“Keep going!” Jason shouted. “Get next to the hull before he reaches the guns.”
This time three men didn’t make it. The rest of them were under the belly of the ship when every gun let go at once. Most of them were aimed away from the ship, still the scream of shells and electric discharges was ear-shattering. The three men still in the open dissolved under the fire. Whoever was inside the ship had hit all the gun trips at once, both to knock out the attackers and summon aid. He would be on the screen now, calling for help. Their time was running out.
Jason reached up and tried to open the hatch, while the others watched. It was locked from the inside. One of the men brushed him aside and pulled at the inset handle. It broke off in his hand but the hatch remained closed.
The big guns had stopped now and they could hear again.
“Did anyone get the gun from that dead man?” he asked. “It would blow this thing open.”
“No,” Rhes said, “we didn’t stop.”
Before the words were out of his mouth two men were running back towards the buildings, angling away from each other. The ship’s guns roared again, a string of explosions cut across one man. Before they could change direction and find the other man he had reached the buildings.
He returned quickly, darting into the open to throw the gun to them. Before he could dive back to safety the shells caught him.
Jason grabbed up the gun as it skidded almost to his feet. They heard the sound of wide-open truck turbines screaming towards them as he blasted the lock. The mechanism sighed and the hatch sagged open. They were all through the air lock before the first truck appeared. Naxa stayed behind with the gun, to hold the lock until they could take the control room.
Everyone climbed faster than Jason, once he had pointed them the way, so the battle was over when he got there. The single city Pyrran looked like a pin-cushion. One of the techs had found the gun controls and was shooting wildly, the sheer quantity of his fire driving the trucks back.
“Someone get on the radio and tell the talkers to call the attack off,” Jason said. He found the communications screen and snapped it on. Kerk’s wide-eyed face stared at him from the screen.
“You!” Kerk said, breathing the word like a curse.
“Yes, it’s me,” Jason answered. He talked without looking up, while his hands were busy at the control board. “Listen to me, Kerk—and don’t doubt anything I say. I may not know how to fly one of these ships, but I do know how to blow them up. Do you hear that sound?” He flipped over a switch and the faraway whine of a pump droned faintly. “That’s the main fuel pump. If I let it run—which I won’t right now—it could quickly fill the drive chamber with raw fuel. Pour in so much that it would run out of the stern tubes. Then what do you think would happen to your one and only spacer if I pressed the firing button? I’m not asking you what would happen to me, since you don’t care—but you need this ship the way you need life itself.”
There was only silence in the cabin now, the men who had won the ship turned to face him. Kerk’s voice grated loudly through the room.
“What do you want, Jason—what are you trying to do? Why did you lead those animals in here . . .” His voice cracked and broke as anger choked him and spilled over.
“Watch your tongue, Kerk,” Jason said with soft menace. “These men you are talking about are the only ones on Pyrrus who have a spaceship. If you want them to share it with you, you had better learn to talk nicely. Now come over here at once—and bring Brucco and Meta.” Jason looked at the older man’s florid and swollen face and felt a measure of sympathy. “Don’t look so unhappy, it’s not the end of the world. In fact, it might be the beginning of one. And another thing, leave this channel open when you go. Have it hooked into every screen in the city so everyone can see what happens here. Make sure it’s taped too, for replay.”
Kerk started to say something, but changed his mind before he did. He left the screen, but the set stayed alive. Carrying the scene in the control room to the entire city.
XXVII.
The fight was over. It had ended so quickly the fact hadn’t really sunk in yet. Rhes rubbed his hand against the gleaming metal of the control console, letting the reality of touch convince him. The other men milled about, looking out through the viewscreens or soaking in the mechanical strangeness of the room.
Jason was physically exhausted, but he couldn’t let it show. He opened the pilot’s medbox and dug through it until he found the stimulants. Three of the little gold pills washed the fatigue from his body, and he could think clearly again.
“Listen to me,” he shouted. “The fight’s not over yet. They’ll try anything to take this ship back and we have to be ready. I want one of the techs to go over these boards until he finds the lock controls. Make sure all the air locks and ports are sealed. Send men to check them if necessary. Turn on all the screens to scan in every direction, so no one can get near the ship. We’ll need a guard in the engine room, my control could be cut if they broke in there. And there had better be a room-by-room search of the ship, in case someone else is locked in with us.”
The men had something to do now and felt relieved. Rhes split them up into groups and set them to work. Jason stayed at the controls, his hand next to the pump switch. The battle wasn’t over yet.
“There’s a truck coming,” Rhes called, “going slow.”
“Should I blast it?” the man at the gun controls asked.
“Hold your fire,” Jason said, “until we can see who it is. If it’s the people I sent for, let them through.”
As the truck came on slowly, the gunner tracked it with his sights. There was a driver and three passengers. Jason waited until he was positive who they were.
“Those are the ones,” he said. “Stop them at the lock, Rhes, make them come in one at a time. Take their guns as they enter, then strip them of all their equipment. There is no way of telling what could be a concealed weapon. Be specially careful of Brucco—he’s the thin one with a face like an ax edge—make sure you strip him clean. He’s a specialist in weapons and survival. And bring the driver too, we don’t want him reporting back about the broken air lock or the state of our guns.”
Waiting was hard. His hand stayed next to the pump switch, even though he knew he could never use it. Just as long as the others thought he would.
There were stampings and muttered curses in the corridor; the prisoners were pushed in. Jason had one look at their deadly expressions and clenched fists before he called to Rhes.
“Keep them against the wall and watch them. Bowmen keep your weapons up.” He looked at the people who had once been his friends and who now swam in hatred for him. Meta, Kerk, Brucco. The driver was Skop, the man Kerk had once appointed to guard him. He looked ready to explode now that the roles had been reversed.
“Pay close attention,” Jason said, “because your lives depend upon it. Keep your backs to the wall and don’t attempt to come any closer to me than you are now. If you do, you will be shot instantly. If we were alone, any one of you could undoubtedly reach me before I threw this switch. But we’re not. You have Pyrran reflexes and muscles—but so do the bowmen. Don’t gamble. Because it won’t be a gamble. It will be suicide. I’m telling you this for your own protection. So we can talk peacefully without one of you losing his temper and suddenly getting shot. There is no way out of this. You are going to be forced to listen to everything I say. You can’t escape or kill me. The war is over.”
“And we lost—and all because of you . . . you traitor!” Meta snarled.
“Wrong on both counts,” Jason said blandly. “I’m not a traitor because I owe my allegiance to all men on this planet, both inside the perimeter and out. I never pretended differently. As to losing—why you haven’t lost anything. In fact you’ve won. Won your war against this planet, if you will only hear me out.” He turned to Rhes, who was frowning in angry puzzlement. “Of course your people have won also, Rhes. No more war with the city, you’ll get medi
cine, off-planet contact—everything you want.”
“Pardon me for being cynical,” Rhes said, “but you’re promising the best of all possible worlds for everyone. That will be a little hard to deliver when our interests are opposed so.”
“You strike through to the heart of the matter,” Jason said. “Thank you. This mess will be settled by seeing that everyone’s interests are not opposed. Peace between the city and farms, with an end to the useless war you have been fighting. Peace between mankind and the Pyrran life forms—because that particular war is at the bottom of all your troubles.”
“The man’s mad,” Kerk said.
“Perhaps. You’ll judge that after you hear me out. I’m going to tell you the history of this planet, because that is where both the trouble and the solution lie.
“When the settlers landed on Pyrrus three hundred years ago they missed the one important thing about this planet, the factor that makes it different from any other planet in the galaxy. They can’t be blamed for the oversight, they had enough other things to worry about. The gravity was about the only thing familiar to them, the rest of the environment was a shocking change from the climate-controlled industrial world they had left. Storms, vulcanism, floods, earthquakes—it was enough to drive them insane, and I’m sure many of them did go mad. The animal and insect life was a constant annoyance, nothing at all like the few harmless and protected species they had known. I’m sure they never realized that the Pyrran life was telepathic as well—”
“That again!” Brucco snapped. “True or not, it is of no importance. I was tempted to agree with your theory of psionic-controlled attack on us, but the deadly fiasco you staged proved that theory wrong.”
“I agree,” Jason answered. “I was completely mistaken when I thought some outside agency directed the attack on the city with psionic control. It seemed a logical theory at the time and the evidence pointed that way. The expedition to the island was a deadly fiasco—only don’t forget that attack was the direct opposite of what I wanted to have done. If I had gone into the cave myself none of the deaths would have been necessary. I think it would have been discovered that the plant creatures were nothing more than an advanced life form with unusual psi ability. They simply resonated strongly to the psionic attack on the city. I had the idea backwards thinking they instigated the battle. We’ll never know the truth, though, because they are destroyed. But their deaths did prove one thing. It allows us to find the real culprits, the creatures who are leading, directing and inspiring the war against the city.”
“Who?” Kerk breathed the question, rather than spoke it.
“Why you of course,” Jason told him. “Not you alone, but all of your people in the city. Perhaps you don’t like this war. However you are responsible for it, and keep it going.”
Jason had to force back a smile as he looked at their dumfounded expressions. He had to prove his point quickly, before even his allies began to think him insane.
“Here is how it works. I said Pyrran life was telepathic—and I meant all life. Every single insect, plant and animal. At one time in this planet’s violent history these psionic mutations proved to be survival types. They existed when other species died, and in the end I’m sure they co-operated in wiping out the last survivors of the
non-psi strains. Co-operation is the key word here. Because while they still competed against each other under normal conditions, they worked together against anything that threatened them as a whole. When a natural upheaval or a tidal wave threatened them, they fled from it in harmony.
“You can see a milder form of this same behavior on any planet that is subject to forest fires. But here, mutual survival was carried to an extreme because of the violent conditions. Perhaps some of the life forms even developed precognition like the human quakemen. With this advance warning the larger beasts fled. The smaller ones developed seeds, or burrs or eggs, that could be carried to safety by the wind or in the animals’ fur, thus insuring racial survival. I know this is true, because I watched it myself when we were escaping a quake.”
“Admitted—all your points admitted,” Brucco shouted. “But what does it have to do with us? So all the animals run away together, what does that have to do with the war?”
“They do more than run away together,” Jason told him. “They work together against any natural disaster that threatens them all. Some day I’m sure, ecologists will go into raptures over the complex adjustments that occur here in the advent of blizzards, floods, fires and other disasters. There is only one reaction we really care about now, though. That’s the one directed towards the city people. Don’t you realize yet—they treat you all as another natural disaster!
“We’ll never know exactly how it came about, though there is a clue in that diary I found, dating from the first days on this planet. It said that a forest fire seemed to have driven new species towards the settlers. Those weren’t new beasts at all—just old ones with new attitudes. Can’t you just imagine how those protected, over-civilized settlers acted when faced with a forest fire? They panicked of course. If the settlers were in the path of the fire, the animals must have rushed right through their camp. Their reaction would undoubtedly have been to shoot the fleeing creatures down.
“When they did that they classified themselves as a natural disaster. Disasters take any form. Bipeds with guns could easily be included in the category. The Pyrran animals attacked, were shot, and the war began. The survivors kept attacking and informed all the life forms what the fight was about. The radioactivity of this planet must cause plenty of mutations—and the favorable, survival mutation was now one that was deadly to man. I’ll hazard a guess that the psi function even instigates mutations, some of the deadlier types are just too one-sided to have come about naturally in a brief three hundred years.
“The settlers, of course, fought back, and kept their status as a natural disaster intact. Through the centuries they improved their killing methods, not that it did the slightest good, as you know. You city people, their descendants, are heirs to this heritage of hatred. You fight and are slowly being defeated. How can you possibly win against the biologic reserves of a planet that can recreate itself each time to meet any new attack?”
Silence followed Jason’s words. Kerk and Meta stood white-faced as the impact of the disclosure sunk in. Brucco mumbled and checked points off on his fingers, searching for weak spots in the chain of reason. The fourth city Pyrran, Skop, ignored all these foolish words that he couldn’t understand—or want to understand—and would have killed Jason in an instant if there had been the slightest chance of success.
It was Rhes who broke the silence. His quick mind had taken in the factors and sorted them out. “There’s one thing wrong,” he said. “What about us? We live on the surface of Pyrrus without perimeters or guns. Why aren’t we attacked as well? We’re human, descended from the same people as the junkmen.”
“You’re not attacked,” Jason told him, “because you don’t identify yourself as a natural disaster. Animals can live on the slopes of a dormant volcano, fighting and dying in natural competition. But they’ll flee together when the volcano erupts. That eruption is what makes the mountain a natural disaster. In the case of human beings, it is their thoughts that identify them as life form or disaster. Mountain or volcano. In the city everyone radiates suspicion and death. They enjoy killing, thinking about killing, and planning for killing. This is natural selection, too, you realize. These are the survival traits that work best in the city. Outside the city men think differently. If they are threatened individually, they fight, as will any other creature. Under more general survival threats they co-operate completely with the rules for universal survival that the city people break.”
“How did it begin—this separation, I mean, between the two groups?” Rhes asked.
“We’ll probably never know,” Jason said. “I think your people must have originally been farmers, or psionic sensitives who were not with the others during some natu
ral disaster. They would, of course, act correctly by Pyrran standards, and survive. This would cause a difference of opinion with the city people who saw killing as the answer. It’s obvious, whatever the reason, that two separate communities were established early, and soon separated except for the limited amount of barter that benefited both.”
“I still can’t believe it,” Kerk mumbled. “It makes a terrible kind of truth, every step of the way, but I still find it hard to accept. There must be another explanation.”
Jason shook his head slowly. “None. This is the only one that works. We’ve eliminated the other ones, remember? I can’t blame you for finding it hard to believe, since it is in direct opposition to everything you’ve understood to be true in the past. It’s like altering a natural law. As if I gave you proof that gravity didn’t really exist, that it was a force altogether different from the immutable one we know, one you could get around when you understood how. You’d want more proof than words. Probably want to see someone walking on air.”
“Which isn’t such a bad idea at that,” he added, turning to Naxa. “Do you hear any animals around the ship now? Not the ones you’re used to, but the mutated, violent kind that live only to attack the city.”
“Place’s crawling with ‘em,” Naxa said, “just lookin’ for somethin’ t’kill.”
“Could you capture one?” Jason asked. “Without getting yourself killed, I mean.”
Naxa snorted contempt as he turned to leave. “Beast’s not born yet, that’ll hurt me.”
They stood quietly, each one wrapped tightly around by his own thoughts, while they waited for Naxa to return. Jason had nothing more to say. He would do one more thing to try and convince them of the facts, after that it would be up to each of them to reach a conclusion.
The talker returned quickly with a stingwing, tied by one leg to a length of leather. It flapped and shrieked as he carried it in.
Deathworld: The Complete Saga Page 17
