home   |   А-Я   |   A-Z   |   меню


The fight was over. It had ended so quickly the fact hadn't really sunk in yet. Rhes rubbed his hand against the gleaming metal of the control console, letting the reality of touch convince him. The other men milled about, looking out through the viewscreens or soaking in the mechanical strangeness of the room.

Jason was physically exhausted, but he couldn't let it show. He opened the pilot's medbox and dug through it until he found the stimulants. Three of the little gold pills washed the fatigue from his body, and he could think clearly again.

"Listen to me," he shouted. "The fight's not over yet. They'll try anything to take this ship back and we have to be ready. I want one of the techs to go over these boards until he finds the lock controls. Make sure all the airlocks and ports are sealed. Send men to check them, if necessary. Turn on all the screens to scan in every direction, so no one can get near the ship. We'll need a guard in the engine room; my control could be cut if they broke in there. And there had better be a room-by-room search of the ship, in case someone else is locked in with us."

The men had something to do now and felt relieved. Plies split them up into groups and set them to work. Jason stayed at the controls, his hand next to the pump switch. The battle wasn't over yet.

"There's a truck coming," Plies called, "going slow."

"Should I blast it?" the man at the gun controls asked.

"Hold your fire," Jason said, "until we can see who it is. If it's the people I sent for, let them through."

As the truck came on slowly, the gunner tracked it with his sights. There was a driver and three passengers. Jason waited until he was positive who they were.

"Those are the ones," he said. "Stop them at the lock, Plies, make them come in one at a time. Take their guns as they enter, then strip them of all their equipment. There is no way of telling what could be a concealed weapon. Be specially careful of Brucco-he's the thin one

with a face like an axe edge-make sure you strip him clean. He's a specialist in weapons and survival. And bring the driver, too; we don't want him reporting back about the broken airlock or the state of our guns."

Waiting wAs hard. His hand stayed next to the pump switch, even though he knew he could never use it. Just as long as the others thought he would.

There were stampings and muttered curses in the corridor; the prisoners were pushed in. Jason had one look at their deadly expressions and clenched fists before he called to Plies.

"Keep them against the wall and watch them. Bowmen keep your weapons up." He looked at the people who had once been his friends and who now swam in hatred for him. Meta, Kerk, Brucco. The driver was Skop, the man Kerk had once appointed to guard him. He looked ready to explode now that the roles had been reversed.

"Pay close attention," Jason said, "because your lives depend upon it. Keep your backs to the wall and don't attempt to come any closer to me than you are now. If you do, you will be shot instantly. If we were alone, any one of you could undoubtedly reach me before I threw this switch. But we're not. You have Pyrran reflexes and muscles-but so do the bowmen. Don't gamble. Because it won't be a gamble. It will be suicide. I'm telling you this for your own protection. So we can talk peacefully without one of you losing his temper and suddenly getting shot. There is no way out of this. You are going to be forced to listen, to everything I say. You can't escape or kill me. The war is over."

"And we lost-and all because of you, you traitor!" Meta snarled.

'Wrong on both counts," Jason said blandly. "I'm not a traitor because I owe my allegiance to all men on this planet, both inside the perimeter and out. I never pretended differently. As to losing, why you haven't lost anything. In fact you've won. Won your war against this planet, if you will only hear me out." He turned to Plies, who was frowning in angry puzzlement. "Of course your people have won also, Plies. No more war with the city, you'll get medicine, off-planet contact, everything you want."

"Pardon me for being cynical," Plies said. "But you're promising the best of all possible worlds for everyone. That will be a little hard to deliver when our interests are opposed so."

"You strike through to the heart of the matter," Jason said. "Thank you. This mess will be settled by seeing that everyone's interests are not opposed. Peace between the city and farms, with an end to the useless war you have been fighting. Peace between mankind and the Pyrran

life forms-because that particular war is at the bottom of all your troubles."

"The man's mad," Kerk said.

"Perhaps. You'll judge that after you hear me out. I'm going to tell you the history of this planet, because that is where both the trouble and the solution lie.

'When the settlers landed on Pyrrus three hundred years ago, they missed the one important thing about this planet, the factor that makes

it different from any other planet in the galaxy. They can't be blamed for the oversight, they had enough other things to worry about. The

gravity was about the only thing familiar to them, the rest of the environment was a shocking change from the climate-controlled industrial world they had left. Storms, vulcanism, floods, earthquakes— it was enough to drive them insane, and I'm sure many of them did go mad. The animal and insect life was a constant annoyance, nothing at all like the few harmless and protected species they had known. I'm sure they never realized that the Pyrran life was telepathic as well-"

"That again!" Brucco snapped. "True or not, it is of no importance. I was tempted to agree with your theory of psionic controlled attack on us, but the deadly fiasco you staged proved that theory wrong."

"I agree," Jason answered. "I was completely mistaken when I thought some outside agency directed the attack on the city with psionic control. It seemed a logical theory at the time and the evidence pointed that way. The expedition to the island was a deadly fiasco-only don't forget that attack was the direct opposite of what I wanted to have done. If I had gone into the cave myself, none of the deaths would have been necessary. I think it would have been discovered that the plant creatures were nothing more than an advanced life form with unusual psi ability. They simply resonated strongly to the psionic attack on the city. I had the idea backward thinking they instigated the battle. We'll never know the truth, though, because they are destroyed. But their deaths did do one thing. Showed us where to find the real culprits, the creatures who are leading, directing and inspiring the war against the city."

"Who?" Kerk breathed the question, rather than spoke it.

"Why, you of course," Jason told him. "Not you alone, but all of your people in the city. Perhaps you don't like this war. However, you are responsible for it and keep it going."

Jason had to force back a smile as he looked at their dumbfounded expressions. He also had to prove his point quickly, before even his allies began to think him insane.

"Here is how it works. I said Pyrran life was telepathic-and I meant all life. Every single insect, plant and animal. At one time in this plan.

ct's violent history, these psionic mutations proved to be survival types. They existed when other species died, and in the end I'm sure they cooperated in wiping out the last survivors of the non-psi strains. Cooperation is the ke~r word here. Because while they still competed against each other under normal conditions, they worked together against anything that threatened them as a whole. When a natural upheaval or a tidal wave threatened them, they fled from it in harmony. You can see a milder form of this same behavior on any planet that is subject to forest fires. But here, mutual survival was carried to an extreme because of the violent conditions. Perhaps some of the life forms even developed precognition like the human quakemen. With this advance warning, the larger beasts fled. The smaller ones developed seeds, or burrs or eggs, that could be carried to safety by the wind or in the animals' fur, thus insuring racial survival. I know this is true because I watched it myself when we were escaping a quake."

"Admitted-all your points admitted," Brucco shouted. "But what does it have to do with us? So all the animals run away together, what does that have to do with the war?"

"They do more than run away together," Jason told him. "They work together against any natural disaster that threatens them all. Some day, I'm sure, ecologists will go into raptures over the complex adjustments that occur here in the advent of blizzards, floods, fires and other disasters. There is only one reaction we really care about now, though. That's the one directed toward the city people. Don't you realize yet— they treat you all as another natural disaster!

"We'll never know exactly how it came about, though there is a clue in that diary I found, dating from the first days on this planet. It said that a forest fire seemed to have driven new species toward the settlers. Those weren't new beasts at all-just old ones with new attitudes. Can't you just imagine how those protected, overcivilized settlers acted when faced with a forest fire? They panicked, of course. If the settlers were in the path of the fire, the animals must have rushed right through their camp. Their reaction would undoubtedly have been to shoot the fleeing creatures down.

"When they did that, they classified themselves as a natural disaster. Disasters take any form. Bipeds with guns could easily be included in the category. The Pyrran animals attacked, were shot, and the war began. The survivors kept attacking and informed all the life forms what the fight was about. The radioactivity of this planet must cause plenty of mutations-and the favorable, survival mutation was now one that was deadly to man. I'll hazard a guess that the psi function even

instigates mutations, some of the deadlier types are just too onesidec to have come about naturally in a brief three hundred years.

"The settlers of course fought back, and kept their status as a natura disaster intact. Through the centuries, they improved their killing meth ods, not that it did the slightest good, as you know. You city people their descendants, are heirs to this heritage of hatred. You fight anc are slowly being defeated. How can you possibly win against the bio logic reserves of a planet that can recreate itself each time to meet an~ new attack?"

Silence followed Jason's words. Kerk and Meta stood white-faced a the impact of the disclosure sunk in. Brucco mumbled and checkec points off on his fingers, searching for weak spots in the chain o:

reason. The fourth city Pyrran, Skop, ignored all these foolish word that he couldn't understand-or want to understand-and would hav~ killed Jason in an instant if there had been the slightest chance oJ success.

It was Plies who broke the silence. His quick mind had taken in th factors and sorted them out. "There's one thing wrong," he said. "Wha about us? We live on the surface of Pyrrus without perimeters or guns Why aren't we attacked as well? We're human, descended from thi same people as the junkmen."

"You're not attacked," Jason told him, "because you don't idenflf yourself as a natural disaster. Animals can live on the slopes of a dor mant volcano, fighting and dying in natural competition. But they'I flee together when the volcano erupts. That eruption is what make the mountain a natural disaster. In the case of human beings, it is thei thoughts that identify them'as life form or disaster. Mountain or vo] cano. In the city everyone radiates suspicion and death. They enjo:

killing, thinking about killing, and planning for killing. This is natura selection too, you realize. These are the survival traits that work bes in the city. Outside the city, men think differently. If they are threai ened individually, they fight, as will any other creature. Under mor general survival threats, they cooperate completely with the rules fo universal survival that the city people break."

"How did it begin-this separation, I mean, between the two groups? Plies asked.

"We'll probably never know," Jason said. "I think your people mu5 have originally been farmers, or psionic sensitives who were not wit] the others during some natural disaster. They would of course act coi rectly by Pyrran standards, and survive. This would cause a differenc of opinion with the city people who saw killing as the answer. It obvious, whatever the reason, that two separate communities were e~

tablished early, and soon separated except for the limited amount of barter that benefited both."

"I still can't believe it," Kerk mumbled. "It mak~s a terrible kind of truth, every step of the way, but I still find it hard to accept. There must be another explanation."

Jason shook his head slowly. "None. This is the only one that works. We've eliminated the other ones, remember? I can't blame you for finding it hard to believe, since it is in direct opposition to everything you've understood to be true in the past. It's like altering a natural law. As if I gave you proof that gravity didn't really exist, that it was a force altogether different from the immutable one we know, one you could get around when you understood how. You'd want more proof than words. Probably want to see someone walking on air."

"Which isn't such a bad idea at that," he added, turning to Naxa. "Do you hear any animals around the ship now? Not the ones you're used to, but the mutated, violent kind that live only to attack the city."

"Place's crawling with 'em," Naxa said. "Just lookin' for somethin' t' kill."

"Could you capture one?" Jason asked. "Without getting yourself killed, I mean."

Naxa snorted contempt as he turned to leave. "Beast's not born yet, that'll hurt me."

They stood quietly, each one wrapped tightly around by his own thoughts, while they waited for Naxa to return. Jason had nothing more to say. He would do one more thing to try and convince them of the facts; after that it would be up to each of them to reach a conclusion.

The talker returned quickly with a stingwing, tied by one leg to a length of leather. It flapped and shrieked and he carried it in.

"In the middle of the room, away from everybody," Jason told him. "Can you get that beast to sit on something and not flap around?"

"My hand good enough," he asked, flipping the creature up so it clung to the back of his gauntlet. "That's how I caught it."

"Does anyone doubt that this is a real stingwing?" Jason asked. "I want to make sure you all believe there is no trickery here."

"The thing is real," Brucco said. "I can smell the poison in the wing claws from here." He pointed to the dark marks on the leather where the liquid had dripped. "If that eats through the gloves, he's a dead man."

"Then we agree it's real," Jason said. "Real and deadly, and the only test of the theory will be if you people from the city can approach it like Naxa here."

They drew back automatically when he said it. Because they knew

that stingwing was synonymous with death. Past, present and future You don't change a natural law. Meta spoke for all of them.

"We-can't. This man lives in the jungle, like an animal himsell Somehow he's learned to get near them. But you can't expect us to."

Jason spoke quickly, before the talker could react to the insult. "C

course I expect you to. That's the whole idea. If you don't hate the bea~ and expect it to attack you-why it won't. Think of it as a creature fror

a different planet, something harmless."

"I can't," she said. "It's a stingwing!"

As they talked, Bnicco stepped forward, his eyes fixed steadily o the creature perched on the glove. Jason signaled the bowmen to hol their fire. Brucco stopped at a safe distance and kept looking steadily c the stingwing. It rustled its leathery wings uneasily and hissed. drop of poison formed at the tip of each great poison claw on its wing The control room was filled with a deadly silence.

Slowly he raised his hand. Carefully putting it out, over the anima The hand dropped a little, rubbed the stingwings head once, then fe. back to his side. The animal did nothing except stir slightly under th touch.

There was a concerted sigh, as those who had been unknowingl holding their breath, breathed again.

"How did you do it?" Meta asked in a hushed voice.

"Hmm, what?" Brucco said, apparently snapping out of a daze. "01 touching the thing. Simple, really. I just pretended it was one of di training aids I use, a realistic and harmless duplicate. I kept my mm on that single thought and it worked." He looked down at his ham then back to the stingwing. His voice was quieter now, as if he spol from a distance. "It's not a training aid, you know. It's real. Deadl:

The off-worlder is right. He's right about everything he said."

With Brucco's success as an example, Kerk came close to the anima He walked stiffly, as if on the way to his execution, and runnels

sweat poured down his rigid face. But he believed and kept his though directed away from the stingwing and he could touch it unharmed.

Meta tried but couldn't fight down the horror it raised when si came close. "I am trying," she said, "and I do believe you now-hi I just can't do it."

Skop screamed when they all looked at him, shouted it was all a tric]

and had to be clubbed unconscious when he attacked the bowmen. Understanding had come to Pyrnis.

предыдущая глава | Deathworld | cледующая глава