From time to time, as the driver hauled the vehicle round another hairpin bend, Madok was granted a view back down the mountainside: the green terraces, gilded by the slanting rays of the setting sun, seemed impossibly small and far away.
And yet, as Madok knew, none of these sights, spectacular though they were, would diminish the effect of his first view of the Bridge. Madok found himself leaning forward and peering upwards expectantly.
‘Round the next bend, sir,’ the driver said.
‘Thanks.’ Madok laughed. ‘I suppose you get used to seeing it.’
‘Not really, sir,’ the driver said. ‘It always looks unnatural.
I’ve heard,’ he added, ‘that we’ll be going into action soon.’
‘You know I can’t talk about operational plans,’ Madok said. ‘I think we’re all tired of waiting. And - great heavens, there it is.’
The self-propelled vehicle had turned a sharp corner, and the road ran straight ahead between sheer cliffs. Ruddy light poured through the gap, even though the sun itself had dropped out of sight. At the point where the road disappeared over the brow of the slope, the cliffs were tallest - thirty metres or more above the road - and it was there that the Bridge connected the two peaks. Its straight edges and rectangular shape looked incongruous against the wild, jagged imprecision of the rocks. It was as if a giant had rested a book across the two mountains.
The arches on which the Bridge rested appeared too delicate to support such a solid structure, yet Madok knew that it was built of many stone blocks, each the height of a man. It was wide enough for an army to march across, and two stories high. Lurking in its strongpoints were the heaviest guns ever cast. Never had a road been so well guarded.
The self-propelled vehicle laboured up the slope and under the Bridge. Madok shivered: he hoped he would never find himself attempting to attack this fortress. From the road, little could be seen of the two mountaintop castles which were joined by the Bridge; only apparently natural fissures in the cliffs hinted at the tunnels, reservoirs, store rooms, gun emplacements and secret passages which honeycombed the mountains on which the fortress squatted.
Having passed under the glowering gaze of the Bridge, the self-propelled vehicle began to descend. Madok saw the ocean: far below, and stretching to the horizon, where the red ball of the sun was melting into the fiery water. The road became no more than a bumpy track, and as ever Madok was alarmed to be reminded of the angle at which it sloped down the face of the mountain range. The self-propelled vehicle didn’t follow the road, however: the driver pulled the vehicle to the left, on to an even rougher path, and began the final, winding, uphill section of the journey to the almost inaccessible heart of Kedin’s domains.
The Castlain was waiting in the outer bailey. Credig was as Madok remembered him: a little more grizzled now, perhaps, and a little more leathery, but as tall and upright as ever.
‘Madok,’ he said as Madok jumped from the cabin of the self-propelled vehicle. ‘Saw your vehicle from the bridge.
Knew it had to be you. Good trip?’
Madok took Credig’s hand. The old soldier’s voice was more welcoming than his face, which remained grimly unsmiling. ‘I had no trouble, Castlain,’ Madok said. He looked around at the massive walls, and up to the concentric rings of towers.
Only the whistling wind and the circling lizardwings gave any hint that the vast courtyard was perched on the flattened peak of the highest mountain in Jerrissar. ‘It’s been a while since I’ve been here.’
‘What have you brought for us?’ Credig asked. Madok remembered that Credig was a man of little conversation.
Madok gestured towards the back of the self-propelled vehicle. ‘New radio equipment,’ he said. ‘A more powerful transmitter, and more receivers.’
Credig grunted interrogatively.
‘We’ve learnt how to use the space station to relay signals,’
Madok explained. ‘Don’t ask me how it works - it’s not my area of expertise. But with this transmitter you’ll be able to bounce signals off the station and then down to any of our receivers - anywhere on the planet. It will give us ten times the reach you’ve had from up here. The King has nothing like this.’
Credig nodded, and raised an eyebrow. For Credig, this was an unrestrained expression of amazement. ‘I imagine we’ll soon be needing every advantage we can muster,’ he said.
Madok led him a little further from the self-propelled vehicle, out of the driver’s hearing. ‘All forces are to be made ready,’ he said quietly. ‘We have to get the transmitter set up as soon as possible. The order to begin the operation could come within days. I have the precise plans here.’ He tapped the side of his head. ‘As well as the codes and frequencies to be used for communications, and the schedule for changing them.’
‘Good.’ The barest hint of a smile touched Credig’s lips. ‘I’ll be glad to see some action at last. We need to cleanse Vethran’s filth from the world.’
Madok could only agree. ‘I was at court a week ago,’ he said. ‘In the capital. He’s going to have himself declared Emperor. There are Twos everywhere. It’s all got to be stopped.’ Once again Ace’s face appeared in his thoughts, and as ever he fought against imagining the life she could be living now.
He took Credig to the back of the self-propelled vehicle and pointed out four of the boxes. ‘Are the rockets ready?’ he asked. The mountains around the Bridge concealed deep pits from which six rockets, not unlike the one which had first reached the space station, could be launched at targets anywhere on the continent.
‘Of course,’ Credig said.
‘The boxes contain new components for the warheads,’
Madok said. ‘There is still much we don’t understand about the space station, but we’re sure we can use our own radio signals from the station to control the flight of rockets launched from here. At last we should be able to target the warheads accurately.’
Credig nodded. He was clearly impressed. ‘Never did see the point of rockets,’ he said. ‘Send them up. No idea where’ll they come down. This is much better.’ He grunted. ‘Getting old,’ he said. ‘These days soldiering’s all about rockets and electricity. Used to be hot blood and cold steel.’
‘If things go badly,’ Madok said, ‘there’ll be plenty of old-fashioned slaughter.’
Credig’s eyes brightened. The thought of battle must have reminded him of food, as he next asked Madok if he had eaten dinner. ‘Come in,’ he said. ‘Freshen up. Come to the mess. I’ll send out a team to unload your vehicle.’
Madok shook his head. ‘Thank you, Castlain. But I can’t rest until the transmitter’s set up and tested. It’s already getting dark. I’ll pass the plans on to you, and then I’ll have to be on my way again.’
‘Tevana Roslod?’ Credig asked.
Madok nodded. ‘And then we can make our move.’
Credig turned towards the self-propelled vehicle. ‘Driver,’
he shouted, ‘go to the lower barracks and get some help to unload. Then have this vehicle refuelled and made ready to leave.’
The driver saluted. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said, and ran across the courtyard to the inner gateway.
‘You have a -’ Credig lifted a hand into the air, ‘a flying machine of some kind?’ he said.
‘A scout from the station,’ Madok said. ‘I landed at the northern strip. I have room for five,’ he added. ‘I think it would be wise to take some men with me. Can you spare me four of your best? They must be utterly trustworthy.’
‘Of course, Madok,’ the Castlain said. ‘Now let’s get this transmitter set up. You’re going to set off in the dark?’
Madok looked about him. Only the highest towers of the castle were still golden in sunlight. The courtyard was in deep shade. He knew that lights could be fitted to the self-propelled vehicle, but the drive down the road to Jerris would nonetheless be perilous. And there were no lights at the landing strip: he’d have to take the scout ship up in complete darkness. An
d land again before dawn.
‘Damnation,’ he said. ‘No, Credig, I’ll have to stay overnight.
No doubt the rest will do me good. I’ll leave at daybreak.’
Bep-Wor had never thought that he would find himself arguing with the Doctor. They spoke in urgent whispers as the line of prisoners shuffled forwards to receive their meals.
‘Please try to understand,’ the Doctor said. ‘It’s imperative that I reach the capital. That must be the centre of government on this world. There I will be able to negotiate with people in authority. I might find a way to put a stop to all this.’ He waved his arm in the direction of the prisoners.
‘The commissioner is going to the capital. I must let him take me there.’
‘And I must find Kia-Ga,’ Bep-Wor replied. ‘The farmer sold her only a few days ago. Perhaps only yesterday. She can’t be far away. There are tools in this barn. We can break our chains. We can make the farmer tell us where she is.’
‘In order to do that, Bep-Wor, we will have to reveal that most of these people are free of the effects of the drug. Do you think that the commissioner will just shrug his shoulders and forget about you? Of course not. He’ll bring more soldiers. He’ll hunt you down.’
Bep-Wor could not believe the words he was hearing. The Doctor seemed to want to remain a captive, and to keep all the prisoners captive with him. ‘I’ll take that chance,’ he said.
‘I’d rather be free and hunted than taken in chains to the capital. Who knows what will happen to us in a big town? We might be separated, or shut up in prisons. We may never get another chance to free ourselves. If we escape now, we can all remain together. We will take the soldiers’ swords and guns.
We will have you to lead us. We will have some hope.’
‘If I don’t go to the capital,’ the Doctor said, ‘I may never find out where Ace is.’
‘And if I don’t free myself now,’ Bep-Wor replied, ‘I will never find out where Kia-Ga is.’
The two men had run out of words. They glared at each other. Bep-Wor realised he was shaking with emotion. He felt sick. He and the Doctor had travelled together across the gulf between two worlds. He had thought that they had a common purpose - a shared destiny. Suddenly he was aware that the Doctor’s motives were utterly different from his own. He felt foolish and betrayed.
The women were handing out half-loaves to the last few prisoners. All over the barn men and women who had devoured their meals were holding whispered conversations, or trying to loosen their shackles. They were dressed in rags; they were dirty; they were tired. And yet Bep-Wor knew that they were no longer the confused, beaten, hopeless rabble they had been when crammed into the deathly cold of the cargo pod. He heard it in their voices, and saw it in their faces: a pride in having survived, and a determination to continue surviving. Where the commissioner and his soldiers saw mindless slaves, Bep-Wor saw a small army. An army that would rather fight to be free than live as slaves.
The Doctor had made the difference. He had given Bep-Wor’s people hope. How could he think of abandoning them now?
Bep-Wor held his head in his hands. I’m a farmer, he said to himself. I help out on the fishing boats. I know about soil and seeds, wind and waves. And here I am on another world, where even the plants look different, responsible for 150 of my fellow countrymen, on a hopeless quest to find Kia-Ga.
It’s too much. I can’t be expected to do this.
He looked down at the chain hanging between his wrists.
There really was no point in giving up. He had to keep fighting, or end his life as a slave.
Think, Bep-Wor, he told himself. Think clearly.
He marshalled his thoughts. The starting point was that he would no longer remain a prisoner. He and all of the captives must be freed. He might have been prepared to continue the pretence of being drugged, but the knowledge that Kia-Ga was nearby changed everything.
He wanted the Doctor to go with him. The Doctor inspired the group; he had wondrous powers and knowledge; above all
- although Bep-Wor had never before dared to speculate about this - he might be able to reverse the effects of the drug, and restore Kia-Ga. He had, after all, brought Hap-Lor back from the dead.
Freedom and Kia-Ga were Bep-Wor’s objectives. Freedom and Kia-Ga might prove unattainable, or only partially attainable, without the Doctor’s help. But to follow the Doctor, away from Kia-Ga and into certain slavery, would gain nothing that Bep-Wor wanted. Nor would it help the 150
men and women who also had wives and husbands to find.
The way forward was clear. Bep-Wor had his hand on the tiller, and he knew the heading he had to steer.
‘Doctor,’ he said. ‘Listen to me. If we proceed, as slaves, to the capital, we may lose our only chance to be free. And I will lose my only chance to find Kia-Ga. If we free ourselves now, you will still be able to go to the capital and look for your friend Ace.’
The Doctor began to speak, but Bep-Wor hushed him.
‘I’m going to break free,’ Bep-Wor said. ‘I’ll ask the others: any who wish to can come with me. If you decide to stay, I think many will choose to stay with you.’
The Doctor rubbed a hand over his face. ‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’ he said.
I don’t know, Bep-Wor thought. But this is the only way I can think of to persuade you to come with me.
He nodded. ‘Deadly serious.’
‘You’ll split the group, and go without me?’
Bep-Wor nodded again.
The Doctor sighed. ‘I can’t let that happen, Bep-Wor. All right, I’ll come with you. As long as everyone agrees. I won’t leave anyone behind. And as long as you agree that once we’ve found Kia-Ga we’ll head towards the capital.’
Bep-Wor could have shouted for joy. ‘Thank you, Doctor.
I’m sure this will be for the best. And once they know that you are leading us, all the people will follow you.’
The Doctor was about to speak again, but Bep-Wor pointed over his shoulder.
‘The women from the farmhouse,’ he said. ‘Look: they’re getting ready to leave. We must keep them here.’
The Doctor looked puzzled.
‘They’ve heard us talking,’ Bep-Wor explained. ‘If they’re asked, they’ll tell what they’ve heard. Tell them to stay here.’
The Doctor turned. ‘Sab-Ma,’ he called out. ‘And you others. Come here, please.’
The five women abandoned the empty cauldron and baskets and, with blank faces, walked the few paces to the Doctor. Bep-Wor stepped outside the barn for an instant. ‘All clear,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell our comrades to start breaking out of their chains.’
He set off into the depths of the barn to find heavy tools and the strongest of the prisoners. Two of them, he knew, had been metal-workers in Porgum. Behind him he heard the Doctor telling the women that they must not return to the farmhouse, and five voices saying, ‘Yes, sir,’ in reply.
When Bep-Wor returned to the front of the barn the Doctor was still talking to the women.
‘It’s very strange,’ he was saying. His hat was tilted on his head and he was scratching his scalp. Bep-Wor realised that he was talking to himself more than to the women, who were standing in a row and gazing at him. ‘It’s as if an entire level of consciousness has been eroded from the hypothalamus.
They think, but are they aware of their awareness of their thinking? Are they even aware that they think?’
The Doctor turned as Bep-Wor approached. Bep-Wor held up his arms to show that the manacles had gone from his wrists.
The Doctor grinned. ‘I suppose I’d better slip out of these again,’ he said, performing a little dance to jangle the chains at his wrists and ankles. ‘You’re right, Bep-Wor. Life’s better without chains.’
He indicated the row of women. ‘I thought,’ he said, that perhaps I could counteract the effects of the drug by making use of the absolute obedience that it seems to instil in its victims. I’ve been trying to find a way t
o instruct these poor women to think for themselves.’
‘What do you mean?’ Bep-Wor asked.
‘I’ll demonstrate,’ the Doctor said, ‘but I don’t think I’m getting anywhere.’ He addressed the women. ‘I order you to do whatever you like,’ he said.
The women’s faces showed that they were struggling to understand. One of them, having reached a decision, began to comb her hair with her fingers. Another began to eat the piece of bread she was holding in her hand. A third started to rummage under her clothing.
‘Stop!’ Bep-Wor said quickly. ‘Doctor,’ he explained, ‘they are doing things that they like doing, not things that they have chosen to do.’
‘Yes, I see,’ the Doctor said. ‘Pity. I thought I’d cracked it.
It’s volition that is still missing. Let’s try something else.’ He turned again to the women. ‘You are free,’ he said. ‘You no longer have to obey any orders.’
The women did nothing. They stood, slack-jawed and slump-shouldered, before the Doctor.
Bep-Wor stepped in. ‘The Doctor is your master,’ he told the women. ‘You must do as he says. Follow the Doctor, and be glad. He will lead us all to freedom.’
At these words some animation returned to the faces of the women. They smiled at the Doctor, and looked at him expectantly.
‘I’m not -’ he began, and then tutted with irritation. ‘Oh, go and help the others remove their chains,’ he said, waving into the depths of the barn.
‘Yes, sir,’ the women chorused, and with smiles on their faces they scampered away.
‘They’re not free,’ the Doctor said to Bep-Wor.
Independence Day Page 15
