Power Lines (27 page)

Torkel was not actually rubbing his hands together with glee, but he felt like it. O’Shay had received a radio message that Matthew Luzon, his assistant, and an unspecified passenger had just cleared the coast at Harrison’s Fjord. Torkel considered Luzon his staunchest ally, and he quickly sent a message asking Matthew to meet him and the McGee’s Pass shanachie at Savoy.

“Hope they got that clear, Captain,” O’Shay said, shaking his head. “Terrible amount of static lately.”

When they circled the Savoy settlement, Torkel thought nothing of the brambles growing some distance outside the town until he saw the gleam of metal beneath them. Even then he thought it was some piece of cast-off machinery a local had allowed the vines to overgrow.

When he inquired in the village for the shanachie, he was told that the man had been conferring with his fellow shanachies for days and yesterday had made a visit to the cave and had not yet returned.

“Important gennelmen such as yourself should be sittin’ and restin’ and havin’ a cuppa, and not go worryin’ after the shanachies. Sure they was all together and they’ll be after makin’ powerful decisions and discussions and suchlike out to the cave. I shouldn’t like to be the one to interrupt them.” This advice came from a middle-aged woman in raggedy clothes.

Why did Torkel get the feeling that there was something spurious about her rustic humility? Perhaps it was because he had lately had occasion to hear many Petaybeans speak. They seemed to use that broad colorful accent only when addressing company officials.

So he was uncharacteristically curt with her as he said, “Take me to this cave at once. Shanachie Satok’s business is with me and I’ve come to meet him.”

“Ah, well, sir, I’m too old a woman to take you on that sort of a hike, sure I am. But my son now, he’d be after takin’ ya on his way up to the fields with the sheep like.”

“Then let
him
take us, but let’s
go
,” Torkel snapped.

A boy appeared abruptly, a human island in a white woolly sea. He shook his head when Torkel wanted to use the copter to get them there. “Coo-berries’ll take that, too. C’mon!”

It irritated Torkel no end that Rick O’Shay had the time to relax, drink tea, and exchange gossip with the woman while he traipsed after the boy. About a mile from the end of the village, the boy started swinging in a wide arc around the lake of weeds.

“Just where is this cave, son?” Torkel asked him, panting slightly at the uphill climb. He’d have to get back into working out again at the station.

“Over there, sir, but you won’t want to go there, sir. Only shanachies go there.”

“Are all you people nuts? I already told your mother I have business with the shanachies. Now then, how do we get through this shrubbery and into the cave?”

“Ah, sure and I couldn’t be doin’ that, sir. Coo-berries is dead poison to sheep, and they’ve not sense enough to keep from eatin’ them. Worse, I’d never get the stickers and thorns out of the wool.”

“Then don’t
take
the sheep, son. Did that ever occur to you?”

“But like, what would I do with ’em then, sir?”

Torkel was about to make a suggestion when he heard the engine of another copter. Seeing it overfly their position and head for the village, he abandoned the boy and sprinted back down the hill to intercept it.

He arrived winded, back where he’d started from, in time to see the pilot shut down the copter and jump down, followed by the imposing figure of Vice-Chairman Matthew Luzon; one of his entourage, who looked a bit pale; and an individual dressed in ragged leather and fur. As Torkel approached, his nose twitched at the rancid stench that exuded from the creature.

“Dr. Luzon, thank you for coming. I’m afraid there’s been a bit of a delay, however.”

Luzon smiled knowingly. “Ah, yes, the vines. I encountered the same problem when I serendipitously ended up at McGee’s Pass on my way to meet you. It’s a small problem, but a bit tricky, Captain. You simply enlist the aid of the villagers to throw boards and stones on top of the weeds to form a path. We found that worked fine when we landed in the middle of a patch ourselves.”

“You went to the cave at McGee’s Pass?”

“Cave? Ah, was that what the locals were singing about? No, we didn’t examine the cave. When we discovered that you were, in fact, here, we came as soon as that . . . ah song was over. I did, however, make a quite satisfying discovery during our brief stay which I’ll discuss with you later. Now then, where’s this fellow we were supposed to meet?”

“He’s in the cave,” Torkel said. “Beyond the weeds. Though I’m damned if I know how he got through.”

“Easy enough if you think about it,” Matthew said superciliously. He turned to the villagers who had gathered to watch the company men confer. “I want a work party to gather boards, stones, sheets of plasglas, anything that can be thrown across the weeds for a path. Now, step quickly, will you! We must reach the cave.”

“Sure, carryin’ enough things to get back there, that’s a week’s work you’re talkin’ about, sir,” said a local man with the broad weathered face of an Eskirish cross, scratching his head at the prospect.

“We’ve used all that sort of stuff we had building bridges across the streams when they flooded,” the woman said. “There’s not a scrap left hereabouts.”

“Then we’ll send back to SpaceBase,” Torkel said with a curt nod to O’Shay. “You radio for a team.”

O’Shay got on the radio, and in a moment he emerged and said, “None of the other copters are at SpaceBase, sir, or even available later today.”

“Then one of you fly back and pick up help and material,” Torkel said, vastly annoyed at all of the delays and rather surprised that Satok, who’d had twenty-four or more hours to work ore, had not been on hand to guide them.

“It will have to be your pilot, Captain Fiske,” Luzon said. “I require the full-time services of my own.”

Torkel nodded to O’Shay, who climbed back aboard and restarted his engine. By now it was well into the afternoon.

“Why do you suppose we haven’t heard from your shanachie?” Torkel demanded of the woman as the noise of the copter faded in the distance.

“Cave’s a powerful ways back, sir.”

“How
did
he and the others get there, then?” Torkel demanded. “We could try the same thing.”

“Ah, sure, sir, shanachies has their ways as wouldn’t be known to others.”

Matthew Luzon nodded to Braddock, who hastily made a note of that remark.

“Yet more misguided souls in league with the Great Monster,” wailed the unwashed man.

“Ah, Captain Fiske, this is a particularly valuable . . . acquaintance. From the southern continent. Brother Howling, meet Captain Torkel Fiske, who has spearheaded the effort to have this planet fully investigated. Captain Fiske, the Shepherd Howling, a major spiritual leader from the Vale of Tears. A most influential man.”

Torkel gave the scruffy man an impatient look and limited his response to a mumbled “Delighted.”

While they accepted the dubious hospitality of the village, Torkel gave the commissioner the details of his meeting with Satok and the ore samples he had himself handled and identified. To his relief, Luzon did not appear at all skeptical about the authenticity of the ores. He knew the planet was ore-rich: every space probe had verified that, even pinpointing the exact sites from space. Finding the precise locations on the surface had proved to be impossible.

Howling had apparently been listening carefully and now he nodded wisely. “The monster is treacherous. Perfectly capable of transforming gold into stone, winter into summer, harmless plants into murderous serpentine weapons. Time and again I have warned my flock they must rise up and subdue the monster with no hint of capitulation, but they were weak and faltering.”

Torkel glanced at Luzon, appreciating what merit the lunatic could provide in discrediting the Kilcoole interpretation of the planet’s behavior. He smiled at Luzon. “We need a few more new . . . acquaintances like this good and wise Brother Howling, don’t we?”

Matthew wore a smug expression while Brother Howling said gravely, “Thank you, my son.”

Matthew mentioned to Torkel, in an amused tone, what the villagers had sung of Satok at McGee’s Pass.

“We’ve constantly been given the impression here that shanachies are universally respected and their views reflect those of their communities. At McGee’s Pass, this was not so.”

“I see. Discrediting what we have been told of the whole system. Yes, definitely, Dr. Luzon, we will need to have testimony from McGee’s Pass at the hearing. And Brother Howling here, too, will represent a unique viewpoint at odds with the Kilcoole party line.”

“My thoughts, exactly. Although Brother Howling also falls into the error of believing this planet to be sentient, his view is that the planet, far from being a benefactor and friend, is in fact a great monster. He believes that the colonists were brought here by the company as banishment for misbehavior elsewhere and that one day, if they do well and obey his teachings, the company will redeem them.”

“Verily, have I said it thusly my brethren,” Shepherd Howling said. “I have done the company’s work on this forsaken rock, Brother Matthew, that I and my family may be delivered from the monster and into the grace of the company once more. I will commune with the planet here, if you will excuse me.”

His absence was welcome on several counts: the obviously fresher air, and the chance for Torkel and Luzon to make plans based on their respective discoveries. Torkel listened intently to Luzon as the man talked of similar investigations he had conducted into the folkways of various planets and systems and how he had corrected mistaken concepts and behaviors. The dialogue was briefly interrupted when a bewildered and bruised Shepherd Howling was herded back at the end of their hostess’s broom.

“With all respect, gentlemen, you keep this maniac away from my little girl or I’ll geld him!” the woman said and stomped away.

“Sit in the sun, Brother Howling,” Luzon suggested, pointing to a half-broken bench against the outside wall—downwind of them.

All the while, Torkel kept expecting Satok to arrive to guide them to the rich ore faces as he’d promised. But several hours went by with no sign of the man. Finally the sound of helicopter engines once more routed the four men from their chairs.

Two helicopters approached the village. Torkel figured one would have men and one equipment to rid the area of the bushes, but when the passengers disembarked, he was annoyed to see that there were no figures in fatigues emerging, except the pilots, O’Shay and Greene. No one useful at all, in fact. Marmion and her entourage had come, along with George and Ivan from Luzon’s group. And to his further irritation, he watched as Clodagh Senungatuk was courteously helped to descend by O’Shay from his copter.

“You’re on report, O’Shay, for disobeying orders,” he told the pilot.

“Oh, please don’t punish the dear boy, Captain Fiske,” said Marmion, with a flourish of fashionable fabric scarf and a charming moue. “It’s all my fault really. Captain Greene returned from the southern continent with Yana Maddock, Dr. Shongili, and those sweet youngsters, plus another little girl Dr. Shongili says is the sister of his other niece—”

“Goat-dung!” Shepherd Howling said. “She is mine. She is to be my wife.”

“Oh, surely not,” Marmion said, smiling brightly at him. “The girl’s less than twelve years old. But, at any rate, our teams were in need of one of Clodagh’s hearty meals and we sat listening to Yana and Sean tell us the
most
fantastic adventures—ah, but I needn’t tell you, need I, Matthew? You were present for some of them.”

Luzon inclined his head, his eyes half-hooded and dangerous.

“Well, Johnny Greene heard Captain O’Shay’s message about the weeds here, and then Clodagh said that a work party wouldn’t do much good and might even be in danger. But that she knew something that
would
work.” Marmion paused, as if expecting approval, her eyes all wide and innocent.
“Et voilà!
We have come to offer assistance.”

Before anyone could say anything else she added ingenuously, “Also, Matthew, your young friends were absolutely
pining
for you, and I simply had to help reunite you, isn’t that so, boys?”

Luzon’s muscular assistants nodded—rather miserably, Torkel thought.

While everyone was standing around thinking of a response to Marmion’s gabble, Clodagh Senungatuk started walking out of the village.

“Where the devil do you think you’re going?” Torkel demanded.

“To make a path to the cave,” she said simply, and kept walking.

By the time she had gone five more steps, Torkel recovered from his surprise enough to tell her that she wouldn’t be able to penetrate such a hedge of weed, and where were the boards and other spanning materials he had sent for? She gave no answer, plodding up the track toward the cave. The other new arrivals followed, plus half the village, which seemed to consider this expedition fine entertainment.

At the edge of the vast jungle of waist-high vines, which seemed even more impenetrable since Torkel’s first look at them, Clodagh paused. She bent down and gently touched the center of one of the leaves.

“So what are you doing? Asking it nicely?” Torkel demanded.

“Lookin’ at this white stuff. Wondering why somebody tried to
paint
the bushes. This is the only thing that works.” She drew out a large clear flask filled with a greenish liquid, uncorked it carefully, and then inserted a sprinkler head of home manufacture. She shook the bottle a bit in front and to each side of her.

Instantly the vines retracted as if they had been mowed with a scythe, and as she moved forward, Marmion fell in step behind her, followed by Sally Point-Jefferson, who had had the good sense to put on heavy boots.

Marmion turned around and said, “Quickly, boys. I don’t know how long the effect lasts. Clodagh’s very mysterious about it.”

They followed with alacrity. Torkel felt like a fool, trailing behind the big woman as she doused her concoction to the right, the center, and the left, like some ancient prelate dispensing holy water or preparing a pontiff’s path with incense.