Tags: #none
TEN
High above the forest, in a close-woven shelter of wickerwork and leaves, the rain beating softlyoutside, Judy rested on a sort of dais covered with soft woven fabric and took in, not with wordsentirely, what the beautiful alien with the silver eyes was trying to tell her.
"
Madness comes upon us too, and I am deeply sorrowful to have intruded into your people's lives this way. There was a time--not now, but lost in our history--when our folk traveled, as yours do, between the stars. It may even be that all men are of one blood, back in the beginning of time, and that your people too are our little brothers, as with the furred people of the trees. Indeed it would seem so, since you and I came together under the madness in the winds and now you bear this child. It is not that I regret, entirely
--'
A feather's-touch upon her hand, no more, but Judy felt she had never known anything as tender asthe sad eyes of the alien. "
Now, with no madness in my blood, I feel only deep grief for you, littleone. No one of our own would be allowed to bear a child in loneliness, and yet you must return toyour own people, we could not care for you. You could not even bear the cold of ourdwelling-places in high summer, in winter you would surely die, my child
."
All of Judy's being was one great cry of anguish,
will I never see you again?
I can reach you so clearly only at these times
, the answer flowed,
although your mind is moreopen to me than before, the minds of your people are like half-shut doors at other times. It wouldbe wisest for me to let you go now, for you never to look back to the time of mad ness, and yet
--long silence, and a great sigh.
I cannot, I cannot, how can I let you go from me and never know
…
The strange alien reached out, touching the jewel which hung about her neck on a fine chain, and
drew it forth.
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We use these--sometimes--for the training of our children. Mature, we do not need them. Itwas a love-gift to you; an act of madness, perhaps, perhaps unwise, my elders would certainly sayso. Yet perhaps, if your mind is opened enough to master the jewel, perhaps I can reach you attimes, and know that all is well with you and the child
.
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She looked at the jewel, which was blue, like a star-sapphire, with small inner flecks of fire, only amoment; then raised her eyes to look again with grief on the alien being. Taller than mortal, with greatpale-grey eyes, almost silver, fair-skinned and delicate of feature, with long slender fingers and bare feeteven in the bitter chill, and with long almost colorless hair floating like weightless silk about the shoulders;strange and bizarre and yet beautiful, with a beauty that struck at the woman like pain. With infinitetenderness and sadness, the alien reached for her and folded her very briefly against the delicate body,and she sensed that this was a rare thing, a strange thing, a concession to her despair and loneliness.
Ofcourse. A telepathic race would have little use for demonstrative displays
.
And now you must go, my poor little one. I will take you to the edge of the forest, the Little Folk will guide you from there. (I fear your people, they are so violent and savage and yourminds…your minds are closed…)
Judy stood looking up at the stranger, her own grief at parting blurring in the perception of the
other's fear and anguish. "I understand," she whispered aloud, and the other's drawn face relaxed a little.
Shall I see you again?
There are so many chances, both for good and evil, child. Only time knows, I dare notpromise you
. With a gentle touch, he folded her in the fur--lined cloak in which, earlier, he had wrappedher. She nodded, trying to hold back her tears; only when he had disappeared into the forest did shebreak down and follow, weeping, the small furred alien who came to lead her down the strange paths.
"You are the logical suspect," Captain Leicester said harshly. "You have never made any secret of the fact that you don't want to leave this planet, and the sabotage of the computer means that you will get your way, and that we will never be able to leave here."
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"No, Captain, you're quite wrong," Moray looked him in the face without flinching. "I have known all along that we would never leave this planet. It did occur to me, during the--what the hell shall we call it? During the mass freakout? Yes; it occurred to me during the mass freakout that maybe it would be a good thing if the computer was nonfunctional, it would force you to stop pretending we could fix the ship--"
"I was not
pretending
," said the Captain icily.
Moray shrugged. "Words don't matter that much. Okay, force you to stop kidding yourself about it,and get down to the serious business of survival. But I didn't do it. To be honest, I might have if it hadever occurred to me, but I don't know one end of a computer from the other--I wouldn't know how togo about putting it out of action. I suppose I
could
have blown it up--I know I heard the explosion--butas it happens, when I heard the explosion I was lying in the garden having--" suddenly he laughed,
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embarrassed, "having the time of my life talking to a cabbage sprout, or something like that."
Leicester frowned at him. He said, "Nobody blew the computer up, or even put it out of action. The
programs have simply been erased. Any literate person could do that."
"Any literate person familiar with a starship, maybe," Moray said. "Captain, I don't know how to convince you, but I'm an ecologist, not a technician. I can't even make up a computer program. But if it's not out of commission, what's all the fuss about? Can't you re-program it, or whatever the word is? Are the tapes, or whatever they are, so irreplaceable?"
Leicester was abruptly convinced. Moray didn't
know
. He said dryly, "For your information, thecomputer contained about half of the sum total of human knowledge about physics and astronomy. Evenif my crew contained four dozen Fellows of the Royal College of Astronomy of Edinburgh, it would takethem thirty years to re-program just the navigational data. That's not even counting the medicalprograms--we haven't checked those yet--or any of the material from the ship's Library. All thingsconsidered, the sabotage of the computer is a worse piece of human vandalism than the burning of the Library at Alexandria."
"Well, I can only repeat that I didn't do it and I don't know who did,"
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Moray said. "Look for someone on your crew with the technical know-how." He gave a dry, unamusedlaugh. "And someone who could keep their head long enough. Have the Medics figured out what hit us?"
Leicester shrugged. "Me best guess I've heard so far is an airborne dust containing some violent
hallucinogen. Still unidentified, and probably will be until things settle down at the hospital."
Moray shook his head. He knew the Captain believed him now, and to tell the truth he was notentirely happy about the destruction of the computer. As long as Leicester's whole efforts were taken upin attempting to manage the ship repairs he was unlikely to interfere with what Moray was doing to assurethe Colony's survival. Now, a Captain without a ship, he was likely to get seriously in the way of theirassault on a strange world. For the first time Moray understood the old joke about the Space fleet:
"You can't retire a starship Captain. You have to shoot him."
The thought stirred dangerous fears in him. Moray was not a violent man, but during the thirty-sixhours of the strange wind, he had discovered painful and unsuspected depths in himself.
Maybe someoneelse will think of that, next time--what makes me so sure there will be a next time? Or maybe Iwill, can I ever be sure now?
Turning away from the unwelcome thought, he said, "Have you a report on damages yet?"
"Nineteen dead--no medical reports, but at least four hospital patients died of neglect," Leicester said shortly. 'Two suicides. One girl cut herself and bled to death on broken glass, but probably accident rather than suicide. And--I suppose you heard about Father Valentine."
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Moray shut his eyes. "I heard about the murders. I don't know all the details."
Leicester said, "I doubt if anyone alive does. He doesn't himself, and probably won't unless Chief Di Asturien wants to give him narcosynthesis or something. All I know is somehow he got mixed up with agang of the crewmen who were doing some messing around--sexual messing around--down by the edgeof the river. Things got fairly wild. When the first wave subsided a little he realized what he'd been doing,and I gather he couldn't face it, and started cutting throats."
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"I take it, then, that he was one of the suicides?"
Leicester shook his head. "No. I gather he came out of it just in time to realize that suicide, too, wasa mortal sin. Funny. I guess I'm just getting hardened to horrors on this wonderful paradise planet ofyours--all I can think about now is how much trouble he'd have saved if he'd gone ahead with it. Now I've got to try him for murder, and then decide, or make the people decide, whether or not we havecapital punishment here."
Moray smiled bleakly. "Why bother?" he said. "What verdict could you possibly get except
temporary insanity?
"
"My God, you're right!" Leicester passed his hand over his forehead.
"In all seriousness, Captain. We may have to cope with this again, and again, and again. At least until we know the cause. I suggest that you immediately disarm your Security crew; the first sign happened when a Security man shot first a girl, then a fellow officer. I suggest that if we ever again have a rainless night, that all lethal weapons, kitchen knives, surgical instruments, and the like, be locked up. It probably won't prevent all the trouble, we can't lock up every rock and hunk of stovewood on the planet, and to look at you, somebody evidently forgot who you were and took a swing at you."
Leicester rubbed his chin. "Would you believe a fight over a girl, at my age?"
For the first time the two men grinned at one another with the beginnings of a brief mutual human
liking, then it receded. Leicester said, "I'll think about it. It won't be easy."
Moray said grimly, "Nothing here's going to be easy, Captain. But I have a feeling that unless westart up a serious campaign for an ethic of nonviolence--one that will hold even under stress like the massfreakout--none of us will live through the summer."
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Chapter
ELEVEN
The days of the Wind had spared the garden, MacAran thought. Perhaps some deepsurvival-instinct had told the maddened colonists that this was their lifeline. Repairs to the hospital wereunderway, and work crews drafted for manual labor were doing salvage work on the ship--Moray hadmade it bitterly clear that for many years this would be their only stock of metal for tools and implements. Bit by bit, the interior fabric of the great starship was being cannibalized; furniture from the living quartersand recreation areas was being brought out and converted for use in the dormitory and communitybuildings, tools from the repair shops, kitchen areas and even the bridge decks were being inventoried bygroups of clerical workers. MacAran knew that Camilla was busy checking the computer, trying todiscover what programs had been salvaged. Down to the smallest implement, ball-point pens andwomen's cosmetics in the canteen supplies, everything was being inventoried and rationed. When thesupplies of a technologically oriented Earth culture ran out, there would be no more, and Moray made itclear that replacements were already being devised for an orderly transition.
The clearing presented a curious blend, he thought; the small domes constructed with plastic andfiber, damaged in the blizzard and repaired with tougher local woods; the mixed piles of complexmachinery, tended and guarded by uniformed crewmen with Chief Engineer Patrick in charge; the peoplefrom the New Hebrides Commune working--by their own choice, MacAran understood--in the gardenand woods.
He held in his hand two slips of paper--the old habit of posting memoranda still held; he imaginedthat eventually dwindling paper supplies would phase it out. What would they substitute? Systems of bellscoded to each person, as was done in some large department stores
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to attract the attention of a particular person? Word of mouth messages? Or would they manage to discover some way to make paper of local products and continue their centuries-long reliance on written memoranda? One of the slips he held told him to check in at the hospital for what was called routine examination; the other asked him to report to Moray's office for work analysis and assignment.
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By and large, the announcement that the computer was useless and the ship perforce abandoned hadbeen greeted without much outcry. One or two crewmen had been heard to mutter that whoever did itshould be lynched, but there was at the moment no way of discovering either who had wiped the Navigation tapes from the computer, nor of finding out who had dynamited one of the inner drivechambers with an improvised bomb. Suspicion for the latter fell by default on a crewmember who hadrecently asked admission into the New Hebrides Commune and whose mangled body had been foundinside the ship near the explosion site; and everyone was content to let it stay there.