by Transit
Sanity came back, and he kept to the trees as much as possible. He did not break out of cover until he was no more than about seventy yards from the rock.
He had already discovered what the plume of smoke was. By direct assault, Camp Two was pretty well impregnable. So the golden people, logically enough, were simultaneously attacking and trying to bum the occupants out. While two men kept the defenders busy by an exchange of rocks—they were obviously saving their javelins for the in-fighting stage—the remaining woman was bombarding them with fire arrows from a distance of perhaps fifty yards.
The entire scene was at the same time frightening, farcical, absurd and utterly deadly. It was a frolic and a nightmare. It was a glorious children’s adventure. But the play was macabre and in earnest. There would be no cream cakes for tea after this escapade. Only death or injury for the vanquished.
The woman with the cross-bow and fire arrows was extremely methodical. She was less than twenty yards from Avery, and, fortunately her back was towards him.
She had set up a little fire and was dipping the treated arrow-heads into its flames.
Beyond her, Avery could see that one of the tents at Camp Two had disappeared—into ashes, presumably— and the other was already burning. Mary—at least, it appeared to be Mary—was trying to beat the fire out while the other two kept the attackers at bay with their siege ammunition. One of the golden people kept trying to get in close to scale the rock while the other attempted to cover him. So far, apart from the destruction caused by the fire arrows, the attackers did not appear to be getting the best of the exchange. But perhaps the battle had not been going very long. Nevertheless, if Camp Two had been at ground level, doubtless it would all have been over by now.
Avery took a deep breath, willed some energy into his aching limbs, and sprinted towards the woman, tomahawk raised. He could so easily have killed her. Intent upon her task, she did not even hear him coming.
He could so easily have killed her. But even as the tomahawk was descending, the thought of Zleetri flashed through his mind. He saw again her once magnificent body. He saw it beaten and shrivelled by death.
He could not kill.
Instead he flung himself bodily upon the woman, knocking all the breath out of her with an anguished grunt. Then he smashed the flat of his hand hard into the back of her neck.
He snatched the cross-bow and tomahawked it into uselessness. He did not even turn to see how the woman was faring. She was coughing, retching and sobbing all at once. She would be out of action for quite a while.
He picked himself up, glanced at the rock, and saw Barbara and Tom dodging a rain of fairly small missiles and at the same time trying to stop one of the golden people from circling round to climb up behind them.
The sight acted as a booster to Avery’s fatigue-heavy limbs. He lifted his tomahawk, gave a dreadful cry that was almost a snarl and rushed upon the nearest attacker.
The man turned in surprise. But he reacted almost instantly. He dropped the stones from his hands and picked up the two javelins that were lying at his feet.
Avery was fifteen yards away and closing the distance fast. As the first javelin came, he flung the tomahawk. The javelin missed. So did the tomahawk.
Avery still had his knife, and came on without pause. The second javelin was raised; and this time the look on his antagonist’s face told Avery that he could not miss.
But, ridiculously, the look of triumph gave way to a look of total surprise. The man swayed uncertainly. The javelin fell from his hand even as Avery buried the blade of the hunting knife in hard golden flesh just below the rib cage.
The man fell forward, almost taking Avery with him. It was only then that he saw the other tomahawk— Tom’s favourite—with its cutting edge buried deep between the shoulder blades.
Avery stared round him in a daze. Everything seemed to have stopped. The whole scene appeared frozen as in a photograph. A few yards down the shore, the woman had managed to get herself up into a half-sitting position. Barbara stood poised on the rock with a tent pole in her hand. Tom was huddled up like a bundle of old clothes at the base of the rock. Mary was leaning over to look down at Tom. The other golden man had retreated a few paces. There was a blank look on his face. Clearly, he found it hard to believe what he saw.
Then the scene snapped back into movement. The remaining attacker backed warily away, back towards the woman—whose moans became drowned in Mary’s sudden scream and Tom’s volley of groaning obscenities. Barbara held grimly on to the tent pole, and the man at Avery’s feet was the only motionless person, for death had been no less swift than surprising.
Avery went towards Tom. But Tom, despite a ten-foot drop and the wound in his shoulder, was already picking himself up.
‘Did you see that shot?’ he gasped.
‘For Christ’s sake! Are you hurt?’
‘Balls to that! Of course I’m hurt. I’ve still got a hole in my shoulder you could stick a cigar in. Let’s cry about it later.... Did you see the shot, Richard? I got the bastard plumb centre—threw myself overboard in the process, but it was worth it.’
He tried to put his weight on his left leg, and sat down suddenly with a yelp.
‘Now I’ve buggered myself at the other end, too.... Look at them, Richard. Look at the master race.’
Mary and Barbara were both calling down to them, talking together. But Tom didn’t seem to hear.
Avery followed his gaze along the shore. The golden people, the only two that were left now, were in full retreat. The man was half supporting the woman. They were limping along as fast as they could, expecting to be pursued, and hoping that they could reach the relative security of the trees.
Avery sighed. ‘Do you think I ought to ’
‘No,’ said Tom, magnanimous in victory. ‘Let the poor devils go. They’ve got problems Somehow I
don’t think they’ll be coming back. They’ve had too much pride knocked out of them.... You know, Richard,’ he moved his leg and winced. ‘It’s beginning to look like game, set and match.’
TWENTY-SIX
There was nothing but darkness.
There was nothing but darkness and the awful, infinite splendour of stars.
He came to a sun; and the sun had given birth to planets. One of the planets was blue and white with clouds, green with oceans, red and yellow with islands.
‘This,’ said the voice, ‘is home. This is the garden. This is the world where you will live and grow and understand. This is where you will discover enough but not too much. This is where fife is. It is yours.’
The voice was gentle, but it came echoing down a draughty tunnel of centuries. Its sound was thunder; and the thunder shook his sleeping mind.
Christine swam towards him through the stars. And the stars became the leaves of an English autumn, brown and gold.
Christine whispered: ‘Wherever you are, whatever you do, my dear one, I am part of it. You have made of our love something new. You have made it bright. You have given it freedom.... She, now, is the one. So hold her, and hold us both....’
He wanted to speak, but there were no words. Christine, remote and beautiful, dissolved in the steep canyons of darkness, gently like a snowflake, like a dying point of light----
Avery stirred, opened his eyes, gazed in the half light at Barbara sleeping tranquilly by his side.
Dear Barbara, he thought, warm and wonderful Barbara. Not Christine. Not greater than Christine, not lesser. Strangely not even other than Christine. Simply the one to hold. A woman and Woman....
He touched her face. He felt the contours and marvelled at the living flesh. He knew that he would always want to look at her like this, as if for the first time.
Then he remembered the golden people and Zleetri. He remembered the battle and the dead man whom he finally had to carry away for burial He and Barbara were enriched somehow by the memory of shared dangers—and of a private sadness that could never wholly be shared.
He sat up
carefully, not wishing to disturb her. She needed to rest, for there had been much to endure— there still would be much to endure—and inside her there was a tiny cellular miracle, quietly growing like a hidden fruit.
He sat up, sniffed the air luxuriously and gazed through the doorway of the tent at the briefly mysterious world of pre-dawn. There were hardly any signs now of yesterday’s battle. The wreckage of the old tents—and one of the trunks that had been badly burned—had already been cleared away. It was almost as if the conflict might never have been.... He got out of bed and stretched himself. Then he dressed and went outside.
The camp was what it always was—a small, known, untidy, familiar place of refuge. A home and a sanctuary. A magic circle, redolent of cooking and companionship, of living and loving.
No one else was about, and Avery moved quietly. Tom and Mary had had the hardest time of all. He hoped they would be able to rest now. They needed to rest for quite a while.
Avery stood on the small rock that was Camp Two and gazed at his private kingdom, the island and the sea. A red sun was beginning to climb over the edge of the world. The sky was still and clear. It was going to be a fine day Another day to fill with the incomprehensible privilege of being alive....
The sea was flat and softly silvered by the growing light. He gazed idly towards the water’s edge. Then rubbed his eyes and looked again.
It was there.
It was still there.
On the shore, not far from the water line, not far from the rock, stood a small pedestal. It supported a machine that looked something like a compact and incredibly neat typewriter. The paper was already fed into it from an endless roll.
Avery had seen such a machine before. In another time and place. In a dream. In a situation that was of a greater stature than dreams, yet dictated by the same unreasonable logic, and with the same vivid compulsions.
A great bubble of excitement grew inside him. A bubble of excitement and tension. He scrambled down the ladder. As he did so, the typewriter that was not a typewriter began to print out its message.
Do not be alarmed, it said. The experiment has reached a satisfactory conclusion. It would be of value, however, to have the observations of the subjects.
Avery relaxed a little. The machine had lost none of its inscrutability. He was surprised to find suddenly that he was filled not with resentment—not even with fear—but with amusement.
He put his hand towards the keys. This subject, he tapped out, is nonplussed.
The machine retaliated. Please amplify.
Nonplussed, responded Avery, means perplexed, bewildered, mystified The subject has all that and
heaven, too.
Please clarify.
Why should I? You hardly set a good example yourself...
Please clarify. It is important.
Avery was beginning to enjoy himself. Only living is important, he tapped out. That is the conclusion the subject has drawn as a result of the experiment.
There was a pause. Then the machine continued. Are you happy? .
Yes.
Are you healthy?
Yes.
Do you regret the experiment?
It was Avery’s turn to pause. Finally, he typed No.
Do you wish now to return to your natural habitat?
Suddenly Avery thought about the others. He turned towards the rock. Barbara was already up. She had just at that moment come out of the tent, and stood staring at him incredulously.
‘Sweetheart, get the others,’ he called. ‘Uncle has suddenly come to life again. He wants to know how we’re all getting along.... And, Barbara, he wants to know if we’d like to go home.’
Barbara recovered herself remarkably quickly. ‘I’ll get Tom and Mary,’ she shouted. ‘Tell Uncle not to disappear for a while. There are a few things I’d like to say to that little joker.’
Avery tapped out: Hold your horses. Everybody wants to exercise their democratic rights.
Query: Which horses? Which democratic rights?
Avery was delighted by ‘Uncle’s’ evident confusion. The ones you might ride away on, and free speech for all.
Barbara was first down the ladder. She held it at the bottom while Mary helped Tom on to the top rung. Despite his heavy fall of the previous day, and apart from the fact that the wound in his back had bled a little, he was really recovering far better than anyone had expected. So was Mary. She still looked pale and tired, but that was all.
Tom came gingerly down the ladder and reached the bottom without mishap. Mary followed him.
With Barbara, they joined Avery and stood in front of the machine, marvelling.
‘We could always crown it with a large boulder,’ suggested Tom at length.
Avery grinned. ‘An excellent idea—provided you don’t ever want to go back to Earth.’
‘What!’
‘It just asked me whether we’d like to return—quote —to our natural habitat.’
‘Natural habitat!’ snorted Tom. ‘I’d just like to be in the natural habitat of the character at the other end of this little gadget.’
The machine came to life again. Since the experiment has been concluded successfully, the question of the rehabilitation of all participants now arises.
‘Let me get at it! ’ exploded Barbara. She began to hit the keys savagely. You mean the rehabilitation of all survivors, Uncle. What about the golden people that were killed? What about the baby that died? Rehabilitate them if you can.
Casualties are greatly regretted, came the answer. But in an experiment of this nature, some hazard must be accepted. Perhaps there is justification in the fact that the issue involved is great.
What was the nature of the experiment? tapped Avery.
The response came immediately: Culture dynamics.
Mary looked at the printed roll. ‘Ask him,’ she said, with a touch of bitterness, ‘what the marvellous issue was.... I don’t suppose that will make any sense either.’
Avery tapped out of the message, and again the answer came as soon as he had finished.
The issue involved is the ultimate domination of the second stellar rim sector in the second linear quadrant of the galaxy.
‘Shit and derision! ’ snapped Tom. ‘This thing is taking the mickey out of us with a load of gobbledygook. Here, let me have a go.’
He tapped out: Now cut the crap and get down to something a man can understand. How the hell did you get us here? Where are we, anyway? Whafs it all about? And finally, if you’ve got enough bloody decency— which I doubt—to be intelligible, what do you propose to do about repatriation?
‘There,’ he said, when he’d finished. ‘That ought to silence the bastard.’
But it didn’t. The machine began to click busily.
In the order of the questions given, the answers are as follows, it printed.
At the collection area, each of you discovered a crystal which produced the apparent effect of unconsciousness. In fact, you were not rendered unconscious in the sense of being immobile and helpless. However, the effect of the crystal was to anaesthetize your memory, while at the same time allowing remote control to be exercised over your actions. This, of course, involved a temporary suspension of freedom of thought, which was unavoidable. Each of you, operating under control, picked the crystal up and retained it. To accommodate you by explaining the matter in crudely simple terms, it is possible to say that each crystal acted as a kind of psychic radio which allowed the transmission of direct instructions to you. You, yourselves, apparently operating as free agents, obtained the equipment for the journey. As instructed, you then travelled to a rendezvous where it was convenient for you to be taken aboard a transport vessel at a time when it was unlikely that the operation would be observed by others of your species. In fact, the rendezvous took place within forty terrestrial hours of control being established.
‘Stop me! ’ said Tom helplessly. Seeing the look on his face, Avery wanted to laugh, but he was afraid that the laugh
ter might become hysterical.
The machine continued.
Your present location is an island on the fourth planet of the star known to terrestrial observers as Achernar. It is about seventy terrestrial light-years from your own sun.
After a momentary pause, the machine went on once more.
In that section of the galaxy which can only be described to you as the rim sector of the second linear quadrant, there are two intelligent races at present on the threshold of space flight. To one of them must fall the ultimate responsibility for control of that area. Your own race and that of what you call the golden people are the two concerned. It was the object of the experiment—by assembling representative components of each culture pattern in a neutral background and under conditions of stress—to determine which of the races possessed the most useful psychological characteristics. This has now been established. Certain techniques—analagous to your system of radar, telephotography and parabolic sound detectors—have made it possible for you, the subjects, to remain under careful observation. The results of the experiment are conclusive.
‘This,’ said Mary quietly, ‘beats the band.’ She looked at her companions helplessly.
The machine went on.
All surviving subjects of the experiment are given the choice of returning to their planet of origin, or remaining on Achemar Four. This planet does not possess an indigenous race of intelligent beings. It is therefore available for development. However, any subject who wishes to return to his or her planet of origin can be so transported at speed. For various reasons, one of which is the mental health of the subject, it will be necessary to implant an amnesia block in those who wish to return. Remembering nothing of the experiment, they will not be subject to retroactive emotional stress. On return financial compensation and temporary therapeutic care can be arranged. Your decisions are awaited.
There was silence.
Avery and Barbara, Tom and Mary looked at each other. Bewilderment was on every face. Bewilderment and tension.
It was possible to go back to Earth! The knowledge hammered like an incessant drumbeat in Avery’s brain. He thought about London. For so long it had been vague and cloudy; but the possibility of return somehow brought the city into sharp focus, presented it to his inward eye as a series of magic lantern slides.... Kensington Gardens, Piccadilly Circus, theatres, shops, people, the Underground, Big Ben, the Embankment, the Bayswater Road----
