The Universe Maker (6 page)

"The preachers won't preach to you," said Lela.

"Nobody gives you food. The Shadows won't fix your ship." She added casually, "And things like that."

Cargill decided he wouldn't worry about the preachers. He had once had a conversation with an army chaplain before leaving the U.S. for the Far East. The man had attempted a very colloquial approach, referring to the possibility of "going West." Cargill recalled his own analogy that Stateside "West" ended at the Pacific Ocean, and that if he could still feel his feet wet after crossing that boundary, he would begin to believe that he'd better find out how warm the water could get.

He considered most of the religious people he knew hypocrites. The implications of believing that one
was
a soul, or had one, were so numerous that anything short of acting on these implications made belief a mere protective coloring. Cargill knew of no one who showed by his actions that he believed himself to be an infinitely tenuous energy structure united to a material body.

Lela's reference to not receiving food if they didn't conform puzzled him. He had had the impression that the Planiacs garnered their living from the streams and the seashore and the wilderness. They might not be provided a bountiful living the year round, but the
marvellous
refrigeration and cooking systems on the floaters made large accumulations possible at the harvest seasons. And that emphasized the one important restriction in what she had said. If the Shadows wouldn't fix the ships, that indeed could be disastrous. One might conclude that the solution was to learn to fix one's own ship. It was interesting that a large number of people would let themselves be so easily controlled. It indicated that it wasn't the material side that mattered, but the belief and attitudes of a group. These people, like so many before them, were the slaves of their own thoughts.

Cargill said at long last: "Why do the Shadows recognize the authority of Carmean and the other bosses?"

"Oh, they just want us to behave."

"But you can capture Tweeners?"

The girl hesitated. Then, "Nobody seems to worry about a Tweener," she said.

Cargill nodded. He recalled his attempts to get information from her during the past few days. Apparently she hadn't then thought of these restraining influences on her life. Now, though she seemed unaware of it, she had given him a picture of a rigid social structure. Surely, he thought desperately, he could figure out some way to take advantage of this situation. He moved irritably and the chain rattled, reminding him that all the plans in the world could not directly affect metal.

Carmean, closely followed by Bouvy, brought her chair back to the ship. Setting the chair down, she walked slowly over and stood in front of Cargill. She half-turned and said, "I could use a husky guy around, Bouvy."

"He isn't for sale." That was Lela, her voice curt.

"I'm speaking to your Pa, kid, so watch your tongue."

"You heard the girl," said Bouvy. "We've got a good man here." His tone was cunning, rather than earnest. He sounded as if he were prepared to haggle but wanted the best of the deal.

Carmean said, "Don't you go getting commercial on me." She added darkly, "You'd better watch out. These Tweeners haven't got any religion when it comes to a good-looking girl."

Bouvy grunted but when he spoke he still sounded good-humored. "Don't give me any of that. Lela's going to stick with her Pa and be a help to him all her life. Aren't you, honey?"

"You talk like a fool, Pa. Better keep your mouth shut."

"She's fighting hard," said Carmean slyly. "You can see what's in the back of her mind."

Bouvy sat down in one of the chairs. "Just for the sake of the talk, Carmean," he said, "what'll you give for him?"

Cargill had listened to the early stages of the transaction with a shocked sense of unreality. But swiftly now he realized that he was in process of being sold.

It emphasized, if emphasis was needed, that to these Planiacs he was a piece of property, a chattel, a slave who could be forced to menial labor, or whipped, or even killed without anyone being concerned. His fate was a private affair which would trouble no one but himself. "Somebody's going to get gypped," he told himself angrily. A man as determined as he was to escape would be a bad bargain for Carmean or anyone else. In the final issue, he "thought, he'd take all necessary risks and he had just enough front-line army experience to make that mean something.

The bargaining was still going on. Carmean offered her own ship in return for Cargill and the Bouvy ship. "It's a newer model," she urged. "It's good for ten years without any trouble or fussing."

Bouvy’s hesitation was noticeable. "That isn't a fair offer," he said plaintively. "The Shadows will give you all the new ships you want. So you aren't offering me anything that means anything to you."

Carmean retorted, "I'm offering you what I can get and you can't."

"It's too much trouble," said Bouvy. "I'd have to move all our stuff."

"Your stuff!" The big woman was contemptuous. "Why, that junk isn't worth carting out! And besides, I've got a ship full of valuables over there."

Bouvy was quick. "It's a deal if you change ship for ship with everything left aboard."

Carmean laughed curtly. "You must take me for a bigger fool than I look. I'll leave you more stuff than you've ever seen but I'm taking plenty out."

Lela, who had been sitting silently, said, "You two are just talking. It makes no difference what you decide. I caught him and he's mine. That's the law, and you just try to use your position as boss to change it, Carmean."

Even in the darkness, Carmean's hesitation was apparent. Finally she said, "We'll talk about this some more tomorrow morning. Meantime, Bouvy, you'd better teach this kid of yours some manners."

"I'll do just that," said Pa Bouvy and there was a vicious undertone in his voice. "Don't you worry,
Carmean.
You've bought yourself a Tweener and If we have any trouble in the morning there's going to be a public whipping here of an ungrateful daughter."

Carmean laughed in triumph. "That's the kind of talk I like to hear," she said. "The old man's standing up for himself at last."

Still laughing, she walked off into the darkness. Pa Bouvy stood up.

"Lela!"

"What?"

"Get that Tweener inside the ship and chain him up good."

"Okay, Pa." She climbed to her feet. "Get a move on," she said to Cargill.

Without a word, moving slowly because of the chain, Cargill went inside and lay down on his cot.

It must have been several hours later when he awoke, aware that somebody was tugging at the chain.

"Careful," whispered Lela Bouvy, "I'm trying to unlock this. Hold still."

Cargill, tense, did as he was told. A minute later he was free. The girl's whisper came again, "You go ahead —through the kitchen. I'll be right behind you. Careful."

Cargill was careful.

Cargill lay in the dark on the grass feeling no particular urge to move. The sense of being free had not yet taken firm root inside him. The night had become distinctly cooler and most of the machines were dark. Only one ship still shed light from a half-open doorway and that was more than a hundred feet along the river bank from where he crouched.

Cargill considered his first move. More quickly now he began to realize his new situation. He need only creep out of this camp and then go where he pleased. At least it seemed for a moment as if that was all he had to do. However, he felt reluctant to take the first move.

In the darkness, progress would be difficult and morning might find him still dangerously close to the Planiacs. He imagined himself being seen from the air. He pictured a search party with an air support, finding him within a few hours after dawn. The possibilities chilled him and brought the first change hi his purpose. "If I could steal one of these ships," he thought indecisively.

There was a faint sound beside him and then the whispered voice of Lela Bouvy said, "I want you to take her ship. That's the only way I'll let you go."

Cargill turned in the darkness. Her words implied that she had a weapon to force him to obey her. But the darkness under the trees was too intense for him to see if she were armed. He didn't have to be told that "her ship" referred to Carmean's. His response must have been too slow. Once more Lela spoke.

"Get going."

Carmean's ship was as good as any, Cargill decided. He whispered, "Which is hers?"

"The one that's got a light."

"Oh!"

Some of his gathering determination faded. Carmean asleep and Carmean awake were two different propositions. In spite of his qualms he began to move forward. He could at least investigate the situation before making up his mind. A few minutes later he paused behind a tree about a dozen feet from Carmean's ship. The dim light that streamed from the partly open doorway made a vague patch of brightness on the grass. Near the edge of that dully lighted area Carmean herself sat on the grass.

Cargill, who had been about to start forward again,
saw
her just in time. He stopped with a gulp and it was only slowly that the tension of that narrow escape left him. He glanced back finally and saw Lela in the act of moving toward him. Hastily Cargill headed her off. He drew her into the shelter of a leafy plant, explained the situation, and asked, "Is there anybody else in the ship?"

"No. Her last husband fell off the ship three months ago. At least that was what Carmean said happened. She's been looking for another one ever since, but none of the men'll have her. That's why she wanted you."

It was a new idea to Cargill. He had a momentary mental picture of himself in the role of a chained husband. It shocked him. The sooner he got away from these people, the better off he'd be. And in view of their casually ruthless plans for him he need feel no sense of restraint. He whispered to Lela, "I'll jump on her and bang her over the head. Have you got anything I can hit her with?" He felt savage and merciless. He hoped the girl would give him her gun. Just for an instant then, as she slipped something metallic into his hand, he thought she had done so.

She whispered fiercely, "That's from the edge of your cot. It'll look as if you got free and took it along as a weapon."

Her logic was not entirely convincing to Cargill, but he saw that she was trying to convince herself. And it was important that there be some kind of explanation for his escape. Bouvy would undoubtedly be furious with her.

Cautiously, Cargill stole forward. As he reached the shelter of the tree near Carmean the big woman climbed heavily to her feet.

"So you finally got her, Grannis," she said to somebody Cargill couldn't see.

"Yes," said a voice from the other side of the tree behind which Cargill, rigid now, crouched. The man's voice went on, "I couldn't make it any sooner."

"So long as you could make it at all," said Carmean indifferently. "Let's go inside."

Just what he expected then, Cargill had no idea. He had a brief, bitter conviction that he ought to attack both the stranger and Carmean and then:

A Shadow walked into the lighted area.

Morton Cargill stayed where he was, behind the tree. His first feeling of intense disappointment yielded to the realization that there was still hope. This was a secret midnight meeting. The Shadow who had come to talk to Carmean would leave presently, and there'd be another opportunity to seize the ship.

He began cautiously to back away and then he stopped. It seemed to him suddenly that perhaps he ought to overhear what was being said. He was planning how he could do it when Lela slipped up behind him.

"What's the matter?" she whispered angrily. "Why are you standing there?"

"Sh-h-hh!" said Cargill. That was almost automatic. He was intent on his own purposes, feeling now that anything that concerned the Shadows could concern him. "I've got to remember," he told himself, "that I was brought here by someone who intended to use me."

His capture by Lela was an unfortunate incident not on the schedule of the original planners. He paid no attention to the girl but slipped from behind the tree and headed for Carmean's floater. He reached the door safely and flattened himself against the metal wall beside it.

Almost immediately, he had his first disappointment. The voices inside were too far away from him to hear. As had happened when Carmean talked to Pa Bouvy earlier, only occasional words came through.

Once, a man's voice said: "When was that? I don't recall agreeing to that."

A little later, Carmean's voice lifted to audible pitch on a triumphant note. "Don't worry about us. We'll be ready in case there's a hitch-up."

The voices came closer.

"All right now," the Shadow was saying, "let's go and get this man Cargill. I won't feel right until he's safely in our hands again."

Cargill waited for no more. Swiftly, but cautiously, he backed away along the side of the ship. In the darkness under the curving nose of the machine he crouched tensely. The light on the grass in front of the door brightened as the door was opened wider. The Shadow stepped out.

Beyond and through him, a tree was visible. He had a head and body shaped like a man, and as he paused, half turning, waiting for Carmean, his eyes were clearly visible. They were shadow eyes for they did not glitter hi the light. But dull though they were, they were unmistakably eyes.

Carmean came out. She said, "I want to get this straight. I keep this guy Cargill in my ship until I hear from you?" There was satisfaction in her tone.

"Exactly," was the grim reply. "And if I send word bring him without delay. You'll get all the men you want when the time comes." He broke off. "Which ship?"

Cargill didn't catch what Carmean said but she must have indicated the direction. They moved off, out of the spread of light into the greater darkness.

Lela came hurrying from her hiding place. She paused breathless in the night beside him. "Quick," she whispered. "We'll have to get aboard and leave."

"We?" said Cargill. There was no time to talk about the implication of the plural. Clear and loud in the night air came the sound of a knock on metal and then Carmean's voice.