Chthon (12 page)

Hastings put him off. “You remember a lot, all of a sudden. We never ask that question here. That’s none of our business.”

“But there’s a trail,” Framy said, savoring it.

“A trail to madness,” Hastings pointed out. “That’s as bad as death.”

“But a trail….”

The magic word was out. Aton knew that it would spread like the hot wind through the caverns. Proof—proof of a way out. They could never be fully satisfied now, until they found it.

9

Ten chows later Bossman called the meeting. Since the meals were distributed every twelve hours or so, governed roughly by the schedule of delivery through the elevator above, this meant five days, outside time. Aton found the distinction pointless; short intervals were measured in chows. Seven hundred chows came to about a year.

“Must be something big,” Framy said as they gathered. “Awful big. We never had no blowout like this before.”

Aton ignored him, observing for the first time the full complement of lower Chthon. There seemed to be hundreds of people, and many more women than men. Most were from other garnet mines—people he had never seen before. Tall, short, hirsute, scarred, handsome, old—every one an individual, every one condemned both by his society and by his fellow prisoners. Here was the ultimate concentration of evil.

Every person was unique. Aton had become adjusted to a smaller circle, as though this were all there was to know of cavern society—but the people he knew had been selected by circumstance and not decision, and were representative. Bossman, Garnet, Framy, Hastings, and the black-haired one—bitter and violent, yes. But evil?

If there is evil here, he thought, I have not seen it. The evil is in the minionette. The evil is in me.

Bossman strode to the center of the spacious cavern, double-bitted axe over his shoulder. He stood on top of a small mountain of talus. Above him the intersection of a half-dozen ancient, gigantic tubes traced the history of the formation of this violent nexus. How many times had the rock been rent to form this jumble? As many times as human sensitivity had been rent to form this group. The wind eddied from several tunnels, now and again stirring up little dust devils which were in turn sucked screaming into the mouths of others. This room reflected the essence of subterranean power. It was a fitting meeting place.

Bossman hallooed, establishing his claim for the attention due the leader. The call reverberated across the passages and mixed with the sound of the wind. Once more, cynically, Aton sized up the man. The chatter stopped.

“They’re giving us a hard time upstairs,” Bossman said without further preamble. “They want more garnets.”

There was a general bellow of laughter. “We’ll give the bastards all they want!” someone shouted derisively.

“All they have to do is trot down and fetch ‘em!” a woman finished.

Bossman did not laugh. “They mean it. They’re cutting down our rations.”

Now the murmur was angry. “They can’t do that.”

“They can,” Bossman said. “They are. Each one of us got to give three stones for two meals to keep up the pace.”

“They ain’t that many stones!”

Aton looked around and saw faces suddenly haggard with fear. There would be hunger.

“Why?” Hastings called out. A few snickered bitterly; he would be the first to suffer from a tight market. “What set them off?”

“Because they gone crazy,” Bossman said. “They got some fool notion we got a blue garnet down here—”

“Tally knows there’s no such thing. What’s the matter with him?”

“Tally swears he’s got proof.”

Framy looked at Aton and leaned over. “You didn’t tell nobody—”

Aton shook his head. “Never said a word.” The evil is in me, he thought.

“Me neither. I went back after the salamander was gone and found one of them pieces. It must’ve ate the other. But I thought about what you ‘n Hasty said, and I didn’t say nothing.”

Bossman was speaking. “Tally says they’re going to clamp down until they get that garnet. Ten chows from now it’ll be two stones per…”

“Great Chthon! They’d kill me for sure if they knew I had a piece,” Framy whispered, his body tense and shaking. “Somebody must’ve found the other.”

Aton thought, The chimera is the enemy you don’t see.

“…Ain’t
going
to take it!” Bossman was roaring. “I don’t like it no better’n you do. They think they got us by the—” He paused. His voice dropped. “But I got a plan.”

The cavern quieted. “We’re through trying to talk with those Laza-lovin’ weaklings,” he continued. “They been lording it over us too long.
We
been the ones doing the work. Now we’re going to put the callus on the other foot.

“We’re going to take over!”

He paused for the shocked commotion to subside. Revolution! Never before had such a thing been seriously conceived.

“First thing to do is bribe the guard at the hole. Now we got to pool our information, figure what’ll move him. Maybe there’s a woman, above or below”—his eye fell briefly on the black tresses provocatively draped over one breast of the woman Aton knew—”or maybe we can soften him a little some other way. We got to form a committee, take care of that. Next thing is the plan of attack. I figure we got to get five, six good men up there first, to hold off the softies in case they get wind before we’re ready. Once they’re stationed, quiet-like, we’ll haul up the rest in the basket fast as we can. No one stays below. When we move out, first thing we got to take is their ‘denser. They’ll fall in pretty quick without water. Next objective is the ‘vator; they might try to bust it and make us all starve. We don’t worry about them freaks in the private cells; just leave ‘em be and they won’t notice the difference. Once we got control, we ship all the softies down here and let
them
mine the garnets—and if they can find any blue ones…”

Bossman went on, detailing plans in an atmosphere of growing excitement. He showed the qualities that made him a leader: no mere physical strength, but organization, practicality, enthusiasm, and ruthlessness. “But remember—this revolt is dangerous. If we try it and don’t make it, they’ll starve us out. Every one of us. It’ll mean the Hard Trek….” 

•    •    •

“After the revolt,” Framy said, again almost dancing with excitement, “after we take over, know what I’m going to do?” The others gave him their attention, enjoying the discussion of grandiose plans. There were a dozen or so gathered at the mine, unable to concentrate on the work. Revolt day was coming; the decisive variable lay in the assignment of the Bribe Committee.

“I’m going to catch ol’ man Chessy by his white goat’s beard and I’m going to twist his head off until he learns me how to play that game.”

“You might have better luck with that li’l Prenty,” someone joked. “Bet she’d teach you a game.”

“No.” Framy was firm. “It’s got to be Chessy himself. Nobody else. We’re going to lay out the pieces and play in front of the whole Chthon, and when I beat him a game the whole Chthon’ll know I’m a brain and never did nothing wrong.”

They had the courtesy not to laugh. Each man had his secret desire, and many would look foolish in the open.

Hastings took his turn. “I don’t think I’ll fit through that hole any more,” he burbled, and the others smiled with him. The hole was a yard in diameter. “But if the rope doesn’t break when they haul me up, and the floor above doesn’t sink, why then—”

“I know!” someone put in. “He’s going to get himself ‘pointed grinder on the ‘denser!”

“To reduce.”

“Ma Skinflint’ll love that.”

“Love
what?
”

Hastings patiently waited for these to subside. “Why then I’ll go to Laza’s cave. I’m quick with my hands, you know”—they knew—”and when she comes at me with that stone knife, why I’ll just pluck it out of her hand, and then…”

The others leaned forward.

“Then…”

“Get
on
with it, Hasty!”

“Then I’ll give her what she’s been craving so long, so she won’t ever forget!”

“What’s that, Hasty?”

“I’ll pay admission to see that. Hasty!”

“Don’t worry—you will,” another person said. “One garnet per throw.” More laughter.

Framy turned to Aton. “How about you, Fiver? What’s your piece?”

Aton looked around. He had been expecting a surprise twist from Hastings, and wondered what had become of it. The man had let them down with an unclever climax.

Garnet was standing quietly at the fringe. She too, it appeared, had misgivings about the future of the revolt. He felt the need to hurt her.

“Tally’s got a girl, Silly Selene,” he said. “Know her? She made a play for me once, but I had other business. This time I think it will be different.” They gathered in for the telling. “Pretty, yes. You never saw such beauty. A creature of perfection. Her hair takes life when she loves; her eyes become black and green as the deep oceans. As with the hvee, she blooms only when—” He saw their glances of puzzlement. What was wrong? Did they find this fantasy of a simple cavern girl so confusing? He shrugged it off, not caring what they thought. The revolt would never come to pass. “I found her at last. She had been masquerading as human, but once I unveiled her she had to hide from man. I took her to an asteroid cabin—”

“Not human?” Framy asked, puzzle-lines between his eyes. “Silly?”

“I suppose her kind evolved from human stock. Genetic modification—but she looked human, divinely so. The legends attribute strange powers, and some… are true. She can’t be immortal, but I think she is semi-telepathic.”

“She can read minds?”

“I don’t know. That would explain a lot of things. But it also makes her actions more paradoxical. She made me do terrible things. I loved her when I searched for her, but I hated her when I found her. She was destroying me. I did not dare to give her the hvee—”

“Ain’t that the little green flower them people wear? I never seen one.”

“Finally I left her and went home. I told Aurelius that I would marry his daughter of Four if only I could be cured of—of Malice. He was so happy he nearly expired. He was nearly dead from the blight, only holding on until I should return. He shipped me to a famous retreat planet.”

Aton looked up and saw Garnet listening intently. He had forgotten her entirely. For a moment he had self-doubt. Do I have any right to torture this woman? Don’t I owe her a warning, at least? Malice, Malice—you have made me a monster. You make me implement your name, and there is no escape.

Yet Garnet did not look disturbed as much as thoughtful, and there was not a sound from any of the others. What had happened?

A clamor rose above the sound of the wind. Men came running. “It’s time! It’s time! They’ve softened the guard! We got to gather for the revolt! It’s time! The revolt is on. It’s on!” 

•    •    •

The passages adjoining the transfer cavern were packed with suppressed excitement. All eyes were fixed on the tiny hole in the ceiling thirty feet above. This was the only known connection between the two worlds. Everywhere else the stone was firm and deep, impossible to attack without heavy tools.

The upper caverns were sealed off, but the seal had one weak spot, and that was the guard on the “night” shift. Aton didn’t know what they had had to promise him, but Bossman’s given word was good, and the man would be secure for life. He had only to let down the rope and stand aside.

Slowly, slowly, the heavy slab crunched over. The dark hole lightened invitingly, a green glow from the far side, the doorway to success. No face appeared. No sound came from above except for the too-loud scraping of the stone.

A pause; then the rope appeared, spinning out from its coil, swinging free of its basket and undulating as it came. The ragged end dropped just clear of the floor and hung in limp invitation.

Bossman gave a grunt of satisfaction. The selected invasion squad moved to the center, Aton second in the line. The most important thing here was the ability to climb swiftly and silently, with strength left over for immediate combat, if necessary.

The first man, short and game in the legs but with arms of immense power, stepped up and jerked the rope. It gave slightly, but held; it was anchored. Like a tug on a teenage braid, Aton thought.

The man took hold and skillfully hauled himself into the air. Aton saw Bossman watching the operation closely, shaking his head. Are you worried, Krell farmer? he thought. You also remember Tally’s intelligence?

The man climbed swiftly to the top, hoisting himself with both hands and hooking a leg in a bend of rope for occasional pauses. He caught the edge of the hole with his hands and flexed the muscles, raising head and shoulders above it. Aton held the rope, making no motion to follow yet.

A muffled cry came from above. The high legs kicked; the man struggled and lost his grip just as he seemed about to complete his climb. He slid down, back through the hole, and fell heavily to the floor below.

Bossman lifted him immediately, but it did not matter. His throat had been neatly slit.

The rope slackened. A second body fell.

It was the softened guard. The rope had been knotted around his neck. He had served as the anchor, and the climbing weight of the first invader had throttled the traitor.

The revolt had come as no surprise to Tally.

You should have known, Aton thought, that Tally would anticipate such a move. That he is neither sadistic nor a fool, and that he had sufficient reason for his pressure and was prepared for any consequence. You will know, at last, that there had to be a traitor, and you will assume that one of your own crew has been softened. You will suspect, now that you know that Tally’s mind is after all as sharp as ever, that there really
is
evidence of a blue garnet. You will search and question relentlessly, every man and every woman—and in the bottom of Framy’s water-skin you will find the blue fragment.

Framy will scream out the entire story of the discovery and loss of the garnet. He will appeal to me for verification, but I will admit only to an affair with Garnet during the time in question. She will agree, telling herself that she will be suspect otherwise, and wanting the black-haired one to be jealous. Framy is known as a great liar, but you will let him take you to the place he says he found it, and there will be nothing there, and he will not know that his proof lies very near at hand.