Bayley, Barrington J - Novel 10 (17 page)

 
          
"I
shall do what's required," Archier said slowly, "but this is a war
fleet. I haven't any real scientists with me, unless there are some among the
passengers."

           
"Yes, well I hadn't quite
finished explaining. We have others working on the scientific aspects of the
problem. Your role is military. I said there was nothing but the Simplex on the
other side, didn't I? That isn't strictly true. There's some very strange stuff
or entities or something coming through the rent, investing planets and causing
chaos. We're being invaded from another facet, in other words."

 
          
"Then
it's true!" Arctus trumpeted, forgetting his place. "There
are
other facets!"

 
          
"Of
course," the mouse said in a measured, only slightly squeaky voice.
"What else?"

 
          
"For
the first time since its foundation," Oblescu put in, "the Empire
faces an external rather than an internal threat. You'd think that would be
enough to pull it together. Instead ..." He trailed off.

 
          
"There's
been an odd happening here too," Archier said. He explained about Earth's
moon. "Do you think there's any connection?" he finished.

 
          
Crane
nodded gravely. "There has to be. There isn't any other explanation.
Still, I'm surprised. This is so much further away than any of the other
phenomena we've heard about."

 
          
"The
influence is spreading," Oblescu said.

 
          
"You
call it an invasion," Archier commented, "but is it really that? What
is
taking place, exactly?"

 
          
"Information
is vague. We don't think what's coming through is even matter in the way we
understand it. It's not even composed of atoms. That would make sense, wouldn't
it? Other facets wouldn't necessarily have the same composition as our
own."

 
          
Archier
brooded. "I'm at something of a loss. My previous orders also had some
urgency. The Oracle says there's a weapon here in Escoria capable of destroying
the Empire. Perhaps that's more important."

 
          
"Oh
yes, we're supposed to tell you the Oracle has made two more pronouncements
concerning the supposed 'weapon.'
It
has been there a long time,
and
It
has been disregarded, because it is small.
Make
of it what you will. The Council wants you to give priority to the space rent
thing. But as I said, since you're in Condition Autonomy—
_:
"

 
          
"I'll
do as the Council says, of course," Archier said curtly. "Just as
long as they are aware of what my previous orders were."

           
"Yes. Look, do you mind if we
rest up on the flagship for a few hours? Then we'll make off on the Barge
again, and find some little retreat for ourselves."

 
          
Archier
was puzzled. "You're not going back to Diadem? Don't you want to do what
you can to help the Empire?"

 
          
"I've
already told you, we're not trusted! We've been dismissed! They wouldn't even
have given us this little job if it had had any political overtones."

 
          
"I
see. Well, my adjutant will take you to some staterooms."

 
          
Crane
rose. He and Oblescu sauntered to the door, followed by the mouse. Before he
left, Crane turned casually.

 
          
"If
you make a good job of this, young feller, I dare say you'll receive promotion
when a new High Command is put together. How do you fancy being an Admiral
Overlord, eh?"

 
          
He
laughed. But Archier could not raise a smile.

 
          
When
he informed his command staff of developments, Archier was met mainly with
stunned silence.
Gruwert,
however became excited.

 
          
"
'It
has been disregarded, because it is small,'
"
he repeated. "Now there's something to think on! You know what
this means? The 'weapon' isn't a weapon at all! If it were a
small
weapon, it couldn't destroy an
empire, that's obvious. And
'It has been
there a long time'.
What are the most dangerous things, politically,
sometimes lying dormant for centuries?
Ideas,
of course! What we are faced with is a political idea that's about to burst
forth and give us trouble. Pre-emptive annihilation is the best way to deal
with a threat like that!"

 
          
"Do
you mean of all Escoria?" The image of a giraffe, relayed from
The Peaceful Star,
turned to him in
Archier's conference room.

 
          
"Certainly,
if we can't track it down and stamp it out any other way."

 
          
"Actually,
the rumoured weapon has become a secondary consideration," Archier said,
surprised by the Fire Command Officer's reaction. "Don't you think we
should address ourselves first to the invasion from the Simplex?"

 
          
The
pig snuffled in what sounded like annoyance. "We should take no notice of
it," he said finally. "It's a natural phenomenon, like an earthquake
or a star blowing. What can we do about that?"

           
Gruwert wasn't able to grasp the
significance of it, Archier realised. Like all animals, he lacked the
imagination. Only the humans present seemed really frightened.

 
          
"Perhaps,
but we're going to have to forget about our task here in Escoria for the time
being," he said. "The Imperial Council takes the space rent even more
seriously, and therefore so shall we."

 
          
"Wait
a minute!" Gruwert objected furiously. "What about apprehending
rebels? There's one on Earth just waiting to be nabbed! We can't just move off
and let him go free! It isn't competent!"

 
          
Archier
reflected. "You're probably right. In any case, not all the fleet has
reported in yet. We shan't be ready to move for several hours." He turned
to Brigadier Carson of the Drop Commando. "You may make a drop. But be
back in ten hours or less."

 
          
The
last he heard, as he switched off the conference room, was Gruwert lustily
pleading with Carson to let him accompany the mission.

 
          
To
Pout
, the moving city had been a disappointment. Mo,
the city mind, had insisted on bombarding him with boring lectures on subjects
he had no interest in. He had found the Mohists themselves irritatingly
difficult to have fun with (and, mindful of the ever-watchful Mo, he had
refrained from enslaving any of them with his
zen
gun). Also, he could feel his grip on his own little group weakening. So,
calling them together (this had entailed a few electric prods-at-a-distance) he
had decided to leave. Sadly he had been unable to find the girl Hesper, and if
he had it would not have been much use—she was not yet under his spell.

 
          
The
best thing, he told himself, was to get off this planet altogether. He toiled
along now on the hills above the plain, wondering how to find a spaceport. The
brothers said there was one to the south somewhere. The
kosho
would probably know—but Pout had learned already that he
couldn't look to him for information. The warrior ignored all his attempts to
converse.

 
          
The
sun was hot, and Pout, when he glanced up and saw the glint in the sky, took it
for a bird or a passing aircraft. Then, as it grew like a stone falling with
terrible swiftness, he stopped while the others bunched up behind him.

 
          
The
big metal shape didn't seem to slow down at all as it fell. It hit the
landscape with an audible thump less than half a mile away, sending up a cloud
of dust, then squatted undamaged, banging open wedge-like doors out of which poured
a yelping pack of about twenty variegated figures— dogs, hyenas and cheetahs in
dazzling harness and all shouting in human voices, one or two humans in
bulging armour that made them look like shining robots; and, waddling to one
side, encased in some sort of cloth of gold, a fat pig that sniffed and looked
about him.

 
          
The
carnivores all raced to and fro in intense excitement, waiting for orders.
"Oh no,"
,quavered
the eldest brother behind
Pout.
"Empire Commando!"

 
          
"What?"
Pout knew of these much-feared shock troops, and terror struck him. But he
pulled himself together. "Don't worry! You're safe with me!"

 
          
He
drew the
zen
gun.
Kill,
kill,
he thought.
Kill, kill,
kill
.
He was sure the gun could deal with all of them.
He pressed the stud that he had learned intensified the electric stitch beam,
whether to hurt, maim or kill. He pointed the muzzle and pressed the firing
stud.

 
          
The
wavery stitching was much weaker than he had expected. It probed towards the
noisy pack, raked across the body of a dog which howled and squirmed on the
ground, firing its weapons at random.

 
          
Then
it went out!

 
          
Pout
gaped. He pressed the intensifier stud again, squeezed the firing stud, thought
of killing as hard as he could.

 
          
Nothing
happened. The
zen
gun was not working!

 
          
Had
its power pack run out? He had never even considered that it might have an
exhaustible power pack. It had seemed so marvellous, so personally
his,
that he had presumed it would keep
functioning as long as he kept functioning.

 
          
But
now one of the armoured humans, seeing one of the dogs fall, and seeing from
where the attack had come, raised an arm and pointed, bellowing a command. The
whole commando unit swept forward, fanning out to form a crescent that began
to sweep round Pout and his group.

 
          
He
began to tremble, and his voice rose to a warbling, panicky contralto.
"Kosho!
Defend me,
kosho!
I need you!"

 
          
Ikematsu
had been walking well to the rear, several paces even behind the laggard
Sinbiane. When the party came to a halt he had seated himself upon the ground
and entered into his customary suspended consciousness, apparently
disinterested in the nearby commando landing.

 
          
At
Pout's summons he rose, turning slowly to survey the scene. A few strides took
him in advance of Pout's frightened following and there he stood, still in
seeming trance, his eyes half closed, his face expressionless.

 
          
An
astonishing transformation came over his accoutrements. He did not move his
hands or raise his arms from his sides. But the rifles he carried in his rack
rose of their own volition, hovering around his head and shoulders. Partly they
were under his mental control, partly extensions of his nervous system and
knowing themselves what they should do. Selectively, they let loose a barrage
of fire. At his waist, his mortar tube began to lob grenades, picking out
patches of ground in flashes of green fire.

 
          
The
commandos opened fire too. The hovering rifles darted this way and that. Every
beam and missile, despatched from a variety of weapons, aimed at Pout's party
was intercepted by the defensive umbrella the
kosho
projected.

 
          
Suddenly
there was silence. Ikematsu had killed cheetahs; he had killed dogs; he had
killed hyenas. He had not killed either of the two humans or the pig; these
were high-ranking personages, and they gave the order now for the surviving
commandos to withdraw. They were amazed; they had never before seen a rifle
that could cancel out the energy beam from another rifle.

 
          
Gruwert
had scuttled back into the drop pod. He peered round the edge of the door.
"Who's that?" he demanded angrily. "We're fighting a single
man?"

 
          
"It
looks like a
kosho,"
Brigadier
Carson told him. He still stood on the ground, but had retreated to where it
was only a step to safety.
"An ancient mystical warrior
order.
They're only found on Earth. I'd heard they were pretty
remarkable, but this ..."

 
          
"What?
Why didn't anyone tell
me?
They
might be the weapon!"

 
          
"I
don't think so. They are forbidden to take sides in power politics."

 
          
Ruefully
Carson surveyed the scene before the pod. He had lost about half his animals.
The survivors, having withdrawn to the shadow of the pod, stood tense, noses
pointed to the
kosho.
A word from him
or Major Kastrillo, the only other human in the party, and they would bound
into action again totally disregardful of their own lives.

 
          
He
had no intention, however, of expending them needlessly. He was about to order
them back into the pod with a view to bombing the Earthites from the air when
the
kosho
came striding towards him.
The commando animals growled; he could see them focusing their skullguns.
Unperturbed, the
kosho
stopped a few
yards away.

 
          
"My
principal would request a cessation of hostilities," he said calmly.
"We have no interest in each other."

 
          
"You
killed my animals," Carson retorted hotly.

 
          
"You
attacked us."

           
"You
attacked first."

 
          
"True,"
the
kosho
replied equably. "My
principal was perturbed at your behaviour, which he believed presaged an
assault upon us. That, too, is my impression."

 
          
"What
is all this talk?" Gruwert squealed quietly to Carson. "Scan him to
dust—No, wait!"

 
          
A
new thought had struck the pig. Cautiously he descended to the ground.
"How would you like to have such fighters in your commando,
Brigadier?" he murmured. "These fellows could prove mighty
useful."

 
          
"But
the cooperation of a
kosho
is almost
impossible to acquire," Carson reminded him.

 
          
"Oh really?
But he isn't a free agent as it is. You
just heard him say he's acting under orders." Gruwert spoke up and
addressed the warrior. "Who is this principal of yours? Point him out to
me."

 
          
"He
is the manlike chimera who first fired on you."

 
          
"Bring
him here," Gruwert said, peering in Pout's direction. "We want to
talk to him."

 
          
"Under safe conduct?"

 
          
Major
Carson nodded.

 
          
Ikematsu
walked back to Pout. "Listen carefully," he said. "I have
defended your life and my obligation to you is over. But I will perform you one
more service, for a price.

 
          
"These
are fighters from Diadem, the centre of the Empire. You would like to leave
Earth and go to Diadem, would you not? Yes, I know you would. Above our heads
is a huge fleet with thousands of men and animals on board. Eventually it will
go to Diadem. I will talk to the officers from the fleet. I will persuade them
that they should take you with them.

 
          
"All
1 want in return is that gun you have."

 
          
"This gun?"
Hopefully Pout tendered the scangun he
had
taken from Hesper Positana.

 
          
"No, the other gun."

 
          
Pout's
ears twitched and his eyes widened pitifully.
The
kosho
had approached
the strangers without a word to him, leaving him bewildered and frightened. He
gazed down at the dead gun in his other hand,
then
clutched it to his chest.

 
          
"No!"
he mewled.
"My beautiful gun!
I won't give up my
gun!"

 
          
"It
does not even work any more."

 
          
"It
will
work!" Pout spat
desperately. "One day
it will
work!"

           
"Had I a mind I could kill you
here, for the harm and the hatred in you, and take the gun."

 
          
These
words frightened Pout and he dodged aside from Ikematsu to run towards the
armoured men and the animals standing by the big metal thing. He was less
afraid of them, at this moment, than he was of his onetime protector.

 
          
Balefully
the predators glared at him, but he ignored them and fell to his knees before
the two humans. "I am a nice animal!" he gasped. "I love the
Empire! Save me from those people!"

 
          
A
cheery voice came suddenly from inside the pod. "Now, now, what's all this
panic?"

 
          
The
men moved apart. Pout found himself staring into a fat-jowled pig face with
twinkling little eyes. "Things are getting confusing," Gruwert
remarked. "Tell me, is it not you who is supposed to be the, er,
master
of that
kosho
over there?"

 
          
"Yes,
yes, I am," babbled Pout.

 
          
"Now
there's an odd thing in itself. He looks pure human to me, and you . . . well,
what
are
you exactly?"

 
          
A
hint of pride came into Pout's voice. "I am a chimera of every primate
species, sir." He spoke respectfully, realizing he was in the presence of
authority. Indeed, something about the pig's manner reminded him of the role of
Torth Nascimento in the museum . . .

 
          
Gruwert
waddled from the pod once more. He raised his snout and sniffed the air with a
loud snuffling sound.
"Really?
Now that
is
interesting. They say this is the
planet we all came from.
The old Earth herself, cradle of our
biota.
Just the place, one might think, to find something
unusual,
shall we say? Well, citizen—you
are
a citizen, aren't you? Of course
you are: a citizen of the second class, like
myself
.
Now citizen, we didn't mean you any harm. We spotted your group from up in
space and decided to talk to you, that's basically it. It seems we gave you a
fright—our commandos
are
a bit rough,
I admit! But you see, there has been much wickedness in this sector and it's
our business to deal with it. You wouldn't believe it, but there are criminals
in Escoria who are against the Empire and want to plunge us all back into
barbarism. We are looking for one who landed in this region a few days ago.
It's very bare country hereabouts, so maybe you can help us?" Gruwert's
tone hardened. "Where is he?"