The ocean covered half the horizon now, and nearly beneath them was the bay, the dock at which the Juheda nestled barely awash just visible in the clearing mists—and on a course towards the dock, nearing it rapidly, three unmistakably marked police carajets that could more than match their own speed.
Silently Bon pointed and pointed as well towards the open lock of the Juheda.
"Will the lock take the carapet?" he asked with biting fierceness. At David's nod, he said, "I'm not going to land. I'm going to take her straight in. There may be shooting," he added as an afterthought.
Rahn's carajet had made short work of delivering the black box aboard the Juheda. Now he and Zad ate breakfast in a windowed cafe overlooking the dock where the big bubble lay awash. The babustin they had left in the parked carajet, seemingly content.
The flow of arrivals at the dock had attracted some notice, but it had been so unobtrusive that the two could hope the notice was only local and wouldn't reach official ears—not for hours yet, anyhow. They'd told those aboard where they would be, but had left and come to breakfast to be in an advantageous position should trouble develop.
"We could lead another wild-goose chase, if it's necessary," Zad had said. "I don't know just how we'd manage it, but if we're where we can see what's needed, we can figure something out."
But nothing untoward had occurred that they could see. In the dark it was impossible to tell who had gone aboard and who had not. David might be aboard, or he might not; and they had no way of knowing.
It was just as dawn began to brighten through the windows that they saw the big police carajets land. Instantly they were on their feet and out the door, Rahn flinging a bill on the counter as he left.
Uniformed figures began tumbling from the police carajets, and without discussion the two headed on a path to intercept the figures, watching as they did the carapet that swooped in above the police, heading for the lock of the Juheda, making the bare clearance as though it were a daily ritual.
Running, Rahn and Zad gained a position between the police figures and the big lock that was slowly swinging closed.
"Clear the way! We're going to have to shoot!" a voice from the police bellowed at them.
The two turned as though not comprehending, directly in the line of fire to the lock. Rahn quickly shoved Zad behind him. "They'll recognize you," he whispered fiercely.
It was all the time that the Juheda had needed. Already the bubble was sinking, the lock closed, the water closing above it.
"Stand clear!"
But the bubble was gone, as though it had indeed been a fairy bubble.
"I … I'm sorry. I didn't realize …" Rahn turned so that his big body sheltered Zad from view. He took her arm. "Come, my dear," he said clearly, "there seems to be some trouble here. We had better clear out of the way as the officer suggests."
And the two walked, as though hurrying to obey orders, to Rahn's waiting carajet. Meig snarled tentatively as Rahn opened the door, but quieted instantly at a word from Zad.
Neither of the two spoke again until the carajet had cleared the area. They could see the big police vehicles hovering over the bay, but by now, they knew, the Juheda had the depth it needed and would be on her way to the open sea.
"Whew!" said Zad at last. "That was close."
"Dade," said Rahn through clenched teeth. "And Pacia." Then he shook his head as though to clear it. "And I gather that you're involved now to the point that you'll probably be summoned for indefinite inquiries if they can find you. Perhaps I'd better take you straight to Aetala, and you can go on aboard the Vaheva and stay until take-off. You can get somebody to gather together whatever you'll need, can't you?"
"Yes, except for one more detail." Zad's humor was coming back now that the danger to the Juheda was past. "There's Memph Luce, you know. He can't go with the Juheda now, and that gives me the opportunity to take him with me on the Vaheva. I've got to both get him out and get him out of sight, and the Vaheva will solve both problems—if I can get him out. The work they're doing on the Juheda" she said earnestly, "is—well, I can tell you, now they're gone. You ought to know, anyhow. They've got regeneration nearly in tow. Eternal life," she added slowly. "Eternal. Regeneration. The works. No more ageing.
"We'll be gone a long number of Atalama years," she added. "When—and if—we get back, civilization here will have changed. I want to take Memph with us. He knows the work. Some times I think he's more excited about it than David is. We may need that knowledge, where we're going. And you should store knowledge of that sort in at least two places."
Rahn guided the carapet quietly. "Regeneration," he said slowly at last. "So that's it. But what upset Dade and Pacia to such an extent?"
"They didn't know—David didn't know—what he had. And, well, some of their experimental animals can't be killed. They're alive but un-alive. They're un-dead. Then there were one or two rather unhappy and quite unexpected results—regeneration of parts of the body that already existed. An extra head. An extra leg or so. That sort of thing. Enough to set an unimaginative, didactic sort … forgive me, Rahn. I forgot I was speaking of your wife."
Rahn shook his head. "Don't try to protect me from that part," he said. "I'm trying to understand. I cannot understand Pacia's point of view, but I shall try. As for Dade … well, he's the engineer of my ship, and at this late date I don't think I could change engineers. Even if I could, I doubt if I could find his equal in his particular field. But I do not have to feel sympathy with him as a person. Only as a member of my officers' complement for whom I am responsible."
He turned a face so drawn with misery towards Zad that she bit back an exclamation. Instead, she said tentatively, "What shall we do about Memph?"
"I'll have to get him out of course. Can you arrange it with Gavarel that he can be taken aboard the Vaheva?"
"Yes," she said. "That I can arrange."
"Then suppose I take you to the Gavarel's quarters now. Then I'll go pull a little rank and get Memph free. After that, I'd suggest the two of you get aboard the Vaheva as rapidly as possible, and stay aboard until takeoff."
The engineer grinned. "All right," he said. "You've got Gavarel—Gabriel?—aboard the Vaheva. And you've got Luce of Furra—Lucifer, I presume?—aboard the Vaheva. And he's a sort of Rudolph Valentino character with an experimental twist which he'll use to upset the normal evolutionary patterns with no end of freak combinations to everybody's intense annoyance. And Captain Gavarel's got all sorts of electronic apparatus that could pass for a flaming sword to put at the gate of the Vaheva when he tosses Luce the hell out of there—to the Vahela? It's an intriguing yarn, to say the least."
"Yes," said the archaeologist. "Yes. An intriguing yarn, to say the least. And of course Luce was the one that David Lyon left in charge of the experiment much later, after the flood, when David went off with the Vaheva, taking Enoch and his family to plant the seed on a new planet. It was when the Vaheva came back, in 2200 BC, that David found out about the animal worship; found his people being used as servants and brutalized; found that haemophilia had been introduced from another planet—and assumed it was all Luce's doing; and he and Gavarel … Yes. Yes, quite definitely an intriguing yarn…"
The Vaheva had left for its trojan orbit, abruptly and somewhat earlier than its schedule called for; and amidst pressure from authorities for the return of the fugitives, Memph Luce of Furra and his accomplice, Professor Zad Shara. The Vaheva had unfurled her sails—strung out her magnetic web—and was even now tacking slowly through the solar system to the position, four solar system radii—twenty-two light hours—out, where she could turn on the full power of her stardrive. Formal complaints had been filed away on Atalama in government archives, a gratuitous gesture against the possible future return of these criminals, expectable only in distant centuries. The governmental attitude and action detracted from the event of the starship launch, but seemed to meet with the approval of public sentiment, growing more outspoken daily, that decried
the spaceships and the technology whose culmination they represented.
The Vahsaba had reached completion, and all but a few of its personnel, all but the final installments of its equipment, were on board. The last load of persons and equipment was to be shuttled up this evening from the huge polar Siva generator that had been used to launch, piecemeal, the parts of all seven of the interstellar Vahs.
In his laboratory at the University, Dade Ellis was working furiously against the deadline, seeing to the packaging of the last of the new instruments that must be taken aboard. Official demands for lengthy testimony on his charges against the biology department had taken his time to the point of frustration; and he had only been freed of an official summons requiring his presence at a trial that actually post-dated his own scheduled departure by the premature departure of the Vaheva. Like many before him, Dade was discovering that he who calls on the assistance of the law quite often finds himself caught in its toils.
The testimony and the summons were complications he had not foreseen in his hasty denunciation of the work in David's lab, a denunciation which he now, ruefully, regretted—but without the means of expression of that regret. After all, David was the man responsible for his cannus, and even that had been put in danger by his hasty action.
But the cannus he must have, and that immediately, he decided. He'd tried to get it freed to him through official channels and had been refused, politely but firmly. But…
After all, he reflected as he saw to the last box leaving on the transport to Aetala, Zad had gotten her animal free; perhaps he could do the same, even though the lab was still impounded and under guard.
Leaving his now-empty laboratory, he made his way hastily over to the biology lab. The guard knew him by sight, knew him as the man the top brass had depended on in this investigation, and did not bar his way as he entered. But as he approached the cage at the rear of the lab, the guard called out, "Careful with those beasts, Lord."
"Oh, sure," Dade said casually over his shoulder, and opened the cannus' door. The big beast shambled forth and stood uncertainly, looking from the man he knew as master to the guard he assumed was the enemy.
The guard was hesitantly reaching for his weapon. "Please, Lord, if you can, put him back in his cage. He's dangerous."
"Oh, nothing to worry about. He's quite harmless for all his looks. I just wanted to tell him goodbye." Slowly, Dade and the big cannus together made their way towards the center of the lab. "There's some special food here," Dade explained, "that he's extremely fond of," and he walked obliquely towards a cabinet not too distant from the door.
Too late, the guard became alarmed, and the hesitant hand drew forth the weapon. With a low growl, the cannus charged, his slashing jaws tearing at the man's throat as his massive body bore the guard to the floor.
Horrified, Dade commanded, entreated, and even pulled at the great head. The cannus came slowly back from his victim, but it was too late. The guard lay dead at their feet in a pool of blood, the big beast who had slain him shivering under the touch of his master, trembling with instinctive obedience that withdrew him from his quarry even as the victim lay fresh-killed.
Trembling himself at the results of his actions, Dade looked around. Except for the body of the guard, the place was empty. The cannus stood now at his side.
The man hesitated only a few instant longer; then, the animal beside him, he turned and left the lab, closing the door quietly. In the dusk the odd pair made their way to the parking lot and took off for Aetala.
The shuttle would leave in six hours. Dade hoped it would be soon enough.
The carajet hovered briefly, made its short dash slightly above ground level, and took to the air, heading north along the sunset line over the vast expanse of snowfields that claimed a full third of the center of the continent. Irrationally, Dade was pushing the machine to its utmost in a race against the moment when the laboratory would be entered again, its ghastly contents discovered.
The better part of common sense would have been to abandon the beast, he knew. Except for his possession of the animal, there was no clue that would connect him to the dead body.
Yet he had no intention of leaving the cannus behind. The shadow of time struck further and further around the globe; the carajet shortened and shortened the distance to the massive and, at the moment, silent polar Siva generator and the nearby launching field; and as yet there was no hint on the official radio channels of anything wrong. His deed had not yet been discovered.
Now, if he could get the cannus aboard the shuttle without being observed …
Breaking regulations for private craft, he settled the carajet into the narrow space between the equipment warehouse docks and the shuttle. The questions were immediate, over the radio. He took a necessary moment, soothing official upset by explaining that he was saving precious moments landing here to stow some equipment he'd brought with him. He added nonchalantly that he would remove his craft very soon.
Then, carefully, he and the cannus made their way into the stowage hold of the shuttle.
Working against time, Dade shuffled and re-stacked crates in such a way as to make a carefully concealed hollow big enough to cage the beast; and after it had reluctantly entered, closed the opening with more crates, and realized that he was just in time as he heard voices of the loading crew coming up the gangplank.
Stepping to the entrance, Dade glowered at the approaching men. "These crates," he said. "Even imbeciles could do a better job of stowing. You, there. Take my carajet off to the proper area. The rest of you bring the crates to the entrance. I'll stow 'em myself."
The loading foreman seemed taken aback to be thus addressed, even by Lord Ellis, chief engineer; but he wasn't foolish enough to question the order.
VI
"If you grant the postulates of this intriguing yarn …" The archaeologist reached for his beer and sipped it a minute before continuing, and the engineer noted with surprise that the hand that held the beer was shaking. "Even if you grant the postulates, then, still, some of the detail may be guesswork. But there are five things we can know: that Atalama had already launched six starships; that the seventh ship was in orbit, ready for launching, its final shuttle being thrown up to it by the polar tap; that David Lyon was already underseas in his plastic ark, with his equipment; that there was a major solar flare—a real granddaddy of a solar flare-possibly because the Vaheva went onto full stardrive too soon, and the backwash of directed radiation reached the sun at that point.
"And," he added slowly, "it can be postulated, that there was a technician who hesitated for the fatal fraction of a minute to pull a switch…"
It was hours later, and Dade had at last sealed the hold containing his precious equipment, and taken his place with the rest of the crew in the somewhat cramped passenger quarters of the shuttle. The video broadcast channel, tuned in for their entertainment during the trip, was suddenly interrupted by a news commentator, telling of a discovery just made at the "infamous laboratory of the fugitive molecular biologist, Lord David Lyon." One of the animals, the commentator declared, had escaped, slain a guard, and was now at large. All persons in the area of the University at Crêta were warned to be on the lookout for the raging beast, to take cover on sight, and to notify the police instantly.
Dade sighed with relief, even as the voice of the news commentator was replaced by the cold voice of the launching monitor. "Fasten your seat-belts, please. Takeoff will be five minutes from my mark … Mark."
There was a scramble of last-minute entrants for the remaining seats, and then the somewhat unreal period of merely sitting and waiting. Worry nagged at Dade's mind. Had he stacked the crates properly? Would his caged cannus be able to knock apart the construction if he took fright during take-off and in flight?
The minutes faded to seconds. "Ten, nine, eight…" the familiar chant carried down from the early rocketeers rang hollowly through the passenger section of the shuttle. "Four, three, two, one…"
&n
bsp; The mighty electro-ionic engines came to life, as there was a glare from the huge polar Siva station.
Sluggishly, then majestically, the shuttle began to rise, gathering momentum.
But solar observatories were even now recording another phenomenon. A sudden brightening in the photosphere of the sun; a bulge; and millions upon millions of tons of ionized gases hurtling upwards from the photosphere in the incandescent fury of a solar flare.
An astronomer reached for the open communications line to the seven Siva stations.
"Shut down all stations," he barked. "A solar flare is in progress."
In the base of the great polar pyramid, the technician in charge blanched and grabbed the mike.
"Polar station," he shouted. "We can't shut down. We just launched the shuttle."
"Bring them back. You must shut down."
"They've already reached the halfway point in velocity," the controller's voice was nearly sobbing. "It would take longer to bring them down now than to keep them going. And I can't cut the power: That would be murder!"
Ion by ion, the charge in the ionosphere increased. Volt by volt, it built upward under the ultra-violet glare from the newly-active sun. Second by second, the beam current increased from the polar tap.
A new voice, obviously hastily summoned from somewhere, came over the open line. The shuttle was in its last seconds of powered flight.
"Murder or not, cut that beam! This is an order!"
The technician's hand reached for the switch …
And the surge of power from the tap became an avalanche, an avalanche at the pole in the vertical plane of the planet's magnetic field where the winds of magnetism would not rise to blow it out.
One trillion watt-seconds of energy unleashed their fury on the polar cap in the first flash, as the negative charge of Atalama and the positive charge of its ionosphere surged to meet along the ionized pathway of the flare-augmented ionospheric tap beam.
But even as it discharged, the ionosphere was recharged from the solar furnace, and the first flash became a mighty roar that poured an increased and now steady stream of more than three times ten to the twentieth power watts of energy through the now-stabilized short circuit.
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