by Tony Attwood
Korell was the first to react visibly to the situation. ‘Give me your hand, Avon,’ she demanded. Avon did not respond. Korell looked at him intently. ‘Are you going to leave him in there – wherever there is?’
Avon looked from Korell to the door and back again. ‘Well now,’ he said. ‘It’s a tempting possibility.’
‘Avon, I know about your dedicated self-interest. I also know that you value Vila as a thief able to do something you can’t. So don’t tell me that you don’t want to rescue him.’
To the outsider it would have appeared at that moment as if Avon was carefully considering Korell’s point of view. In fact he was considering her knack for expounding views which most people could only put forward when in some sort of self-justifying rage. There was a bitterness implied in what she said but it didn’t show. Avon noted it as a clever trick, an important element in the lady’s armoury.
‘All right,’ he said. ‘But don’t complain to me about the results. This is your idea.’
Korell did not seek to argue. Instead she held out a hand and instructed Avon to pull her backwards as she touched the door. Getting the best footing he could on the stone floor Avon did as he was asked, whilst Korell gingerly prodded the door with one finger. Without a sound the opening seemed to move away from them, and a great force pulled both Avon and Korell into the yawning gap.
As Korell slipped further through the opening Avon let go, a faint smile playing on his lips as he watched her vanish. On the far side of the still open door the grass remained but Korell was not on it. There was in fact nothing but grass. Carefully Avon moved back from the door, across the stone floor and down the wide entrance steps to the grass. For the first time he put his hands down and touched it, pulling gently. Several tufts came away quite easily. He walked back up the steps towards the now seemingly closed door, stopping by Vila’s tool kit. From it he removed an aluminium probe and pushed it against the door. Again he felt the section pulling him in, but the probe had left him far enough back to avoid being drawn through. The aluminium, he noted, also reduced the power somewhat. As door turned into opening Avon threw the grass in. This time he was not pulled forward but thrust backwards by the force. Picking himself up Avon slowly made his way down the steps and started the long walk back to the ship.
5
To Vila the appearance of Korell out of nothing was like a prayer answered. Having arrived he knew not where he sat on the grass, pushing his previous fears out of his mind, and did nothing. He was scared. Aliens, he knew for sure, were playing with him. They wanted to get some fun. All right, they could show themselves first. He stood up and shouted, daring them to come out from hiding. Pausing for breath he listened to the eerie silence. It made him nervous. He started to walk, muttering all the while, to keep himself company. After ten paces he realised he had no idea where to walk to. The horizon was unvaried in all directions. He cursed the grass and sat down again. He cursed the aliens. He cursed Avon, and running out of everything else to curse he contemplated cursing Korell, at which moment she suddenly appeared ten feet away from him. And as always she didn’t seem the slightest bit put out by the turn of events.
‘It would be too much to suppose that you have worked out a plan of campaign, wouldn’t it?’ she grinned.
Delicately she moved her hand through her hair, looked around, and helped Vila to his feet, whilst announcing that it was time to start walking.
‘You know the way?’ asked Vila quickly, trying to fall into step alongside her.
‘When we walked from Revenge to the building the sun was to our left. When I went through that door I felt a strong push forward, which means we have probably landed a distance behind the building relative to Revenge. Therefore we have to walk back to the building, go around it, and then walk on to the ship. So we walk with the sun to our right, OK?’
‘OK,’ said Vila with genuine admiration. Then he stopped, started to argue, but then ran to catch up Korell who refused to discuss anything whilst not on the move. ‘You said that building was about six miles long – and we can’t even see it yet. And then it’s another couple of miles to the ship.’ Just the thought of it made Vila exhausted. ‘And besides we may not have been pushed forward. Maybe time passed without our knowing and the sun has now crossed the sky.’
‘Or maybe it’s a double sun, and the one we saw before has now set and this is its binary partner.’ said Korell.
‘Yes... What?’
Korell laughed, looked at Vila, but kept on at a brisk pace. ‘Of course there could be a million reasons why this direction is wrong. The alternative is to sit and wait for something to happen. And something might not happen. Or what happens might not be very nice. So we go for a walk. The gravity is low and the planet is small. Which means we cover the ground faster and the horizon is closer. So the building may not be that far away after all. All right?’
She had spoken quickly, and it sounded convincing. Vila continued to look glum. He tried a different tack. ‘They can’t just leave us here, can they? I mean, they brought us here. What’s the point?’
‘They didn’t bring us here, Vila, we came to steal their sygnum and we know that no one else seems to have got away with the stuff. So don’t be too hopeful.’
‘I’m not. I’m used to adventures with Avon which turn out like this...’
Vila chattered on, making a strong effort to keep up with Korell, consoling himself all the while that at least he now had a chance to be with her on his own, without Avon around, and without distractions. If only she wouldn’t walk so fast.
After fifteen minutes a form began to take shape on the horizon. After half an hour it was clearly the building they had experienced before. After an hour they reached it.
The entrance looked the same as it had from what was, according to Korell, the opposite direction. Korell walked up the stone stairway to the first door.
‘You’re not going through it again are you?’ asked Vila, horrified. ‘We can walk round.’
‘I thought you didn’t want to go the extra six miles? Besides the only way back to where you started is to retrace your steps.’
Vila seemed unsure. Korell put a friendly arm around him; it changed his entire outlook on life. ‘Supposing this is the same planet as the ship was on before, but a different dimension? Suppose anything Vila, but take it from me the best chance we have is going back the way we came.’ And without further debate Korell walked up to the door and went through.
Alone, Vila took a quick look back, found the endless grass no less enticing than it had been as he walked over it, and followed Korell through.
Vila had expected to land on grass, and he did. What he didn’t expect was to find himself in a metal cage. Next door was another cage, occupied by Korell. There were other cages on either side. They were empty. There was no sign of Avon or Revenge.
Ahead was the building, looking as it had looked before. The sun, sky and grass, which made up the rest of the environment, looked much the same.
‘How do you explain this one?’ Vila shouted.
‘With extreme difficulty,’ came the relaxed reply. ‘Don’t worry Vila. It could have been worse. Supposing whoever put us here lived in swamps and marshlands.’
‘Well?’
‘You’d have got wet feet.’
Vila, for once, was dreaming up a witty reply, when a sound from near the building made him turn away from Korell’s cage. A group of people, similar in stature and clothing to the stranger who had entered the Revenge was making its way across the grass. The people came out of nowhere, talking in a curious language, half distinguishable, half not, pointing, jumping and laughing at the cages.
‘Our captors,’ announced Korell. ‘Don’t scowl at them Vila, they might take offence.’
Vila tried his best not to show any emotions at all and sat down. The leader of the group, wearing baggy green trousers and a short-sleeved shirt, touched a control at the door of the cage and let Vila out.
‘A go
od job you just did that,’ said Vila. ‘I was about to pick the lock.’
‘Without your tool kit?’ asked Korell without malice. ‘And where would you have gone?’ she added as she herself was let free.
Vila ignored the question. ‘What are they going to do now?’
‘The traditional approach is to take us to a dark and rather oppressive little room and keep us locked up for several days without food or water. Then they take us one by one for a spot of torture, demanding to know how we got here, what we wanted, how many of us are there. If tradition holds true this should also be a time of national crisis for them, when they are at their most jumpy, in which case we shall immediately be accused of being enemy agents. They could of course decide to kill us at once, or maybe they’ll tear you apart limb from limb and rape me, or if I am lucky sell me as a slave to the local war lord.’
Vila turned away. He decided he was going off this girl.
Korell however was still smiling. She stood, hands on hips talking gently whilst watching the aliens. As if on a cue the strangers began to push and prod their captives. But just as the pushing was about to get too intense for Vila’s liking, more people arrived. These were older. Men and women with short hair and more restrained clothes. At the first sight of them the youngsters took fright, ran to the building and dived as one through the door.
‘Rescue?’ asked Korell.
‘Or a fate worse than death,’ suggested Vila. ‘Still you’re right about one thing. The kids were jumpy.’
The opening words of the leader of the new group seemed, in tone at least, reassuring. Since they were spoken in an alien tongue it was only the tone that could be judged.
A hand was held out in welcome by the apparent leader, a tall man aged in Earth terms about 35, with quick blue eyes and strong arms. He spoke carefully and deliberately. His manner was friendly, but cautious. Korell had a distinct feeling that although not armed he could pose a threat at any moment if he so wished.
Seeing his words were not understood the man rapidly switched to Terran, which he spoke with a perfect, if somewhat archaic accent. ‘I must apologise for the behaviour of our young friends. They are used to playing with androids, rather than real people. Allow me to escort you back to your ship – it is unfair on our children to stand talking in their area. And you must forgive our not recognising your esteemed selves. We assumed, because of your problems with the museum, that you could not be of the Federation. Now I see by your language you are. Many come and try to steal a quick use of our secrets and the glorious Federation has taught us eternal vigilance.
‘We shall have to make a report,’ announced Korell, putting an arm around Vila in the hope of distracting him from the conversation. ‘As we walk back, perhaps you will explain what has been going on? I shall not report everything of course, you can rely on my discretion, but it would be better to give me the full picture.’
‘No death rays, no torture,’ said Vila.
‘You are most gracious madam,’ said the man, ignoring the thief. Yet just as the explanation was about to commence he suddenly stopped walking and held his hand to his heart. There was a brief look of anguish on his face. The attack, if that’s what it was, passed rapidly; the man resumed at his previous pace as if nothing had happened.
‘You have a splendid imagination,’ he said. ‘You must be Vila.’
‘My fame has spread far and wide,’ the thief replied pompously.
‘Everyone knows of Blake and his team. If the young people had known with whom they were playing they would have shown more respect, I can assure you, although it might have shattered their illusions somewhat to find that the heroes of their story books could be captured so easily.’
‘And a good job it was that they let us out at that moment. There could have been trouble.’
Korell interrupted Vila. ‘I would rather hear from our hosts about this planet and its inhabitants,’ she said, ‘than a series of boasts from you about what you would, or would not, have done, given the chance.’
Vila gave way to a sullen silence. In the distance Revenge could clearly be seen as it emerged above the horizon. As they got closer it also became possible to make out areas of grassland that had been dug up, not only by the landing of the ship, but also by someone or something else. The marks, Vila was sure, had not been there before.
‘This planet you call Skat is known to us as Re-Ter-Al – in our language it means the World of the Golden Gift. My name is Levarll. My friends and I are from Earth. We are representatives of the Federation.’
Vila stopped dead in his tracks. Korell kept walking alongside the speaker, raising only one quizzical eyebrow in response to this revelation.
‘Five hundred years ago when the inhabitants of Earth started to colonise this part of the Galaxy they looked at this world, and found it beautiful, but of little value. There were no minerals, not enough wild animals to kill for meat, not enough fish in the oceans to catch, and it was too far from the developing trade routes to be of use. But it appeared a very pleasant place to live. The grass grew easily in minimal rainfall, in many parts of the planet the local stone made good building material, and the climate generally was very pleasing. So they put a basic research team down. A small population can be maintained here easily, and we have always been a small population.
‘The research team’s mission was to look into new methods of high speed transmission of messages across the galaxy. The work was considered politically sensitive at the time, and so the group was isolated. The research teams were permitted to bring their families with them. It was supposed to be at most a three year project, and the place looked nice, so everyone agreed to the isolation. But after two years our ancestors discovered an unexpected spin-off from their research. They found, as expected and as the theories predicted, that they were able to speed up messages so they travelled faster than light. However, as the signals approached speeds that made transmission from system to system practical – the sort of thing you take for granted now – they found they were actually changing the very fabric of the Galaxy itself. Only by tiny amounts, nothing more than a few electrons per second of message, but it was enough to divert several of the greatest minds of the original researchers onto a new problem.’
‘And before the three years were up they cracked it?’ suggested Korell.
‘You are perceptive,’ Levarll told her. ‘They found out the cause of the electron disintegration, and a way through into what was hitherto little more than a dream – a new universe. A universe that turned out to be just one in a series of parallel existences. And not just one series but thousands – millions. More than could be counted. Each reality slightly different from our own.’
‘And we have been to one,’ said Korell.
‘The large building – our museum – acts as a control operating one of the gateways into another world. It is one that is reserved for our youngsters – it take them into worlds that are safe.’
‘They certainly seem safe,’ said Vila. ‘There’s nothing but grass anywhere.’
‘Near the museum, yes. In fact most of the entrances are real entrances to a real museum. We come here for picnics, and debates. It’s a very pleasing environment in which to learn about your past. And we are very concerned that everyone should know about our past.’
‘That isn’t an attitude widely encouraged in the Federation,’ Korell pointed out.
Levarll ignored the comment and continued his tale as they approached Revenge. ‘The discovery of alternative worlds leading to infinitely varied existences was deemed so important by our ancestors, the original colonisers, that certain decisions were taken – including one that said that Earth should not know about the discovery – at least for a little while. The idea was to keep quiet until the three years was up, whilst during the remaining months the implications of the discovery would be worked out. However, it was soon realised that our ancestors were not the only ones who had broken through the electron barriers. And that gave th
em a problem. But we are almost back at your ship – let us find Avon and continue the story with him present. Then you can decide what you wish to do.’
As the group approached the ship Avon, never content with waiting to be found, appeared at the main hatch. Vila announced the latest news with enthusiasm.
Avon looked unmoved. ‘White holes!’ he said as Vila concluded. ‘Well now, that is, to say the least, world shattering.’
‘Kerr Avon, your mind is all it is reputed to be.’
‘This is Levarll,’ explained Vila. ‘They’ve heard of our reputation. And Levarll has been really helpful since we got dragged through that building. It’s an event horizon...’
‘If they’ve heard of your reputation,’ Avon replied, ‘I’m surprised they haven’t locked you up by now.’ Suddenly he seemed to change tack. ‘It’s time to go. Unless you prefer to stay here chatting with your new-found friends.’
‘Avon!’ Vila was upset. ‘These people are friendly. They can help us. They’ve already rescued us.’
‘Very well,’ said Avon. He stepped back onto the ship’s entry bay and then turned. ‘I should stand back if I were you – the blast from the ship can be considerable when it’s lying flat.’ And with that he disappeared into Revenge. Within a second Korell was on board, dragging Vila with her. But Vila didn’t like being forced.
‘Logically,’ said Korell, pushing him up the gangway and then along the stair shaft that led to the upper deck, ‘if there is a reason for getting out quickly then it is not a good idea to discuss it in front of the enemy.’
Vila decided not to protest at this obvious misuse of the word ‘’enemy’’. He’d had enough protesting. It was just the law of life. If he wanted to stay, they went. If he said leave, they stayed. If he wanted to be in sector 8 at the edge of the Galaxy they went to Earth. This was Vila’s law, he decided.
