Worlds Apart (25 page)

Even the responsibility for co-ordination had been surrendered. That was Mary's. More than Rog, more than her daughter, Mary had the gift of handling people doing jobs and seeing that the jobs came out right and at the right time. So Alice, who had thought she was somebody, was comforted slightly, when she found herself running errands, by the thought that her father, mother, and husband were three of the most important people around, and that Rog Foley, who had planned and started and directed all this, was probably running errands too.

Rog found Bentley in a fairly slack moment. Dick was working on one of the atomic engines which had made all this possible. Bentley was stretching his back as if tired, but Rog saw his eyes dancing with glee. The true scientist likes to see things happening -- likes to have theories tested in the field and feel progress and the growth of knowledge about him.

"Freedom is healthy enough, Jim," said Rog soberly. "But how about the Clades?"

The glee didn't leave Bentley's eyes, though his face sobered a little. "I appreciate that you haven't kept asking that, Rog," he said, "and left me in peace until I had an answer. I've got one. Let us have three more weeks and the Clades won't he any stronger than we are."

Rog's eyes searched his face. "How is that?" he asked. "They have their ship and all its equipment, and we destroyed most of ours. It will take years before some of it can be replaced -- you told me that yourself. Even now . . . "

"Attack," said Bentley, "is just directed power. True, we should he able to direct it better if we had some of the weapons the Clades presumably has, and which we once had; if we had the lenses we won't he able to grind for years yet, the metals we can't refine so far, the precision manufacture that only comes in closer and closer approach to perfection over decades of technology.

"But basically, a weapon is still just directed power. And if we can't direct it so well we just have to throw in more power. We'll he able to do that."

"Why? Surely the Clades has as much power as we have? And isn't it practically unlimited?"

"You're no scientist, Rog," said Bentley, "but you have imagination. Remember this, for a start -- the power of the atom is always finite. Granted, it's enormous; granted, it's so far beyond our comprehension that we call it unlimited, not unreasonably. But there's a very real, very essential difference between what is infinite and what is merely fantastically large.

"Infinity plus one equals infinity. But your fantastically large number plus one is a different number altogether. It's bigger."

Rog saw Bentley's point. "You mean," he said, "that we and the Clades start off more or less equal, and we only have to add a little they haven't got to be stronger?"

"Exactly. Theoretically, other things being equal, fifty express rifles will lose to fifty express rifles plus a bow and arrow. Now, we can obviously build up more power. You don't want too much on a ship -- you shunt away what you have no use for. On land, in our own base, we can have twice the reserve of the Clades -- enough to balance all her advantages and tip the scales the other way. We should be ready in three weeks, I'd say."

He paused and let his eyes wander over Rog's face. "Scientists never used to take responsibility for the things they created, Rog," he said soberly. "They just discovered things and handed them out free, more or less. Then, out here, we tried to change that. I tried to hide something I knew. But for the Clades I'd have kept it hidden. Now -- we'll never know whether what I was trying to do was right or wrong, whether it would have worked or wouldn't have worked.

"We're back to normal -- scientists handing things out free. I can give you the power that might destroy the Clades, used a certain way, and depending on what they do, but it's you who'll have to decide what to do with it."

Rog nodded.

"I suppose we always hope against all reason," Bentley reflected. "Anyway, I do hope that this time the old problem will be handled right. However 'right' is."

"So," said Rog, "do I."

XI

1

Hardly any light reached Outpost from Brinsen's Star -- much, much less than Sol had given Pluto. To scrutinize the dead world's surface Corey had to use his searchlights.

He searched the barren, frozen rock for two weeks. Then he had Pertwee and Toni brought before him. Mathers, Sloan, and Phyllis were there. The world below gave them weight -- not much, but enough.

"I believe you have lied again," he said grimly.

"How can you know?" Pertwee asked. "You have not examined a twentieth of the surface of this world yet."

"No. It would take a year, and even then one could not be sure they were not here. I believe this is another trick. Lieutenant Mathers!"

"Yes, sir."

"Draw your sword."

Pertwee glanced swiftly at Mathers. He hadn't noticed he was in full ceremonial uniform. He should have done, he told himself. It would have given him time to guess that something was going to happen and to work out what to do about it.

Mathers drew it out. It wasn't a very fine sword, for the Clades weren't good steelworkers as yet -- and, of course, there had been no swords on the ship when it left Earth. Spaceships had no room for such ceremonial luxuries. But it had a very sharp point; Worsley had discovered that.

"Place the tip directly above Toni's heart."

"This isn't very sensible," said Pertwee evenly. "I warn you, if anything happens to Toni and you only have me to question, I shall die before I tell you anything. I'll know, you see, that I'm your only source of information, and if I -- "

"The only useful information we ever got out of either of you," said Corey wearily, "was that there were other Mundans, It seems to me we'll lose little. Lieutenant, do as I say."

Without hesitation Mathers raised his sword arm so that it and the weapon made a straight line to Toni's left breast. Toni backed against the wall, involuntarily. Mathers closed the gap. He was proud of his skill with the sword. It was obvious that he was enjoying this. He had possessed Toni; he didn't mind in the least hurting or killing her now.

"Lean on the sword gradually," said Corey, "so that in two minutes she will be dead. Now, Pertwee?"

The sword touched the cloth over Toni's breast. Mather's hand and arm were steady; Toni watched, fascinated. The point indented the cloth, then cut it. Toni winced.

"What do you want now?" asked Pertwee.

"The truth. You have lied often. We have wasted days, weeks, months because of you and this woman. We are wasting no more. /Where are the Mundans?/ Don't stop, Lieutenant."

There was suddenly a little red mark under the point of the sword. Toni tried to draw her breast in further, but couldn't.

"Very well," said Pertwee. He had to tell his story so that the Clades would go to Outpost, and it had had to be that the Mundans were there waiting for them, expecting them, wanting them to come. Only that way was it credible.

But now that story was out of date. Obviously no one was on Outpost, waiting for them, expecting them. Pertwee couldn't make them believe that the Mundans were there, but hiding. It was too late to tell the story that way. And if he let Toni die, Corey would still order the ship back to Mundis. They had delayed it all they could.

"We needed time," he said. "Our ship was buried, as I told you -- buried deep."

He waited. Corey nodded to Mathers, and he dropped his sword reluctantly. Pertwee went on: "We blew out a vast hole in the ground, and lowered the ship to the bottom. When we filled it in again the grass grew over it so that even someone who knew there was a ship there would have a lot of hard digging before he reached the top of it."

He allowed triumph to come into his voice. "While you were on Mundis we couldn't even start. It would have been a long job, and if you were high up you could see excavations like that for hundreds of miles. So we had to get you clear of Mundis."

"Whatever else happens," Corey promised in the cold fury so typical of the Clades, "your part in this affair will be justly assessed and rewarded when it's over. I shouldn't have listened to anything from you that wasn't screamed in agony. I should have -- "

"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.