The Shores of Death (6 page)

Aimer said pettishly. “Why don’t you let me try, Clovis—I’m sure I could get something more positive than this.”

Clovis remained obstinate. He nodded towards the young man. “You try now—try the same male.”

The boy moved his aircar in as the bulky man moved his out. He, too, stared into the tall alien’s eyes.

“I can see what he meant—geometric patterns on an enormous scale—possible they’re numerals—an equation of some kind? And a planet—and machinery—and —is that our galaxy? Yes, I think so—and from the way it’s seen, I’d say they’re from the invading galaxy.

But now there’s a sense of really big distances—moving away from the galaxies—a huge white cloud—very precise patterns—feeling of length and breadth—they’re three dimensional—don’t understand ...”

Aimer was impatient: “Look, Clovis—I’m more experienced in this kind of thing. Don’t forget the experiments I’ve done with animals. I’m sure I can get better results.”

Clovis shrugged. “Very well, go ahead.” He was beginning to feel exhausted. What did the symbols and the emotions mean? They seemed incoherent, without logic. Of course there were difficulties—lack of mutual metaphors to begin with—but if the alients realised what was happening why didn’t they think of more specific symbols? He was tired, he decided, and annoyed at the time this encounter was consuming. He would have to set off, soon, to where he’d heard of the scientist who could help him—in the Bleak Worlds that circled Antares, where Earth’s outcasts lived if they could bear it. Usually they came back after little more than a year, but some managed to hang on for longer, by means of drugs and wired-up bodies and brains.

Aimer’s face was calm and he didn’t look directly into the alien’s eyes, but at a stop just above his crest. He said nothing at first, and then the alien spoke.

“Tiii-y-y-yooo...”

Aimer repeated the word as best he could. “It might mean—not sure—maybe the personal pronoun.” The alien continued to speak. Obviously Aimer was able to make comparisons quickly and learn the fundamentals of the language by influencing the alien’s mind with his own thoughts. This was difficult and not much practised on Earth. But it was getting results now. More words came from the alien and Aimer groped slowly for their meanings. He paused for a moment to shout: “Somebody had better record this,” and then went on with the experiment.

As recording equipment was brought up, Aimer began to attempt translating some of the simpler alien words. It was taking time.

After an hour he had the words for the personal pronoun, the ship, a planet, the idea of intelligence, the concept of destruction and a word that might mean ‘powerful engines,’ the name of the aliens’ home and where it was.

He established that they came from the rogue galaxy and perhaps had a plan that might help Earth—though it might only be some kind of philosophy to prepare the human race for the end, he wasn’t sure—there seemed to be something more specific, but it was taking time.

By two hours, Aimer had managed to get a basic vocabulary of some sixty words, plus words for abstract ideas. He was sweating heavily and under a big strain. At length, he sat back, shaking his head. “That will have to do for the time—I need to relax before I can continue.” He looked triumphantly at Clovis who was slumped on his couch. “I think we’re getting somewhere, though, eh?”

Clovis nodded.

Narvo said: “Come—everybody to my house—we’ll continue last night’s party—we’ve got a great deal to celebrate.”

Clovis cursed Narvo. Everything was conspiring against him to stop him being alone with himself for enough time to collect his thoughts and begin to think and act with more coherence. And he couldn’t afford to offend anyone yet—not until he had what he wanted, and then it wouldn’t matter.

There was no other way out, he decided. He would have to return to space. He had come back because his body and mind had felt as if they were being torn apart by his prolonged absence from Earth, but he would have to find more strength, forego his rest and begin the journey again. There was another factor that helped inspire this decision—Take knew where he planned to go. With luck, Take would remain on Earth, thinking that Clovis would need a longer rest, and that would give him the chance to get ahead of Take and lose him once and for all.

Yes, he would leave Earth, head for the Bleak Worlds.

The aliens were climbing into Narvo’s car. The horde of craft began to move over the sea, heading for the African continent and Narvo’s house on Lake Tanganyika.

He joined the cavalcade, a feeling of intense desperation growing in him as he remembered the aching desolation of space and contemplated another miserable voyage—but a voyage that might mean the culmination of his ambition.

F
rom the hall
below came the noise of the new party. Clovis lay in the dark, stretched out on his bed, his hands behind his head. He was half-asleep, half-dreaming. Two principal emotions were at work within him, conflicting—waves of excitement and waves of sadness.

He tried to forget the sense of loss, the increasing self-hatred, the uselessness of his ambitions, but he could not rid himself entirely of these feelings. The habit of service to his fellows was still strong, yet it had to be denied if he was to achieve what he wanted. Perhaps then he could resume his old life?

Yet he knew instinctively that he might never resume it, for in finding the thing he sought, he would have to sacrifice his earlier virtues.

He liked his old self better, he admitted, but his new self would accomplish more.

When at length Fastina sought him out, he could see that she was slightly drunk. Now that he had made up his mind what he would do, he could afford to allow his affection for her to manifest itself. He smiled at her as she entered the room.

She lay down beside him, laughing softly, stroking his hair.

“Hello, Clovis.”

He smiled and held her hand.

Her mood changed and she said quietly: “You seem worried. Was it something you heard at Yulof’s—about Take?”

“No.” He held her hand tightly. It wasn’t too late. He could change his mind—forget about everything, settle here with her, return to his earlier life—useful work—good friends—a sense of achievement—contentment—complacency. Yes, he had been complacent, they all had. It had taken this knowledge of impending annihilation to rid them of it. This scheme of Narvo’s, though, now he considered it—a fine idea. And the aliens —had they some means of helping them—was there a way? No—the forces involved were far too great. The final cataclysm was inevitable. Why should they think they could escape? When an individual was killed he was amazed at his bad luck—and the same would happen to the race. Really monumental bad luck...

Yet he believed that it wasn’t the same. A race had immortality, an individual had not, except through the race. But if an individual possessed immortality, then the race continued in him.

He had loved his fellows so much, loved Earth, loved its arts and its pleasures. He had squeezed life of every experience possible, and yet he had preserved his integrity, his humanity. Perhaps he should be content to die ? But he wasn’t...

He was stirring now, rolling over to kiss Fastina, embracing her in the same savage, hungry way that he embraced his new personality.
1 must stay selfish,
he thought
—1 must stay this way or lose it all.. .

When he stood up naked from the bed, he heard the party in progress below. He felt relaxed and in good humour, felt a return of his old stoicism, his self-control. She swung her legs off the bed and grinned at him, stretching.

“Shall we go down in a moment?” he said.

“If you like.”

He crossed into the shower-room, turning the dial and feeling the sting of the warm, chemical-laced water as it washed down his lean body. From there he walked into the drying chamber and let the heated air dry him. Then he went back into his room and pulled a fresh toga over his head. He had selected a white one, with red edging.

“That suits you better than those dark clothes you normally wear,” she said, looking at him critically as he combed his hair. He sat down and pulled on his soft, high-heeled boots as she sauntered towards the shower-room.

He paused, noticing something—silence in the hall below. Then one voice speaking. He went over to the amplifier in the corner of the room, switched it on, but only heard the last couple of words—“—is possible!” Then the amplifier roared with the sound of cheering.

People were very excitable today, he thought, as Fastina came into the room again. “What was that?” she said.

“Somebody making an announcement. Your friend Aimer, I think.”

“He’s fond of making announcements. What was it about?”

“I didn’t catch it. Will you go down as you are?”

“I won’t be in fashion, but still...”

They dropped into the gravishute.

Leaving the gravishute at ground-level, they walked quickly along a passage and entered the main hall. People were smiling at one another, talking rapidly.

Clovis heard a woman say: “Will this mean the re-industrialisation of Earth?”

Re-industrialisation? A horrible idea. What called for that, he wondered.

Holding Fastina’s hand, he made his way through the crowd until he found Narvo Velusi. The old man was talking to the tall, yellow aliens. Beside him, Andros Aimer interpreted.

Cheerfully, Clovis said: “What’s all the enthusiasm for?”

Narvo turned. “Clovis—these people—‘ Shreelians ’ is the best we can manage—they think they can save us.” Clovis looked closely at the tallest alien. Was it possible? He experienced a sense of profound excitement. Suddenly his whole pattern of ideas broke apart and reformed itself. He felt light-headed as he said: “How?”

“Well, it’s complicated—we aren’t quite
sure
how they they can do it—but it sounds as if it will work. They’re already beginning to put their plan into operation in their home world. As far as we can tell it involves shunting our entire solar system out of the danger area.” Clovis said: “But that isn’t possible, Narvo. The gravity ...”

“Their technology is far in advance of ours. It will mean converting two entire planets—probably Pluto and Mercury—into huge machines that will set up a field of force around the system, producing artificial balance when we move beyond galactic influence. Probably Pluto and Mercury will have to be re-positioned...”

Clovis said urgently: “And you are sure they can do it for us?”

“They can’t do it—they need all their man-power, as we shall. But they can show us how.”

Clovis grinned involuntarily, then let the laughter come. Narvo looked at him, smiling. “A chance, eh, Clovis? A solution we didn’t dare consider!”

“A solution, yes,” Clovis laughed. “Salvation— certainly. This does make a difference, Narvo. Oh, yes —a very great difference. But it’s salvation in two ways, Narvo. I’m not interested in
our
salvation any more. I’m interested in
mine\”

“You’re speaking nonsense, Clovis.” Narvo took his arm sympathetically. “You’re still under a strain. Perhaps you had better rest—the world is going to need your leadership again. We must form a government— ”

Then Clovis had brushed away Narvo’s hand and turned, running through the crowd, following by Narvo’s shocked stare. He looked at Fastina:

“Fastina—he must listen to me. Soon the world will be at work—tensions will arise, conflicts over plans— only Clovis can hold us together. He must not desert us? What does he mean?”

“I don’t know,” she said as she started after him. “Clovis! Clovis! Where are you going?”

Chuckling like a mad-man the First Citizen of Earth darted up the gravishute towards the roof.

He heard her behind him.

“Clovis! Isn’t that what you were looking for? Isn’t your search over now? You’d hoped to save humanity— and now it has the chance! What’s the matter, Clovis? There’s no need to go on looking!”

As he reached the roof, he laughed and wheeled round to confront her as she emerged from the shute. She looked at his face and she felt the same shock she had experienced in the intergalactic ship when she had seen the corpse. She stepped backwards, nearly overbalancing into the shute.

“What was I looking for? You’ve found something— but it isn’t what I want. There’s no necessity for secrecy now, Fastina—no-one will laugh at my ambition. If their scheme is successful then I shall be the one who will benefit most of all.”

“But you heard what Narvo said. They need you now. Without you, the scheme could fail.”

“Let them find someone else. I’m going out there. I’m going back into space again—and this time I shall find what I’m looking for.” He pointed upwards, grinning. He noticed that he was frightening her and grinned the more.

He stepped towards his aircar and clambered into it. She followed, climbing in after him.

He shook his head rapidly. “No! No, Fastina!”

He turned and picked her up bodily, throwing her back on to the roof. She fell with a cry of pain.

Then he put his sonarkey to his lips and gave the car its instructions.

“Where are you going?” she shouted, lying on the roof, her naked body white against the dark surface. She began to scramble up, sobbing. “Which planet? Clovis—what about your loyalties?”

The last thing she heard was his voice crying back to her as his car sailed over the sky.

“I have only one loyalty now, Fastina. I nearly ignored it. Only one loyalty and it’s to my ambition!”

And he laughed and laughed as he headed the car towards the spacefield and his ship.

“Such ambitions have often been known to drive men mad,” said a melodious voice behind her. “And yet if the ambition is achieved a darker madness has to be fought...”

She twisted herself round to look at the speaker.

It was Take, of course.

Lie down, lie down, young yeoman;

The sun moves always west;

The read one treads to labour

Will lead one home to rest,