In Solitary (17 page)

Stella told them about my being raised amongst the Soal and added that my sympathies were not always constant
in their direction.

Riderman then addressed me.

‘Anyway, fella, I’m afraid I’m near the bottom of the line, an unintelligent soldier, and I have to consider my orders, which are to prepare this world for the coming of some five hundred million people and at the moment we have grave problems with weather in the north – and certain parts of the south. Terrible storms have broken out all over the world, and there’s flooding and Mars knows what. It’s almost as if the weather’s been harnessed for so long it feels it has a right to go wild for a while. We’re not used to weather either, living in our sub-surface cities, so we’re attempting to repair and reactivate the Soal thermostatic system …’

‘Five hundred million people?’ I gasped. Surely there was not that much life in the whole universe.

‘Yes,’ answered the Colonel. ‘It’s only a start we’re looking for now but later on we should be able to allow a few more millions in to relieve the overcrowding on Mars. Then we can start on Mercury and the various moons; Ganymede for example.’ He rambled on while my mind drowned in a picture of millions of bodies, covering the Earth like a ball of maggots.

‘This place stinks!’ remarked our escort as he led
the way to where the Soal thermostatic chambers stood. The chambers, containing those Soal that had managed to reach them before the temperature rose from 20 to 26.7 degrees, had been collected from all over Ostraylea and placed by the shore for transportation to Yusat, the Martian headquarters in the northern hemisphere.

I had given up arguing with that remark. It was pointless. The Martians had their idea of what was an acceptable atmosphere, and I had mine.

I was wearing one of the artificial skins – it was made of soft, blue-coloured material and had the facility of keeping me cool when the day was hot, and warm when the weather was cold. I had to admit I liked it. The Martians called it a quilter.

Stella was with me but she had been distant since the Martians had arrived. This was possibly because I could not stop criticizing everything the newcomers did or said. She had taken to frequenting their bawdy houses late at night and I knew for certain that she had mated with one of the Martian officers – the dark-haired handsome giant that had been in the Colonel’s regional headquarters. I had refused to shave my beard, but I had washed in soap-water, a detergent that helped to remove dirt, and I had promised her that I would not finger my nose, or spit inside buildings – neither of which I had done much of anyway.

‘How much farther?’ I asked the sergeant.

‘Two tunnels maybe – maybe less.’

‘What the Weyym is two tunnels?’ I asked Stella truculently.

‘About a kilometre,’ she answered.

Her voice was sullen and I made a mental note not to
upset her further. It was I who had asked to walk anyway. I wanted to see the tree tops glistening with the recent rain and watch the sunlight running like a basilisk over the blue folds of water. In a poetic mood, and sick of the inside of buildings, I wanted to cleanse my soul with nature.

The Martians had not repaired the mushroom tower but they had got to work on the buildings, bridges and communications. Storms were their main problem and in Ostraylea we had experienced some fierce winds carrying dust and sand, that gave the building robots problems with their joints.

Eventually we reached the thermostatic chambers: low rectangular metal structures on floater bars. We entered the first by means of the locks and after a short time came to the centre of the chamber, where, in the dimly lit interior, I perceived about two dozen Soal huddled together pathetically in groups of five or six. They were in
stool
.

Twenty-one in here,’ said the sergeant, his voice echoing through the metal room. ‘Recognize any?’

I took a hard look at each one in turn but it was difficult.

‘Can’t see their faces properly, when they’re in
stool
,’ I remarked, ‘and the light is bad.’

One of the Soal shuffled his feet but still kept his head buried deep between his shoulders. I knew that this was not their thinking stance and that they were aware of us. It was the
stool
they went into when they were deeply ashamed.

‘Perhaps the sergeant can shake one of them into attentiveness?’ suggested Stella, not without a malicious bite to her voice. ‘I believe they kick ostriches up the backside when they bury their stupid heads in the sand.’

‘I don’t recognize any of them,’ I said, and left the inner chamber. After a while the other two followed me and we visited several more chambers. I gave the same reply to the sergeant’s question in each one as we entered. Finally we came to a chamber, much the same as the others, where the sergeant intoned, ‘Eighteen in this one.’

I could see at once he was wrong. There were two groups of six and one of four.

‘Sixteen,’ I corrected him.

His eyes narrowed and swept the chamber, taking
in all the corners.

‘Should be eighteen,’ he emphasized. ‘There’s two missing.’ His hand reached for his weapon and snapped it clear of its thigh clip.

Stella said, ‘Look! In the wall!’

We followed her finger and our eyes rested on two dark rectangular cavities. We crossed to them and I gingerly felt around inside.

‘Nothing there,’ I told them, ‘and there’s a back to it, so it’s not an escape hatch.’

‘They don’t need an escape hatch,’ remarked the sergeant frowning, ‘we saw no need to lock them in. They can’t go outside – the temperatures vary too much, night and day. Especially now, while the weather’s pissing about. Must have had suits of some kind in those little closets. I think they’ve bunked on us.’

Stella looked grim.

‘We’ll have to wake one of them now – to get some answers.’

I nodded reluctantly and the sergeant lifted the nearest Soal and began to shake him.

‘Not that one,’ I said. ‘He probably doesn’t speak Terran. That one over there.’ I indicated a Soal with military wing-markings.

The first Soal was dropped and the second lifted roughly. After several shakings his head emerged and he regarded us with miserable-looking eyes.

‘Where are the two Soal that are missing?’ I asked.

‘Gone,’ he answered directly. ‘We … we don’t know where.’ The sergeant shook him hard.

‘Don’t do that!’ I said sharply. ‘It’s not necessary.’

Then to the Soal.

‘Were they wearing suits of some kind?’

‘Yes,’ the Soal replied. ‘Only those of their rank are permitted to wear them. We are to stay here and die, for the ships have a limited capacity.’

‘Why are you telling us this?’ inquired Stella. ‘Are you bitter at being left behind?’

The Soal gave a crossed-beak smile.

‘Not bitter. That would be stupid. We have our
laws about who should, and should not go, and we accept them. Perhaps they go to an uglier death? Who can tell? I merely give you this information because it will only serve to enrage you. Humans anger easily and nothing grieves them more than being fooled. You will never find the ships, for they are too well hidden. You
may
find the two Soal, because one of them is so incensed with the desire for revenge on some human called Cave, he has thrown away all caution.’

Dread pulled at my stomach muscles.

‘What was this Soal’s name?’ I asked.

‘He was a Military Head. A new one called Endrod. You have heard of him?’ The smile mocked me as he recognized fear in my face.

‘I pity this human called Cave, for Endrod will not rest until he has torn open the man’s throat. I have never seen such intense hatred in any …’

‘Enough!’ I said trembling. ‘I can deal with Endrod. Put that miserable creature down sergeant, and I suggest you check the other chambers to see if any more of your prisoners are missing.’

I strode from the chamber and out into the sunlight, hardly caring if the locks closed behind me or not. Outside, in the brightness of the day, my fear began to dissipate. After all, Endrod could only survive for so long – the suits must have a limited life – and anyway the fleet, wherever it was, would not wait for him forever. He would surely not place revenge above his own chance of escaping from Earth.

A moment later, Stella was by my side. Desire for violence had once again possessed her small demonic frame.

‘Now’s our chance to get that little bastard Endrod for all the wrongs he has done you, Cave. We’ll have to draw him out, using you as bait.’

I was horrified.

‘You don’t know Endrod, Stella. He always carries out his threats. He’ll kill me before you can stop him.’

‘Don’t be such a coward Cave. You do this for me and I’ll …’

‘And you’ll do what Stella? Give up your new boyfriend? Stop opening your thighs for the troops?
What?’ I interrupted coldly.

She stared at me hard. We were back on the old battleground again, just Stella and I, claws out and fangs drawn.

‘You’ll do as you’re told you bastard,’ she said evenly. ‘The Colonel will make sure of that. Then, when we’ve got Endrod we’ll get him or his companion to lead us to the ships.’

I shrugged my shoulders helplessly. What could I do? The Colonel’s loins were not so old, they would not appreciate the intimacy of Stella’s willing bed. She had me every way I turned.

‘Weyym will send you a gift one day,’ I said finally. ‘With any luck it will get you right between the shoulder-blades.’

‘That’ll make a change,’ she replied coolly, ‘from getting it between the thighs, won’t it?’

I refrained from answer.

‘Why is it so important to catch him?’ I asked Riderman. My
visitors had joined me on the balcony of my accommodation.

The evening was cool and we were sitting in manufactured seats called chairs, an alcoholic drink at our elbows. We were studying the wigs of the palms and watching the fruit bats float gracefully from tree to tree. On the water, purple bars of light rippled like ribbons in the wind.

Stella answered for him. She was at our feet, girlishly dangling her legs over the edge of the balcony. Her hair was now cut short and in the shape of doves wings, and on her face above the left cheek, she wore two stars that flashed red and white alternately.

‘Because we must find the Soal fleet,’ she said. ‘The Soal have interstellar drives in their space ships. Once out of the atmosphere our ships would be unable to catch them.’

‘We have units out searching for them of course, but they are masters at camouflage, the Soal.’

The Colonel sipped his drink moodily after this remark, making the ice cubes clink against the side of the metal goblet.

For the past few nights and days I had been propped up on the balcony waiting for Endrod to come and kill me. I had almost died twice – once when a wild dog slunk by in the early dawn, and once when a fruit bat skimmed the corner of the house. I thought grimly how Tangiia would have dealt with the bats and birds, and wished he were here to deal with Endrod. Tangiia was not a violent man by nature but he was big and able, and he hated Soal.

I had chosen my quilter to
go with the colour of the wall behind me, so as to make a poor target. It also annoyed me to notice that Riderman edged his chair away from mine if I leaned too close to him.

‘Be careful you aren’t hurt,’ I grumbled.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, make sure you aren’t too close to me when Endrod comes to kill me.’

This was designed to anger him, and it was succeeding – then something unforeseen intervened. He placed a hand on my arm.

‘I …’ began Riderman, wagging a slim finger. But then the finger curled slowly upwards and my eyes went to his face. The agony in his expression made me start backwards in terror. His own eyes went up into his skull, the narrow lips twisted into oxbows and the fingers of his right hand sank into my arm like steel talons.

The most horrible part of this scene was the fact that no sound had been made and Stella was unaware that anything was happening. She was still staring out into the trees, humming softly to herself. Then the pain hit me as blood began seeping through my quilter. I screamed, long and loud: Riderman’s nails had reached bone.

‘Get him off me,’ I shrieked, trying to prise out the fingers. As Stella turned, the Colonel stood on his feet, and with one lunge at the metal balcony rail deliberately cracked his head open. The force of the blow killed him instantly and immediately the fingers relaxed, I jumped the rail, falling heavily into the bushes below. I had no desire to suffer the same fate as Riderman. I did not blame him for smashing his own skull – any man on the receiving end of a Soal brainstinger would have done the same. The demons tearing away at a man’s mind, conjured up by the weapon, are so horrific they do not even allow the pitch of his scream to come down to an audible sound. The only way out is to destroy the mind, which is what Riderman did.

I scrambled through the bushes, my injured arm hurting so badly. I glanced back only once, to see an expression on Stella’s sharp features which may have been concern for my welfare, or the outward signs that she too was on the receiving end of a brainstinger. It did not stop me. I intended to get well
away from that weapon.

I ran, perhaps twenty metres, crashing through the undergrowth, before pausing for a breath. As I stopped, wondering which way was the opposite direction from my adversary, I saw a slight movement in the bushes only a few metres away.

He had me! Endrod had me. There was no decision to make. With panic in my breast I ran straight for the spot and flung myself on top of a grey form. It struggled beneath my weight but I held it until the wriggling ceased. Then I wrenched the head round to stare through the face-plate: the chill of fear went through me once again.

It was not Endrod.

The Soal eyes stared out at me with a fear of their own.

‘Where is he?’ I whispered harshly. ‘Where’s Endrod?’