by John Kippax
'Subject to certain other conditions, yes.'
Fane, who had been sitting apart from them, put in a word. 'Subject, also, to Hans Uschl and myself thinking it safe for you to come out up to ground level. If you do,.you will have to stay mainly in the domes, with perhaps a venture outside in a heated suit, and with a breathing mask.'
'You see,' Koninburger smiled, 'how well they care for me. Yes; I have in my mind the basis of sending out a "pathfinder" to trace the holes - or one sequence of holes - in space. When once we can do that... ah.'
The guard outside the door of the place in which the alien was kept looked in greatest astonishment at the aggressive Warrant Officer. 'Not there - sir - what do you mean "not there"?'
WO Panos seemed inclined to take the guard, a small, springy Kachin man, by his coveralls and shake him. 'Did any of the medical staff take him out? Doctor Creighton? Or maybe a sick bay PO - or CPO Caiola? Eh?'
'Nobody's passed me.' The guard said resolutely. 'Impossible. But—'
'But what?'
'I was punched, I remember—'
'Explain yourself, man!'
'It was like someone punched my head - from the inside!'
'From the—!' Panos swallowed the invective which rose like a wave within him. He thumbed a wall-phone's button. 'Attention all ranks. The alien is loose. Duty officer please wake the Captain!'
Alarms clanged. Men and women slipped to their alert posts with silent efficiency. Two people remained asleep, Helen Lindstrom and Leela de Witt.
'This creature is not to be harmed. It's not a bug-eyed monster, it is a human being of a sort. It is also probably weaker than the average human female. You cannot speak to it, it cannot speak to you—'
Bruce spoke from the bridge. Creighton leaped up beside him, dishevelled, half-dressed. 'You mustn't hurt that creature... it's vital... If we lose it - if we lose Ba - if some fool ups with a pistol and shoots it, I'll kill the man who does it! It's - it's—'
Bruce snapped: 'Listen to my instructions, then see if you have anything to add. Lieutenant Quat, take your men and go carefully through your stores areas. Lieutenant Lee, look in all hangar vessels, from flycars to scouts - everything. Commander Kusnetzov, check through. There's not much hiding room with you. Lieutenant Albertini, check every radar installation. Lieutenant Siegel, ventilation and elevator shafts...' The list went on and on, with some admiration in Creighton's mind for a man who really did have the whole ship at his fingertips. When Bruce had finished his listing, Creighton said: 'That's fine, sir.'
'Now you speak quietly to it.'
Creighton felt the hair rise on the back of his neck. 'Me speak - to the alien?'
'Yeah. You said its name, didn't you? Ba?'
'Yes -I have managed to gather that. It's a tribal prefix—'
'So you aren't giving out complete results of your work!'
'What I have been able to do in that direction is minimal. The speech question is almost insuperable. With Czibulka I've tried to—'
First report in was from Radar Section. 'Section clear, sir.'
'Mr Panos, suit up, take another man with you, and walk ship.'
'At once, sir.'
Creighton said: 'But - that creature won't be outside! It can't be!'
Bruce gave him a cool stare. 'I have a liking,' he said, 'for checking impossibilities.'
Stores, Sanitary, Hydroponics, Astrogation... they and all the others reported in. Kusnetzov's downstairs department was last.
'I've stripped covers and had men crawling around but there's no alien here.'
Panos's voice came back, distorted by a suit radio. "Nothing outside here, sir. Five more minutes and we'll both be getting a touch of spacehead.'
'Come in.'
Bruce found Maseba by his side. As always, the medic's presence made him feel not quite so alone. 'Well, George?'
Maseba turned to watch Creighton hurry off to the elevator. 'It's strange.'
'Thanks for all the information.' The fact that he was pleased to see Maseba softened Bruce's sarcasm not at all.
'I meant the sentry.'
'Who is on a charge.'
'For Pete's sake—'
'Conduct prejudicial to good order and discipline, idle on parade, and a few other things.'
Maseba said: 'Oh, bloody fine. Well I've talked to the man. He says he thinks he was punched, inside his head - it's possible. There's not a mark or a bruise anywhere. I believe him. With a picked crew like ours, you mostly get the truth.'
'The truth is he fell down on the job. And that's enough for me.'
Bruce saw that Maseba was on the point of shouting. A wall-phone buzzed, Maseba answered it. 'Medical Officer.'
The voice answered. 'Caiola, sir. Will you please bring Captain Bruce down here to sick bay? And both of you come in very quietly, please, will you? I assure you it's necessary.'
'Very well.' Maseba replaced the receiver. Bruce was calm. 'Caiola's no fool. Whatever it is, we'll do as he says.'
'Thanks, Tom,' Maseba said.
The elevator took them down to sick bay. Quietly, they went in. Caiola came to meet them. 'Please, gentlemen, no sound.'
In silence, they followed. Leela de Witt was asleep in the chair by the side of the bed, continuing her vigil of love and duty. On the opposite side of the bed there was another chair, and in it sat the alien.
Bruce had a gun at the ready almost without thinking.
'No!' Creighton hissed the word, seeming to have crept up behind them.
'Shhhh!' Caiola said.
'I believe—' Maseba began, and then he too fell silent.
To the Surgeon Lieutenant-Commander, to Lieutenant Creighton, and to Bruce, Commanding Officer, wary, truculent, there came a kind of peace. The alien sat holding both of Helen Lindstrom's hands in its own pink, six-fingered appendages, and seemed to be squeezing very gently. This was its only movement.
'Keep quiet,' Maseba whispered.
The minutes passed, the sick bay seemed an oasis in a desert of sound...
Eventually, the alien released its gentle hold on Helen's hands. Slowly it turned to see the human captors. It rose, went to them, and stood by Creighton, at the same time nodding and pointing to the still figure in the bed.
Once more, they waited. Bruce moved, and at once the alien nudged Creighton and pointed to Bruce.
Maseba said: 'Quiet, still.'
Ten minutes passed. Then Helen Lindstrom turned her head Slightly. She gave a long, sleepy murmur.
'God!' Bruce exclaimed. 'Do you think—'
"Wait, Tom.'
Once more she stirred, and gave a long sigh. Leela de Witt awoke, gave the watching group a startled glance, and turned to her patient.
And Helen Lindstrom opened her eyes.
Chapter 10
While we admit throughout the Universe a unity of plan, a unity of forces, and a unity of matter, we nonetheless must explain the individuality and the diversity which we cannot fail to trace everywhere. Side by side with the general connecting principle we see leaps and breaks of continuity.
MENDELEEV
The alien had been taken quietly by Creighton back to the place where it had been kept. Creighton did not know people were guessing about the situation of the alien relative to himself, or, for that matter, the converse. Czibulka, a small round man of thirty-five, was engrossed with the problem of extracting meanings from the alien. Creighton felt, rather than knew, that he was the one who had established the most general rapport with the alien, doing his best to treat the creature as another kind of human being; and a very intelligent one. Of that Creighton had no doubt; it could have got out by mentally punching that guard.
He settled down the alien by supplying it with water and two protein cakes, and went back to some of the joint studies made by Czibulka and himself. He paused from his reading of a study of the language which sought to set out accent and tone marks... He looked up to find the creature regarding him steadily. Creighton smiled, and, grotesquely, ha
ving no feeling behind the gesture, the alien made a muscular imitation.
Creighton, ready to strain his own voice into squeaks on
recording them, and replaying the tape at a higher speed, tried some conversation with the alien; it was one of the times when he was almost turned to sickness by the apparent non-understanding of the creature; Creighton knew that this was working him to the point of exhaustion, but he kept on; nothing seemed to get easier:
'Ba, how did you get out of here?'
'Walk.'
Creighton pounded at his own mind for the right words. 'How did you get past the sentry... guardian... man with gun... person keeping you in... here...?'
'Walk.'
'Did the man not try to stop you?'
‘Not try.'
'You simply walked out?'
'Walk out.'
Czibulka came in. 'Hello, hello, what's all this I hear? Our friend been misbehaving himself?'
Creighton was annoyed. When Czibulka spoke to him, it was always in imitation of Creighton's own very English voice. Czibulka was a man with a perfect ear for tone, inflexion and enunciation.
Creighton said, exasperated: 'Jan, can you carry on for a bit with him?'
'Of course old boy. Glad to. Think I'll dispense with the recording-and-replay routine for a bit. Speak direct.'
'You'll ruin your throat.'
'Not if I only do a little. What do we want to know?'
'How did he get out... but it's no good asking that. He just says he walked. What they'll want to know is how did he know of the second-in-command being in the state she was, and what exactly did he do to her or for her?'
'All that? I'll need danger money.'
'It's really only two questions.'
'Yes, yes of course old man. You're right. Let me see how my squeaks are.' He made some strangled noises in his throat. 'Yes, we can make it, I think: Ba.'
Thus addressed by his tribal prefix, the alien turned to Czibulka.
'Ba, how did you know of the one who was sick?'
'It called.'
Czibulka turned to Creighton. ' "It called." Now what do you make of that?'
'Spoke.'
'But -I mean - spoke - literally?'
"No. I don't think so. It may have heard her murmur, when she was unconscious.'
Czibulka looked at Creighton very attentively. 'There is another meaning to "called".'
'Yes.' Creighton was at full attention. 'So did she call with her mind or did she call with her voice?'
'You want the lot, don't you?'
'It's what Bruce will want to know.'
'All right, James. I'll try again... Ba. Was this voice heard with ears?'
'In the usual way.'
Czibulka was stumped. 'You mean - usual—'
'With head.'
'I got that!' Creighton said, excitedly, 'does it mean that it is a telepath?'
'If it were, wouldn't its chums have rescued it and left us as so much smouldering cinder?'
Creighton thought. 'It means - that it just felt her mind touch... perhaps it alone can do it... short distance. Or maybe, a soundless appeal for help?'
Czibulka tried again.
'A mind was seeking to arise,' the alien said.
'And you went to help it.'
'Yes.'
'Was this goodness... kindness... you accept the idea that you can help us?'
'In some degree.'
'So what did you do, when you saw the one in the bed, and the guardian of her sleeping in the chair beside the bed?' 'I do not understand sleep. We have no word. But the mind of the one in the bed was needing help... it was bound... it wanted to belong again. Thus I sat, and took the hands, and waited until my mind helped the human's.'
Czibulka told it to Creighton, and the latter was pleased. 'I shall, of course, tell Bruce that this was your work.'
The other grinned. 'Oh, yes, you tell him, by all means. He's under the impression anyway that I do sweet FA. And he's right.' Czibulka left.
Creighton sat, and Ba the alien sat, and they did not communicate. As he looked into the future, he could see himself travelling on down the dark tunnel, at the end of which there was only a slight glimmer, and that glimmer, Creighton thought with irony, might well be the torchlight of some poor sod who had got to the end of the tunnel, found it closed, and was trying to struggle back. It was a stupid, cartoon-like thought, but it made him shiver.
Someone knocked and dared to open before he - or she - heard a reply. It was Dockridge, grinning from ear to ear.
'Doc,' Bruce said, 'one of these days I shall throw something—'
'There's a nice surprise outside, sir.'
'I just love surprises, you time-wasting goon. Come on, bring it in.'
'This surprise,' Dockridge said with dignity, 'can walk in.'
Helen Lindstrom walked in.
'Goodbye, Doc,' Bruce said.
'Goodbye, sir and ma'am,' Dockridge said, and shut the door.
Bruce got up, took both her hands. 'Welcome back,' he said. He had not meant his voice to sound low and husky, but that was the way it came out.
'Oh,' she cried, 'I forgot.' She stepped back, threw up a smart salute, and it was returned. Then they both laughed.
'Sit down,' he said; they sat. 'Full duty?' 'Not yet, George says. But I can do a four-hour stint in twenty-four.'
'Good. All your tests OK?'
'Tests! George is a fanatic; devotion to duty. I never saw anything like it.'
'Did he put you up to date on the alien?'
'Yes. Pretty well.'
'And you know what it did for you.'
'Yes.'
'Make anything of it, from your point of view?'
'No. All I know is that I was in a blackness. Then I began to stir... in my mind... and there was a thought, rhythmical, like the beating of a drum. It said: "Rise up... rise up... rise up"... And then I think it changed to... "Day awaits you... day awaits you"... and then I woke up... That's really all.'
Bruce said: 'Right, Commander. You're back to light duties. Doctor's orders. And my orders are the same. Will you please make it your first duty to try to remember all you can about the inside of that alien ship.'
'I will.'
'Thank you. Dismiss.'
And barren salute was greeted by barren salute.
Carter looked through his big notebook. He and Elsa Niebohr were standing to the side of main gallery one, four hundred metres down. There was a small-gauge railway, used either for goods or personnel. Part of this section was filled with secondary computers. White-coated men and women moved about.
'And with Koninburger to guide, you reckon it can be done.'
'I am prepared to be present myself when the first practical probe experiments are carried out.'
'You're sure these geon paths exist?'
'Koninburger says so, Admiral. He says that John A.
Wheeler was right. He claims that there can be no other way for instant travel.'
"There is another theory, by a Professor Jadeen - Delhi, I think he's at - who says that with sufficient power man can create his own paths,' Carter said.
'My money's on Koninburger.'
The understatement of the year.' Carter walked forward to inspect a points assembly in the small railway line, saw that it was well-greased, and that there was little play in the moving parts. 'Well, Miss Niebohr, I must say I like your style. Your trust in your scientific leader is remarkable. Long may it endure.'
She started, very slightly, at the last sentence. 'What do you mean by that, Admiral?'
'Just general good wishes, I guess...' He came to her. "What's the matter? The illusion is complete, isn't it? There's Fane, there's Uschl, and Baksh the demon chequers player...'
The thrum of the machinery near them and below them seemed to fade into insignificance. One look at her set face told Carter, most generous and humane of men despite his bluster, that there was something in her reaction to his words that was terrible.
&nb
sp; 'Admiral. With me I brought star charts, most beautifully done, of the stars of this particular planet. When he comes up to surface to see for himself, he may well be deceived, still. Even in daylight, with all the camouflage laid on and sprayed on, it may still succeed, for long enough...'
'Long enough?'
'Long enough for men other than Koninburger to know where they're going.'
The World Admiral did not like Koninburger, but for his ability, and for his rights as a human being, Carter had respect. And still the World Admiral did not understand.
'Koninburger is going back to Earth?'
'Possibly.'
'For his health, you mean.'
'Hardly.'
Carter thought he understood, and his face clouded.
She said: 'I will not insult you by asking if you know what is a decaying orbit. But that is Koninburger's life- situation.'
'You mean, he's going to die, here?'
'What Fane did for Koninburger was good. But the very best efforts of world experts like Fane are only bodges, without truly understanding how complete is the imposed illusion. If you let Koninburger stay below, it will come to him, awfully, one day, that here is not the planet where he was born. When he goes topside he will see that vast mock- up out there, and he might, for a time, be - what shall I say? - re-convinced that he is where he should be.'
'And - you are going to let this go on?'
'Fane and Uschl will do their best. But, eventually, they will have to stand by watching nature take its course.'
'But if you sent him home now - had Fane fake an illness for him - then he could be saved!'
'That isn't part of the deal. I'm here to protect my investment - and Earth's investment too!' Her face was set. 'No: Eventually, this whole enterprise is going to render huge profits, and there's no one on Sol Three who can bellyache, because they turned it down in the name of democracy and ignorance! Once we have this, the true subspace travel, the Universe is our oyster - Excelsior's oyster. The Space Corps will want the new drive; they can pay for it.'
'And you'd let Koninburger die?'
