by D. E. Ellis
Less than an hour later, he arrived at the nearest Tube entrance—only to find it packed with, what seemed to him, the whole population of the nearby village. He caught fragments of sentences here and there and, occasionally, a forcefully-hurled thought.
“There hasn’t been a train through for over two hours …”
“… and I had a communication from a friend in Ranmor that the whole System has broken down.”
“Of course, it just isn’t possible it has broken down for good. I expect it has just closed down temporarily for major repairs.”
“… not the first time this week. My train was over two minutes late yesterday. Jon says …”
“… if it comes to the worst, we shall have to walk. We don’t go into Ranmor often, anyway. It will affect my sister up North far more, if it is a complete breakdown …”
It seemed as though most of those gathered on the platform were there to find out as much about the phenomenon as they could. Normally, not more than half a dozen people would be using the station at this hour of the day. Weighing the chances of a train coming within the next hour as rather uncertain, Thane decided to start walking. He could call in at each Entrance on the way to see if they had started running again. It would take him several hours to walk the twelve miles that lay between him and the centre of Ranmor; but it was possible that some horse-drawn vehicle might come along and shorten his journey somewhat.
He was not very lucky, however, and apart from two slow, short lifts, he had to walk most of the way. With frequent stops to see if the System was inaction again, almost three hours had passed before he reached his destination. Tired and breathless, he arrived at the ante-room to the Council Chamber, to find the crew. except Wormald and Kenton, already assembled there.
“What a time to pick to be out of Ranmor. Nice to see you all together again though. I suppose you weren’t far away when they summoned you, you lucky things.”
“The hospital I was visiting kindly loaned me an ambulance, otherwise I should be walking yet. With a fast horse and a superbly-sprung vehicle, I quite enjoyed the ride. You must have come quite a distance, Thane, judging from the time it has taken you to get here.
“Twelve miles, at least. I’ve blisters all over my feet—which might interest you professionally, when you’ve got a moment to spare.”
“Do you know I don’t believe I’ve ever treated a blister, caused by walking too much, before. It will be quite a new experience.” Courton grinned.
“There wasn’t much room for walking in the old days,” commented Thursfield. “Those of this generation are quite hardened to it from their earliest days. Still, I dare say it will hit them hard if the Tube has broken down. It will take some of them weeks, instead of hours, to get from one town to another.”
“I believe it will hit them harder than that,” Dunstable interrupted. “In the absence of organised religion, it being human nature to worship something—these people have let the Tube assume the position of importance allotted only to Gods in the old days.”
“Perhaps it is only a temporary breakdown, anyway,” comforted the doctor. “Perhaps I had better look at your blisters now, Thane. I suppose we shall have to wait for Wormald and Kenton, before we find out why we were called here. Probably, Wormald’s gone off on one of his country jaunts again, and found himself miles from anywhere when the message come. It beats me how those communicators manage to contact us, even over a considerable distance. None of us—except possibly you, Thane—can convey, or catch, even the slightest thought to or from an ordinary Klaatan more than a few feet away.”
Courton was wrong, however. The summons to the Council Chamber came almost immediately following his words.
“Be seated,” said the Head, pointing to the table they had occupied on their previous visit. This time, however, they needed no interpreter and were not prisoners on trial—or were they?
Even without their newly developed powers of thought-perception, they would have found it hard to ignore the air of hostility emanating from almost every member present.
“It would seem that our policy of leniency betrayed us when we decided to let you live freely amongst us. However, we must not judge too hastily. You are requested to open you minds, so that the Council will be able freely to discover any thoughts that may be harmful to our society. Any attempt to conceal anything will be take as a sign of guilt and be dealt with forcibly.”
There was no ignoring this grim command issued by the Head and, one by one, the underwent a mind-wrenching experience—which left them feeling exhausted, in spite of the fact it lasted only a few moments. The Head’s command to open their minds had been merely a formality in this case; not one of them had the power to erect an effective mind-block against anyone wishing to prise secrets from their minds. Normally, this mattered little—as it was against the Klaatan code of good manners to peer into anyone else’s mind without invitation. This was, obviously, not a moment for good manners.
When the Head again addressed them, his face was slightly less grim. “What I have read in your minds clears you of all complicity in the most stupid and treacherous events that have just been brought to my notice. Two of your number, however, are not present, I rather fancy their minds would tell more, it not all, of the facts leading to the present dangerous situation. I gather, from the story told to me by Anu Rama, that they are unable to be present, having been forcibly detained by the Gabblers.
“You are aware that the Tube has ceased to function. This is not due to an accidental mechanical breakdown, but to deliberate interference by Urik Wormald.”
Arnot and his companions stared aghast at the faces of the Council men, who had none of their usual serene composure. Indeed many of them were seething with suppressed fury—which seemed to be directed at the space travellers in general, in spite of their recent exoneration.
“We must send them over! The dangerous thoughts and impulses that their minds contain are already spreading like a disease amongst our younger people. We made a mistake to ever admit them to our society, and now we must pay for it. Before more harm is done, I beg the Council to have this menace to our peaceful society removed.” The speaker was a normally benign looking individual. Usually, his great age made his movement and speech slow and ponderous. At that time he spoke with passion, voicing the feelings of many and influencing most of the others.
The Head appeared to be annoyed that anyone should speak without invitation. He gestured to Anu Rama to proceed.
“It is with great shame that I have to confess that my own son is more guilty than any of these men. The unrest which led to the formation of a dissentient party, and to the present situation, was there before these men ever came amongst us. Two of them have been led astray by that party. It is not they who wrongly influenced our young hot-heads.
The Council, being composed of wise, fair-minded men, had to see the justice of his argument. Anu Rama continued.
“Griff, my son, is the elected leader of the group. Its aims have been peaceful enough. Some of their ideas, such as representation of the younger people on this Council, may even be worth considering. Others, notably the admission of the Gabblers to our society, are foolish. I think they realise that, a little late in the day. I have received a message from my son, saying that the situation has got out of hand.
“Apparently, they had some wild idea that, in order to interest the majority of us in engineering, it was necessary to tamper with the controls of the Tube. They enlisted Urik Wormald to handle the mechanical arrangements. It may even have been his own idea—since, only now, has word or thought leaked out about it. It was probably not intended to put the Tube completely out of commission for any length of time; but, just at the vital moment, when Wormald chose to give a final demonstration of the power of man over machines, the Gabblers swooped and trapped him in some way.
“They are now holding him to ransom and demanding large amounts of food and clothing, also animals …”
“No!” T
he anguished cry came from several councillors at once. Arnot and his companions were astonished at the feeling which the so-far apparently tolerant demand had aroused. Then Thane realised that animals had become almost sacred since the Disaster. Once it became possible to raise crops, the few remaining animals had been allowed to multiply. Gradually, the people had acquired an aversion to meat, particularly as it involved killing. The Gabblers had no such inhibitions and the Klaatans looked upon their hunting activities wit horror. It was unthinkable to turn over any animals to them.
The Head addressed Thane once more.
“Your other companion, Bruce Kenton, is also in their hands, but I rather gather he’s a willing victim. There is a girl involved. We still don’t know the whole story, having only a few thought-messages to go on. However, it has become clear to me, in the last few moments, that we, as a race, are completely out of our depth when it comes to combating violence. Therefore, I make the suggestion to the Council, that you are the only ones with the necessary war-like qualities capabler of dealing with the situation. Instead of sending you over, I put it to the Council that you should be allowed to redeem yourselves—by undoing the damage you have unwittingly helped to cause.”
Relaxing mentally at the thought of not having to take the initiative in any decision which might lead to killing, the Councillors were unanimously in favour of the suggestion.
Immediately on leaving the Council Chambers, Arnot led the others to his apartment, to hold a council-of-war.
“It seems to me,” he said, summing up the situation, “that we must first contact Griff Rama and some of the other leading lights in this affair. If they’ve been in touch with the Gabblers, they probably have some idea as to the whereabouts of their headquarters. We must find out how far Bruce is involved. Surely he can’t be so crazy as to be actually aiding the Gabblers! If this comes to a fight, we don’t want to find ourselves fighting him!”
Chapter 12
Bruce was beginning to wonder if he had been foolish to fall so completely under Rona Solent’s spell. A large doubt had reared its ugly head; he almost suspected that she was using him, without regard for any feelings he might have in the matter. Then he remembered the complete honesty of the Klaatans, and felt a little better.
The day came when Rona, sensing the turmoil caused by her attitude, decided that the time was ripe to reveal her true motives.
“Bruce, I’ve been wondering how to tell you something which I know will hurt you. It is impossible for me not to know how you feel about me. But, evidently, your won perception isn’t quite strong enough to interpret the way in which I regard you. When two Klaatans fall in love, there is no difficulty. Each knows, beyond doubt, the state of the other’s mind. It did not occur to me until recently that you might think I was deliberately misleading you.
“If things had been different—if there had not already been someone else who means everything to me—I might, possibly, have fallen in love with you. As it is, Bruce dear, I think of you as one of my closest friends. I hope you will never feel that I have betrayed you.”
Bruce could only gaze at her dumbly, like a hurt animal. The lump in his throat prevented him from speaking for a moment. Then he forced the words out: “How do I know what you feel. You probably regard me as some kind of lower species, not fit to associate with you. You probably regard me as some kind of lower species, not fit to associate with. You’re probably quite right. Perhaps, you even pity me a little in the midst of your scorn. But if you wished to be kind, it would have been better to have left me alone.”
“Bruce! Look at me! You must see what is in my mind. I will open it to you, so you may know the truth.” Rona was physically hit by the distress emanating from Bruce’s mind. Bruce looked, his mind seeking hers desperately. Gradually, he felt calmer as he was wrapped against cruel words by loving thoughts. It was not the kind of love he sought; but, basically, it was almost as strong. He suddenly knew the high regard in which Rona held him. It was as though he were a blood relation, close enough to be her brother.
The tension broke. His mind released hers. He laughed ruefully. “So that’s what they call sisterly love. Well, you’ve at least restored my morale somewhat. I suppose I ought to do something to earn that high, though undeserved opinion you have of me. I’m yours to command, fair maiden. Lead out the dragons!”
The allusion of the last remark may have been lost on Rona. However, she caught his general meaning, and laughed in return.
“Now I have confessed there is someone else, perhaps I should tell you who it is. I have kept it a secret from all but Griff Rama—in order that the Councillors should not find out. It is possible they would order me to undergo some kind of mental treatment if they knew that I have fallen in love with Hamer.”
“Hamer,” cried Bruce in astonishment. “But he’s a Gabbler!”
“A very superior Gabbler, you must agree—in fact, the leader of quite a large tribe.”
“But you can’t communicate mentally with the Gabblers, not even to the extent you can with us. You have nothing in common with him. In spite of feeling that they have some rights on their side in this struggle, they are savages after all.”
“It must be the savage that attracts me then— the noble savage. He has such a fine physique, and he knows what he wants. He wants me.” She laughed recklessly.
“Does he love you?” Bruce demanded.
“I believe he does, in his own way. But it’s so different from the courtship of our own race—so much more exciting!”
“Would you live in the wild parts with him, and cut yourself off from your people and all the things this society offers you?”
“It has happened to one or two women before. They never came back—so, perhaps they never regretted it. As for myself, I would, if I have to. But I joined the Group in the hope that something might be done to admit them to our society.”
“Has it occurred to you that Hamer might feel hemmed in and unhappy, living in a framework of rules made by others?”
“Hamer knows our aims. And he has always expressed himself in full accord with them.”
“Perhaps he does agree in principle. But are you certain that, he personally, would want to take advantage of them? Perhaps he doesn’t fully realise what it would mean himself.”
“Then I should have to follow his way of living. Besides you are quite wrong about there being no possibility of mental communication with Hamer. One of his ancestors was a Klaatan. And, although his ability in the art is no better than yours, at least his mind isn’t such a murky fog as that of the average Gabbler.”
Faced by such unswerving loyalty, Bruce gave up the argument. Rona was obviously attracted by the Viking stature and good looks of the Gabbler leader. He little knew it, but his own brawnier figure and rougher ways in contrast to the slim, highly cultured Klaatans, had been instrumental in her initial regard.
“Come with me, and you shall meet him. Perhaps you will understand then.” Rona flung the invitation at Bruce on impulse.
Bruce was torn with curiosity over his rival and a desire to be alone with his wounded feelings—at least until he could view his relationship with Rona from a different perspective, if it were at all possible.
Curiosity won; and soon Rona was leading him to a deep rift in the hills. There was a steep drop to be negotiated, about fifteen feet, Bruce estimated. Then the land sloped downwards more gently, forming a valley which was thickly forested. As they approached it down the slopes of a fairly steep hill, Bruce was struck by the familiarity of its outlines. This had been the bed of the Thames!
The fifteen-foot drop turned into an unformidable bank on closer acquaintance, down which they scrambled wit ease. Once among the trees, all resemblance tot he former river valley vanished. Although the rift was only half a mile wide at this point, he felt completely lost. Rona never hesitated, but plunged onwards, following a trail that appeared to be blazed on the trees. Bruce studied them as closely as he could in the brief time of
passing, but could see nothing. It was true they seemed to be walking along a track, but there was a network of such tracks branching off in all directions. None appeared to be more used than the others.
Eventually, they came to a small group of wooden huts, roughly hewn from some of the trees. Nestling amongst the trees, they seemed quite inconspicuous. A clearing would have made them visible from the overlooking hills; but here, the trees clustered thickly overhead, screening them from view.
Watching for signs of movement as they neared the buildings, Bruce heard a slight twang and a brief humming sound. He ducked and felt the wind of a missile as it passed over his head.
He gazed round wildly, wondering in which direction to take cover. He watched, amazed, as Rona ran with arms outstretched towards a tall bearded man who had suddenly appeared on the trail in front of them, laughing loudly at Bruce’s reaction.
The man clasped Rona tenderly for a moment. Then his face became grim and he indicated Bruce. “Why did you bring him here?” he asked roughly.
“It’s all right dearest. He’s one of the Group. You’ve already met Griff Rama, our leader, and one or two of the others. I thought you might like to meet Bruce Kenton. He really is rather unusual. Besides, I wanted him to meet the man I love.” This remark, pronounced with an air of pride, was calculated to mollify the fierce-looking Hamer, but it had the wrong effect.
“What business is it of his? It is supposed to be a secret between the two of us. There is no reason for you to have told him—unless he has designs on you himself!”
Already Hamer had seen in Bruce a possible rival. His racial instincts of jealousy and hate come quickly to the fore. His intellect, greatly superior to that of most of the Gabblers, made him a dangerous man.
