“There is no need to,” Bram said. “My people are waiting just beyond these trees.”
And they were. The track we had been following opened out into a green field where some cows were grazing. Beyond them was a small group of bowmen—with pink skin. There was a ragged cheer when they saw us and they hurried across the field to join us. They stopped and their leader, with gray hair and serious mien, stepped forward and spoke.
“I am Otmar, first among others in this part of the forest. I have been appointed to take you to the Rememberer.” As he spoke his hand rested on the hilt of what looked very much like a sheathed knife on his belt. I tensed, ready for anything that looked like an attack. He slowly pulled out a gleaming iron blade, placed it on his open hands, and held it out towards me.
“I, Otmar, give you my blade and declare our friendship,” he said with utmost gravity. I took it and nodded—then passed it back the same way. And spoke carefully just the way he had.
“I, Jim, give you back your blade and declare our friendship.”
There was a quick murmur of approval from the men behind him.
“We will now go to the Rememberer.”
“It’s not quite that easy,” my wife said, stepping forward. “And my name is Angelina.” Spoken easily, but with chill overtones. Otmar was no dummy and picked up on it at once.
“My pardon, friend Angelina. What is it that disturbs you?”
“Our herd. I don’t think it will be easy to move them.”
“That will not be necessary—that is why these men are here. They are the shepherds who tend our cattle. They will care for your animals, guard and protect them.”
“Then we are ready to go,” Angelina said.
Otmar was a quick learner and nodded agreement. We hadn’t seen any women yet and knew nothing of their status in this society. But now he knew their status in ours.
The porcuswine merely chomped on, uninterested in our departure. Except for Pinky, who grunted an interrogative grunt—but then tucked right back into the feast.
While we had been talking more people began to arrive, smiling and curious about the off-world strangers. Some of them were women, in leather skirts—with woven baskets on their backs.
“Well, guess who does the heavy work,” Angelina said.
This was the kind if statement for which there is no answer.
“There is food,” Otmar said. “We will eat before we leave.”
I launched a preemptive strike and spoke quickly before Angelina could.
“A great idea—isn’t it, my love?”
A chilling glance was my only answer. It could have been worse.
The fresh air and exercise had given us ravenous appetites. There were more of the dried meat chips—undoubtedly beef. Fresh cheese, crusty loaves of bread, washed down with skimmed milk from pottery crocks. I don’t know how the Greenies fared, but there was nothing wrong with the Pinkies’ food. I was quickly sated—and thankfully at peace.
“It is time to leave,” Otmar said, looking up at the sun. “We want to reach the camp before dark. The Rememberer is no longer young, but his students have brought him there to meet you.”
“Students?” Angelina asked as we started down the trail. “What does he teach them?”
“To remember.” Of course. “There is also an art called reading, which I am sure you have heard of. He teaches that . . .” He stopped abruptly and turned to Angelina.
“Of course, you have heard of reading—you must excuse my rudeness. And . . . perhaps it is that you can read as well, lady of great wisdom?”
“Of course,” she said. And smiled. “Where we come from everyone can.”
Otmar lowered his eyes. “You must excuse my lack of knowledge,” he said. “You will understand that life here is not easy, with the Grønner always in pursuit of us.”
“Don’t worry. We’re going to see to it that there will be some major changes on your planet.”
He gasped at her firm resolve.
“It will be different, Otmar,” I said. “I promise you that it will.”
He looked from Angelina’s face to mine and could not talk. I could understand why. If we spoke the truth then this world, as he knew it, would indeed be turned upside down.
In silence we started back along the forest track towards their campsite and what we all hoped would be a glowing future.
It was dusk when we arrived. A little tired but not terribly so. Give Moolaplenty that, we were in good shape. A pleasure planet where the pleasures included skiing in the winter—and surfboarding in the summer—saw to that.
The trees were taller here, providing concealment from observation. Beneath them were hide tents that blended into the forest. Otmar led us to the largest one but paused at the entrance.
“I will wait outside for you. May you gain wisdom and share it in return.”
There was little that I could say. Angelina had no such reservations. She reached out and took Otmar by the hands.
“Thank you,” she said. Then turned and went into the darkened building.
In the flickering light of the fire, in an open hearth, we saw the elderly man who was waiting for us. He was seated on a dais of some kind. Behind him was a small group of young men. As we approached one with a black-beard and wearing a cowled robe, he stepped forward and raised his hand.
“You will stop there,” he said in a cold and demanding voice. “I am Student Prime. You are now in the presence of the Rememberer. You will . . .”
“And so we are—and we intend to talk to him,” Angelina said coldly. Tired and out of patience. “Step aside.”
The color rose in his face. But before he could protest I raised a fist—that Angelina could not see, as I waved him aside. He was smart enough to close his mouth and move out of the way. The Rememberer started to rise but sat back heavily. Angelina smiled at him.
“This is my husband, Jim diGriz. My name is Angelina. We have been told that you are the only one who can tell us exactly what is happening on this planet.”
“I can indeed, kind lady. Welcome to the troubled world of Salvation and her unhappy inhabitants. Let this sad story begin.”
CHAPTER 19
He raised his shaking hand and his students moved into well-rehearsed action. One of the smaller children carried over a low table and placed it before the old man. Student Prime made a great show of putting a very large, leather-bound book onto it, then stepped to one side.
“In the beginning was the Book,” Rememberer said. “This is a true copy made by the ancient scribes. So it begins.” He pointed at the thick tome and Prime leaned out and opened it.
“This is the log book of the deep spacer named The Spirit of Free Enterprise. It came from the planet of Das Kapital and was manned by our ancestors, who were called the Tory Party. They were fleeing oppression on their home world. The voyage was long and arduous and beset by difficulties most terrible. A disaster called a Radiationleak struck them down. We do not know what this word means. But we do know that many were ill and many died. Then they reached this world, which they named Salvation, where they fled the ship that had cursed them. Though many had died, and many newborn children died as well, our fathers’ fathers’ fathers lived and we bless their memory.”
He nodded and the page was turned. Then he looked up at the visitors. “There is now another word I must use that no one knows the meaning of. Generations of learned men have discussed it but the import has never been made clear. It was a curse, we know that. A curse that made the world as you see it today.”
“And that word is . . . ?” Angelina asked.
He took a deep quavering breath and said—
“Geneticradiationdamage.”
“That word—really those words—are known,” I said. “Please tell us the rest of your history and the meaning will be clear.”
Rememberer fell back in his chair. “Then . . . you do know?”
“We do—and all will be explained.”
There w
as a great stir and shouting among the students. One of them collapsed and was dragged aside. The old man was brought a bowl of water and he drank deep. Student Prime finally restored order, cuffing the smaller students about the ears and pushing them into line.
“Please continue,” Angelina said and the old man nodded.
“The curse was upon our people. Mothers who suffered from this curse had babies who were not like us. Their skin was green and they were not as we were. Although the mothers loved all their children alike, this love was not returned by the green ones. They cried and screamed and were only quiet when they were among others of the same skin color. A green generation grew to adulthood and rejected their parents who loved them.
“Many were born and joined with others of their kind when they grew up, until there were more with green skin than that of pink. The greens began to live apart from us. But there soon were far more of them and they were most cruel. They watched us closely and when a baby was born they came and looked at it. If it had green skin they tore child from mother with great violence. As the years passed fewer green ones were born to our people until there were no more among us. That is the world as you see it now. There are far more of the Grønner—as our fathers called them—than there are of us.”
He drank more water and fell back into his chair.
“But why are there more greens than pink people now?” I asked, puzzled.
“Because,” Angelina said. “They are obviously more prolific then our friends here. Whatever mutation caused this massive genetic change must have been accompanied by increased fertility.”
“What you say is true,” Rememberer said. “Their women have babies when they are very young, even as children—and many more of them. They also die when they are still young.”
“Is it possible that the fertility was accompanied by lowered intelligence?” I said. Angelina nodded.
“Of course,” Angelina said. “Rapid maturity and early fertility left no time for developing intelligence. You end up with a prolific race of green morons—lead by the very small minority of their kind with something close to normal intelligence.”
In the following silence I saw that the old man and his students were listening to what we said, but understanding little. I smiled as I turned to them.
“I will now, hopefully, explain what has happened on this world. If you have any questions as I go along just speak up.”
“And please . . .” Angelina said, “could you find two chairs—and some water to drink. It has been a very long day.” The students hurried to help. The chairs were folding stools, but we weren’t complaining.
What had happened to these unhappy people was now painfully clear to us. Explaining it to them was going to be the difficult part. Rememberer had a lifetime behind him of learning one text. He was probably not equipped to assimilate new stores of knowledge. Most of the students could probably only memorize by rote and would not be able to handle these new concepts. Only Prime seemed to understood what we were saying, and his questions were all highly relevant.
“Then this radiation you speak of is a strong force that damaged the parts of our bodies called genes. These are small, but powerful, and shape our bodies before we are born?”
I nodded. “Bang on.”
“They make us be male or female—tall or short.”
“Right.”
“And also make our skin color—like making some of us green?”
“You’ve got it! Whatever happened in the ship released a blast of radiation . . .”
“And caused the genetic radiation damage. That is the meaning of the word!”
“You have it—all is explained.”
“To you only, Student Prime,” Angelina said. Pointing to the mass of sleeping young acolytes—as well as their elder in the chair. But Prime was too excited by this new knowledge to care about them.
“Now we know what happened, know why we are this way—and why the Grønner are as they are. But what do we do with this newfound knowledge? How does it help us defeat them, to live in a world at peace?”
I sighed. “I’m afraid there is nothing your people can do but survive—as you have done in the past. Genetic damage cannot be reversed.”
“On the contrary,” Angelina said. “You now have hope. The powers that practice peace rule all the known worlds out there in space. When we contact them they will know what must be done to end this terrible battle.”
I found it took a distinct effort to smile and reassure this young man, who expected so much of us. Because it was not going to be that easy. He could not know what trouble we were in ourselves.
“We’ll continue this in the morning,” Angelina wisely said. “I don’t know about you two, but I am more than ready for some sleep.”
Bram had managed to stay awake, though he was looking very much the worse for wear. “A place has been prepared for you to sleep. It is this way.”
A corner of one of the tents was walled off with hanging skins, giving us a measure of privacy. A flickering lantern supplied enough light to move around. Fresh green boughs formed a bed of sorts. They were spread with coarsely woven blankets. Angelina rubbed them between her fingers.
“This is the first cloth I’ve seen here—leather seems to be the fashion of the day.”
“The Greenies have cloth uniforms—maybe our lads stole this from them.”
“That is a mystery that can wait until morning.” She smoothed out the blanket and tested the temper of the bed.
“Fine.” She slipped under the covers. “I don’t know about you, but I need a swim—or at least a wash in the morning.” She sniffed the air. “And you do too. Good night . . .”
Like the others, we were up at dawn. A bowl of fresh fruit was most welcome. Angelina went with some of the women to a bathing spot; for the moment I just scratched. When I stepped out of the building I was greeted by a very bleary-eyed Student Prime. He looked as if he hadn’t slept at all.
“I have some questions, friend Jim . . .”
I waved him to silence while I finished chomping on a piece of fruit, juice dripping from fingers and chin.
“Wash first, talk later. How do I clean this off?”
“There . . . behind those buildings.”
It wasn’t much of a washroom, but it would do. A lean-to of leafy branches with a large wooden basin of water. There were scoops—made of dried gourds—to dip into it. Refreshed and slightly cleaner I found a bench outside where I could dry off in the sun. Prime sat by me.
“I need to ask you some questions,” I said.
“I sincerely hope I will be able to answer them.”
“I notice that your people wear leather clothes—by choice?”
“Forced choice. Deer are plentiful, both for food and skins. We have some cloth—all stolen. The Grønner have vast fields of cotton. Something we cannot do since they would easily be discovered by their scouts who are constantly looking for us. We have small vegetable patches that we can sometimes harvest before they are found. We are always on the move, always staying ahead of them. It is easy to find and extract the dye from a certain forest plant. We use it to color our leather, so it blends with the forest. We have no industry, no permanent homes. We only own what we can carry.”
“I saw some cows in the clearing.”
“Yes, we have a few that we move with us. It is a life of constant traveling, constant fear.”
We were both depressed now, but I still had to learn more.
“When the tracker, Bram, first contacted us, he was very excited to be able to speak with us. He said something about not being able to contact the other ships that had landed at the spaceport. Including one that arrived five years ago. Why?”
“Because we must find a way to contact the other worlds in the universe out there. To seek help, make our predicament known. To end living like outcasts on our own planet! But before you arrived, all the other people who landed in the machines from space were seized and taken away.”
“I know not. But there have been sightings of prisoners from time to time. Always far from here. Most recently there was a possible off-worlder seen at a cotton mill, but it was dusk and the tracker was not sure of the man’s skin color.”
“What about the buildings at the spaceport. There must be people there?”
“We cannot get close. Trackers have tried, but there are many wire fences, all of them heavily guarded.”
The scarcity of knowledge was annoying—and frustrating. The Greenies had obviously lured us here—as well as the other spacers at the field.
But why?
“What will you do now?” Prime asked.
“Good question.” And it was. The answer was obvious. “I must contact our ship. Do you know what is happening there?”
“We have watchers in the forest. They report no change. The Grønner tried to break in once with no success. The metal of your flying machine resisted their wooden battering timbers. Then something happened—there was a sudden great cloud of smoke and the soldiers all ran away. They coughed and fell down and did not attack again.”
At last some good news. The captain and Stramm must have cooked up some noxious gas. Score one for the good guys. I turned my radio on—but all I got was static. With no satellites to relay my signal I would have to get nearer for line-of-sight contact.
“If we can get closer to the spacer I can talk to them. Find out what is happening.”
He looked horrified. “You will be seen—captured!”
“Not that close—nearby among the trees will do.” How did I explain what a radio was to these peasant people without machines?
“I have a magic way of talking through the air that I can then use to contact them.”
“A radio of some kind?”
So much for the illiterate peasant; I had forgotten he was in the educated very minor minority.
“Yes, a radio. It is called a headphone.”
“But . . . I do not see it on your head?”
“That’s because it is inside my head, in the bone.”
Stainless Steel Rat 11: The Stainless Steel Rat Returns Page 13
