We came to the foot of the ramp and there they
bid me stand, ringing me in, their weapons ready. The man awaiting
us came several paces farther down to study me in slow
appraisal.
He was from one of the old worlds, those first colonized.
Generations living under alien conditions had given him differences
of physique which were noticeable at more than the first glance.
His body, under the coverall with the Captain’s shooting star
on its standing collar, was thin and lank, his skin dark even
beneath the space tan; but his eyes and hair were even more
indicative of mutation from the parent stock. The hair, of
necessity worn very short to accommodate a helmet, was more blue
than gray, thick, and it grew in straight, short spikes. His eyes
were a brilliant blue-green, larger than ordinary, and with double
eyelids, one almost transparent against the ball, the other,
heavier, fitting over it. He visibly lifted both to view me, but I
think that the sunlight bothered him, as he quickly dropped the
inner ones.
But—I knew him! Not by name, but from the past. Whether the
recognition would be mutual, I did not know. I hoped not. This man
had visited my father’s shop, had been one of those escorted
into the inner room, exiting through the private door. He had not
worn a Captain’s tunic then, nor aught to suggest he was a
ship’s officer. In fact his hair had then been long enough to
brush the outsized, wing-padded shoulders of his foppish tunic—the elegance of an inner-planet dandy.
That he was of the Guild I did not now doubt. But would he know
me for Jern’s son? And if I were recognized, could such a
relationship be useful to me?
I was not to be left long in doubt on either point. He advanced
another step and then laughed, raised his hand to his mouth, and
made a vee with his two fingers, through which he spat deliberately
right and left.
“By the Lips and Limbs of Sorelle Herself! After this day
will I burn farn leaves to Her in any shrine I see! That which was
lost is found. And see, boys, that it be not lost again. Murdoc
Jern—how did you get here? I will believe any tale you spin me
after this.”
The three guarding me stirred and moved in, making very sure
that I was not going to disappear—or even have a chance to
attempt escape. I had only my role of late plague victim left.
Aside from that, I would use as much of the truth as could be
checked if later they set a scanner on me.
I allowed my mouth to hang open a little, and wavered as if I
kept my feet only through an exhausting effort.
“Do—do not kill me! The fever—it is gone—I am whole
now—”
“Fever?”
“Look at him, Captain,” my captor urged. “He
is two colors—best take care—”
“You, Jern, hold your head up! Let us see—”
I swayed back and forth. They were still afraid of coming too
close. The terror of plague deflated the toughest starman when he
faced it.
“I am—am clean—” I repeated. “They put me off
in an LB—but now I am well—I swear it.”
The Captain palmed his com and spoke into it with a snap in that
tongue that was not Basic. We waited in silence until a second man
came running lightly out on the ramp. He held before him a small
box, from which extended a length of slender cable, ending in a
disc not unlike a hand com. I knew it for a portable diagnostic.
The ship was apparently very well equipped.
Advancing within touching distance of me, the medico swung his
search disc in careful examination, his eyes ever on the indicators
of the box.
“Well?” It was plain the Captain found this
interruption irritating.
“He is clean, by what we can judge. There is always the
possibility though—”
“To what point?” pressed his commander.
“The hundreth perhaps. Who can say definitely?” The
medico expressed the caution normal to his calling.
“We shall settle for that.” The Captain waved him
back. “So,” he said to me, “it seems you are
right. Your fever or whatever it was is, gone and you are no plague
risk. But you were on board ship when it struck?”
“On a Free Trader—out of Tanth—” I raised my hands
to my head, rubbed them across my forehead as if I were dazed or in
pain. “I—it is hard to remember. I was on Tanth—I had to
escape. There was trouble. So I paid gems and Ostrend gave me
passage. There was another world—the natives were all gone. And
after that I was sick. They said it was plague—put me out in the
LB. It made landing here—but there were natives—they hunted
me—”
“To this place?” The Captain was smiling. “But
how fortunate for you. The hunt ended in the one spot you might
meet an off-world ship.”
“There was a wall—I followed it—and the wood people—they seemed afraid. I got in a wrecked ship, they did not come
after me—”
“What fortune favored you, Jern, and us too! We might have
met you elsewhere, but time is saved because we meet here. You see,
you have been a focus of interest to others. We have long wanted to
meet you.”
“I—I do not understand—”
“What is the matter with him?” The Captain. rounded
on the medico. “He is not rated as stupid in our
reports.”
The medico shrugged “Who knows what happens to a man when
a plague strikes? He is clean of infection as far as I can tell,
but I cannot vouch for any changes a strange virus may have caused
in mind or body.”
“We shall turn him over to you.” The Captain had
lost his smile. “Suppose you make all the tests you need, and
then let us know whether we have an imbecile or a source of
reliable information.”
“Take him on board?” The medico hesitated.
“Where else? I thought you said he was clean—”
“There is always the chance it is something
new.”
I felt rather than saw the Captain’s indecision. But that
did not last long.
“What equipment will you need? Can it be brought out of
the ship?” he asked.
“Most of it—yes. Where will you put him?”
“In the workings, where else? Segal, Onund, get what the
medico needs. And you, Tusratti, take him over to the west
tunnel.”
It was as if I had ceased to exist as a person, but had become
an object to be moved around at their desire. In my role of dazed
plague survivor I was willing to have it so. The X-Tee crewman
urged me down to the riverbank, I moving as slowly and with as much
of a limp as I could manage. There were others already at work
there. Across the rocks and foaming water a section bridge had been
anchored into place. It would appear they knew this place very well
and had visited it before, making their preparations for setting up
a base, if even a temporary one.
At the urging of my guard I wavered across the bridge, and
through the ruins beyond. Our goal was one of those holes in the
cliff face. But not the one to which the other crewmen were
heading. What they carried were mining tools of the kind such as
were used to pick riches from dead moons and asteroids.
“In—” commanded the X-Tee. The hole to which he
pointed was the farthest to the left. Then was debris from recent
digging dumped on either side of the opening. But whatever they had
been hunting they had not found here. They must be taking the holes
in turn and were now working that two away from the one into which
I was being ushered.
“I am—am hungry—” I halted as if to get my
breath, being careful to steady myself against a rock. “I am
hungry—I need food—”
There was no readable expression on the X-Tee’s face. The
hands of his upper pair of arms rested warningly on the butts of
his double supply of lasers. For a long moment he stared at me and
then he turned and called to one of the men on his way to the other
tunnel.
In answer the other detached a packet from his belt and tossed
it in our general direction. He had trusted to the unusual talents
of my guard, and it did not fall short. Instead one of the
X-Tee’s upper limbs snapped out to twice the length I would
have believed possible, caught the flying object, and pulled back
to hand it to me.
My fingers closed about a tube of E-ration and I did not have to
fake the avidity with which I gripped its tip between my teeth, bit
through the stopper, and spit it out, before sucking the semiliquid
contents. No meal of my imagination could have topped the flavor of
what now filled my mouth, or the satisfaction afforded me as it
flowed in gulps down into me. The mixture was meant to sustain a
man under working conditions; and it would renew my strength even
more than usual food.
“On!” My guard thumped me on the shoulder with a
stick which one of the extraordinarily agile limbs had picked up
from the ground. He was careful, I noted, not to touch me.
Apparently X-Tees also shared the fear of plague.
Sucking at the tube, I lurched on. And it seemed that the
promised strength of the food was already working in me.
The tunnel was a dark mouth opening to engulf us. But the X-Tee
produced a beamer. That this was an artificial way was most
apparent. And for some distance inside, the stone showed only the
marks of its first working. Then recent scars were displayed in
great slashes, both horizontal and vertical, until in places they
formed a grid.
I saw the glisten of crystals still embedded in the slashes or
lying in broken lumps on the ground. And my interest almost made me
betray myself. But I remembered just in time that I was playing
stupid. Apparently these were not what the crewmen had been
searching for. Though they now caught and reflected the light as if
a wealth of gems were spilled, yet they had been discarded. This
struck me as odd, since ordinarily no Guild ship would pass up
anything remotely suggesting profit.
We came to a hollowed-out space where the tunnel ended. Here the
walls had been quarried in great rough arches and niches, as if
those who had worked here had been so sure they were about to find
what they sought that they had used their tools in a frenzy. The
X-Tee motioned to a pile of rock. “Sit!”
I lowered myself stiffly to obey his order, still sucking at the
tube of E-ration. He planted the beamer on another pile across the
open space and turned it to high-diffuse, to light all but the
innermost portions of the hollows in the walls. Then he took his
place between me and the tunnel entrance.
During the silence which followed I could hear the drip-drip of
water somewhere, though there was no evidence of moisture in the
tunnel. And a little later I could both hear and feel through the
rock the activities of those working farther along in the
cliff.
Was this the place to which the zero stone had been pointing us?
The discarded crystals here had no resemblance to that murky stone.
But that had been exposed to centuries in space, and to whatever
use as a source of energy its discoverers had put it to.
I leaned over to pick up one of the broken prisms. My guard
placed a hand on the butt of a laser, but he made no move to stop
me. This was a piece of quartz, I thought. But of that I could not
be sure. One must never make snap judgments about finds on unknown
planets. Vondar would have put any such material through exhaustive
tests before he might venture an opinion, and even then I had known
him to reserve final classification. He carried with him certain
finds he was not sure of, even after years of study, since they
possessed qualities which were beyond any code. All dealers
accumulated a few such, and one of their principal activities when
meeting a fellow gemologist was producing these mystery stones for
comparison.
So what I held could be worthless quartz, or something quite
different.
There was a sound from the tunnel and the medico entered,
pushing before him a box which ran on rollers. Behind him came the
two crewmen with other equipment. Then I became the object of
tests.
I think first they still tried to find in me some seeds of the
disease which had left such visible marks on my body. And the
medico also applied a renewing ray to my bruised leg, so that I
could no longer use lameness as a cover. But I could not, dared not
resist—even when they at last locked me into a reader-helm. The
very fact that they carried such a thing with them suggested they
found its use necessary, illegal as that was.
With its pads locked to my forehead and the nape of my neck I
could only answer with the strict truth, or what I thought was the
truth. After they had reached that stage of the proceedings they
summoned the Captain and it was he who fed me the questions.
“You are one Murdoc Jern, son to Hywel Jern—”
“No.”
He was startled by that and looked to the medico, who leaned
quickly to read the dial and then nodded to his commander.
“You are not Murdoc Jern?” the Captain began
again.
“I am Murdoc Jern.”
“Then your father was Hywel Jern—”
“No.”
The Captain looked once more to the medico and received a second
nod of assurance that the machine was functioning properly.
“Who was your father then?”
“I do not know.”
“Were you a member of Hywel Jern’s
household?”
“Yes.”
“Did you consider yourself his son?”
“Yes.”
“What do you know of your real parents?”
“Nothing. I was told I was a duty child.”
An expression of relief flickered momentarily on the Captain’s
face.
“But you were in Jern’s confidence?”
“He taught me.”
“About gems?”
“Yes.”
“And he apprenticed you to Ustle?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because, I believe, he wanted a future for me. Since his
true son would have the shop upon his death.”
I could not stop the flow of words. It was as if I stood
slightly apart and listened, as if it was I who answered. Now I
sensed that once again the answer I had given was baffled.
“Did he ever show you a certain ring, one made to fit over
the glove of a space suit?”
“Yes.”
“Did he tell you where it came from?”
“That it had been brought to him for hock-sale. That it
had been found on the body of an alien floating in
space.”
“What else did he tell you?”
“Nothing except that he believed there was something to be
learned about it.”
“And he wanted you, during your travels with Ustle, to
discover what you could?”
“Yes.”
“And what did you discover?”
“Nothing.”
The Captain seated himself on a folding stool one of his men had
provided. He took from a seal pocket of his tunic a pale-green
stick, put it between his teeth, and chewed upon it reflectively,
as if studying on some new and vital question. At last he
asked:
“Did you ever see the ring in later years?”
“Yes.”
“When and where?”
“On Angkor after my father’s death.”
“What did you do with it?”
“I took it with me.”
“You have it now?” He leaned forward, his eyes fully
open, both pairs of lids raised.
“No.”
“Where is it?”
“I do not know.”
Again exasperation, this time strong enough to bring a sharp
exclamation from him.
“State the last time you saw it and under what
circumstances.”
“I gave it to Eet. He took it away.”
“Eet! And who is Eet?”
“The mutant born of the ship’s cat on the
Vestris.”
I think that had he not been so sure of the infallibility of the
reader-helm, he would not have taken that for the truth. For it
must have been the last answer he expected.
“Was that”—he spoke slowly now—“here on
this planet, or on the Vestris?”
“Here.”
“And when?”
“Just before your ship planeted.”
“Where is this Eet now?” Again he leaned forward
eagerly.
“Dead, I believe. He was crossing the top of the wreck
when you flamed down. He must have been burned off by your deter
rockets.”
“You—” The Captain turned his head.
“Thangsfeld, jump to it! I want every palm’s width of
that ship’s surface searched and all the ground around it!
Now!”
One of the crewman left at a run. Once more the Captain turned
to me.
“Why did you give the ring to Eet?”
“The ring pulled us toward this place rather than to the
wrecked ship. Eet wanted to know why.”
“Eet wanted to know,” he repeated. “What do
you mean? You have stated that this creature was a mutant born of a
ship’s cat—not an intelligent being.” Once more he
looked to the medico for confirmation of my truthfulness.
“I do not know what Eet is,” I replied. “But
he is not an animal, save perhaps outwardly.”
“Why did he and not you take this ring to the source of
attraction?”
“We were besieged by the natives. Eet had a chance of
getting out, I did not.”
“But why was it so important that the ring get out, via
this Eet?”
“I do not know. Eet wanted to take it.”
“In what direction?”
“Farther on—over the river.”
“So!” He was on his feet in one lithe movement.
“We are on the right track after all.” Once more he
looked down at me. “Do you know what the ring stone
is?”
“A source of energy—I think.”
“A good enough answer.” Still he looked at me, his
inner eyelids almost closed, giving his eyes a disquieting
opacity.
“What do we do Captain, with him—?” one of the human
crewman asked.
“For the present, nothing. Keep him here. But then, even
if he runs loose, I do not think he is going anywhere.” He
laughed. “After all we owe him some small thanks. More if we
find the ring at the wreck.”
They unstrapped me. I was very tired and willing to yield to my
fatigue. But I remembered they had not asked me the why and how
of my leaving the Vestris. Had they swallowed my plague story and
so would not question me about that? The indications were that they
had not been in touch with the Free Trader, at least not since my
escape. If these represented those who had bought me free from
Tanth for their own purposes, they had not been in direct contact
with other members of their team lately.
But this time I did not have Eet to depend upon, and thinking of
Eet hurt more than I would have earlier believed possible. I hoped
that he had not suffered, that that flash of violence had marked an
instantaneous ending for him.
Would they find his body with the ring still tied about his
neck? And what did they want it for—to lead them to others of its
kind as it had guided me across space to the dead stones in the
derelict? That such gems might be a revolutionary source of power
was an easy guess. And such power, in the hands of the Guild, was
worth far more to them than the ransom of a whole system of
planets.
The medico and the other human crewman gathered their apparatus
and left. But the X-Tee continued to sit by the door of the tunnel,
on the stool left by the Captain. He, too, had pulled a green stick
out and was chewing on it, but, while his eyes were half closed in
enjoyment, his fronds pointed in my direction.
I slept then, and awoke to a shaking of the rock around me, a
roar in my ears. There was another ship coming in. Perhaps the
Vestris. If so, the Captain might be back with more questions. I
lay listening, watching my guard.
He stood looking down the tunnel. However, the fronds still
pointed at me, and his upper hands hovered over laser butts.
It was clear from the attitude of the X-Tee that this second
ship was not expected. Therefore—who? The Patrol? Or some
innocent scout or trader arriving just at the wrong time? That the
new arrival was about to walk into a trap, I did not doubt.
The thunder of the planeting died away. Now I could not feel or
hear the vibration caused by the workers in the other tunnel.
“What is it?” I dared to ask my guard.
His attentive fronds twitched, but he did not turn his head.
Only now the lasers were drawn as if he were prepared to repel an
invasion.
We continued to wait. I tried other questions until the wave of
a weapon in my direction silenced me. Then there was a tramp of
feet in the passage and a voice raised in a hail. My guard restored
one laser to its holster, held the other ready.
Three of them came in, human crewmen. They carried a struggling
bundle which they dumped without ceremony and with extra roughness
on the floor. Once in port I had seen a crewman, drunk on the
maddening lorthdrip, subdued by a police tangle gun. And now I
looked upon a captive completely enmeshed in the same fashion.
Among the coils of gummy rope I caught sight of the black tunic
known across space. They had bagged a Patrolman, and securely.
We came to the foot of the ramp and there they
bid me stand, ringing me in, their weapons ready. The man awaiting
us came several paces farther down to study me in slow
appraisal.
He was from one of the old worlds, those first colonized.
Generations living under alien conditions had given him differences
of physique which were noticeable at more than the first glance.
His body, under the coverall with the Captain’s shooting star
on its standing collar, was thin and lank, his skin dark even
beneath the space tan; but his eyes and hair were even more
indicative of mutation from the parent stock. The hair, of
necessity worn very short to accommodate a helmet, was more blue
than gray, thick, and it grew in straight, short spikes. His eyes
were a brilliant blue-green, larger than ordinary, and with double
eyelids, one almost transparent against the ball, the other,
heavier, fitting over it. He visibly lifted both to view me, but I
think that the sunlight bothered him, as he quickly dropped the
inner ones.
But—I knew him! Not by name, but from the past. Whether the
recognition would be mutual, I did not know. I hoped not. This man
had visited my father’s shop, had been one of those escorted
into the inner room, exiting through the private door. He had not
worn a Captain’s tunic then, nor aught to suggest he was a
ship’s officer. In fact his hair had then been long enough to
brush the outsized, wing-padded shoulders of his foppish tunic—the elegance of an inner-planet dandy.
That he was of the Guild I did not now doubt. But would he know
me for Jern’s son? And if I were recognized, could such a
relationship be useful to me?
I was not to be left long in doubt on either point. He advanced
another step and then laughed, raised his hand to his mouth, and
made a vee with his two fingers, through which he spat deliberately
right and left.
“By the Lips and Limbs of Sorelle Herself! After this day
will I burn farn leaves to Her in any shrine I see! That which was
lost is found. And see, boys, that it be not lost again. Murdoc
Jern—how did you get here? I will believe any tale you spin me
after this.”
The three guarding me stirred and moved in, making very sure
that I was not going to disappear—or even have a chance to
attempt escape. I had only my role of late plague victim left.
Aside from that, I would use as much of the truth as could be
checked if later they set a scanner on me.
I allowed my mouth to hang open a little, and wavered as if I
kept my feet only through an exhausting effort.
“Do—do not kill me! The fever—it is gone—I am whole
now—”
“Fever?”
“Look at him, Captain,” my captor urged. “He
is two colors—best take care—”
“You, Jern, hold your head up! Let us see—”
I swayed back and forth. They were still afraid of coming too
close. The terror of plague deflated the toughest starman when he
faced it.
“I am—am clean—” I repeated. “They put me off
in an LB—but now I am well—I swear it.”
The Captain palmed his com and spoke into it with a snap in that
tongue that was not Basic. We waited in silence until a second man
came running lightly out on the ramp. He held before him a small
box, from which extended a length of slender cable, ending in a
disc not unlike a hand com. I knew it for a portable diagnostic.
The ship was apparently very well equipped.
Advancing within touching distance of me, the medico swung his
search disc in careful examination, his eyes ever on the indicators
of the box.
“Well?” It was plain the Captain found this
interruption irritating.
“He is clean, by what we can judge. There is always the
possibility though—”
“To what point?” pressed his commander.
“The hundreth perhaps. Who can say definitely?” The
medico expressed the caution normal to his calling.
“We shall settle for that.” The Captain waved him
back. “So,” he said to me, “it seems you are
right. Your fever or whatever it was is, gone and you are no plague
risk. But you were on board ship when it struck?”
“On a Free Trader—out of Tanth—” I raised my hands
to my head, rubbed them across my forehead as if I were dazed or in
pain. “I—it is hard to remember. I was on Tanth—I had to
escape. There was trouble. So I paid gems and Ostrend gave me
passage. There was another world—the natives were all gone. And
after that I was sick. They said it was plague—put me out in the
LB. It made landing here—but there were natives—they hunted
me—”
“To this place?” The Captain was smiling. “But
how fortunate for you. The hunt ended in the one spot you might
meet an off-world ship.”
“There was a wall—I followed it—and the wood people—they seemed afraid. I got in a wrecked ship, they did not come
after me—”
“What fortune favored you, Jern, and us too! We might have
met you elsewhere, but time is saved because we meet here. You see,
you have been a focus of interest to others. We have long wanted to
meet you.”
“I—I do not understand—”
“What is the matter with him?” The Captain. rounded
on the medico. “He is not rated as stupid in our
reports.”
The medico shrugged “Who knows what happens to a man when
a plague strikes? He is clean of infection as far as I can tell,
but I cannot vouch for any changes a strange virus may have caused
in mind or body.”
“We shall turn him over to you.” The Captain had
lost his smile. “Suppose you make all the tests you need, and
then let us know whether we have an imbecile or a source of
reliable information.”
“Take him on board?” The medico hesitated.
“Where else? I thought you said he was clean—”
“There is always the chance it is something
new.”
I felt rather than saw the Captain’s indecision. But that
did not last long.
“What equipment will you need? Can it be brought out of
the ship?” he asked.
“Most of it—yes. Where will you put him?”
“In the workings, where else? Segal, Onund, get what the
medico needs. And you, Tusratti, take him over to the west
tunnel.”
It was as if I had ceased to exist as a person, but had become
an object to be moved around at their desire. In my role of dazed
plague survivor I was willing to have it so. The X-Tee crewman
urged me down to the riverbank, I moving as slowly and with as much
of a limp as I could manage. There were others already at work
there. Across the rocks and foaming water a section bridge had been
anchored into place. It would appear they knew this place very well
and had visited it before, making their preparations for setting up
a base, if even a temporary one.
At the urging of my guard I wavered across the bridge, and
through the ruins beyond. Our goal was one of those holes in the
cliff face. But not the one to which the other crewmen were
heading. What they carried were mining tools of the kind such as
were used to pick riches from dead moons and asteroids.
“In—” commanded the X-Tee. The hole to which he
pointed was the farthest to the left. Then was debris from recent
digging dumped on either side of the opening. But whatever they had
been hunting they had not found here. They must be taking the holes
in turn and were now working that two away from the one into which
I was being ushered.
“I am—am hungry—” I halted as if to get my
breath, being careful to steady myself against a rock. “I am
hungry—I need food—”
There was no readable expression on the X-Tee’s face. The
hands of his upper pair of arms rested warningly on the butts of
his double supply of lasers. For a long moment he stared at me and
then he turned and called to one of the men on his way to the other
tunnel.
In answer the other detached a packet from his belt and tossed
it in our general direction. He had trusted to the unusual talents
of my guard, and it did not fall short. Instead one of the
X-Tee’s upper limbs snapped out to twice the length I would
have believed possible, caught the flying object, and pulled back
to hand it to me.
My fingers closed about a tube of E-ration and I did not have to
fake the avidity with which I gripped its tip between my teeth, bit
through the stopper, and spit it out, before sucking the semiliquid
contents. No meal of my imagination could have topped the flavor of
what now filled my mouth, or the satisfaction afforded me as it
flowed in gulps down into me. The mixture was meant to sustain a
man under working conditions; and it would renew my strength even
more than usual food.
“On!” My guard thumped me on the shoulder with a
stick which one of the extraordinarily agile limbs had picked up
from the ground. He was careful, I noted, not to touch me.
Apparently X-Tees also shared the fear of plague.
Sucking at the tube, I lurched on. And it seemed that the
promised strength of the food was already working in me.
The tunnel was a dark mouth opening to engulf us. But the X-Tee
produced a beamer. That this was an artificial way was most
apparent. And for some distance inside, the stone showed only the
marks of its first working. Then recent scars were displayed in
great slashes, both horizontal and vertical, until in places they
formed a grid.
I saw the glisten of crystals still embedded in the slashes or
lying in broken lumps on the ground. And my interest almost made me
betray myself. But I remembered just in time that I was playing
stupid. Apparently these were not what the crewmen had been
searching for. Though they now caught and reflected the light as if
a wealth of gems were spilled, yet they had been discarded. This
struck me as odd, since ordinarily no Guild ship would pass up
anything remotely suggesting profit.
We came to a hollowed-out space where the tunnel ended. Here the
walls had been quarried in great rough arches and niches, as if
those who had worked here had been so sure they were about to find
what they sought that they had used their tools in a frenzy. The
X-Tee motioned to a pile of rock. “Sit!”
I lowered myself stiffly to obey his order, still sucking at the
tube of E-ration. He planted the beamer on another pile across the
open space and turned it to high-diffuse, to light all but the
innermost portions of the hollows in the walls. Then he took his
place between me and the tunnel entrance.
During the silence which followed I could hear the drip-drip of
water somewhere, though there was no evidence of moisture in the
tunnel. And a little later I could both hear and feel through the
rock the activities of those working farther along in the
cliff.
Was this the place to which the zero stone had been pointing us?
The discarded crystals here had no resemblance to that murky stone.
But that had been exposed to centuries in space, and to whatever
use as a source of energy its discoverers had put it to.
I leaned over to pick up one of the broken prisms. My guard
placed a hand on the butt of a laser, but he made no move to stop
me. This was a piece of quartz, I thought. But of that I could not
be sure. One must never make snap judgments about finds on unknown
planets. Vondar would have put any such material through exhaustive
tests before he might venture an opinion, and even then I had known
him to reserve final classification. He carried with him certain
finds he was not sure of, even after years of study, since they
possessed qualities which were beyond any code. All dealers
accumulated a few such, and one of their principal activities when
meeting a fellow gemologist was producing these mystery stones for
comparison.
So what I held could be worthless quartz, or something quite
different.
There was a sound from the tunnel and the medico entered,
pushing before him a box which ran on rollers. Behind him came the
two crewmen with other equipment. Then I became the object of
tests.
I think first they still tried to find in me some seeds of the
disease which had left such visible marks on my body. And the
medico also applied a renewing ray to my bruised leg, so that I
could no longer use lameness as a cover. But I could not, dared not
resist—even when they at last locked me into a reader-helm. The
very fact that they carried such a thing with them suggested they
found its use necessary, illegal as that was.
With its pads locked to my forehead and the nape of my neck I
could only answer with the strict truth, or what I thought was the
truth. After they had reached that stage of the proceedings they
summoned the Captain and it was he who fed me the questions.
“You are one Murdoc Jern, son to Hywel Jern—”
“No.”
He was startled by that and looked to the medico, who leaned
quickly to read the dial and then nodded to his commander.
“You are not Murdoc Jern?” the Captain began
again.
“I am Murdoc Jern.”
“Then your father was Hywel Jern—”
“No.”
The Captain looked once more to the medico and received a second
nod of assurance that the machine was functioning properly.
“Who was your father then?”
“I do not know.”
“Were you a member of Hywel Jern’s
household?”
“Yes.”
“Did you consider yourself his son?”
“Yes.”
“What do you know of your real parents?”
“Nothing. I was told I was a duty child.”
An expression of relief flickered momentarily on the Captain’s
face.
“But you were in Jern’s confidence?”
“He taught me.”
“About gems?”
“Yes.”
“And he apprenticed you to Ustle?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because, I believe, he wanted a future for me. Since his
true son would have the shop upon his death.”
I could not stop the flow of words. It was as if I stood
slightly apart and listened, as if it was I who answered. Now I
sensed that once again the answer I had given was baffled.
“Did he ever show you a certain ring, one made to fit over
the glove of a space suit?”
“Yes.”
“Did he tell you where it came from?”
“That it had been brought to him for hock-sale. That it
had been found on the body of an alien floating in
space.”
“What else did he tell you?”
“Nothing except that he believed there was something to be
learned about it.”
“And he wanted you, during your travels with Ustle, to
discover what you could?”
“Yes.”
“And what did you discover?”
“Nothing.”
The Captain seated himself on a folding stool one of his men had
provided. He took from a seal pocket of his tunic a pale-green
stick, put it between his teeth, and chewed upon it reflectively,
as if studying on some new and vital question. At last he
asked:
“Did you ever see the ring in later years?”
“Yes.”
“When and where?”
“On Angkor after my father’s death.”
“What did you do with it?”
“I took it with me.”
“You have it now?” He leaned forward, his eyes fully
open, both pairs of lids raised.
“No.”
“Where is it?”
“I do not know.”
Again exasperation, this time strong enough to bring a sharp
exclamation from him.
“State the last time you saw it and under what
circumstances.”
“I gave it to Eet. He took it away.”
“Eet! And who is Eet?”
“The mutant born of the ship’s cat on the
Vestris.”
I think that had he not been so sure of the infallibility of the
reader-helm, he would not have taken that for the truth. For it
must have been the last answer he expected.
“Was that”—he spoke slowly now—“here on
this planet, or on the Vestris?”
“Here.”
“And when?”
“Just before your ship planeted.”
“Where is this Eet now?” Again he leaned forward
eagerly.
“Dead, I believe. He was crossing the top of the wreck
when you flamed down. He must have been burned off by your deter
rockets.”
“You—” The Captain turned his head.
“Thangsfeld, jump to it! I want every palm’s width of
that ship’s surface searched and all the ground around it!
Now!”
One of the crewman left at a run. Once more the Captain turned
to me.
“Why did you give the ring to Eet?”
“The ring pulled us toward this place rather than to the
wrecked ship. Eet wanted to know why.”
“Eet wanted to know,” he repeated. “What do
you mean? You have stated that this creature was a mutant born of a
ship’s cat—not an intelligent being.” Once more he
looked to the medico for confirmation of my truthfulness.
“I do not know what Eet is,” I replied. “But
he is not an animal, save perhaps outwardly.”
“Why did he and not you take this ring to the source of
attraction?”
“We were besieged by the natives. Eet had a chance of
getting out, I did not.”
“But why was it so important that the ring get out, via
this Eet?”
“I do not know. Eet wanted to take it.”
“In what direction?”
“Farther on—over the river.”
“So!” He was on his feet in one lithe movement.
“We are on the right track after all.” Once more he
looked down at me. “Do you know what the ring stone
is?”
“A source of energy—I think.”
“A good enough answer.” Still he looked at me, his
inner eyelids almost closed, giving his eyes a disquieting
opacity.
“What do we do Captain, with him—?” one of the human
crewman asked.
“For the present, nothing. Keep him here. But then, even
if he runs loose, I do not think he is going anywhere.” He
laughed. “After all we owe him some small thanks. More if we
find the ring at the wreck.”
They unstrapped me. I was very tired and willing to yield to my
fatigue. But I remembered they had not asked me the why and how
of my leaving the Vestris. Had they swallowed my plague story and
so would not question me about that? The indications were that they
had not been in touch with the Free Trader, at least not since my
escape. If these represented those who had bought me free from
Tanth for their own purposes, they had not been in direct contact
with other members of their team lately.
But this time I did not have Eet to depend upon, and thinking of
Eet hurt more than I would have earlier believed possible. I hoped
that he had not suffered, that that flash of violence had marked an
instantaneous ending for him.
Would they find his body with the ring still tied about his
neck? And what did they want it for—to lead them to others of its
kind as it had guided me across space to the dead stones in the
derelict? That such gems might be a revolutionary source of power
was an easy guess. And such power, in the hands of the Guild, was
worth far more to them than the ransom of a whole system of
planets.
The medico and the other human crewman gathered their apparatus
and left. But the X-Tee continued to sit by the door of the tunnel,
on the stool left by the Captain. He, too, had pulled a green stick
out and was chewing on it, but, while his eyes were half closed in
enjoyment, his fronds pointed in my direction.
I slept then, and awoke to a shaking of the rock around me, a
roar in my ears. There was another ship coming in. Perhaps the
Vestris. If so, the Captain might be back with more questions. I
lay listening, watching my guard.
He stood looking down the tunnel. However, the fronds still
pointed at me, and his upper hands hovered over laser butts.
It was clear from the attitude of the X-Tee that this second
ship was not expected. Therefore—who? The Patrol? Or some
innocent scout or trader arriving just at the wrong time? That the
new arrival was about to walk into a trap, I did not doubt.
The thunder of the planeting died away. Now I could not feel or
hear the vibration caused by the workers in the other tunnel.
“What is it?” I dared to ask my guard.
His attentive fronds twitched, but he did not turn his head.
Only now the lasers were drawn as if he were prepared to repel an
invasion.
We continued to wait. I tried other questions until the wave of
a weapon in my direction silenced me. Then there was a tramp of
feet in the passage and a voice raised in a hail. My guard restored
one laser to its holster, held the other ready.
Three of them came in, human crewmen. They carried a struggling
bundle which they dumped without ceremony and with extra roughness
on the floor. Once in port I had seen a crewman, drunk on the
maddening lorthdrip, subdued by a police tangle gun. And now I
looked upon a captive completely enmeshed in the same fashion.
Among the coils of gummy rope I caught sight of the black tunic
known across space. They had bagged a Patrolman, and securely.