Rhapsody in Black (15 page)

‘I don't want a mention in your damned histories,' I said. ‘You're that kind of lunatic, but I'm not.'

He shrugged his shoulders. The retort was irrelevant to the argument, and we both knew it. What he said was true. Nasty, but true. He was right about the synthetic nature of my ethics, as well. It had been nihilism, just as he'd said. If in doubt, kill it. But the laws of nature are just not designed to accommodate the negative point of view. Whatever will be, will be. That's life.

Quite, interposed the wind.

He said nothing else. He obviously thought that I'd said it all for him. But there was still to be no backing down. I had my own way to go.

‘So you see,' said Charlot, eventually, ‘there wasn't much point in your destroying the
Lost Star
cargo, either. It was only a gesture. It couldn't do any good.'

‘What cargo?' I asked, with blatantly false innocence.

‘What reason?' he countered. ‘It can't have done you any good.'

That almost restored my self-confidence. (I wasn't likely to be without it long, in any case.) I had destroyed the
Lost Star
cargo, and the Khor-monsa had destroyed Myastrid. That secret still held, and might hold forever. Perhaps, in time, the Khor-monsa might manage to unknow what they wanted to forget.

Bayon came into the grotto. He was waving the beamer in a horribly suggestive manner.

‘Capra came back,' he said. There was a peculiar edge to his voice. Things still didn't seem to be wholly to his satisfaction.

‘He didn't waste any time,' I commented. ‘What's the word?'

Bayon obviously thought that actions speak louder than words. He raised the gun.

‘Wait a minute, Bayon,' I said hurriedly. ‘Let's talk about it first.,

‘There's nothing to say,' he said.

‘There are things I want to say,' I assured him.

‘Well?'

‘Don't you owe me something? I came down here to help you. I've done what I can to get you what you want.'

‘I don't owe you anything,' he said. ‘You've done nothing.'

‘I talked to Gimli for you.'

‘You gave Gimli an excuse not to see me.'

‘Now, come on,' I protested. ‘Who wanted a mouth-piece? You
asked
me to act for you. I did what you wanted.'

‘You didn't do enough.'

‘Well, what do you
want
me to do?'

‘I want my price.' He looked sideways, at Charlot. I shut up. It wasn't my argument, from here on. Bayon had made his point abundantly clear. Charlot had to give him what he wanted, or we'd be killed. Sampson must have agreed instantly to whatever offer Capra had taken to him.

‘No,' said Charlot steadily. He didn't even seem to be worried.

‘You can't...,' I began, and faded out.

‘What you ask,' said Charlot to Bayon, ‘is impossible. You know that as well as I do. You know that whatever Sampson might say, the Star Cross Company is in no better position than I am to grant what you ask. You're being carried away on an emotional tide—you've let your reason desert you. You not only ask that I should help you and not help the council and the people of Rhapsody, you also demand that I should try to humiliate the council by telling them what you have done and making them acknowledge it. This is ridiculous. You know that they cannot agree. They have already reached the limit of what they can do while remaining true to their situation. What you are trying to do is to force them to kill you. You don't
want
to get off Rhapsody. You're a coward. You're afraid of the opportunity, to escape—you're afraid that you might fail that opportunity. You've been trying to pick a fight ever since you moved in on the grotto. You want a blazing gun battle—a confrontation which will let you release all of your anger and your frustration and your hatred. It's so much safer than trying to start all over again.'

‘I could have fought the council any time,' said Bayon.

‘Alone? You need those men behind you, Bayon, because you're a coward. You had to trap them along with you, so that they'd have no option but to fight. These men are
hard
men—survivors. You'd never have led them into a suicide attack on the council or the miners. You're not like them, Bayon. You're one of the seventy-five percent, not one of the twenty-five. You're a diver, Bayon. A runaway. The only escape you can envisage is death. But you're not the kind of man to go alone, are you? You need company. You need moral support. Because you're a coward.'

I had to admire Bayon's patience. Most men I know would have cut Charlot in half while he was less than halfway through. But Bayon waited. Not because he conceded the truth of what Charlot was saying—far from it—but because he was letting the fury build up inside him. He was a slow man to anger, and he needed to be angry. Because, as Titus Charlot had said, he was a coward. He was afraid of what would happen if he pressed that trigger. He needed to be provoked. If Charlot had not provoked him, he would have had to provoke himself.

I glided slowly sideways, putting distance between myself and Charlot. If he fired at Charlot first, I would have a chance to go for the gun.

But he saw me moving, and the gun whipped sideways to cover me again. He took a half-step backward, so that his bulk was blocking the entrance to the grotto. He had to crouch in order to fit into the gap, but he seemed easy on his feet, and I didn't suppose he'd miss if I rushed him.

‘Calm down, Bayon,' I said. ‘Just think about it for a while. There's no hurry. Tomorrow or the day after will do. Sampson will wait. Just think about what you're doing. Talk to your men. We'll do all that we can to help you. There's no point in shooting anybody. You'll get nothing from Sampson. He'll cheat you—can't you see that? He's in it to maximise his profit. You're outcasts who don't even exist. He'll kill you, Bayon. We're your only real chance. If you kill us you kill yourself.'

I paused for breath. I was running out of things to say.

‘You don't understand,' I said. ‘You don't know what you're doing.'

‘Well enough,' he said. He raised the gun to his shoulder and squinted down the barrel. He was aiming smack between my eyes.

‘I helped you,' I cried, in panic. ‘I'm your
friend
. Doesn't that mean anything to you?'

‘About as much as it does to you,' he said, and fired.

I leaped sideways, and I hurtled across the cleared square. I cannoned into Charlot and took him down with me behind a rock at the edge of the square. The thermosynthetic carpet cushioned our fall, but I was stabbed painfully by several of the dendrites.

Two things saved our lives. The first was the fact that Bayon was not a practised gunman. No doubt he'd fired the beamer before, but he hadn't really come to terms with a weapon. He pulled the trigger just once, like a rife trigger, flicking the beam on and off again instead of pouring out the energy in a constant stream and following our dive. He aimed too high, as well, and the shot was quite harmless.

So far as
we
were concerned.

The second thing which saved us was that as I saw the trigger pressed I shut my eyes. Charlot's eyes shut reflexively when I barged into him. It wasn't just a blink. Fear closed our eyes tight and held them closed just long enough.

The beam was on high power and low spread. It made impact on the wall over an area the size of a thumbnail. It burned the organism clean away, of course. But not before it had raised the temperature of that tiny patch through hundreds of degrees to its flashpoint. A little bit of heat makes a hell of a lot of light. And the reaction time of the thermosynth was next to nothing.

Bayon was still sighting down the barrel. His open eyes were directed at the exact spot where the beam hit. The blast burned his optic nerves out instantaneously.

He screamed and dropped the gun.

When I stood up again, after the flash, he was rocking gently in his half-crouch, with his hands over his eyes. As I realised what had happened, and why, he staggered forward into the grotto. He fell to his knees beside the gun.

I ran towards it.

Tob was already in the doorway, with his rifle levelled. He must have caught the edge of the flash out in the corridor, because he didn't seem to be seeing too well. But he'd obviously been facing the other way. He wasn't blind.

‘Don't pick it up,' he said, as I stooped and reached out my hand.

‘You heard what went on, Tob,' I said. Another time, I might have grabbed it anyway and taken my chances. But I was off balance too. Not because I'd been dazzled, but because I'd been pushed. It was only just beginning to register that when I'd dived to avoid the beam I'd dived faster and harder than I'd intended. As though I'd been picked up and thrown across the cave.

‘You bastard,' I murmured. Nobody heard me except Bayon, who was only inches away. I think he took the abuse personally. But I wasn't talking to him at all.

Tob kept the gun level. But he had heard what went on. He might not be prepared to admit that everything Charlot had said was true, but he knew enough not to go Bayon's way.

‘All right,' he said. ‘We'll do it your way.'

I picked up the beamer. It was in my hands at last. I looked around at the glittering walls of the treasure cave. There must be a good many more worms now, following the big flash. I contemplated shutting my eyes and blasting away, exterminating the whole foul breed. But what Charlot had said had made that course of action seem somewhat ridiculous.

And besides, Tob might have shot me by mistake.

Tob came into the grotto to pick up his blind ex-leader. Bayon hadn't let out a peep since the scream. He had folded up completely, and looked more dead than alive. But when Tob picked him up, he was able to stand and be guided out of the cave.

I turned to Charlot. ‘You damned near got us killed there,' I said. ‘And you criticised me for losing my temper. What the hell did you think you were doing?'

He shrugged. ‘He was going to shoot us anyway. Why be dishonest?'

I looked at him in amazement. ‘You really are mad,' I said. ‘However slim the chances, you could have agreed to his terms. Tell him anything. All you had to do was say yes instead of no.'

‘He would have killed us anyway.'

‘Just suppose,' I said, ‘that you might have been wrong. You could have got us killed for nothing.'

‘Not for nothing,' he said, as if it made a difference. ‘For telling the truth.'

‘Look,' I said. ‘We're still outnumbered fifteen to two. If they decide that Bayon had the right idea after all, try a different line, hey? As a favour to us both.'

He didn't bother to reply. Nor did he bother to thank me for diving into him. I hadn't actually saved him, of course, but the thought had been there.

He just brushed his clothing free from the bits of crushed carpet which had attached themselves to him when we fell. And then he directed his whole attention to examining his prize.

I turned my back on him and stooped to pluck a handful of the dendrites. Two were infected, and I put them carefully into my pocket. Not wishing to be obvious, I wandered around aimlessly for a few moments before appropriating a couple more. Then, discreetly, I withdrew.

When Charlot went to get help from Nick, Johnny and the miners, I went to find Matthew Sampson. I wanted to make a deal before anyone else did.

I might still get my twenty thousand, if I was really lucky.

You're wrong, he said.

‘
You pushed me
. I felt it. You were lying all along when you said that you couldn't influence my body without my consent.'

That's not what I said. I said that I couldn't assume control over any part of your body that was under your control. I did not interfere in any way with any part of you which you already control.

I finally saw the catch. ‘You mean that you can control things that I can't?'

Naturally. It stands to reason that if I can assume control of your voluntary faculties when you allow me to, then I can also control such faculties as you have which are not under voluntary control.

‘You can modify my reflexes. You can exercise control over my autonomic nervous system.'

Only insofar as you could yourself if you knew how and were prepared to learn. You are remarkably wasteful of the potentialities of your body.

‘I don't want you exercising the potentialities of my body! I don't care how wasteful I am. It's my body and I'll use it as I please. Just because I don't concern myself with such party tricks as everting my gut doesn't mean to say that I want you to learn it for me.'

Why would I want to evert your gut? I'm not playing tricks, Grainger; I'm helping you to become a more efficient human being. How do you think you managed to keep going for so long when you were lost in the caves, without even feeling tired? You accused me of knocking you out, but I didn't. All I did was stop supporting your metabolism to relieve your need for sleep. Is that harming you or robbing you of your beloved independence? And when you say I pushed you—I didn't do that either. All that I did was adjust your nerves and your muscles so that you could move faster and farther than you could otherwise have done. I didn't do anything to you, I just put more of your own abilities at your disposal.

‘And you intend to go on doing that?'

Of course. What's the point of letting you get tired when you want to stay awake? What's the point of letting you take ineffective evasive action when you could be effective? What's the point in my sitting back and letting you fail when I can help you succeed? I know you don't take a blind bit of notice of any advice I give you, but I can at least let you do things your own way efficiently. There'd be no sense in my just sitting here like a vegetable.

‘Can't you get it into your head—your mind, I mean—that
I don't want any help
? I'd rather be inefficient my own way. I don't want to be a superman.'

I'm not making you into a superman. I'm just making you into an efficient
man
.

‘I want to be
my own
man.'

But you
are
!

‘Leave my metabolism alone.'

Grow up, Grainger. You're behaving like an idiot. What I can do to help you is no different at all from what your clothing does, or what physical fitness does. You have a body and it works. Why do you want it to work badly? Would you be better off if your reflexes were too slow to enable you to fly a ship? If your legs were too weak to let you walk?

‘I only want to live by my own efforts.'

And you can. I can't stop you. Anything you can do, I can't. I can only let you do it a little bit better. You've got to live with it. If you continue in your present vein, you'll go completely insane. At least accept the realities.

I couldn't argue with him. I had no argument to use. That was the moment when the inevitability and totality of our association finally came home to me. It was late, I know, but I always had a lot of resistance to ideas I didn't want to accept. I don't think it was a turning point in my career as a host. I didn't change direction. He was still an unwelcome tenant. But while he was there he was what he was, and there was no use in fighting it. If rape is inevitable, as Confucius is reputed to have advised, lie back and enjoy it.

That argument took place in the caves, in Rhapsody's insistent darkness. At the end of three days, we were back in the sky, in company with the stars, and light had been let back into our lives.

I wasn't in great shape after the physical hardship I'd endured in the warren, but the wind's help as regards my involuntary faculties extended to fast healing. My hands recovered from their skinning sufficiently for me to lift the
Swan
and I was thus saved from the humiliation of taking the passenger seat while Eve flew the bird.

I was very careful, and we made transfer at the first attempt. I found a good, fast groove with no difficulty, and slid us into it as soon as humanly possible. Then I settled back and left the
Swan
to take care of herself.

‘You should have let me lift her,' said Eve.

‘Not on your life,' I said. It didn't need explaining.

We were alone in the control room. Charlot and Nick were down below nursing our ever-so-precious-cargo. Charlot was worried sick despite all his precautions. The worms were sealed in lightless containers, and had never been touched by human hand. Even so, the project looked unsafe. But Charlot was no fool, and if the worms could be saved, he would save them.

‘You must have had a very bad time down there in the caves,' she said. We hadn't had a lot of opportunity to talk while Charlot was clearing things up on Rhapsody, and this was the first real chance she'd had to voice her concern.

‘It's a hell of a place to get lost,' I told her. ‘But once back into the daylight, all that darkness just fades away like so much nightmare. It hardly seems real, now that I'm back where I belong.'

‘You haven't seen any real daylight yet,' she reminded me.

‘The stars are all I need to reassure me,' I said. ‘Maybe we ought to bring the passengers up for a look at the universe.'

‘You want fifteen cave-men in your control room?'

‘Hardly. I didn't mean it literally. It wouldn't do Bayon any good, in any case. He won't ever see the universe. He'll be in the black caves of Rhapsody for the rest of his fife.'

‘I was surprised that you brought him along,' she said. ‘He tried to kill you.'

‘Charlot's decision,' I pointed out. ‘I only work here. But we couldn't leave him on Rhapsody. They couldn't do anything with him. He has to stay with Tob and the rest, because no one else can know that he exists.'

I'd offered Angelina a free ride to wherever she wanted to go, as well as the outcasts. But she'd elected to stay behind, and support Mavra for Hierarch. I didn't fancy their chances much. Akim Krist might be old but he was tough. He'd last for years.

‘Besides,' I added, ‘they were all different down in the caves. With darkness in the way that they lived their lives, in their voices and in their eyes. They'll be different men altogether once they're on a different world. Perhaps they can change Bayon, too.'

‘You sound almost sympathetic,' she said. ‘It doesn't really become you.'

I shrugged. ‘I was down there a long time. You don't understand what it was like.'

‘I was down there too. In jail.'

‘A prison is a prison,' I told her. ‘It isn't life.'

‘I thought you'd forgotten all about it,' she said.

‘Sure,' I said. ‘It's splitting up and dissolving. I can look back and wonder how I ever got to be involved in it. Its logic is becoming illusory. Reason aren't reasons any more. Give me a day or two and it will be all cancelled out. Dead.'

But I was wrong. I was only trying to forget. I never really did.

But all this is retrospective. The story really ended where I made it begin: down in the caves, in darkness....