Rhapsody in Black

by Brian Stableford

  ‘Well, all I can say,’ I said, ‘is that you have a very nasty mind. You really think it will go that way?’

  ‘It’s a possibility.’

  ‘You’ll never convince Bayon.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘We could warn him, though.’

  ‘Would it do any good?’

  ‘It might,’ I said. But I had my doubts.

  Things looked blacker with every hour that went by, and with every thought that crossed my mind.

  A few minutes of unhappy silence passed, and then I said: ‘If we could get the beamer away from Bayon, we could destroy the grotto in a matter of minutes.’

  ‘And what would that prove?’

  ‘No grotto, no price.’

  ‘And then we get killed for nothing.’

  ‘You mean to exploit this thing, if you win?’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘What else?’

  ‘You could destroy it. Why turn something like this loose in the galaxy? You know what it is, don’t you? You’ve seen the worms—you know what they can do.’

  ‘I hadn’t seen the worms before I came in here,’ he said. He was standing at the edge of the cleared area, and I saw that he was holding a dendrite—presumably an infected dendrite—in his hand. I hadn’t seen him pick it up, so he must have been holding it since we first came in.

  ‘In that case,’ I said, ‘there might not be any, except here. It can be destroyed. We don’t have to take it back.’

  ‘Grainger,’ he said calmly, ‘I’m too old and too wise to believe that you really care about the ethics of this situation. I suppose that your suggestion merely reflects your ever-present nihilism. But I’ll explain it to you anyway. You’d be an idiot if you seriously thought that something could be blotted out of existence. Once a thing is known, it can’t be unknown again. Forgotten, perhaps, but even that is only temporary. Everything which was once known will be remembered, in time.’

  ‘There’s only one cave full of these worms,’ I said. ‘They’re a unique and contained life-system. All it needs is a power gun and ten minutes.’

  ‘The life-system exists,’ said Charlot patiently, ignoring the interruption. ‘It is, and not all your justice or your strength or your courage can erase it. There’s no question of whether the organism should be allowed to exist or not. It is, and it will be. There’s an end to it. It’s inevitable.

  ‘This is a world full of people. Can you really believe that the wealth is just sitting here, abandoned? Can you believe that Jad Gimli hasn’t got some little metal trees carefully hidden in some dark corner? Can you believe the same of Krist, and all the other council members? And what about the man who carried the bad news to Attalus and perhaps beyond? Almost every pocket on this planet might contain enough worms to breed millions more in a few days.

  ‘You’ve got the entire problem out of perspective, Grainger. The fabric of this problem isn’t woven from the cloth of ethics and humanity. The only point at issue is who is going to put money into the thing and who is going to make money out of it. That’s all. Just that.

  ‘There can be no control over when and where the weapon is employed. No one has that kind of power. Once a thing exists, it can be obtained. Anyone with the right price can have some. It may sound cruelly cynical, but I’m not quoting New Alexandrian principles, I’m quoting the state of the universe. Even if you were right, and not a single worm existed outside this cave, it wouldn’t make the slightest bit of difference. If there’s one thing that New Alexandria has proved beyond doubt it is that the important thing is knowledge. All that it needs is the knowledge that such a thing can exist, how and where. There are a million worlds like this one where the drills can start hammering their way into every sealed cave the echo detectors can find. There are a thousand laboratories which could establish an artificial environment and provide sequined thermosynths and cupro-carbon trees. Even without that, the cupro-carbon-chain destroyer would have been designed sooner or later. Everything which can exist will. Existence isn’t the point at issue. All that matters is money, and the directions in which it flows. Nothing can change that. Certainly not one little man with a ray gun. You can’t do anything to hurt the human race, or save the human race, Grainger. You’re not big enough. Nobody is. Look after yourself, my child. Even New Alexandria can do no more than serve its own purposes. Nothing we can do could not be done without us. The only alternative to our way of doing things is somebody else’s way of doing things. The only thing that anyone stands to gain on that scale is his name in the history books instead of another man’s. My name will be in that history, Grainger, written as strongly as I can write it. You’d be far better employed working with me than against me. All the credit is mine, of course, but you might get a subsidiary mention.’

  ‘I don’t want a mention in your damned histories,’ I said. ‘You’re that kind of lunatic, but I’m not.’

  He shrugged his shoulders. The retort was irrelevant to the argument, and we both knew it. What he said was true. Nasty, but true. He was right about the synthetic nature of my ethics, as well. It had been nihilism, just as he’d said. If in doubt, kill it. But the laws of nature are just not designed to accommodate the negative point of view. Whatever will be, will be. That’s life.

  Quite, interposed the wind.

  He said nothing else. He obviously thought that I’d said it all for him. But there was still to be no backing down. I had my own way to go.

  ‘So you see,’ said Charlot, eventually, ‘there wasn’t much point in your destroying the Lost Star cargo, either. It was only a gesture. It couldn’t do any good.’

  ‘What cargo?’ I asked, with blatantly false innocence.

  ‘What reason?’ he countered. ‘It can’t have done you any good.’

  That almost restored my self-confidence. (I wasn’t likely to be without it long, in any case.) I had destroyed the Lost Star cargo, and the Khor-monsa had destroyed Myastrid. That secret still held, and might hold forever. Perhaps, in time, the Khor-monsa might manage to unknow what they wanted to forget.

  Bayon came into the grotto. He was waving the beamer in a horribly suggestive manner.

  ‘Capra came back,’ he said. There was a peculiar edge to his voice. Things still didn’t seem to be wholly to his satisfaction.

  ‘He didn’t waste any time,’ I commented. ‘What’s the word?’

  Bayon obviously thought that actions speak louder than words. He raised the gun.

  ‘Wait a minute, Bayon,’ I said hurriedly. ‘Let’s talk about it first.,

  ‘There’s nothing to say,’ he said.

  ‘There are things I want to say,’ I assured him.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Don’t you owe me something? I came down here to help you. I’ve done what I can to get you what you want.’

  ‘I don’t owe you anything,’ he said. ‘You’ve done nothing.’

  ‘I talked to Gimli for you.’

  ‘You gave Gimli an excuse not to see me.’

  ‘Now, come on,’ I protested. ‘Who wanted a mouth-piece? You asked me to act for you. I did what you wanted.’

  ‘You didn’t do enough.’

  ‘Well, what do you want me to do?’

  ‘I want my price.’ He looked sideways, at Charlot. I shut up. It wasn’t my argument, from here on. Bayon had made his point abundantly clear. Charlot had to give him what he wanted, or we’d be killed. Sampson must have agreed instantly to whatever offer Capra had taken to him.

  ‘No,’ said Charlot steadily. He didn’t even seem to be worried.

  ‘You can’t...,’ I began, and faded out.

  ‘What you ask,’ said Charlot to Bayon, ‘is impossible. You know that as well as I do. You know that whatever Sampson might say, the Star Cross Company is in no better position than I am to grant what you ask. You’re being carried away on an emotional tide—you’ve let your reason desert you. You not only ask that I should help you and not help the council and the people of
Rhapsody, you also demand that I should try to humiliate the council by telling them what you have done and making them acknowledge it. This is ridiculous. You know that they cannot agree. They have already reached the limit of what they can do while remaining true to their situation. What you are trying to do is to force them to kill you. You don’t want to get off Rhapsody. You’re a coward. You’re afraid of the opportunity, to escape—you’re afraid that you might fail that opportunity. You’ve been trying to pick a fight ever since you moved in on the grotto. You want a blazing gun battle—a confrontation which will let you release all of your anger and your frustration and your hatred. It’s so much safer than trying to start all over again.’

  ‘I could have fought the council any time,’ said Bayon.

  ‘Alone? You need those men behind you, Bayon, because you’re a coward. You had to trap them along with you, so that they’d have no option but to fight. These men are hard men—survivors. You’d never have led them into a suicide attack on the council or the miners. You’re not like them, Bayon. You’re one of the seventy-five percent, not one of the twenty-five. You’re a diver, Bayon. A runaway. The only escape you can envisage is death. But you’re not the kind of man to go alone, are you? You need company. You need moral support. Because you’re a coward.’

  I had to admire Bayon’s patience. Most men I know would have cut Charlot in half while he was less than halfway through. But Bayon waited. Not because he conceded the truth of what Charlot was saying—far from it—but because he was letting the fury build up inside him. He was a slow man to anger, and he needed to be angry. Because, as Titus Charlot had said, he was a coward. He was afraid of what would happen if he pressed that trigger. He needed to be provoked. If Charlot had not provoked him, he would have had to provoke himself.

  I glided slowly sideways, putting distance between myself and Charlot. If he fired at Charlot first, I would have a chance to go for the gun.

  But he saw me moving, and the gun whipped sideways to cover me again. He took a half-step backward, so that his bulk was blocking the entrance to the grotto. He had to crouch in order to fit into the gap, but he seemed easy on his feet, and I didn’t suppose he’d miss if I rushed him.

  ‘Calm down, Bayon,’ I said. ‘Just think about it for a while. There’s no hurry. Tomorrow or the day after will do. Sampson will wait. Just think about what you’re doing. Talk to your men. We’ll do all that we can to help you. There’s no point in shooting anybody. You’ll get nothing from Sampson. He’ll cheat you—can’t you see that? He’s in it to maximise his profit. You’re outcasts who don’t even exist. He’ll kill you, Bayon. We’re your only real chance. If you kill us you kill yourself.’

  I paused for breath. I was running out of things to say.

  ‘You don’t understand,’ I said. ‘You don’t know what you’re doing.’

  ‘Well enough,’ he said. He raised the gun to his shoulder and squinted down the barrel. He was aiming smack between my eyes.

  ‘I helped you,’ I cried, in panic. ‘I’m your friend. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?’

  ‘About as much as it does to you,’ he said, and fired.

  I leaped sideways, and I hurtled across the cleared square. I cannoned into Charlot and took him down with me behind a rock at the edge of the square. The thermosynthetic carpet cushioned our fall, but I was stabbed painfully by several of the dendrites.

  Two things saved our lives. The first was the fact that Bayon was not a practised gunman. No doubt he’d fired the beamer before, but he hadn’t really come to terms with a weapon. He pulled the trigger just once, like a rife trigger, flicking the beam on and off again instead of pouring out the energy in a constant stream and following our dive. He aimed too high, as well, and the shot was quite harmless.

  So far as we were concerned.

  The second thing which saved us was that as I saw the trigger pressed I shut my eyes. Charlot’s eyes shut reflexively when I barged into him. It wasn’t just a blink. Fear closed our eyes tight and held them closed just long enough.

  The beam was on high power and low spread. It made impact on the wall over an area the size of a thumbnail. It burned the organism clean away, of course. But not before it had raised the temperature of that tiny patch through hundreds of degrees to its flashpoint. A little bit of heat makes a hell of a lot of light. And the reaction time of the thermosynth was next to nothing.

  Bayon was still sighting down the barrel. His open eyes were directed at the exact spot where the beam hit. The blast burned his optic nerves out instantaneously.

  He screamed and dropped the gun.

  When I stood up again, after the flash, he was rocking gently in his half-crouch, with his hands over his eyes. As I realised what had happened, and why, he staggered forward into the grotto. He fell to his knees beside the gun.

  I ran towards it.

  Tob was already in the doorway, with his rifle levelled. He must have caught the edge of the flash out in the corridor, because he didn’t seem to be seeing too well. But he’d obviously been facing the other way. He wasn’t blind.

  ‘Don’t pick it up,’ he said, as I stooped and reached out my hand.

  ‘You heard what went on, Tob,’ I said. Another time, I might have grabbed it anyway and taken my chances. But I was off balance too. Not because I’d been dazzled, but because I’d been pushed. It was only just beginning to register that when I’d dived to avoid the beam I’d dived faster and harder than I’d intended. As though I’d been picked up and thrown across the cave.

  ‘You bastard,’ I murmured. Nobody heard me except Bayon, who was only inches away. I think he took the abuse personally. But I wasn’t talking to him at all.

  Tob kept the gun level. But he had heard what went on. He might not be prepared to admit that everything Charlot had said was true, but he knew enough not to go Bayon’s way.

  ‘All right,’ he said. ‘We’ll do it your way.’

  I picked up the beamer. It was in my hands at last. I looked around at the glittering walls of the treasure cave. There must be a good many more worms now, following the big flash. I contemplated shutting my eyes and blasting away, exterminating the whole foul breed. But what Charlot had said had made that course of action seem somewhat ridiculous.

  And besides, Tob might have shot me by mistake.

  Tob came into the grotto to pick up his blind ex-leader. Bayon hadn’t let out a peep since the scream. He had folded up completely, and looked more dead than alive. But when Tob picked him up, he was able to stand and be guided out of the cave.

  I turned to Charlot. ‘You damned near got us killed there,’ I said. ‘And you criticised me for losing my temper. What the hell did you think you were doing?’

  He shrugged. ‘He was going to shoot us anyway. Why be dishonest?’

  I looked at him in amazement. ‘You really are mad,’ I said. ‘However slim the chances, you could have agreed to his terms. Tell him anything. All you had to do was say yes instead of no.’

  ‘He would have killed us anyway.’

  ‘Just suppose,’ I said, ‘that you might have been wrong. You could have got us killed for nothing.’

  ‘Not for nothing,’ he said, as if it made a difference. ‘For telling the truth.’

  ‘Look,’ I said. ‘We’re still outnumbered fifteen to two. If they decide that Bayon had the right idea after all, try a different line, hey? As a favour to us both.’

  He didn’t bother to reply. Nor did he bother to thank me for diving into him. I hadn’t actually saved him, of course, but the thought had been there.

  He just brushed his clothing free from the bits of crushed carpet which had attached themselves to him when we fell. And then he directed his whole attention to examining his prize.

  I turned my back on him and stooped to pluck a handful of the dendrites. Two were infected, and I put them carefully into my pocket. Not wishing to be obvious, I wandered around aimlessly for a few moments before appropriating a couple more. Then, d
iscreetly, I withdrew.

  When Charlot went to get help from Nick, Johnny and the miners, I went to find Matthew Sampson. I wanted to make a deal before anyone else did.

  I might still get my twenty thousand, if I was really lucky.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  You’re wrong, he said.

  ‘You pushed me. I felt it. You were lying all along when you said that you couldn’t influence my body without my consent.’

  That’s not what I said. I said that I couldn’t assume control over any part of your body that was under your control. I did not interfere in any way with any part of you which you already control.

  I finally saw the catch. ‘You mean that you can control things that I can’t?’

  Naturally. It stands to reason that if I can assume control of your voluntary faculties when you allow me to, then I can also control such faculties as you have which are not under voluntary control.

  ‘You can modify my reflexes. You can exercise control over my autonomic nervous system.’

  Only insofar as you could yourself if you knew how and were prepared to learn. You are remarkably wasteful of the potentialities of your body.

  ‘I don’t want you exercising the potentialities of my body! I don’t care how wasteful I am. It’s my body and I’ll use it as I please. Just because I don’t concern myself with such party tricks as everting my gut doesn’t mean to say that I want you to learn it for me.’

  Why would I want to evert your gut? I’m not playing tricks, Grainger; I’m helping you to become a more efficient human being. How do you think you managed to keep going for so long when you were lost in the caves, without even feeling tired? You accused me of knocking you out, but I didn’t. All I did was stop supporting your metabolism to relieve your need for sleep. Is that harming you or robbing you of your beloved independence? And when you say I pushed you—I didn’t do that either. All that I did was adjust your nerves and your muscles so that you could move faster and farther than you could otherwise have done. I didn’t do anything to you, I just put more of your own abilities at your disposal.