Slaves of The Klau
Page 12
"Well, well," said Barch. "And now what do you intend to do?"
"Well," said the thin man, "we figured we'd try to get back to Earth by hook or by crook. My name's Smith, by the way; this is my son Tim."
"I'm Roy Barch."
Smith gestured to the barge. "I understand these things run on the same principle as the spaceships-grab at space and pull themselves along. Now if maybe we could make one of these air-tight-"
Barch sat down on a rock, ran his hand through his hair.
"What's the matter?" asked the thin man. "Did I say something wrong?"
"No," said Barch. "It's just that you've come to the right place. I organize these parties. I'm a specialist on them." He heaved a deep sigh. "You really want to leave Magarak?"
"Naturally."
"You're willing to work, take a few risks, maybe-" Barch held up the stump of his left arm. "Yes!"
"All right, you've got a partner. Let's get busy. Take your barge around the corner. I'll let down the sheets and we'll slide it into the Big Hole."
Barch jumped to his feet. Smith and his son Tim backed away a little.
"I'm harmless," said Barch. "Just anxious. This time I'll do it right."
"Sure, sure," said Smith soothingly.
"Tonight we go out stealing. I know the routine cold. First we get the accr at the quarry. Next we go after Lenape. We've already got plenty of sustenators, but we do need a few Lenape. Something might go wrong with the inner workings en route and none of us could fix it."
Smith asked anxiously. "You feeling all right, son?"
"I feel fine," said Barch. "Let's get busy."
Double-Ark II rose into the twilight. Barch looked down into Palkwarkz Ztvo, hating the black forest, the black mountains, the interminable drizzle. And yet-he looked along the length of the valley-he had experienced a great deal here; he had accomplished much. "Wish I had a photograph of the place," he said over his shoulder to Tim.
Tim clutched his arm. "Look."
Barch twisted sharply. Through the clouds flickered a dozen long dark shapes. The overcast swirled aside for an instant; the shapes showed as long torpedoes. The overcast closed; the shapes were gone.
"Those weren't Klau ships," said Barch thoughtfully.
"No, I guess not."
"I thought I saw some kind of emblem on the first one."
Tim hesitated. "I did too. But I think I was wrong. It couldn't be what I thought it was."
"United Nations emblem?"
"But it couldn't be."
"No. It couldn't be. Of course we were budding spaceships, but-it's impossible."
There was a knock on the door of Barch's room in the St. Francis Hotel. Barch looked up from the newspaper. "Who is it?"
"Tim Smith."
Barch rose to his feet. "If it's a reporter, I'll break your neck."
He swung open the door. Tim Smith came in. "Just me."
Barch looked up and down the corridor, shut and locked the door. "I've been besieged the last couple days." He rapped the newspaper with the back of his hand. "I'd like to know how this stuff got out."
Tim Smith picked it up, read the headline: RAZING OF ENEMY WAR INDUSTRIES REACHES HALFWAY MARK.
"Is that what you're talking about?"
"No," said Barch. "This feature article, by-lined Cyril Heats." He took the newspaper. "Listen:
"The break-up of the Klau Empire under the pounding of the great Lenau-Lekthwan-Earth-Bakaima Coalition is now history and Earthmen will always glory in the fact that their fledgling Space-Navy dealt the first effective blow against the Klau slave-worlds.
"As a significant sidelight to this tremendous epoch in our history comes the news that one Roy Barch of San Francisco, captured by the Klau five years ago, can claim the honor of being the first Earthman to strike back at the Klau.
"A few days ago the epic four-year voyage of the Double-Ark II was chronicled on these pages. Readers will remember that a heroic group of Earthmen, enslaved during the original Klau raids, won back to Earth in a makeshift spaceship. It has now been revealed that the great Magarak slave revolt, which contributed so strikingly to the success of the original Punitive Expedition, was the result of Barch's one-man assault against the Klau…"
Barch threw down the paper. "It goes on from there. Barch this, Barch that!" He ran his hand through his hair. "What beats me is, how did it get out?"
"Somebody must have spilled the beans," said Tim blandly.
Barch darted him a keen look. "I've already got an idea of who I can thank."
"I wanted to make sure you got what was coming to you," said Tim. "Keys to the city, gold-plated hook for your trick arm, a Roy Barch Memorial…"
Barch glared.
"Take it easy," said Tim. "You know you love it."
Barch laughed. "It might get me a job. I borrowed five hundred bucks from my uncle. He said it was all my own fault, that I never should have fooled around the Lekthwans to begin with."
"Speaking of Lekthwans," said Smith, "look at this." He pointed to an article low on the page.
"I saw it," said Barch.
The helicopter landed on the terrace of dark blue glass. Barch jumped out. "I won't be too long," he told the pilot.
The pilot lit a cigarette. "Take your time; you're paying for it."
Barch walked slowly around the terrace. To his right was the rococo balustrade of blue-and-white striped glass; to the left rose the crystal walls apparently so transparent, so confusing to the eye. It was very familiar; but it looked small, like a scene remembered from childhood, and a little dreary.
He passed by the alcove which had housed Markel's airboat. There was the boat, shining and glistening as if Barch and Claude Darran had only just finished polishing it.
He went on. There was the very spot on which Claude Darran's body had lain. And there-he looked up. Approaching was a young Lekthwan, gold skin splendid in the sunlight. He wore black trousers, a soft black cloak and cap. Many times Barch had seen Markel in the same garb; it gave him a curious pang of timelessness.
The Lekthwan halted in front of Barch. "Why are you here?" he asked courteously.
Barch said, "I might ask the same of you." Same insufferable Lekthwan superiority, he thought. Somehow it had lost the power to do more than irk him.
The Lekthwan bowed slightly. "I am Acting Commissioner for Sector Commerce."
"Who is Commissioner?"
"There has been no full Commissioner since Tkz Maerkl-Elaksd."
Barch said slowly, "I came up for two reasons. I left some belongings here five years ago."
The Lekthwan frowned. "Incomprehensible. Five years ago Tkz Maerkl-Elaksd was in residence."
"That's correct, but it doesn't matter. The second reason is coming up now."
The Lekthwan turned. "The ship from home," he murmured. "Please excuse me; can you come some other day?"
"No," said Barch. He went to lean on the balustrade… Five years ago he had stood here watching a great vivid ball come rushing up to the terrace. And just so had the ball locked to the landing stage, just so had Komeitk Lelianr stepped out on the dark blue glass.
There were changes. Komeitk Lelianr was quieter, thoughtful, though she looked a little older. And Barch's heart had not been pounding then as it was now.
She saw Barch immediately; indeed her eyes swept the terrace as if she were seeking him. She stopped in mid-stride.
Her mouth tightened; Barch saw her eyebrows and eyelashes move in a quick series of characterizations.
She hesitated only an instant, then walked over to the balustrade. "I had not expected to see you here, Roy."
"I suppose not."
"You look very well. How long have you been home?"
"About two weeks. How about you?"
She spoke in a careful voice. "We made a fast voyage; eight months. The Lenape were able to work out a space-drive."
"We had no Lenape. We were all Earthmen."
"Oh? Then how did you find your way home?
"
"By a very simple means. Perhaps it may strike you as primitive. After we left Magarak we searched the sky. In one direction, in only one direction could we expect to find familiar constellations: in the direction diametrically across the sun from Magarak. We found Orion, very small, very faint. We started in that direction, and kept on going."
"That was very ingenious. I was sure you would get home."
Barch smiled grimly. "I was never quite so sure."
She looked out into the warm air, hazy with afternoon vapor. "I feel I must explain to you-"
"Forget it," said Barch. "I know all about it. It wasn't your idea. The Lenape said, The crazy man is gone; now is a good time, we'll escape him and his mad ideas as well as the Klau,' and everybody thought it was a good idea."
"No," she said. "Not I."
"No. You kept your mouth shut. It was none of your concern, you told yourself. But you did have qualms. You hesitated. And they said, 'Hurry, are you coming or not?' And you went."
Her eyes were still searching the hazy distances. "That's very close. I realized that I owed you my life, but on Magarak my life was worth nothing to me, and I owed you nothing. I realize now that I owe you my freedom, and now my life and freedom are very precious." She turned, met his eyes.
Fascinated, Barch watched the shift of her eyebrows. "And I will pay, in whatever way I can."
Barch smiled. "What's the name of this characterization?"
Her mouth set angrily. "I mean it."
Barch shook his head. "You owe me nothing. My motives in protecting you, in trying to leave Magarak, were completely selfish."
"Nevertheless-I profited, and you lost. I must make adjustment."
"Adjustment?" He eyed her speculatively. "Exactly how do you mean, adjustment?"
"I can give you money."
Barch nodded. "I suppose you could."
She looked to where the young Acting Commissioner conferred with a tall majestic Lekthwan in a claret-red cloak. "If you cared to come to Lekthwa-to study, or for curiosity- you would be the guest of myself and of my people for as long as you liked."
"No, thanks. I've had enough space-travel. I'm glad to be home."
Her skin coppered with blood. "This obligation weighs me down; I must rid myself of it!"
"Well, what's next on the list?"
She looked up full into his eyes. "If you want me, I will be your mate, your wife." The words seemed to push themselves through her lips.
Barch grunted. "No thanks. Five years ago I learned the hard way. I sure did."
"That was Magarak, when I had no choice."
"What's the difference? If I wanted to marry, I'd want a wife, not a white elephant. We'd never be happy together. We don't think alike. You're contemptuous of my race. Here on Earth, we're learning to beat prejudice; you've got that still ahead of you. How would I feel married to a woman who would be ashamed to introduce me to her own friends?"
Komeitk Lelianr looked up at him intently. "You've changed a great deal, Roy."
"I suppose I have."
"But in some ways you remain the same."
"How so?"
"When we first met, you didn't like the Lekthwans."
"No." Barch looked back along the avenues of the past. "I had a sneaking hunch that they might be right when they claimed to be superior, and it hurt my vanity. Now I- know better. I don't have any personal feeling either for or against Lekthwans. We're all humans… Oh, I've changed all right."
"Perhaps I've changed too."
"But you're still a Lekthwan and I'm an Earther."
"You seem a great deal more conscious of the fact than I."
Barch started to protest, then caught himself up short. Perhaps he had not changed so much in five years as he had thought. "Human minds are just too damn complex," he said inconsequentially.
Komeitk Lelianr shrugged; she seemed to have lost interest in the conversation.
Barch asked stiffly, "How long do you stay on Earth?"
"Only a day or so. I came for my father's belongings."
"And then?"
"And then I will go back to Lekthwa." She spoke listlessly. "It is not the home I remembered. Somewhere I have caught a strange uneasiness. I have been excited talking to you." She looked thoughtfully up into his face.
He turned away, "I'll pick up my gear and be off."
She said nothing. He took a step away. "Good-by."
"Good-by, Roy."
He walked swiftly to the little room he had shared with Claude Darran. It was quite empty. Nothing I wanted anyway, thought Barch.
He returned to the terrace. Komeitk Lelianr still stood leaning back with her elbows on the balustrade. She was looking at him; she radiated an attraction, a physical force that impelled him toward her. He took a short step forward, halted. She looked at him with a curious expression neither inviting nor forbidding. Barch took a deep breath.
"Good-by, Ellen."
"Good-by, Roy."
He ran to the helicopter, jumped in. The pilot was reading a magazine.
"Let's go," said Barch.
The pilot stretched languidly. "Finish so soon?"
"Finish?" muttered Barch. "What do you mean 'finish?' There's nothing in life that has a finish."
"You're beyond me there, mister."
"Let's go," said Barch shortly.
The pilot looked down the terrace. "That young lady is coming down this way."
Barch slowly stepped out of the cab. He saw that she was breathing very hard. Her mouth was firm, pale, tight.
"Well?"
"I don't want you to leave."
"But-"
" Roy -it's taking a chance. I'm willing if you are."
He made no pretense of misunderstanding. "A big chance. You'll be cut off from your people."
"Perhaps, perhaps not… Are you afraid?"
Barch looked at her long seconds. Something warm broke inside him. "No. I'm not afraid."
Jack Vance
***
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