Exiles of the Stars m-2

by Norton, Andre

  "They—I have a feeling all is wrong—not right."

  "So do I," I was quick to answer.

  "Could they have been taken over also? It is best we try to reach theLydis . But if I have guessed wrong, and they are walking straight into what lies there—" I felt him shiver, his fingers on my head tremble slightly.

  "If they are as you fear now, then they are masters here, and should they discover us—But if the others are still free from such contamination they must be warned. For the present we can hope such domination is confined to Sekhmet. Have you thought what might happen if their ship out there lifts off, carrying those who can change bodies as easily as you change the clothing on your back—spreading the contagion of their presence to other worlds?"

  "Such evil as has never been known before. And there could be no finding them once they were off this planet!"

  "Therefore—carry your message while still you may." In this I was urging what I had decided was the greater good. There was nothing one man and one glassia could, do in these burrows to overset such enemies, but there was much which we could accomplish elsewhere.

  "They could already have started it," he said then. "How do we know how many there are of them—how many voyages that ship out there has made?"

  "The more reason why a warning must be given."

  We were on the move again, using the looted chests as a shield as long as we could. Then we came into the pallid daylight at the cavern's entrance.

  The cargo hatches of the ship were sealed, but her passenger ramp was still out. Krip looked up at her. He was far more knowledgeable of such than I. To me she merely seemed larger than theLydis , and so I said.

  "She is. We are D class; this is a C class ship, also a freighter, a converted Company freighter. She is slow, but can lift far more than theLydis . And she has no insignia, which means she is a jack ship."

  There were no guards to be seen, but we still kept to cover. And the broken nature of the country seemed designed to aid such skulking. That and the fact that the clouds were very dense overhead and a cold, ice-toothed rain began to fall. Shivering under the lash of that, we found a place where we could climb the cliff. We thought prudence dictated such an exit rather than use of the rough road beaten by many robo tracks.

  Aloft, I could trust for our guide to the sense which was a part of Vors's natural equipment, and we headed in the direction where I was sure we would find theLydis . But it was a nightmare of a journey, with the sleet sluicing around us and the dark growing thicker. We crawled where we longed to run, afraid of missteps which would plunge us over some rock edge.

  There was a wind rising. I unsheathed claws to anchor me and crept close to the ground under the beating of its force and that of the sleet.

  "Krip?" Here four clawed feet might manage, but I was not sure that two booted ones might do as well. And the fury of this storm was like nothing I had felt before. It was almost as if the natural forces of this forsaken world were ranged on the side of those who looted.

  "Keep on!" There was no weakness in his reply.

  I had come to a down slope where the water poured in streams about me as I twisted and turned, using every possible hint of protection against the worst blasts. As I went I began to doubt very gravely if we could press on to theLydis , wonder whether it would not be much more prudent to seek shelter and wait out the worst of this storm. And I was about to look for a place where we could do so, when the stones my claws rasped were no longer firm, but slid, carrying me with them.

  Over—out—into nothingness! An instant of knowing that I was falling—then a blast of pain and darkness.

  Yet that dark was not complete, and I carried with me an instant of raw, terrifying knowledge—that it had been no normal misstep, no chance which had brought me down. I had been caught in a trap I had not suspected.

  And, recognizing that, I knew also why it had been done and the full danger of what might follow.

  But with Sharvan, again with Krip on Yiktor, there had been an exchange of bodies. Why need my present one be destroyed—why?

  How better to enforce slavery upon an identity than by destroying the body which it inhabited?

  Pain! Such pain as I had not believed could exist in a sane world. And in no way would my body obey me.

  "Cannot—can never now—"

  The message reaching me was erratic, such as a faulty line of communication would make.

  "Leave—come—come—come!"

  "Where? For what purpose?"

  "Life force—life force! Live again—come!"

  I made the great effort of my life, trying to cut off the pain of my body, to center all my energy and will on that which was the core of my identity.

  "Come—your body dies—come!"

  Thereby that which called made its grave error. All living things have a fear of being blotted out, of nonexistence. It is part of our armor, to keep us ever alert against evil, knowing that we have a certain way to walk and that how we walk it judges us on Molaster's scales. We do not give up easily. But also the White Road has no terrors for the Thassa, if the time has come for us to step onto its way. This which had entrapped me played upon the fear of nonexistence, as if those with whom it had had earlier dealings could visualize no other life beyond what men call death. Thus it would readily gain what it wanted by offering life continuation quickly at the moment when that death approached.

  "Come!" Urgency in that. "Would you be nothing?"

  So I read its great need. My identity was not what it wished to take to itself, nor did it seek another's body. For to it its own covering was a treasure it clung to. No, it wanted my life force as a kind of fuel that, drawing upon this force, it might live again on its own terms.

  "Maelen! Maelen, where are you?"

  "Come!"

  "Maelen!"

  Two voices in my head, and the pain rising again! Molaster! I gave my own cry for help, trying not to hear either of those other calls. And there came an answer—not the White Road, no. That I could have if I willed it. But such a choice would endanger another plan. That was made clear to me as if I had been lifted once more to the cliff crest and a vast scene of action spread before me. What I saw then I could not remember, even as I looked upon it. But that it was needful, I knew. And also I understood that I must struggle to fulfill my part in that purpose.

  "Come!" No coaxing, no promises now—just an order delivered as if it could not possibly be disobeyed. "Come now!"

  But I answered that other call of my name, sent my own plea.

  "Here—hurry!" How I might carry out the needful task I did not know. Much would depend now upon the skill and resources of another.

  I could not make the glassia body obey me or even give me sight. To keep my mind clear, I had to block off all five senses lest pain drive me completely forth. But my mind—that much I had—for a space.

  "Krip!" Whether he was still on the cliff top or beside me, I had no means of knowing. Only I must reach him and give him this last message or all would fail. "Krip—this body—I think it is too badly broken —it is dying. But it must not die yet. If you can get it into stass-freeze—You must! That box with the sleeper—get me to that—

  I could not even wait for any answer to my message. I must just hold grimly, as long as I could. And how long that might be—only Molaster could set limit to.

  It was a strange hidden place where that which was the real "I"—Maelen of the Thassa, Moon Singer once, glassia once—held and drew upon all inner resources. Did that other still batter at my defenses, crying "Come, come—live"? I did not know. I dared not think of anything save holding fast to this small stronghold which was under attack. Weaker grew my hold so that at times the pain struck in great punishing blows. Then I tried only to form the words of singing, which I had not done since they took away my wand. And the words were like dim, glowing coals where once they had been leaping flames of light. Yet still there was a feeble life in them and they sustained me, damping out the pain.r />
  There was no time in this place—or else far too much of it. I assured myself, "I can hold one more instant, and one more, and one more"—and so it continued. Whether Krip could accomplish that which would save me, orif it would save me—But I must think of nothing save the need to hold on, to keep my identity in this hidden place. I must hold and hold and hold!

  But I could no longer—Molaster! Great were the powers once given me, much did I increase them by training. But there comes an end to all—and that faces me now. I have lost, I cannot remember that pattern of life which I was shown. Though I know its importance and know that not by the will of the Great Design was it interrupted for me. Yet it would seem that I have not the strength to finish out my part of it. I—cannot—hold—

  Pain rushed in as a great scarlet wave to drown me.

  "Maelen!"

  One voice only now. Had that other given up? But I thought that even yet, were I to yield, it would sweep me into its web.

  "Maelen!"

  "Freeze—" I could shape only that one last plea. And so futile, so hopeless a one it was. There came no answer.

  None—save that the pain grew less, now almost bearable. And I had not been cut free from the body. What—

  "Maelen!"

  I was in the body still. Though I did not command it, yet it served as an anchor. And there was a freedom from that pressure which had been upon me. As if the process of my "death" had been arrested, and I was to be given a short breathing space.

  "Maelen!" Imperative, imploring—that call.

  I summoned up the dregs of my energy.

  "Krip—freeze—"

  "Yes, Maelen. You are in the case—the case of the alien. Maelen—what—"

  So—he had done it. He had taken that last small chance and it was the right one. But I had no time for rejoicing, not now. I must let him know the final answer.

  "Keep freeze—Old Ones—Yiktor—"

  My hold on consciousness, if one could term that state of rigid defense "consciousness," broke. Did I walk the White Road now? Or was there still a place for me in the great pattern?

  Chapter Thirteen

  KRIP VORLUND

  The wind could not reach fully here, still my hands were numb. I watched the box. How I had ever mastered its catches, opened it long enough to pull out the body it had contained and put the broken, limp, bloodied bundle of fur in its place, I did not know. I shook with shock more than with chill, weak with the effort of transporting what had been Maelen across the rocky way, sure that she—that no living thing could survive such handling in the state I found her after that terrible fall. Yet she had lived, she was in freeze now. And I swore she would get to Yiktor— to the Old Ones—that she was not going to die! Though how I might do this I did not know.

  I edged around. There stood theLydis far below, the two flitters. No sign of life about them. Something else lay here, among the rocks. I stared, and my shudders grew worse. The alien I had pulled so hastily from the freeze box—

  But no body lay there—only a crumbling mass. I covered my eyes. Lukas had said it was dead, and his words were being proved now. Not that it mattered—nothing did, save Maelen. And the warning which must be delivered. Harkon, Lidj—were they still men or—And who else? All those who had gone out against an enemy infinitely stronger than we had suspected?

  I put out my hand to the freeze box as gently as I might have laid it on a furred head.

  "I cannot take you with me now," I thought. Perhaps I could still reach her, perhaps not. But I had to try to make her understand that I was not deserting her. "I shall be back—and you shall see Yiktor, the Old Ones—live again. I swear it!"

  Then I set about wedging that box even more tightly among the rocks, making very sure that it could not be shifted by any freak of wind or storm. If she was safe now, that covering must endure until I could fulfill my promise.

  Having done what I could to ensure her protection, I descended through the lashing of wind and sleet to the floor of the valley. Reaching there, I used my wrist com, clicking out the code which ought to open theLydis to me, waiting tensely for some sign that the call had been heard within the ship.

  My answer came, not from the ship, but out of the night. A flash beam cut the black, pinned me against the rock wall of the cliff. Jacks—they had beaten me here!

  I was so dazzled by that ray that I could not see who was behind it, though I believed they were moving in for the kill. I had no weapon now. Then someone stepped out into the light beam and I saw the uniform. Patrol! Only now that could be no reassurance either. Not since I had seen Harkon and Lidj in the cavern and knew what walked in Griss's body.

  I tried to read in his face whether he was what he seemed or one of the enemy, but there was no clue in either eyes or expression. He motioned with his hand. The howling of the wind was far too loud to allow speech, but his gesture was toward theLydis . Then the beam flashed downward, pointing a path to the ship, the upper edge of it catching the slow descent of the ramp. I went.

  TheLydis had been my home for years, and I had felt privileged that that was so. But now, as I climbed her ramp, using handholds to drag myself up against the sweep of the wind, it was as if I approached something alien, with a whiff of trap about it. It could be just that, if the contagion of the aliens had spread this far.

  I found myself sniffing as I came through the lock, the Patrolman behind me, as if I could actually scent that alien evil I feared to find here. But there was only the usual smell of a star ship. I began to climb the ladder to the control cabin. What would I find there?

  "Vorlund!"

  Captain Foss. And beyond him a Patrol officer with the stellar sword badge of a commander. Others— Though it was on Foss I centered my attention. If it was Foss. How could I be sure? What might have happened during that endless time I wandered under ground? I did not answer but only stared at him, searching his face for any hint that he was not the man I knew.

  Then one of the Patrolmen who had followed me up the ladder took me by the arm, turned me a little as if I were totally helpless, and pushed me down into the astrogator's chair, which swung as my weight settled in it. I dared to try mind-probe—for I had to know if there was yet time.

  "Youare Foss!" My voice sounded thin, hardly above a whisper.

  Then I saw his expression change, recognized that slight lift of one brow—something I had seen many times in the past.

  "You were expecting someone else?" he asked.

  "One of them." I was near to babbling, suddenly so tired, so drained of energy. "Like Griss—one of them—inside your body."

  No one spoke. Had I said that at all, or only thought it?

  Then the captain turned to the emergency dispenser on the wall, twirled its dial, brought out a sustain tube. He came over to me. I tried to raise my hand to take that restorative. My body would not obey. He held it to my mouth and I drank. The stuff was hot, fighting the chill and shaking weariness in me.

  "One of them—inside my body?" he said as if that were the most natural condition. "Perhaps you had better explain."

  "Back there." I gestured to the wall of theLydis , hoping I was indicating the direction of the burrows. "Aliens. They can take over our bodies. They did with Griss. He's—he's in the alien body now—behind a wall. He—" I shut out that memory of Griss imprisoned in the motionless body wearing the reptilian crown. "I think maybe Lidj, Harkon, too. They were too much at ease there in the cavern, as if they had nothing to fear. Maybe others—They tried to do it with me—didn't work. The alien was angry, said I was dangerous—to put me in the dark—Then I found Maelen."

  Maelen! In that freeze box—on the cliff. Maelen!

  "What about Maelen?" Foss had taken the pilot's seat so that his eyes were now on a level with mine. He sat forward, and his hands took mine from where they lay limp, holding them in a firm, warm grip. "What happened to Maelen?"

  I sensed a stir, as if the Patrol officer moved closer. Foss frowned, not at me.

>   "What about Maelen, Krip?"

  "She fell—onto the rocks—all broken. Dying—she was dying! Told me—must freeze—freeze until I could get her home, back to Yiktor. I took her—all broken, broken—" I tried to sever the compelling stare with which he held me, to forget that nightmare of a journey, but he would not let me. "Took her to the alien—opened the box—took the alien's body out—put her in. She was still alive—then."

  "These aliens." Foss's voice was level, clear. He held me by it as well as by the grip on my hands and wrists. "Do you know who they are?"

  "Lukas said dead—a long time. But they are esper. And the crowned ones are not dead. Bodies—they want bodies! Griss, for sure, maybe the others. There are four of them—I saw—counting the woman."

  "He doesn't make sense!" cut in an impatient voice.

  Again Foss frowned in warning. "Where are these bodies?"

  "Underground—passages—rooms. The jacks have a camp—in a cavern—ship outside. They were looting —rooms with chests." Memories made dizzy, whirling pictures in my head. I had a bitter taste in my mouth as if the restorative was rising now to choke me.

  "Where?"

  "Beyond the cache. I got in through the cat's mouth." I tried to control that nausea, to remain coherent. "Passage there. But they—Griss—can hold men with thought alone. If the rest are like him, you have no chance. Never met an esper like him before, not even Thassa. Maelen thought they could not take me over because I am part Thassa now. But they did take me prisoner—Griss did—just by willing it. They used a tangler on me after."

  "Korde." Foss gave a swift order. "Scrambler on—highest frequency!"

  "Yes, sir!"

  Scrambler, I thought vaguely—scrambler? Oh, yes, defense against probes. But would it work against the thing in Griss's body?

  "About the others." The Patrol commander had moved around behind Foss. "Where are the others— my men—yours?"