John Rackham (14 page)

"This one is over the fifty percent
mark, is starting to decay. See how the red light is glowing steadily, and the
green flickering? Note the power-reading? And now, when I open the cover
..
."

This
time the light was less bright, the growl of power ragged. Jack shielded his
face with an arm. "What if it should fail?" he asked.

"This
is what happens." Haldar pulled a lever, the light died, the dial-pointer
fell back, the green and red lamps went out
...
but in the same instant a duplicate of that power-box, just above and to the
rear of it, sprang into life. "The second-stage backup comes in
automatically.
I’ ll
replace this one." He pulled
out a scorched and blackened jewel, put it to one side, and made delicate
adjustments to the spare he had brought with him before inserting it into the
complexity of thick wires and coils inside the box. Then he closed the cover, reversed
that switch, and the green light and pointer resumed activity.

"There
is much here that I do not understand," Jack admitted, "but if I
have it right, then all the heartbeat of the station is right here, in your
hands, and that puzzles me."

Haldar
managed to smile now, thinly. "I can guess your problem. I felt the same,
once. I, too, was a countryman, unused to the tricks of the military mind,
until the war taught me. But tell me your puzzle anyway."

"If
you are Garmel's prisoner, captive, and if you hate him, and he knows you do,
then why would he allow you here, where you could, if you so wished, destroy
all the power that keeps this place alive?"

Haldar
smiled again. Even Jasar was grinning. "You're no fool," the
metalworker declared. "I mean that kindly. But neither were the people who
built this system. As I just said, if a first-bank fuser decays below a certain
level of output, it switches out and a second-level replacement comes in
automatically. If and when
that
one
bums out, a third-level backup takes over,
and
sounds an alarm. In exactly the same way, should the total power-output
fall below a certain fraction, all the switches freeze, lock
themselves
on. And any further demand for power is just
plain unlucky. Put it this way. If I ran along here and pulled all the
switches .
..
nothing
! The second bank would take over. And if I then
tried pulling the second-bank switches, which is not nearly so easy to do, I
would get exactly halfway. Then all switches would lock, and every klaxon,
hooter, bell, and alarm light would be registering all over the station. That
is all built in, against sabotage
...
or some stupid mistake by somebody who doesn't know what he is doing."

His grin faded now. "That also prompts
me to ask
...
just how did you two
get into this chamber
anyway?
It's armored. I can't
get in unless Garmel lets me. How did you work it?"

"Cutting
through thermal armor is the least of our worries." Jasar waved it aside.
"Do you have somewhere we can sit and talk a while? There's a plan trying
to grow in my head."

"In
a moment.
Let me check the power-bank first."

There
was one more jewel to replace, and then Haldar led them farther on, to a corner
that he had obviously fixed up as a kind of workshop and retreat. There was a
crude workbench, a water-boiler, a large pot with a curiously waxy feel to it,
and several smaller pots of the same stuff, as well as a store of the
meal-disks, by eights, wrapped in transparent stuff. Haldar set the water to
heat up and hitched himself onto
a
corner
of the workbench.

"A plan?" he
hinted.

"The
alarm systems are most of it. If we can silence them, the critical ones, long
enough to give us time to fuse this whole power-complex into slag
...
and the chance to make a run for our
ship . . . ?"

"You
forget this damned belt of mine. I can't. I'm not too worried on dying, Jasar.
But I've no great liking for torture!"

"We
will have to do something about that
...
hark]
What's
that?"

A
metal-throated voice echoed distantly through the chamber.
"Flagship
Belon
to BB7 Arc.
We are within range of
your power. Request cooperation and assist for docking."

"It's just a
relay," Haldar muttered.

"BB7 Arc to
Belon.
Have your coordinates. Stand
by
my signal to go inert.
Locking on
...
now!"

That
will keep Garmel busy for some time.
Docking the ship.
Gloating over the loot.
More than likely he'll have
the ship's officers across for
a
carousal
,
if they have the time for it."

"Will
he have need of you?" Jack wondered, and Haldar snorted.

"That's the last thing. He won't even
mention me until they are long gone. You understand, Garmel is supposed to do
all this work himself. And he can, of course; only it suits him a lot better to
have me do it for him. And
I
doubt very much if he would like the Hilax High Command to hear of it
No, he doesn't need me. He won't

even
think of me for some time. I could starve to
death and he wouldn't worry. That's why I have all these stores, and my little
runs, ways of escape."

Jack
ignored almost all of the growling, clung fast to the part that mattered to
him. "If Garmel will be busy for some time, then this is our chance to
rescue that girl, the one in the cage!"

SEVEN

Jasar glowered at his young friend in
impatience. "You have a kind heart, lad, but we have bigger things to
think of than one small life."

"I
care but little for your plans," Jack retorted. "They are beyond my
understanding in any case. You can work at them without me and lose little. I
will do what I can to save that girl by myself, if I must."

"On your own?"
Jasar sounded scornful. "I doubt if you can find your way to her
and back here unaided."

"That
comes ill from you, Jasar. You force me to remind you of several things.
That you began your mission in the first place, on your own.
That you never really wanted my aid.
Yet without me
you would be dead several times, would never have achieved this far!"

"Emotional
blackmail 1" Jasar growled. "That's a poor weapon. It's true that I
owe you my life, but I never thought you'd remind me of it this way. And I owe
more to the Salviar Fleet.
Millions of lives against
one?"

Jack tried to contain his anger, breathing
hard at the little man, and then Haldar intervened gruffly. "Let him go,
Jasar.
If he can find his way.
Good luck to you, lad.
Bring her back here if you can. And bear one thing in mind. If possible, make
it look as if she escaped by herself. You understand? No, Jasar"—he saw
the protest coming—"let him go. We have plenty to do. These alarm systems
are not easy to follow, and are carefully protected. It will take all our
craft to crack them. And I was in love once, Jasar. I had a wife. We were
called to the war together, she to a hospital ship. I saw that ship disappear
in a puff of radiant energy. My life has been that much emptier ever since. Who
can count lives by the million?

Off
you go, Jack. Up to the top and along, across one bridge
...
you'll find the way."

Jack
took another bite of a food-tablet, a mouthful of water, and he was as ready as
he could ever be. "
I’ ll
try to bring her back
here," he promised, "if I can." Then he set off before his own
inner doubts could harden. Up on the cabinet top he set off at a steady trot.
It seemed farther now that he was alone, but the stomach-grabbing cavern
under the bridging strip was just as vast. But then he could see the far door,
and pick the right strip-ladder to go down. Down to that silver-gray floor, and
run, and find that hole in the armored wall, which was quite cold and smooth
now.
He felt desperately alone, and small, and inadequate.
His mind kept rendering a problem to him. Even if he found the chamber, managed
to reach the cage, managed to get her free, and down, and back to his friends
...
then what? But the problem didn't stop
him from his mission. He paused at the cut opening into Gartners chamber, but
only to assure himself that the giant really was not there.

The
cage seemed empty as he stared up at it, but he could see the nub where the
fine gold wires came together, so he could assume she was perhaps at rest on
the cage floor. He hovered uneasily, not wanting to call out, driving himself
to plan, to work everything out before starting anything positive. The support
cable, he saw now, did not go up to the roof as he had first thought. It hung
from a thick metal rod. That rod jutted out from the wall. And there was one of
those strip-metal ladders up to that point. So, he could get that far. But he
could not safely assume that he could return that way, or that she would want
or be able to. Staring about in search of inspiration, he saw that many of the
massive cabinets stood clear of the walls, offering somewhere to hide if Garmel
did return unexpectedly. But then he looked harder at the cabinets, and what
they held.
Curious disk-shaped boxes.
He went close,
shoved at one, to move it and then stare in bewilderment. The box was about
six inches deep and possibly eighteen inches across, and it was full of fine
wire, a mighty coil of it. And there was a slot cut in the disk-wall to let the
wire escape. There were many of these disks and, even as he wondered what they
could be for, an idea lit his mind. He took hold and pulled on the wire,
silvery stuff that came out in loops like stiff rope, but was little thicker
than his bowstring. Ideas began to build at a great rate in his mind.

He unsheathed his knife, but the wire turned
that edge without
so
much as a scratch. And it
wouldn't snap. Then he remembered the beamer on his belt, and that problem was
solved. He looked up at the cage again and made estimates. Then he hauled out
reach after reach of the wire until he thought he had as much as he needed. He
cut it off, started coiling it to carry, remembered the advice of Haldar, and
shoved the disk-box around to conceal the slot and hide the evidence. He took
time to arrange the wire coil about his shoulders so as not to bind him, or interfere
with his bow. Then he started to climb that strip-ladder up the wall. By the
time he reached the boss where the rod jutted out into midair he was glad to
rest a while and ease the ache in his arms and legs. He craned around and
stared into the cage which was now below him. She was
there,
sure enough, curled up on the floor, seemingly asleep, half hidden by the
wreathing wires and the cage bars. He didn't dare waste too much time.

A
scramble got him up onto and astraddle the rod. He started inching his way
along, nervously because the rod was polished smooth. As he moved farther and
farther from the wall, the rod began to bend and bounce to his shifting mass.
Peering ahead, he saw that the cage was gently bouncing too. The sleeping girl
stirred uneasily a time or two, then woke up, sat up, and looked about her in
instant fear, resting her palms on the cage floor. Then she looked up and saw
him. Her face, her eyes, her red mouth, all went round and open in
astonishment. Urgently Jack risked his precarious balance to put a hand to his mouth
in a gesture for silence. In a moment she nodded her understanding, rose to her
feet, and backed away to the far bars better to watch him. The last few feet
were an anguish of care, the rod really swaying now to every move. Trying to
hurry, Jack lost his balance, slid, hung on frantically, and managed to get his
legs up so that he hung upside down, and was able to finish the trip that way,
until he could let himself down and stand on the bars. He gained breath and
assured himself once again that there was no return that way.

Crouching,
he took hold of the bars and tried his strength. His shoulder muscles creaked,
but the bars yielded reluctantly. Again, sweat breaking out on his face, and
there was a gap big enough to squirm through, and swing, and then drop to the
cage floor. She pressed back to the bars, staring at him, her eyes wide and
uneasy.

"I know your name," Jack told her.
"I heard Garmel use it. He called you Silvana. My name is Jack. I mean to
help you to escape. Do you understand?"

She
stared at him still, then nodded her head but made not a sound.

"You
can speak," he said. "I heard you sing. Please talk to me. I need
your help, if we are to get away from here."

She
shook her head, looking distressed. Then she put a hand to her head, to her breasts,
to her waist, wrists
...
and he
realized she was pointing to a series of gilded patches that seemed to be stuck
to her body. Or the wires that trailed from them. She shook her head again.
Aware of passing time, Jack tried to be patient, struggled to get her meaning.
For some reason she was unable or unwilling to speak. "Is it the
wires?" he asked, coming close. She nodded in quick agreement. "Can't
you get them off?" he asked, and she cringed instantly, her face full of
pain. He thought that out. This was something like Haldar's belt, some kind of
punishment control. "Can I break the wires?" he asked, and she
shrugged in a way he took to mean "Can you?" He thought of the beamer
at his belt,
then
remembered the stricture. It must
look like an escape. He stood back from her, placed himself under the central
boss, reached up, and took the whole mass of wires in his grasp.
And heaved.
And gave that up.
The
wires were fine, but tough enough to cut into his palm. Looking about, his gaze
fell on a cast-aside piece of blue material that she had been using as a
blanket, or covering of some kind. He gathered that up, tried it,
wrapped
it in his hand, reached for two or three of the
wires, tracing them back to the cluster. Then he reached as high as he could,
took a firm grip, sprang up, and let his whole weight come down on the strands.
They parted with no more than a bite at his palm and a tumble on the floor.
Three times more and all the web-work of wiring was snapped off close to the
overhead boss.

"Now can you speak?" he demanded,
getting to his feet after the final sprawl and facing her.

"I
can speak freely now," she said, very softly. "Thank you for being so
quick to understand, Jack.
And so resolute."

"It was a simple matter." He pushed
it away in delight "What I do not understand is why the wires should make
you dumb!"

"Not
dumb!" She shook her head and smiled, and he melted inside at her
radiance. "The wires are Garmel's way of connecting me to his machinery,
his instruments, so that when I speak or sing the sounds are amplified, and
carried to wherever he may be at any time. Also"—and a rosy glow came to
her face—"they make it so that, at will, he can feel me, my movements, my
sensations, all my emotions, and reactions. And hurt me, tickle me, excite me
...
as he chooses. But not now that the
contact is broken." She looked down at her waist and wrists and back to
him. "Now I can get these dreadful things off." "Could you not
do that before?"

"Garmel
is too cunning for that. Any attempt to peel off the patches
...
I tried it, just once
...
it was like being bathed in fire over
the whole of my body. But not now, with the power cut off."

"Can
I help you?" He came close to her again. "We must be quick. I do not
know how long Garmel will be away."

"If
you can break the bands," she said, touching her head and neck, "as
they are loose anyway. The patches are stuck on with cement, and I would rather
do
those
myself." He tried his sheath-knife
again, with more success this time. She stood still while he cut through the
band about her forehead, and neck, and each wrist, then knelt to free her
ankles while she set her lips and started peeling off the patches at her
breasts and stomach, under her arms and between her thighs. There were angry
red areas where the patches had been. But then, as he slashed through the belt
at her waist, she drew a deep breath and threw the hideous network aside.
"I'm free, at last!" she said, and stretched herself, catlike, in
sheer delight. "Now I will go with you, anywhere you say, so long as it is
away from this cage, and Garmel. It feels as if I have been here a
lifetime!"

"Wait!" Jack was suddenly and
uncomfortably aware that in discarding her prison chains she had stripped herself
completely, and didn't seem to realize it. Shaking her golden hair into freedom
she stood before him all agog for the next move, very lovely, but extremely
distracting. "Count me foolish if you will," he mumbled, "but I
am not alone. I have companions. If I succeed in this effort to free you, I
will take you to them. They are two. One is Jasar-am-Bax, a scout of the
Salviar Fleet. The other is Haldar Villar, of Berden on Strella, who was like
you a captive of Garmel, but who will be as free as you now are, if we can
manage it."

"I am of Strella," she interrupted,
"from Maramelle. It

Is
a beautiful island, rich in trees and flowers and hills, and streams, and small
farms.
"

"And,"
Jack drove on desperately, "I know not what your customs are but I think
it may not be seemly that I should take you to them
...
unclad!"

"Oh!"
She looked at him curiously, then down at her nakedness. "You are right of
course. I was so dazzled with the thought of freedom that I had not
...
but what can I
dor'

"There
is this." He caught up the blue fabric he had used to save his hands, and
held it out to her. "Perhaps you can contrive
something
.
..
?"

He
turned away to study the cage, noting the water-pot, gravel-box and little
stack of food-tablets. No help there. How best to get out? Back along that
support-rod was out of the question. If he could bend the bars here . . . ? He
crossed to them, took two, and heaved, pouring out energy, and the bars gave,
and gaped wide enough to pass his body. He turned, to see her wide-eyed at his
shoulder, staring at the bent metal.

"You are strong! I
could not have done that."

"Will
Garmel believe that?
If we leave no other kind
of
evidence?"

"I
don't know, nor care. Is this dress enough?" She stood back for his
criticism. He couldn't have rebuked her even if he had wanted to. Each note of
her voice, every move she made, each fresh glance of her blue eyes, served only
to enchant him more. But he pretended to study her, seeing that she had merely
caught the blue stuff by one edge about her waist and knotted at her hip. It
was enough, he thought. In some odd way she reminded him of the serving wenches
of Castle Dudley when they came to pound and scrub by the riverside. She had
something of their full-bodied simplicity. But they had nothing of her magic.

"It
will do well enough," he said. "And we have little choice anyway. But
now you must listen closely. This next part must be done just right. First I
will bind one end of this wire about you, if you will stand still." His
hands shook, much to his vexation, as he passed one end of his wire about her
waist and secured it in a clumsy but secure hitch. "Now, you will go out
through the gap, and I will lower you down to the floor. That will be easier
than trying to go back the way I came."

She
looked up at the polished rod and nodded. "I would have been ready to try
it, to try anything just to get away, but I'm glad I don't have to. This way
will be easier. But who will lower you down, Jack?"

"Don't
worry about that. When you reach the floor, just slip this knot. I will let
myself down. Ready? Just hold onto the wire." She went out and down, the
wire squeaking as he paid it out around an upright. She wasn't all that heavy
at first but as the wire extended his arms began to protest and his palms
burned as he let the wire out hand over hand. Those aches and pains were only
minor irritants around the main wonder in his mind. How wonderful she was!
A fine girl, all girl; yet neat and graceful, and with plenty of
courage.
And wit.
No panic. One careless sound
and Garmel would have been warned. She had grasped that instantly. And those
devilish patches must have hurt like the scald of boiling water, to leave such
marks, yet she hadn't murmured.
A truly wonderful person.
He wondered about her home and her life there. Maramelle, she had called it.
Did she have a swain there, he wondered? She had said it was a place of trees
and hills and farms, and she looked as if she knew sunshine and fresh air very
well. Her skin was honey-gold. Such deep blue eyes!