Nopalgarth

by Jack Vance

  "Yes, yes," said Farr.

  "Our minds become numbed to the wonder of life, because of its very pressure and magnitude." Omon Bozhd at last took his eyes off Farr. "In such a perspective this affair has intrinsic interest no more or less than taking a single breath."

  Farr said in a stiff voice, "I can breathe as many times as I care to. I can die only once, so there does seem a certain practical difference. Apparently you think so too—and I admit to being in your debt. But— why?"

  Omon Bozhd swung his absent viewer. "Iszic rationale is of course different to that of the Earther. We, nevertheless, share certain instincts, such as reverence for vitality and the impulse to aid our acquaintances."

  "I see," said Farr. "Your action then was merely a friendly good turn?"

  Omon Bozhd bowed. "You may regard it as such. And now I will bid you good night." He left the cabin.

  Farr sat numbly upon his bed. In the last few minutes the Anderviews had metamorphosed from a kindly, rather remote, missionary and his attractive wife to a pair of ruthless murderers. But why? Why?

  Farr shook his head in abject puzzlement. The Szecr sub-commandant had mentioned a poisoned thorn and a poisoned drink: evidently their responsibility as well. Angrily he jumped to his feet, strode to the door, which he slid back and looked along the catwalk. To right and left glimmered the gray glass ribbon. Overhead a similar ribbon gave access to the cabins next above. Farr quietly left the cabin, walked to the end of the catwalk, and looked through the arch into the lounge. The two young tourists, the sanitary engineer, and a pair of Iszic were playing poker. The Iszic were ahead of the game, with one fraction of their eyes focused on the cards, the other on the faces of their opponents.

  Farr turned back. He climbed the ladder to the upper deck. There was silence except for the normal half-heard sounds of the ship—the sigh of pumps, the murmur of circulating air, the subdued mutter from the lounge.

  Farr found the door with a placard reading Meritt and Anthea Andervieto. He hesitated, listening. He heard nothing, no sounds, no voices. He put his hand out to knock, then paused. He recollected Omon Bozhd's dissertation on life, the infinity of avenues to the future… He could knock, he could turn to his cabin. He knocked.

  No one answered. Farr looked up and down the catwalk. He could still return to his cabin. He tried the door. It opened. The room was dark. Farr put his elbow to the molding; light filled the room. Merritt Anderview, sitting stiffly in a chair, looked at him with a wide fearless gaze.

  Farr saw he was dead. Anthea Anderview lay in the lower bunk, relaxed and quite composed.

  Farr made no close inspection, but she was dead too. A shatter-gun vibrating at low intensity had homogenized their brains; their thoughts and memories were brown melange; their chosen avenues into the future had come to a break. Farr stood still. He tried to hold his breath, but he knew the damage had already been done. He backed out and closed the door. The stewards would presently find the bodies… In the meantime—Farr stood thinking with growing uneasiness. He might have been observed. His stupid flirtation with Anthea Anderview might be common knowledge, perhaps even the argument with Merritt Anderview. His presence in the cabin could be easily established. There would be a film of his exhalations on every object in the room. This constituted positive identification in the courtrooms, if it could be shown that no other person aboard the ship fell into his exhalation group.

  Farr turned. He left the cabin and crossed to the lounge. No one appeared to observe him. He climbed the ladder to the bridge and knocked at the door of the captain's cabin.

  Captain Dorristy slid the panel back —a stocky taciturn man with squinting black eyes. Behind Dorristy stood Omon Bozhd. Farr thought that his cheek muscles tightened and that his hand gave a jerk as if he were twirling his viewer.

  Farr felt suddenly at ease. He had rolled with whatever punch Omon Bozhd was trying to deliver. "Two passengers are dead—the Anderviews."

  Omon Bozhd turned both eye-fractions on him: cold animosity.

  "That's interesting," said Dorristy. "Come in."

  Farr stepped through the door. Omon Bozhd looked away.

  Dorristy said in a soft voice, "Bozhd here tells me that you killed the Anderviews."

  Farr turned to look at the Iszic. "He's probably the most plausible liar on the ship. He did it himself."

  Dorristy grinned, looking from one to the other. "He says you were after the woman."

  "I was politely attentive. This is a dull trip. Up to now."

  Dorristy looked at the Iszic. "What do you say, Omon Bozhd?"

  The Iszic swung his nonexistent viewer. "Something more than politeness brought Mrs. Anderview to Farr's cabin."

  Farr said, "Something other than altruism brought Omon Bozhd to my cabin to prevent Anderview from shooting me."

  Omon Bozhd feigned surprise. "I know nothing whatever of your liaisons."

  Farr checked his anger and turned to the captain. "Do you believe him?"

  Dorristy grinned sourly. "I don't believe anyone."

  "This is what happened. It's hard to believe but it's true." Farr told his story. "… after Bozhd left, I got thinking. I was going to get to the bottom of it, one way or the other. I went to the Anderviews' cabin. I opened the door, saw they were dead. I came here at once."

  Dorristy said nothing, but now he was examining Omon Bozhd rather than Farr. At last he shrugged. "I'll seal the room. You can sweat it out when we get to Earth."

  Omon Bozhd obscured the lower half of his eyes. He swung the absent viewer nonchalantly. "I have heard Farr's story," he said in a thoughtful voice. "He impresses me with his frankness. I believe I am mistaken. It is not likely that he performed the crime. I retract my accusation." He stalked from the cabin. Farr gazed after him in angry triumph.

  Dorristy looked at Farr. "You didn't kill them, eh?"

  Farr snorted. "Of course not."

  "Who did?"

  "My guess would be one or another of the Iszics. Why? I have no idea."

  Dorristy nodded, then spoke gruffly from the side of his mouth, "Well—we'll see when we put down at Barstow." He glanced sidewise at Farr. "I'll take it as a favor if you keep this matter quiet. Don't discuss it with anyone."

  "I didn't intend to," said Farr shortly.

  VIII

  THE BODIES were photographed and removed to cold storage; the cabin was sealed. The ship buzzed with rumor and Farr found the Anderviews a difficult topic to avoid.

  Earth grew closer. Farr felt no great apprehension, but the uncertainty, the underlying mystery remained: why had the Anderviews waylaid him in the first place? Would he run into further danger on Earth? Farr became angry. These intrigues were no concern of his; he wanted no part of them. But an uncomfortable conviction kept pushing up from his subconscious: he was involved, however bitterly he rejected the idea. He had other things to do—his job, his thesis, the compilation of a stereo which he hoped to sell to one of the broadcast networks.

  And there was something else, a curious urgency, a pressure, something to be done. It came at odd moments to trouble Farr—a dissatisfaction, like an unresolved chord in some deep chamber of his mind. It had no direct connection with the Anderviews and their murderer, no link with anything. It was something to be done, something he had forgotten… or never known…

  Omon Bozhd spoke to him only once, approaching him in the lounge. He said in an offhand voice, "You are now aware of the threat you face. On Earth I may be unable to help you."

  Farr's resentment had not diminished. He said, "On Earth you'll probably be executed for murder."

  "No, Aile Farr Sainh, it will not be proved against me."

  Farr examined the pale narrow face. Iszic and Earther—evolved from different stock to the same humanoid approximation: simian, amphibian. But there would never be a rapport or sympathy between the races. Farr asked curiously, "You didn't kill them?"

  "Certainly it is unnecessary to iterate the obvious to a man of Aile Farr's intelligence
."

  "Go ahead, iterate it. Reiterate it. I'm stupid. Did you kill them?"

  "It is unkind of you to require an answer to this question."

  "Very well, don't answer. But why did you try to pin it on me? You know I didn't do it. What have you got against me?"

  Omon Bozhd smiled thinly. "Nothing whatever. The crime, if crime it was, could never be proved against you. The investigation would delay you two or three days, and allow other matters to mature."

  "Why did you retract your accusation?"

  "I saw I had made a mistake. I am hominid—far from infallible."

  Sudden anger threatened to choke Farr. "Why don't you stop talking in hints and implications? If you've got something to say—say it."

  "Farr Sainh is himself pressing the matter. I have nothing to say. The message I had for him I delivered; he would not expect me to lay bare my soul."

  Farr nodded and grinned. "One thing you can be sure of—if I see a chance to spike the game you're playing—I'll take it."

  Every hour the star that was Home Sun brightened; every hour Earth was closer. Farr found himself unable to sleep. A sour lump formed in his stomach. Resentment, perplexity, impatience compounded into a malaise whose effects were physical. In addition, his scalp had never healed properly; it itched and smarted. He suspected that he had contracted an Iszic infection. The prospect alarmed him. He pictured the infection spreading, his hair falling out, his scalp bleaching to the watered-milk color of the Iszic skin. Nor did the mysterious inner urgency diminish. He sought through his mind. He reviewed the days and months, he made notes and outlines, synthesized and checked without satisfaction. He bundled the whole problem, all the notes and papers, into an angry ball and cast it aside.

  And at last, after the longest, most exasperating voyage Farr had ever made the SS Andrei Simic drifted into the Solar System.

  IX

  SUN, EARTH, the Moon: an archipelago of bright round islands, after a long passage through a dark sea. Sun drifted off to one side, Moon slipped away to the other. Earth expanded ahead: gray, green, tan, white, blue—full of clouds and winds, sunburn, frosts, draughts, chills and dusts, the navel of the universe, the depot, terminal, clearing-house, which the outer races visited as provincials.

  It was at midnight when the hull of the Andrei Simic touched Earth. The generators sang down out of inaudibility, down through shrillness, through treble, tenor, baritone, bass, and once more out of hearing.

  The passengers waiting in the saloon, with the Anderviews like holes in a jaw from which teeth had been pulled. Everyone was taut and apprehensive, sitting forward in their seats or standing stiffly.

  The pumps hissed, adjusting to the outer atmosphere. Lights glared in through the ports. The entrance clanged open; there was a murmur of voices, Captain Dorristy ushered in a tall man with blunt, intelligent features, cropped hair and dark-brown skin.

  "This is Detective Inspector Kirdy of the Special Squad," said Dorristy. "He will investigate the deaths of Mr. and Mrs. Anderview. Please give him your cooperation; we'll all be at liberty the sooner."

  No one spoke. The Iszic stood like statues of ice to one side. In deference to Earth convention they wore trousers and capes. Their attitude conveyed suspicion, distrust, as if even on Earth they felt impelled to protect their secrets.

  Three subordinate detectives entered the room, stared around curiously, and the tautness in the room increased.

  Inspector Kirdy spoke in a pleasant voice, "I'll delay you as little as possible. I'd like to speak to Mr. Omon Bozhd."

  Omon Bozhd inspected Kirdy through the viewer, which he now carried, but Detective Inspector Kirdy's right shoulder blazed into no banner of various lights; he had never visited Iszm; he had never ventured past Moon.

  Omon Bozhd stepped forward. "I am Omon Bozhd."

  Kirdy took him to the captain's cabin. Ten minutes passed. An assistant appeared in the door. "Mr. Aile Farr."

  Farr rose to his feet and followed the assistant from the saloon.

  Kirdy and Omon Bozhd faced each other, a study in contrasts: the latter pale, austere, aquiline; the other dark, warm, blunt.

  Kirdy said to Farr, "I'd like you to listen to Mr. Bozhd's story, tell me what you think of it." He turned to the Iszic. "Would you be kind enough to repeat your statement?"

  "In essence," said Omon Bozhd, "the situation is this. Even before leaving Jhespiano I had reason to suspect that the Anderviews were planning harm to Farr Sainh. I communicated my suspicions to my friends."

  "The other Iszic gentlemen?" asked Kirdy. "Exactly. With their help I installed an inspection-cell in the Anderviews' cabin. My fears were justified. They returned to their cabin, and here they themselves were killed. In my cabin I witnessed the occurrence. Farr Sainh of course had no part in the matter. He was—and is—completely innocent."

  They scrutinized Farr. Farr scowled. Was he so obviously ingenuous, so undiscerning?

  Omon Bozhd turned a fraction of his eyes back to Kirdy. "Farr as I say, was innocent. But I considered it wise to have him confined away from further danger, so I falsely accused him. Farr Sainh, understandably, refused to cooperate, and forestalled me. My accusation was arousing no conviction in Captain Dorristy, so I withdrew it."

  Kirdy turned to Farr. "What do you say to all this, Mr. Farr? Do you still believe Mr. Bozhd to be the murderer?"

  Farr struggled with his anger. "No," he said between his teeth. "His story is so—so utterly fantastic that I suppose it's the truth." He looked at Omon Bozhd. "Why don't you talk? You say you saw the whole thing. Who did the killing?"

  Omon Bozhd swung his viewer. "I have glanced over your laws of criminal procedure. My accusation would carry no great weight, the authorities would need corroborative evidence. That evidence exists. If and when you find it my statement becomes unnecessary, or at best supplementary."

  Kirdy turned to his assistant. "Take skin-scrapings, breath and perspiration samples of all the passengers."

  After the samples were collected, Kirdy stepped into the saloon and made a statement. "I will question you separately. Those who so desire will be allowed to give their evidence with the cephaloscope as an adjunct, and these responses will naturally take on more weight. I remind you that cephaloscope evidence can not be introduced in court to prove guilt—only to prove innocence. The cephaloscope at worst can only fail to eliminate you from the suspects. I remind you further that refusal to use the cephaloscope is not only a privilege and a right, but considered by many a moral duty. Hence those who prefer to give evidence without cephaloscope verification incur no prejudice. Use of the instrument is optional with you."

  The interrogations lasted three hours. First to be queried were the Iszic. They left the saloon one at a time, returning with identical expressions of bored patience. The Codain were interviewed next, then the Monagi, then the various other non-Earthers, and then Farr. Kirdy indicated the cephaloscope. "Use of the instrument is at your option."

  Farr was in a bad humor. "No," he said. "I despise the contraption, you take my evidence as I give it or not at all."

  Kirdy nodded politely. "Very well, Mr. Farr." He consulted his notes. "You first met the Anderviews at Jhespiano, on Iszm?"

  "Yes." Farr described the circumstances.

  "You had never seen them before?"

  "Never."

  "I understand that during your visit to Iszm you witnessed a tree-raid."

  Farr described the event and his subsequent adventures. Kirdy asked one or two questions, then allowed Farr to return to the saloon.

  One at a time the remaining Earthers were interrogated: Ralf and Willeran, the Wlewskas, the young students, until only Paul Bengston, the gray-haired sanitary engineer remained. Kirdy accompanied the students back to the saloon. "So far," he said, "either the cephaloscope or other evidence has cleared everyone I have interviewed. The other evidence consisting principally of the fact that the breath components of no one I have interviewed match the film detected on the
wrist-band worn by Mrs. Anderview."

  Everyone in the room stirred. Eyes wandered to Paul Bengston, who went white and red by turns. "Will you come with me, sir?"

  He rose, took short steps forward, looked left and right, then preceded Kirdy into the captain's cabin.

  Five minutes passed. Kirdy's assistant appeared in the lounge. "We are sorry to have kept you waiting. You are all at liberty to debark."

  There was talk around the lounge—a sputter and hum. Farr sat silent. A pressure began to build up inside him: anger, frustration, humiliation. The pressure grew and finally burst up, to flood his mind with fury. He jumped to his feet, strode across the lounge, and climbed the steps to the captain's cabin.

  Kirdy's assistant stopped him. "Excuse me, Mr. Farr. I don't think you'd better interrupt."

  "I don't care what you think," snapped Farr. He yanked at the door. It was locked. He rapped. Captain Dorristy slid it open a foot and pushed his square face out. "Well? What's the trouble?"

  Farr put his hand on Dorristy's chest, pushed him back, thrust open the door, and stepped inside. Dorristy started a punch for Farr's face. Farr would have welcomed it as an excuse to strike back, to smash, to hurt. But one of the assistants stepped between.

  Kirdy stood facing Paul Bengston. He turned his head. "Yes, Mr. Farr?"

  Dorristy, seething, muttering, red in the face, stood back.

  Farr said, "This man—he's guilty?"

  Kirdy nodded. "The evidence is conclusive."

  Farr looked at Bengston. His face blurred and swam and seemed to alter, as if by trick photography, with the candor and mild good humor becoming deceit and cruelty and callousness. Farr wondered how he could have been deceived. He bent a little forward. Paul Bengston met his eyes with defiance and dislike.