Captives of the Flame

by Samuel R. Delany

  CHAPTER I

  Silent as a sleeping serpent for sixty years, it spanned from the heartof Telphar to the royal palace of Toromon. From the ashes of the deadcity to the island capital, it connected what once had been the twomajor cities, the only cities of Toromon. Today there was only one.

  In Telphar, it soared above ashes and fallen roadways into the night.

  Miles on, the edge of darkness paled before the morning and in the faintshadow of the transit ribbon, at the edge of a field of lava, among thewhispering, yard-high ferns, sat row on row of squat shacks, cheerlessas roosting macaws. They stood near the entrance of the tetron mines.

  A few moments before, the light rain had stopped. Water dribbled downthe supporting columns of the transit ribbon which made a black band onthe fading night.

  Now, six extraordinarily tall men left the edge of the jungle. Theycarried two corpses among them. Two of the tall men hung back toconverse.

  "The third one won't get very far."

  "If he does," said the other, "he'll be the first one to get through theforest guards in twelve years."

  "I'm not worried about his escaping," said the first. "But why havethere been such an increase in attempts over the past year?"

  The other one laughed. Even in the dull light, the three scars that randown the side of his face and neck were visible. "The orders for tetronhave nearly doubled."

  "I wonder just what sort of leeches in Toron make their living off thesemiserable--" He didn't finish, but pointed ahead to the corpses.

  "The hydroponic growers, the aquarium manufacturers," answered the manwith the scars. "They're the ones who use the ore. Then, of course,there's the preparation for the war."

  "They say that since the artificial food growers have taken over, thefarmers and fishermen near the coast are being starved out. And with theincreased demand for tetron, the miners are dying off like flies here atthe mine. Sometimes I wonder how they supply enough prisoners."

  "They don't," said the other. Now he called out. "All right. Just dropthem there, in front of the cabins."

  The rain had made the ground mud. Two dull splashes came through thegraying morning. "Maybe that'll teach them some sort of lesson," saidthe first.

  "Maybe," shrugged the one with the scars.

  Now they turned back toward the jungle.

  * * * * *

  Soon, streaks of light speared the yellow clouds and pried apart thebillowing rifts. Shafts of yellow sank into the lush jungles of Toromon,dropping from wet, green fronds, or catching on the moist cracks ofboulders. Then the dawn snagged on the metal ribbon that arced over thetrees, and webs of shadow from the immense supporting pylons fell acrossthe few, gutted lava beds that dotted the forest.

  A formation of airships flashed through a tear in the clouds like ahandful of hurled, silver chips. As the buzz from their tetron motorsdescended through the trees, Quorl, the forest guard, stretched hisseven-foot body and rolled over, crushing leaves beneath his shoulder.Instinctively his stomach tensed. But silence had returned. With large,yellow-brown eyes, he looked about the grove in which he had spent thenight. His broad nostrils flared even wider. But the air was still,clean, safe. Above, the metal ribbon glinted. Quorl lay back on thedried leaves once more.

  * * * * *

  As dawn slipped across the jungle, more and more of the ribbon caughtfire from beneath the receding shadows, till at last it soared above theyellow crescent of sand that marked the edge of the sea.

  Fifty yards down the beach from the last supporting pylon whose basestill sat on dry land, Cithon, the fisherman, emerged from his shack.

  "Tel?" he called. He was a brown, wiry man whose leathery face wasnetted with lines from sand and wind. "Tel?" he called once more. Now heturned back into the cottage. "And where has the boy gotten off to now?"

  Grella had already seated herself at the loom, and her strong hands nowbegan to work the shuttle back and forth while her feet stamped thetreadle.

  "Where has he gone?" Cithon demanded.

  "He went out early this morning," Grella said quietly. She did not lookat her husband. She watched the shuttle moving back and forth, back andforth between the green and yellow threads.

  "I can see he's gone out," Cithon snapped. "But where? The sun is up. Heshould be out with me on the boat. When will he be back?"

  Grella didn't answer.

  "When will he be back?" Cithon demanded.

  "I don't know."

  Outside there was a sound, and Cithon turned abruptly and went to theside of the shack.

  The boy was leaning over the water trough, sloshing his face.

  "Tel."

  The boy looked up quickly at his father. He was perhaps fourteen, a thinchild, with a shock of black hair, yet eyes as green as the sea. Fearhad widened them now.

  "Where were you?"

  "No place," was the boy's quietly defensive answer. "I wasn't doinganything."

  "Where were you?"

  "No place," Tel mumbled again. "Just walking...."

  Suddenly Cithon's hand, which had been at his waist jerked up and thendown, and the leather strap that had been his belt slashed over theboy's wet shoulder.

  The only sound was a sudden intake of breath.

  "Now get down to the boat."

  Inside the shack, the shuttle paused in Grella's fist the length of adrawn breath. Then it shot once more between the threads.

  * * * * *

  Down the beach, the transit ribbon leapt across the water. Light shookon the surface of the sea like flung diamonds, and the ribbon above wasdull by comparison.

  Dawn reached across the water till at last the early light fell on theshore of an island. High in the air, the ribbon gleamed above the busypiers and the early morning traffic of the wharf. Behind the piers, thetowers of the City were lanced with gold, and as the sun rose, goldlight dropped further down the building faces.

  On the boardwalk, two merchants were talking above the roar oftetron-powered winches and chuckling carts.

  "It looks like your boat's bringing in a cargo of fish," said the stoutone.

  "It could be fish. It could be something else," answered the other.

  "Tell me, friend," asked the portly one, whose coat was of cut and clothexpensive enough to suggest his guesses were usually right, "why do youtrouble to send your boat all the way to the mainland to buy from thelittle fishermen there? My aquariums can supply the City with all thefood it needs."

  The other merchant looked down at the clip-board of inventory slips.

  "Perhaps my clientele is somewhat different from yours."

  The first merchant laughed. "You sell to the upper families of the City,who still insist on the doubtful superiority of your importeddelicacies. Did you know, my friend, I am superior in every way to you?I feed more people, so what I produce is superior to what you produce. Icharge them less money, and so I am financially more benevolent thanyou. I make more money than you do, so I am also financially superior.Also, later this morning my daughter is coming back from the university,and this evening I will give her a party so great and so lavish that shewill love me more than any daughter has ever loved a father before."

  Here the self-satisfied merchant laughed again, and turned down thewharf to inspect a cargo of tetron ore that was coming in from themainland.

  As the merchant of imported fish turned up another inventory slip,another man approached him. "What was old Koshar laughing about?" heasked.

  "He was gloating over his good fortune in backing that hairbrainedaquarium idea. He was also trying to make me jealous of his daughter.He's giving her a party tonight to which I am no doubt invited; but theinvitation will come late this afternoon with no time for me to replyproperly."

  The other man shook his head. "He's a proud man. But you can bring himto his place. Next time he mentions his daughter, ask him about his son,and watch the shame storm into his face."

 
; "He may be proud," said the other, "but I am not cruel. Why should Imove to hurt him? Time takes care of her own. This coming war will see."

  "Perhaps," said the other merchant. "Perhaps."

  * * * * *

  Once over the island city of Toron, capital of Toromon, the transitribbon breaks from its even course and bends among the towers, weavesamong the elevated highways, till finally it crosses near a wide splashof bare concrete, edged with block-long aircraft hangars. Severalairships had just arrived, and at one of the passenger gates the peoplewaiting for arrivals crowded closely to the metal fence.

  Among them was one young man in military uniform. A brush of red hair,eyes that seemed doubly dark in his pale face, along with a squat,taurine power in his legs and shoulders; these were what struck you inthe swift glance. A close look brought you the incongruity of themajor's insignia and his obvious youth.

  He watched the passengers coming through the gate with more thanmilitary interest.

  Someone called, "Tomar!"

  And he turned, a grin leaping to his face.

  "Tomar," she called again. "I'm over here."

  A little too bumptiously, he rammed through the crowd until at last healmost collided with her. Then he stopped, looking bewildered and happy.

  "Gee, I'm glad you came," she said. "Come on. You can walk me back tofather's." Her black hair fell close to broad, nearly orientalcheekbones. Then the smile on her first strangely, then attractivelypale mouth fell.

  Tomar shook his head, as they turned now, arm in arm, among the peoplewandering over the field.

  "No?" she asked. "Why not?"

  "I don't have time, Clea," he answered. "I had to sneak an hour off justto get here. I'm supposed to be back at the Military Ministry in fortyminutes. Hey, do you have any bags I can carry?"

  Clea held up a slide rule and a notebook. "I'm traveling light. In aweek I'll be back at the university for summer courses, so I didn'tbring any clothes. Wait a minute. You're not going to be too busy to getto the party Dad's giving me tonight, are you?"

  Tomar shrugged.

  Clea began a word, but pushed her tongue hard against the roof of hermouth. "Tomar?" she asked after a moment.

  "Yes?" He had a rough voice, which, when he was sad, took on theundertones of a bear's growl.

  "What's happening about the war? Will there really be one?"

  Again he shrugged. "More soldiers, more planes, and at the Ministrythere's more and more work to do. I was up before dawn this morninggetting a fleet of survey planes off for a scouting trip to the mainlandover the radiation barrier. If they come back this evening, I'll bebusy all night with the reports and I won't be able to make the party.

  "Oh," said Clea. "Tomar?"

  "Yes, Clea Koshar?"

  "Oh, don't be formal with me, please. You've been in the City longenough and known me long enough. Tomar, if the war comes, do you thinkthey'll draft prisoners from the tetron mines into the army?"

  "They talk about it."

  "Because my brother...."

  "I know," said Tomar.

  "And if a prisoner from the mines distinguished himself as a soldier,would he be freed at the end of the war? They wouldn't send him back tothe mines, would they?"

  "The war hasn't even begun yet," said Tomar. "No one knows how it willend."

  "You're right," she said, "as usual." They reached the gate. "Look,Tomar, I don't want to keep you if you're busy. But you've got topromise to come see me and spend at least an afternoon before I go backto school."

  "If the war starts, you won't be going back to school."

  "Why not?"

  "You already have your degree in theoretical physics. Now you're onlydoing advanced work. Not only will they conscript prisoners from themines, but all scientists, engineers, and mathematicians will have tolend their efforts to the cause as well."

  "I was afraid of that," Clea said. "You believe the war will actuallycome, don't you, Tomar?"

  "They get ready for it night and day," Tomar said. "What is there tostop it? When I was a boy on my father's farm on the mainland, there wastoo much work, and no food. I was a strong boy, with a strong boy'sstomach. I came to the City and I took my strength to the army. Now Ihave work that I like. I'm not hungry. With the war, there will be workfor a lot more people. Your father will be richer. Your brother may comeback to you, and even the thieves and beggars in the Devil's Pot willhave a chance to do some honest work."

  "Perhaps," said Clea. "Look, like I said, I don't want to keep you--Imean I do, but. Well, when will you have some time?"

  "Probably tomorrow afternoon."

  "Fine," said Clea. "We'll have a picnic then, all right?"

  Tomar grinned. "Yes," he said. "Yes." He took both her hands, and shesmiled back at him. Then he turned away, and was gone through the crowd.

  Clea watched a moment, and then turned toward the taxi stand. The sunwas beginning to warm the air as she pushed into the shadow of the greattransit ribbon that soared above her between the towers.

  * * * * *

  Buildings dropped bands of shadow across the ribbon, as it wound throughthe city, although occasional streaks of light from an eastward streetstill made silver half-rings around it. At the center of the city itraised a final two hundred feet and entered the window of the laboratorytower in the west wing of the royal palace of Toron.

  The room in which the transit ribbon ended was deserted. At the end ofthe metal band was a transparent crystal sphere, fifteen feet indiameter which hovered above the receiving platform. A dozen smalltetron units of varying sizes sat around the room. The viewing screenswere dead gray. On a control panel by one ornate window, a bank offorty-nine scarlet-knobbed switches pointed to off. The metal catwalksthat ran over the receiving platform were empty.

  In another room of the palace, however, someone was screaming.

  "Tetron!"

  "... if your Highness would only wait a moment to hear the report,"began the aged minister, "I believe...."

  "Tetron!"

  "... you would understand the necessity," he continued in an amazinglycalm voice, "of disturbing you at such an ungodly hour ..."

  "I never want to hear the word tetron again!"

  "... of the morning."

  "Go away, Chargill; I'm sleeping!" King Uske, who had just turnedtwenty-one though he had been the official ruler of Toromon since theage of seven, jammed his pale blond head beneath three over-stuffedpillows that lay about the purple silken sheets of his bed. With onetoo-slender hand he sought feebly around for the covers to hide himselfcompletely.

  The old minister quietly picked up the edge of the ermine-rimmedcoverlet and held it out of reach. After several half-hearted swipes,the pale head emerged once more and asked in a coldly quiet voice,"Chargill, why is it that roads have been built, prisoners have beenreprieved, and traitors have been disemboweled at every hour of theafternoon and evening without anyone expressing the least concern forwhat I thought? Now, suddenly, at--" Uske peered at the jewel-crustedchronometer by his bed in which a shimmering gold light fixed the hour,"--my God, ten o'clock in the morning! Why must I suddenly be consultedat every little twist and turn of empire?"

  "First," explained Chargill, "you are now of age. Secondly, we are aboutto enter a war, and in times of stress, responsibility is passed to thetop, and you, sir, are in the unfortunate position."

  "Why can't we have a war and get it over with?" said Uske, rolling overto face Chargill and becoming a trifle more amenable. "I'm tired of allthis idiocy. You don't think I'm a very good king, do you?" The youngman sat up and planted his slender feet as firmly as possible on thethree-inch thick fur rug. "Well, if we had a war," he continued,scratching his stomach through his pink sateen pajama top, "I'd ride inthe first line of fire, in the most splendid uniform imaginable, andlead my soldiers to a _sweeping_ victory." At the word sweeping, hethrew himself under the covers.

  "Commendable sentiment," stated Chargill
dryly. "And seeing that theremay just be a war before the afternoon arrives, why don't you listen tothe report, which merely says that another scouting flight of planeshas been crippled trying to observe the enemy just beyond the tetronmines over the radiation barrier."

  "Let me continue it for you. No one knows how the planes have beencrippled, but the efficacy of their methods has lead the council tosuggest that we consider the possibility of open war even more strongly.Isn't this more or less what the reports have been for weeks?"

  "It is," replied Chargill.

  "Then why bother me. Incidentally, must we really go to that imbecilicparty for that stupid fish-peddler's daughter this evening? And talkabout tetron as little as possible, please."

  "I need not remind you," went on the patient Chargill, "that this stupidfish-peddler has amassed a fortune nearly as large as that in the royaltreasury--though I doubt if he is aware of the comparison--through theproper exploitation of the unmentionable metal. If there is a war, andwe should need to borrow funds, it should be done with as much good willas possible. Therefore, you will attend his party to which he has sokindly invited you."

  "Listen a minute, Chargill," said Uske. "And I'm being serious now. Thiswar business is completely ridiculous, and if you expect me to take itseriously, then the council is going to have to take it seriously. Howcan we have a war with whatever is behind the radiation barrier? Wedon't know anything about it. Is it a country? Is it a city? Is it anempire? We don't even know if it's got a name. We don't know how they'vecrippled our scouting planes. We can't monitor any radio communication.Of course we couldn't do that anyway with the radiation barrier. Wedon't even know if it's people. One of our silly planes gets its tetron(Pardon me. If you can't say it, I shouldn't say it either.) deviceknocked out and a missile hurled at it. Bango! The council says war.Well, I refuse to take it seriously. Why do we keep on wasting planesanyway? Why not send a few people through the transit ribbon to do somespying?"

  Chargill looked amazed.

  "Before we instituted the penal mines, and just after we annexed theforest people, the transit ribbon was built. Correct? Now, where does itgo?"

  "Into the dead city of Telphar," answered Chargill.

  "Exactly. And Telphar was not at all dead when we built it, sixty yearsago. The radiation hadn't progressed that far. Well, why not send spiesinto Telphar and from there, across the barrier and into enemyterritory. Then they can come back and tell us everything." Uske smiled.

  "Of course your Majesty is joking." Chargill smiled. "May I remind yourMajesty that the radiation level in Telphar today is fatal to humanbeings. Completely fatal. The enemy seems to be well beyond the barrier.Only recently, with the great amount of tetron--eh, excuse me--comingfrom the mines have we been able to develop planes that can perhaps goover it. And that, when and if we can do it, is the only way."

  Uske had started out smiling. It turned to a giggle. Then to a laugh.Suddenly he cried out and threw himself down on the bed. "Nobody listensto me! Nobody takes any of my suggestions!" He moaned and stuck his headunder the pillows. "No one does anything but contradict me. Go away. Getout. Let me sleep."

  Chargill sighed and withdrew from the royal bedchamber.