Code Of The Lifemaker

by Hogan, James

  bay and plug himself into the socket that would deactivate his circuits and send

  him for a while into blissful oblivion. He awoke refreshed and recharged, with

  new bearing liners, filters, electrical contacts, and fluids; fresh plating

  gleamed on his abraded surfaces. With feelings of well-being, Thirg was ready to

  face the new bright that lay ahead. There would be no rest on the next dark, for

  apart from infrequent top-ups taken from the wild-grown hydride cells which they

  would carry with them, the riders would not find food again until they reached

  the far side of the Wilderness.

  Before Thirg was even fully awake, Geynor rushed in from the street. "Good,

  you're up. We have to get out fast. Come on!"

  "What? Are the soldiers here?"

  "No time to explain."

  Thirg followed Geynor outside and found the whole village in panic. Most of the

  doors and windows were heavily barred. A few fearful faces peered out here and

  there; in the central square between the houses, the village Headrobeing and a

  group of elders were haranguing Dornvald and his outlaws, who were loading up

  their mounts and obviously preparing to move out in a hurry. On the far side of

  the square more robeings were down on their knees chanting hymns. Groork stood

  in front of them, his arms spread wide in supplication, gazing up at the sky.

  Everything was bathed in a radiance of ghostly violet that seemed to be coming

  from overhead.

  Thirg had taken three paces across the square when he stopped dead, his head

  tilted back and his body frozen into immobility with disbelief. A smooth,

  slender, elongated creature, with rigid, tapering limbs and plumes of light

  streaming from its underside, was hovering motionless in the sky to the east, as

  if watching the village. There was no way to judge its size or distance with any

  certainty, but Thirg's immediate impression was that it couldn't be all that far

  away. He stood, and he gaped.

  "The Lifemaker has sent His angel of wrath down upon us!" the village

  Headrobeing moaned, wringing his hands. "Begone from our midst, Dornvald,

  Bringer-of-Woes and Dealer-with-the-Accursed. See what retribution awaits even

  now us who accepted your treacherous bribes."

  "Take your followers from this place," another cried. "Truly you are but living

  dead, risen from the dismantling tombs."

  "I shall carry no fear of His wrath within me,

  Nor shall I tremble at His coming,

  Nor harbor terrors of the beasts of darkness,

  For my feet have trod the path of righteousness.

  I have not strayed ..." Groork's voice recited from across the square.

  "Mount up!" One of the outlaws reined to a halt with Thirg's steed held stamping

  and snorting alongside his own.

  Thirg shook himself from his trance and mounted hurriedly. "But what of Groork?"

  he called to Dornvald, who was turning to join the rest of the band as they

  grouped in the square.

  "He hears only his voices and speaks only to the sky-dragon," Dornvald shouted

  back. "We must leave."

  Then a body of villagers brandishing staffs and blades advanced round the corner

  ahead, following a huge, grim-faced robeing who was carrying a club of

  lead-weighted pipe. "You shall not escape, Accursed Ones!" the leader shouted.

  "The angel calls for a sacrifice in atonement. Let it take you who brought it

  here, not us!"

  "Ride!" Dornvald drew his sword and urged his mount into a gallop, and the

  others closed in solidly behind with weapons already unsheathed. Thirg had

  blurred impressions of bodies reeling back in confusion on both sides as the

  ground raced by below, of shouting coining from all around him for a moment and

  then falling away behind . .". and then the road out of the village was opening

  up ahead with the last houses slipping out of view. The riders remained at full

  gallop while they passed through the outlying fields and slowed their pace only

  when they had emerged into the wild scrubland beyond.

  When they looked back, they saw that the flying beast had moved from its station

  and was following them—nearer the ground than before, and off to one side. Then

  it moved forward rapidly to circle ahead of them, still keeping its distance and

  directing a cone of pale, violet light at the riders as if to study them from

  all angles. The column slowed to a cautious pace, and the dragon stayed ahead of

  them for a while. Finally it moved fully round to come behind them once again,

  then climbed higher once more and disappeared from sight moving back in the

  direction of the village. Time passed, and it failed to reappear. Gradually the

  fear that had gripped Thirg and his companions began to abate.

  "What have you to say now about myths of sky-creatures, Seeker-of-Answers?"

  Dornvald asked Thirg when the latter looked as if he had recovered sufficiently

  to be capable of speech. "Have you an answer to offer for this?"

  "I have none," Thirg replied numbly. He thought back to Groork's recent

  insistence that voices from the sky warned of the imminence of great events. Had

  he been mistaken about Groork's voices all along? Thirg said little more as the

  bright lightened. Slowly the hills flanking the mouth of the last valley

  flattened out and receded away on either side, and the scene ahead opened out

  into vast wastes of dunes, scattered boulders, and undulating desert as far as

  the eye could see.

  15

  BEHIND A SHALLOW RISE AT THE FOOT OF SOME ROCK OUTCROPS near the fringe of one

  of Titan's deserts, the surface lander stood in an oasis of light cast by its

  perimeter arc lamps. Smaller lights flashing and moving on the slopes below and

  to either side of the rise marked the positions of the landing party's U.S.

  Special Forces and British marine contingents deploying into concealed positions

  to cover the approaches.

  Inside the lander, Zambendorf and Abaquaan, carrying helmets under their arms

  and moving slowly in their ungainly extravehicular suits, picked their way

  forward among the similarly attired figures sitting and standing in the cramped

  confines of the aft mess cabin, and stopped at the doorway that led into the

  midships control room. Amid the clutter of crew stations and communications

  consoles ahead, Charles Giraud, Leaherney's deputy, was talking to an image of

  Leaherney, who was following the proceedings from the Orion, while other screens

  showed the surroundings outside. One display presented the view from a

  highflying drone, and showed as a tiny pattern of slowly moving dots on the

  computer-generated, false-color landscape the group of approaching Taloid

  riders, now less than two miles away, that had been selected as first

  contacts—partly because of their small number, and partly because of the

  isolated surroundings, which it was felt would minimize possible complications.

  "Ah, the psychologists are out in force, I see," Zambendorf remarked, looking

  down at Massey, Vernon Price, and Malcom Wade, who were sitting nearby.

  "At least we've got a good reason," Vernon said. "What the hell are you two

  doing down here?"

  Zambendorf shook his head reproachfully. "Just because you have successfully

  exposed some r
ather amateurish frauds, you shouldn't make the mistake of

  concluding that therefore nothing genuine can exist," he cautioned. "Mustn't

  rely too much on generalizations from one's own experiences. That's not being

  scientific, you know."

  "A good point," Wade commented. "That's just what I've been saying all along."

  "Are the Taloids believed to be telepathic?" somebody else asked curiously.

  Zambendorf permitted himself the condescending smile of one unable to say as

  much as he would have liked to. "Shall we just say that I am here at the

  personal request of the mission's Chief Scientist?" They could say it if they

  liked; it wasn't true. Massey turned his head away in exasperation.

  Meanwhile Abaquaan was following events in the control cabin through the door

  ahead of them and talking in a low voice with one of the ship's officers who was

  standing just inside. Zambendorf moved a pace forward and peered past Abaquaan's

  shoulder just in time to hear Daniel Leaherney ask from the monitor, "Does it

  change the situation in your estimation, Charles? If you want to reembark your

  people down there and wait for a more opportune occasion, you have my approval."

  Giraud shook his head. "The armed drones will provide ample reserve firepower if

  there are any hostilities. Let's get on with it now that we're here. Colonel

  Wallis agrees. We've decided to leave the arc lights on to give some warning of

  our presence." Reactions observed previously had confirmed that the Taloids

  possessed at least some sensitivity to ordinary visible wavelengths.

  "What's happening?" Zambendorf whispered.

  Abaquaan gestured at the screen showing the terrain across which the Taloids

  were approaching. "A second group of Taloids is following the first group and

  catching up fast," he said. "About thirty of them . . . and they've some of

  those crazy walking carts." The Taloids were known to possess, incongruously,

  legged vehicles that were drawn by machines running on wheels.

  "Is the second group chasing the others or trying to join them?"

  Abaquaan shook his head. "Nobody knows, Karl. But the ones in front are taking

  their time. Either they're not bothered, or they don't know that the other guys

  are there."

  "The lead group of Taloids has stopped moving," an operator announced. On the

  screen, the pattern of dots had reached the far side of a broad, flat-bottomed

  depression that lay beyond the rise. "They should be able to see our lights from

  where they are now."

  Giraud studied the display for a moment, and then turned to face the ship's

  captain, who was standing next to him. "Better get the rest of the surface party

  outside," he murmured.

  The captain nipped a switch and spoke into a microphone. "Attention. Remaining

  personnel for surface, helmet up and assemble at midships lock. All remaining

  surface personnel to midships lock."

  Five minutes later, Zambendorf and Abaquaan emerged onto the platform outside

  the lock and stood gazing out at the wall of impenetrable gloom beyond the arc

  lamps. Ignoring the ladder extending downward on one side, Abaquaan stepped off

  the platform and allowed his twenty-two pounds of weight to float to the ground

  six feet below. Zambendorf followed as more figures appeared in the lock

  hatchway behind, and an instant later his feet made contact with the soil of an

  alien world. For a moment he and Abaquaan looked at each other through the

  faceplates of their helmets, but neither spoke. Then they turned and moved

  forward to join the reception party assembling ahead, fifty yards inside the

  edge of the circle of light.

  16

  "IN ALL MY JOURNEYS ACROSS THESE DESERTS, I HAVE SEEN NOTHING to compare with

  it," Dornvald said. "It is as unknown as the dragons that have appeared in the

  sky. What advice have you to offer, Riddle-Seeker, for no experience of mine can

  guide us now?"

  "Nor any of mine," Thirg replied. "But it would seem possible that the dragons

  and this latest conundrum are related one to another, for have they not chosen

  to announce themselves in quick succession? And do we not see again the radiance

  that comes with heat hotter than the heat that melts ice? We have seen the

  dragons, and now, methinks, we have found the dragons' lair."

  The column had halted among rock and ice boulders on the edge of a low scarp,

  below which the ground fell for a distance into a wide depression and then

  climbed again toward a shallow saddle-shaped rise flanked on either side by

  steeper, broken slopes and crags. The obvious way ahead lay over the rise, but a

  strange violet radiance, similar to the slender cones thrown by the flying

  creatures earlier but less sharply defined, lit the skyline above and seemed to

  come from something just out of sight. The welders and laser cutters in the

  forest produced the same kind of light at their working points, as did some of

  the forms ejected by furnaces and other beings that lived at great heat.

  "What manner of greeting would dragons reserve for strangers venturing upon

  their land?" Dornvald asked. "Do they show their light as a beacon of welcome to

  weary travelers or as a warning of trespass? Are we therefore to ignore their

  hospitality with disdain or ignore their warning with contempt, for we know not

  which course risks giving the lesser offense?"

  Thirg stared at the strange glow for a while. "My recollections of Xerxeon are

  that we feared more for our lives from those of our own kind than from any

  dragons," he said. "And it seems to me that any dragon with power to command the

  light that melts steel could have rid itself of us all long before now if its

  inclinations so directed. But words will not suffice to resolve this. I would

  propose therefore, with your approval, Wisher-Not-to-Offend-Dragons, that I ride

  on ahead to conduct the examination which alone will set the matter finally to

  rest."

  "Ahah!" Dornvald exclaimed. "So does your compulsion to seek answers drive you

  irresistibly even now, when dismantling at the hands of enraged dragons might

  well be the price if your judgment is mistaken?"

  "I would know simply which path we are to take," Thirg replied. "Might we not

  all face dismantling anyway as a consequence of choosing blindly? The risk is

  none the greater and more likely less, for what dragon of any self-respect would

  deign prey upon one lone rider when it spurns to molest a whole company as

  unbecoming of its dignity?"

  "Hmm." Dornvald thought the proposition over. "Such is not any duty that you

  owe, Dignifier-of-Dragons, for was it not I who brought you to this place? Any

  self-respecting leader of outlaws has his dignity too. I will go."

  "You would be more needed here than I, if my judgment should indeed prove

  mistaken," Thirg pointed out. "For what is of more worth to the robeings behind

  us—the leader they have followed faithfully, or a dabbler-in-riddles who knows

  not even the direction that would lead them out of the Meracasine? I say I will

  go."

  "A plague of oxidization on the both of you!" Geynor said as he drew up

  alongside them. "The one is needed to answer riddles, and the other is needed to

  lead. I will go."

 
Before they could argue further, the pounding of hooves sounded from behind.

  Seconds later Fenyig, who had been riding well back from the main body as

  lookout, came into view and galloped by the waiting riders to come to a halt at

  the head of the column. "King's soldiers!" he announced. "Flying the pennant of

  Horazzorgio—two dozen or more, with chariots."

  "How far?" Dornvald snapped.

  "A mile or less, and closing rapidly. They must have stayed on the move all

  through dark."

  "How are they armed?"

  "Heavily—three fireball-throwers at least."

  "The villagers of Xerxeon are determined to have their sacrifice, it seems,"

  Dornvald said. "They must have told of our direction." He looked quickly once

  more over the terrain ahead. There would be no escape on the flat, open area

  stretching away to right and left since the wheeled tractors that pulled the

  chariots and fireball-throwers would outrun mounted robeings, and there was

  ample space for the King's soldiery to maneuver their superior force freely. The

  only chance was to make the rugged, broken country beyond the rise, where the

  going would be slow for vehicles and where riders venturing ahead could be

  picked off from ambush. "Our choices have become Horazzorgio on the one hand, or

  dragons on the other," Dornvald declared. "One demon I have met and know well;

  the other I know not. On what I know, I would have us cast our lot with the

  latter."

  "Methinks we would be well advised," Geynor agreed.

  "Then our dispute is resolved," Dornvald said, looking from Geynor to Thirg. "We

  all shall go." And louder, to the rear, "Forward to yonder rise, and at speed!

  He who fears light in the sky has no place behind me, but among the groveling

  farmers of Xerxeon. If dragons would contest our way then so be it, but let it

  not be us who show their weapons first. Forward!"

  "All units standing by, ready to fire," a British subaltern's voice reported to

  Colonel Wallis on the radio. "A.P. missiles locked and tracking."

  "Status of remote-controlled gunships?" Wallis inquired crisply.

  "Standing by for launch, sir," another voice confirmed.

  "Defenses ready," Wallis advised Giraud, who was now outside and standing at the

  center of the waiting reception party.