by Alan K Baker
‘Khututhah summarises the situation admirably,’ said the Satrap of Ghot’anozhor. ‘However, he neglects to mention that we will not allow ourselves to fall so easily into the trap. We will not be manipulated in such an obvious manner by a desperate and dying race. The Zhinquaharan plan will fail.’
‘Will it?’ said the Satrap of Ultima Volantis.
All eyes turned to him.
‘Of course it will,’ said Ghot’anozhor irritably. ‘Do you think us such fools as to walk into a trap which we can plainly see?’
Ultima Volantis gave a soft, chirruping laugh. ‘The best trap is the one which is unavoidable, even when its existence is known. The Zhinquaharans are playing a clever game; they are using our fears against us, fomenting revulsion in our hearts. Why else would they choose such a method to assassinate Lunan R’ondd than to make every Rhenquaharan shudder at the very mention of humanity? And let us not forget that Indrid Cold’s other activities perform the same function: many humans think that we are behind his attacks in the capital of their world’s most powerful empire and that the gaze of fear and hatred should be turned upon Rhenquahar. It is more than likely that Indrid Cold was responsible for the destruction of the interplanetary cylinder which was to have brought Lunan R’ondd’s body home. But how many of our people will believe it? There are many amongst us who agree with Kharkarras and Khututhah that we should not have responded to the humans’ radio message, that we should have been more careful and not revealed our existence to them quite so peremptorily.
‘There are those among our people who maintain that we should expel the human Ambassador and his entire Embassy, while others are pressing for their immediate internment as a dangerous alien element. And meanwhile, on Azquahar, there is a similar attitude spreading rapidly amongst the general public. Many of their news journals declare that diplomatic relations with Rhenquahar should be suspended, or even abandoned altogether, that we are covetous of the Blue Planet, and wish to take it for our own.’
‘Do they really believe that?’ wondered Ghot’anozhor, ‘In spite of the fact that we cannot live unaided in their atmosphere?’
‘You forget, my friend,’ replied Ultima Volantis, ‘that just as we have learned much of the humans from our diplomatic mission, they have learned much of us from theirs. They know that we possess the biological technology to alter the atmosphere of a planet. They know of the Red Weed, by which our own atmosphere is maintained. Many humans believe that, were we to transplant the Weed to Azquahar, it would transform their world into an analogue of Rhenquahar.’
‘That’s outrageous!’ said the Satrap of Sten’dhek. ‘How can they believe us capable of such a terrible act?’
‘They believe us capable of it because they themselves would be capable of it, were they to possess such technology,’ replied Ultima Volantis. ‘Their thoughts and attitudes are limited: they find it very difficult to think in terms other than those which are familiar to them.’
‘Another reason why we should not have responded to their radio broadcast,’ muttered Kharkarras. ‘They are not ready to assimilate the knowledge that their tiny world is not the only seat of intelligence in the Æther. The knowledge fills them with fear and mistrust: fertile ground for the Zhinquaharans. I wonder how many amongst us still think it was wise to begin sending fighting machines to Azquahar?’
‘That treaty,’ said Bell’abrax, ‘was intended to ensure the security of the Blue Planet against threats from outer space: an act of good faith and fellow feeling on our part. The humans have already caught a glimpse of the horrors which lurk in the depths of the Æther, but still they have no idea of what is really out there in the ultimate darkness.’
‘And when the rest of the fighting machines arrive,’ retorted Kharkarras, ‘do you really think that Queen Victoria will reserve their use for that purpose only? Do you really think that she will not use them for the domestic consolidation of her empire’s power?’
Bell’abrax hesitated, then looked away. ‘That is a matter for her and her government.’
Kharkarras gave a short, contemptuous laugh. ‘Ah! How quickly and easily we transfer responsibility for our weapons’ use to those who have acquired them from us! Perhaps we should not stop at fighting machines: perhaps we should offer them our newest technology, perhaps we should offer them the Sun Cannon!’
Bell’abrax cast an appalled glance at Kharkarras. ‘I am not suggesting that for one moment!’
‘Why not?’ Kharkarras asked with a rhetorical shrug, looking around the chamber at the other satraps. ‘The Sun Cannon is the ultimate weapon of defence. Should we not share it with our new friends?’
‘I believe you have made your point, Kharkarras,’ said Ghot’anozhor. ‘The humans are certainly not mature enough as a civilisation – nor even as a species – to be allowed access to such a device. They would in all likelihood destroy themselves with it. But we are drifting away from the topic of discussion and the central question that we have come here to debate: how should we proceed in the present situation?’
‘We should withdraw from Azquahar,’ said Kharkarras decisively. ‘We should turn our backs on the humans and attend to our own affairs. There is nothing to be gained from continued relations with the Blue Planet.’
‘Not even the joy of knowing another civilisation?’ said the Satrap of Fhontarras. ‘The fascination of learning its history, its arts and sciences, the biological diversity and evolution of its world? Does none of that hold any allure for you, Kharkarras?’
‘If the price of such knowledge is the lamentable situation in which we now find ourselves, Fhontarras, then the answer is no.’
‘And what of Zhinquahar?’ asked the Satrap of Sansarras. ‘How will its strategy play out? My friends, we are holding this debate in a state of ignorance, for we do not know precisely how they plan to ignite conflict between Rhenquahar and Azquahar. Their psychological tactics have been quite effective thus far… but what form will the final blow take? And will we be able to resist it when it falls?’
‘More to the point,’ said Kharkarras, ‘will the humans be able to resist it? Khututhah is quite right: their technology is growing rapidly in power and sophistication. Already they have developed a means of travelling through space with their new Æther zeppelins. Very soon, they will no longer be dependent on us for interplanetary travel; our cylinders will no longer be of any use to them – they will be able to reach Rhenquahar by themselves. And if the conclusion of Zhinquahar’s strategy makes war inevitable, as Sansarras implies, what then? Will Azquahar launch an armada of zeppelins against us?’
Silence descended upon the Chamber of Thought and Voice, as each satrap considered the question.
Presently, Ultima Volantis spoke. ‘If that happens, we shall be forced to defend ourselves.’
‘Of course we shall,’ said Kharkarras, ‘but not in the way Zhinquahar is expecting…’ He paused, allowing the thought to settle within the minds of the others. ‘Not by conventional means, for a conventional war would have the effect they are hoping for, and weaken us to the point where we are no longer capable of defending ourselves.’
Ultima Volantis turned his eyes to Kharkarras, and they were filled with the horror and despair of a terrible realisation. ‘You… you are suggesting that we bring the Sun Cannon to bear upon Azquahar.’
At this, the chamber erupted with a sudden clamour of voices. Some of the satraps rose to their feet and began shouting at Kharkarras, while others hurled loud and angry words at those who were standing. Kharkarras remained in his seat, gazing impassively at his fellows and listening to the words which filled the room like a sudden swarm of fireflies.
‘Outrageous!’
‘Impossible!’
‘We cannot do such a thing!’
‘We may have no choice.’
‘Turn the Sun Cannon on our fellow beings?’
‘We may have no choice.’
‘That is not why we created it.’
‘We created i
t to defend ourselves.’
‘Against threats from the deep Æther!’
‘Azquahar may become such a threat.’
‘Unacceptable!’
‘We would not deserve our continued existence, were we to commit such an atrocity.’
‘One shell is all that would be necessary.’
‘One shell is too much!’
‘One shell, aimed at London, the capital of Victoria’s empire.’
‘No!’
‘What is the alternative? To walk into the Zhinquaharan trap? To conduct a conventional war with Azquahar?’
‘To do so would be to invite our own destruction.’
The exchanges continued in this vein for another minute or so before the High Minister stood up and raised his arms. Immediately, silence was restored.
‘We have a clear choice,’ he said. ‘Neither Azquahar nor Zhinquahar are aware of the Sun Cannon’s existence: it is they who are conducting themselves from a position of ignorance, not us. A shell from the Cannon, aimed at Azquahar, and one aimed at Zhinquahar, would certainly extinguish their hostile intent. But the question is: should we use it?’
The satraps returned to their seats as the High Minister continued, ‘The time has come to make our decision. I will have your answers to this question:
‘Should Azquahar consider it necessary to launch an attack on Rhenquahar… will we respond by using the Sun Cannon?
‘Khututhah.’
‘Yes.’
Kharkaraphon.’
‘No.’
‘Fhontarras.’
‘No.’
‘Sansarras.’
‘Yes.’
‘Bell’abrax.’
‘No.’
‘S’aghitar.’
‘No.’
‘Sten’dhek.’
‘Yes.’
‘Kharkarras.’
‘Yes.’
‘Ghot’anozhor.’
‘No.’
‘Ultima Volantis.’
The satrap hesitated, looked around at the others, and then gave a great sigh. ‘Yes,’ he said.
‘Five in favour, five against,’ said the High Minister. ‘It therefore falls to me to cast the deciding vote.’
Each of the satraps leaned forward in his chair, waiting for the Minister’s decision.
‘This,’ he said, ‘is the most momentous and terrible decision any Rhenquaharan has ever had to make. There is a part of my mind which recoils from the Sun Cannon and wishes our scientists had never discovered the atomic principles which govern its function. But it is futile to do so, for the Cannon now exists, and cannot be un-invented.
‘It is indeed appalling that we should have created such a weapon. It is appalling that we should have needed to… but the Things which our Far Seers have glimpsed in the depths of the Æther make it necessary. Who among us could have foreseen the possibility that we might be required to bring it to bear upon our fellow creatures in this Solar System?
‘But what is the alternative? We have the wisdom to see through the machinations of Zhinquahar; we have the discipline and the forbearance to avoid the snare of conflict which they have laid in our path. Can we say the same of the Azquaharans? Can we trust that they are mature enough to step back from the abyss of war? More pertinently, should we wager the security of our world and the continuation of our civilisation on such trust?
‘I believe we all know the answer to that question. For ten generations, since the time of Yoh-Vombis the World Builder, we have lived in peace and turned away from the folly of conflict; we have applied our minds and energies to the cultivation of knowledge and to the contemplation of Nature’s wonders and mysteries, while remaining ever mindful of its dangers.
‘We have come too far and built too much to tolerate the hostility of others – even those others who are our siblings in this, our solar cradle. We must protect Rhenquahar: this is the covenant our ancestors made with the World Builder, the unbreakable promise; this is the vow taken by all who serve our Parliament.
‘It may be that ultimately the Azquaharans will see no alternative but to act against us. Yes… that may be the case, for as Ultima Volantis has observed, a sufficiently clever trap cannot be avoided, even when one is aware of its existence. If that happens, we must be prepared to respond with all the power at our disposal. The alternative is defeat, death, subjugation. The alternative is unacceptable.’
‘High Minister, if I may…’ said Ultima Volantis, who had risen to his feet.
‘Speak,’ said the Minister.
‘Could we not warn the Azquaharans that we possess a weapon capable of destroying their world? Could we not send word to them that they must not allow themselves to be manipulated by Zhinquahar? That if they do, the consequences would be terrible beyond imagining?’
‘And if we were to send such a warning, what do you think their reaction would be? Even if the present crisis were averted, they would consider us potential aggressors for evermore. Relations between our worlds would be irreparably damaged.’
‘Will they not believe us to be eternal aggressors if we rain atomic destruction upon one of their cities?’ the satrap persisted.
Fhontarras rose to his feet. ‘High Minister, if I may…’
‘Speak, Fhontarras.’
‘We are assuming that this crisis will continue towards the conclusion planned by Zhinquahar. That may not be the case, for there are agents of Azquahar who are, even as we speak, working towards its peaceful solution.’
‘You are speaking of the one called Thomas Blackwood.’
‘And his companion, Sophia Harrington. It is quite clear that Queen Victoria has the utmost confidence in their abilities. We should not forget that it was their investigation which revealed the existence of a Zhinquaharan on their world, and they who were instrumental in uncovering the plot to foment war between Rhenquahar and Azquahar.’
‘And your point, Fhontarras?’ said the High Minster.
‘My point is that we should continue with our present policy of non-interference, that we should allow Blackwood and Harrington to continue with their investigation. If they apprehend the Zhinquaharan Indrid Cold, if they reveal him to their own people to be an enemy of both our worlds, rather than an ally of ours, then I am certain that the crisis will be averted, and peace will continue. There will be no need to use the Sun Cannon, against either Azquahar or Zhinquahar. We need to give them more time.’
The High Minster nodded. ‘Your words make sense, Fhontarras. Very well, we will do as you suggest – but know you all that my vote is this: should Blackwood and Harrington fail, should this matter end in a declaration of war, then we will launch a shell from the Sun Cannon at the Azquaharan and Zhinquarahan capitals, for the sake of our own survival!’
CHAPTER TWO:
The Return of the Djinn
Blackwood looked down the barrel of Lord Pannick’s revolver and gave a silent but vehement curse.
‘Such a shame,’ said Pannick, ‘that you saw fit to continue meddling in my affairs.’
‘Your affairs?’ said Blackwood. ‘It is you, sir, who are meddling in the affairs of Earth, and in so doing are sealing the fate of every man, woman and child upon it.’
‘And securing my own future in the process,’ Pannick said with a satisfied smirk.
‘He’s going to betray us all, Thomas,’ said Sophia, who was still clinging to Blackwood, but she was regaining her strength and resolve with every passing moment. ‘He’s made a deal with the Venusians: they’re going to bestow power and riches upon him, while the rest of us are reduced to slavery, or worse.’
‘The rest of them, my dear – not you. As I said, you and Mr Blackwood will not live to see the future of Earth. In fact, you will not live beyond the next few seconds.’ He pulled back the revolver’s hammer.
‘What’s the purpose of that Æther zeppelin you’ve got outside, Pannick?’ asked Blackwood suddenly. He was keenly aware of the need to stall his enemy by any means possible, while
he tried to figure a way out of this fix. He was not confident that he could do so.
‘Ah! The Æther zeppelin. You saw it, did you?’
‘I did.’
‘And presumably you saw what it contains?’
‘Hundreds of canisters, filled with what looks like Acarus galvanicus.’
‘Quite right. It seems to me that you already know the answer to your question, sir. I intend to send the zeppelin to Mars, where it will enter the atmosphere and release the Acarus mites. Of course, they won’t kill all the Martians, but enough of them will succumb to guarantee their rage and desire for revenge upon the Earth.’
‘And who will fly the zeppelin? You?’
‘Oh dear me, no!’ Pannick laughed. ‘That’s much too dangerous for me, and besides, I’ve never particularly cared for the notion of space travel. I will leave that particular job to my man here. I believe you know Mr Meddings?’
Peter Meddings appeared in the doorway behind Pannick. He was also brandishing a revolver, which he pointed at Sophia. ‘Good evening, sir, madam,’ he said. ‘Good to see you again, Mr Blackwood.’
‘I assure you the feeling is not mutual, sir,’ muttered Blackwood. ‘How much is he paying you to betray your entire world?’
Meddings smiled. ‘Enough to make me want to betray it.’
‘It sounds to me like his Lordship has you marked down for a suicide mission.’
‘Do you think so?’
‘I certainly do. How far do you think you’ll get, once you’ve entered the Martian atmosphere. Do you really think they’ll let you fly around, polluting their world with deadly organisms?’
‘But they won’t know, Mr Blackwood,’ Meddings replied, his smile growing broader. ‘Lord Pannick will place a glamour upon the zeppelin. Do you know what that is?’
‘A Magickal disguise.’
