, and possibly bloodshed? Would you allow the Arkites to go to the city?”

  Reid stared at her, numb with shock and amaze. “You—you’d give yourself to me—for that?” he asked huskily.

  “Yes, John.”

  “But you love Norlin!”

  Her eyes dropped to her roughened hands; her head nodded slowly. “But he doesn’t enter into this,” she said suddenly, looking up. “It won’t make any difference. I swear I’ll be just as faithful—”

  Reid was a statue of stone to whom words were useless. Susan’s head bent again, and she bit her lip while tears crept from her eyes to tremble at the ends of her long lashes.

  Reid looked down at the bowed, auburn head and the small shoulders shaking beneath their soiled blouse. He knew a sudden, overpowering urge to take her in his arms and hold her close. But he knew this could never be, and he turned aside. The sad, sweet melody which played in his heart ended on a broken chord.

  He started up the slope toward the Parsec, but once again the girl’s voice reached out to hold him back.

  “John—don’t you want me?”

  He whirled. “Want you! Why—” he choked back the words which would tell her of the love and longing that filled him the way rich, vibrant life would fill the city of his dreams. His face grew once more flint-like.

  “What ever made you think that I would consider having you as more important than the future of our race? Building on another world, we’d preserve our culture and traditions. Living down there in the city, we’d lose our racial identity just as surely as though we’d remained in the Solar System and perished with the rest. Did you think I would permit that—just for you?

  “And did you ever stop to think
for a moment that the people in the city might not welcome us with the friendly, wide-open arms that you all imagine they would? Have any of you actually been down in the city, seen them face to face, talked with them? They may resemble ourselves, but remember that this is a strange world, light-years removed from Earth. They my be so alien that they’d drive us crazy trying to understand or get along with them. Or, again, they might exterminate us because of some idiotic religious, political, or economic reason—or simply because they don’t like our smell.” Reid made an abrupt gesture.

  “Enough of this. As soon as Lain and I fix up the engines, we’re leaving New Terra.” Without another word or backward glance, he started up the slope.

  At the top a sudden, chilly sensation made him pause. Wind! It riffled through his hair and whipped the end of his tunic about his shorts. It hummed in his ears and the scent of it was fresh in his nostrils.

  Abruptly, the sky darkened; Reid looked up to see a great, black cloud slide across the face of the sun. And then the coolness was not only of the wind; it swept down upon the world like a warm blanket thrown suddenly aside. Great, dark masses were gathering in the east and sweeping toward the camp. Even as Reid watched, a lightning flash appeared in a sudden blaze of brilliance, and a moment later there was a roll of thunder like the rumble of an awakening giant.

  Reid gazed about him, transfixed. New Terra was stirring into ominous, elemental life. The trees that grew at the farther end of the rise were twisting and swaying as though in torment, their leaves rustling like a thousand tambourines shaking in a palsy of terror. The dry, brown grasses dipped and rose like waves upon a restlessly heaving sea.

  Rain! Reid ran the rest of the way to the Parsec and bounded into the airlock.

  “Doug!” he shouted. “Doug! Come here quick!”

  When Lain appeared his long face was pale and strained. “I thought—What—” And then he noticed. “Rain!” he whispered. “Good lord, at last!”

  They watched while the wind swooped and tore at them and the great, black cloud banks spread until they seemed to cover all the sky. Lightning flashed again, and again there was a shaking peal of thunder. It was like a signal sounded upon an immense drum somewhere in the heavens. Rain began pattering down in large, full drops, slow at first, then faster and faster until at last the water spread from sky to earth in an almost solid grey sheet.

  “Great space, John!” Lain exclaimed. “All hell is breaking loose out there!”

  Reid nodded, his eyes wide with appall. It was true; this was not the mere rain which he had expected at first—it was a storm of tremendous, terrible proportions. The wind had become a screaming, raging gale, the lightning crackled and flared almost continuously, and the thunder crashed and boomed like the death knell of a world. The very earth seemed to quake beneath the Parsec.

  Reid stiffened suddenly. “The Arkites!” he cried. “My God! Doug, I’ve got to—” His face grey and twisted with apprehension, Reid started out into the storm.

  “Come back here, you fool!” Lain screamed. “It’s too late to do anything!”

  But Reid was already out in the storm. He staggered forward a few steps and then the gale swooped down at him, smashing him to the ground like the vicious swipe of a titanic palm. It tore at him, actually rolled him over. The rain beat at him, pummeled him, blinded him. The din of the storm deafened him.

  Battered, gasping, deluged, Reid fought his way back to the airlock. Dimly he was aware of others near him in the storm, struggling forward as he was struggling. Then the cold metal of the Parsec’s hull was against his hand, and he felt along it for the airlock. His seeking fingers met wet, human flesh; others, too, were seeking to enter the ship. He acted automatically, mechanically, numbed by the fury of the elements with which he was in contact. One by one, he helped them into the ship, pushing, pulling, his hands slipping on slick, wet skin, while all the time he fought to keep his feet and balance in the, terrific gale. He didn’t know how many there were; his senses had become too over-taxed for the registering of further impressions. There was a seemingly interminable interval while he labored there in the midst of the storm—and then there was nothing but blackness.

  When Reid awoke he found himself inside the Parsec. That much of his first awareness of things told him. When he turned his head a moment later, it was to discover that he was lying on the floor within general lounge, propped up by what seemed to be a folded blanket.

  The lighting and heating units had been turned on for this part of the vessel, and it was bright and comfortable enough, save that it had the stuffy, tainted atmosphere of a crowded room. And it was crowded, Reid saw. For a moment he had hopes that all the Arkites might have escaped the storm.

  “John! Are you all right?” Someone knelt beside him. It was Doug Lain.

  “Doug—how is everything?” Reid demanded tensely.

  “I don’t know yet. A little more than half the Arkites managed to reach the ship during the first full fury of the storm; you yourself helped a large number. They kept coming in trickles after that. Some are still arriving, but we won’t know the total amount of damage done until the storm is over. And that won’t be long now.”

  With a sudden pang of apprehension, Reid thought of Susan. His eyes darted quickly about the crowded room, and then he slumped back in relief. The girl was bent over the reeling form of an Arkite in a far corner, tying a bandage. He had noticed Norlin, too, conversing with a group of men. Obviously, Susan and the scout had been among the first to reach the Parsec.

  Reid thought of his own presence within the ship. He had no memory of having come aboard.

  “Doug, how did I get here?” he asked, turning back to Lain.

  “I went out and pulled you into the airlock after I realized that you had passed out. I was there all the time, helping you get the Arkites inside.”

  Reid grinned affectionately at the other. “Good old Doug! I’d never once been aware of it.” His voice grew suddenly brisk and grim. “But there’s work to be done; I can’t lay around like this.” He struggled to his feet and walked unsteadily to the center of the room.

  “Attention, please! As soon as the storm ends, we’ll go down to camp and pick up survivors. I’ll want volunteers for that. Then several of you might go down into the hold and knock apart a dozen crates or so which we can use as stretchers. I’d like to have about three or four of the women go to the galley and prepare hot broth. There’s plenty of emergency concentrates in the cabinets. The rest of you can search for such dry goods as are still present for use as coverings both for yourselves and the survivors. Are there any doctors present?”

  Two of the Arkites stepped forward, dispirited, weary-looking men whose clothing hung in rags. Each gripped a sodden, and battered medical kit.

  “Good!” Reid acknowledged. “Get some broth as soon as it’s ready, then stand by for action.” He turned and left general lounge. From the storeroom he gathered a number of fluorolite lanterns, later distributing them among the men who had volunteered for rescue work. Then he went to the airlock to watch for the breaking up of the storm.

  Outside it was night. The thunder and lightning had gone, leaving only the rain and the wind. Gradually, the wind died down and the rain slackened from a heavy downpour to a light drizzle.

  Reid looked at Doug Lain who had joined him during the interval of waiting. “Well, I guess we can go out now,” he said slowly. His tones were somber with dread.

  The camp, as revealed by the beams of the fluorolites, was a flooded ruin. Hip-deep water covered everything. Not a single hut, tent, or lean-to was left standing; all had been demolished in the fury of the storm. Objects of all kinds floated everywhere.

  Little more than a score of survivors was picked up. Reid found these clinging feebly to the rocks which projected from the valley walls. They were loaded onto the make-shift stretchers and taken up to the Parsec. But for Reid and Lain
the work did not end there. Already dead-weary from sloshing back and forth through the flooded camp and toiling up and down the slope, they spent further hours in first-aid work. Assured, finally, that everything immediately vital had been taken care of, Reid rolled himself into a blanket and fell into an exhausted slumber.

  * * * *

  Morning came clear and cold. After a hasty breakfast of concentrates, Reid was once more down at the ravaged camp site, directing the gruesome task of salvage. By afternoon, all the bodies of the perished had been recovered and laid out upon the slope. And now Reid knew the full extent of the damage done.

  Almost one-fourth of the Arkites had gone down in that incredible and merciless storm. It was a total that stunned Reid, left him feeling desolate and bitter. His conflict with the Arkites over the city had made him momentarily lose sight of the fact that they were his people. He had been as proud and jealous of them as a mother hen over a flock of newly-hatched chicks. The loss brought a forceful return of this feeling, and his emotions touched hitherto unplumbed depths of sadness and regret.

  The rest of the day was consumed in burial of the bodies and the recovery of tools and supplies. A tiny, temporary camp was also set up around and about the Parsec. Early the next morning, Reid and Lain went down into the bowels of the ship to begin work upon the engines.

  Reid scratched his head ruefully as he surveyed the gleaming rows of warp-generators. “Any idea of where to begin, Doug?” he asked. “You’ve been puttering around for more than two weeks now.”

  “Well, I’ve got a hunch the trouble might lie with the relaxor-relays. We’ll take off the housings and trace out the leads and connections of these first. Then—” Lain broke off, listening. His face jerked abruptly back to Reid.

  “John—sounds like a lot of men were coming down here!”

  Reid’s face, already engraved by sorrow and suffering, grew deeper lines. “Let them come,” he responded metallically. He loosened the blast-gun in its holster. The weapon had somehow managed to remain with him in spite of everything.