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The Wanderers
Rosamund Williams
previously published in DESTINY #5 (1984)
"We can't go out there," Vila said, his face pale with fright. "We're already way outside the galaxy's boundary and if we run any further we'll surely get lost."
"Impossible." Avon replied. "Backward projection, Zen."
Vila stared desperately at the receding stars of the galaxy's rim. "I shall go mad," he said, "I'm going mad already. Please, Avon...."
"Control yourself," Avon said coldly as he studied the screen.
"It's agoraphobia," Cally said, touching Vila's arm sympathetically. "Try not to think about it, Vila. I'll give you a tranquiliser when I have a moment to spare."
"I can't help thinking about it." Vila wailed dismally.
"Claustrophobia, agoraphobia...what next?" Tarrant enquired tartly. "Perhaps we should get rid of you, Vila, just as soon as we find a suitable planet to dump you on?"
"Why is it," Vila muttered, "that I am the only normal person around here? Don't any of you feel afraid of anything?"
Avon glanced sideways, noticing the thief's trembling hands as he pressed them anxiously together. "Make time for that tranquiliser now," he said to Cally, his voice suddenly more gentle than usual. He ignored Vila's mumbled thanks and returned his gaze to the screen. "They've given up," he said and a moment later Zen's calm, impersonal tones confirmed his suspicion.
"That's fortunate," Tarrant remarked, heaving a sigh of relief. "We couldn't have kept up that speed for much longer; in fact we shouldn't have kept it up as long as we did. Our energy banks are now functioning at only forty percent capacity, which is more than a little worrying, given our position."
"Forty percent's enough to get us back," said Vila, visibly relaxing. "even if we only drift...."
"If we drift," Avon murmured, "It will take a--long time. We shall merely orbit the galactic centre."
"It's going to be quite a while before we can turn back," Tarrant said with a rueful grimace, "and we can't even drift. That engagement with Servalan's minions has severely damaged the controls and at the moment we're locked into forward flight. That means..."
"That means we can't turn," Vila said flatly. "That means we are going to carry on racing into intergalactic space until someone effects the necessary repairs. That means we could be out here--further and further out here--for days." He began to shake again, his hands clasping and unclasping frantically. "And if the repairs can't be done before we run out of power we'll go on and on in the void for the rest of our lives."
"Right enough," Tarrant agreed thoughtlessly. "Not that we'll live long anyway once our power supplies cease to exist."
"You damned fool, be quiet," hissed Avon, "can't you see that he isn't able to cope with this?"
"Sympathy from you?" Tarrant sneered. "Come on, Avon, where's that chilly indifference gone, all of a sudden?"
"We need a full complement on this ship," Avon snarled, "not a half-crazed invalid to cope with!"
"How can you squabble when our lives are at stake?" cried Vila, starting to his feet. His frightened eyes darted about and spotted a handgun lying on Dayna's console. He lurched forward, seized it and aimed it at Tarrant's head. "This will certainly concentrate your thoughts!" he shouted. "Go on, get to work."
Tarrant stared at the thief in astonishment. "For heaven's sake," he said, "put that down Vila. Zen is attending to the controls and I will take a look shortly. It's not as if we're in a hurry...."
"MOVE!" Vila screamed. "If you don't, I'll kill you, I swear it!"
"He's mad," Tarrant said to Avon. "What's come over him?"
"Do as he says," Avon responded sharply. "If you don't he will indeed carry out his threat, and I must say that the more I think about it, the more I approve of the idea... He's terrified out of his mind, Tarrant."
Muttering resentfully, the pilot left the flight-deck. "Watch out," he said as he passed Cally in the corridor, "Vila's gone berserk."
Raising her eyebrows, Cally walked onto the flight-deck and stopped short as she saw Vila, the weapon now leveled at Dayna. "I don't believe you," Vila was saying. "There must be something you can do to turn this ship, Avon. Talk to Zen. Order him to turn the ship."
"It's no use," Avon responded quietly. "Zen is doing all it can and any orders of mine would merely slow down the repair operations."
"If we were just facing towards the galaxy, it wouldn't be so bad."
Vila said "Someone has to obey...I'll kill her, Avon, unless you do as I say."
"No, you won't." Avon replied. "Kill me first...."
He can't, Cally thought, he'd never kill Avon, not even when he's scared out of his wits. Carefully she edged towards Vila, who appeared to be unaware of her presence. If I can just get within reach of him, she thought, I could seize that gun before he could fire it. She slipped the tranquilisers into her pocket and moved slowly and soundlessly behind the thief.
"If I kill you then Tarrant will take charge, and he'll get us all killed." Vila said. "No I'm not killing you, Avon. I'm killing Dayna, because she isn't necessary...and then I'll kill Cally, unless you do as I tell you."
Behind him, Cally reached out and brought her hand sharply down on his arm, causing him to shriek with pain. She seized his arm and twisted it, forcing him to shriek again as Avon leapt forward and wrenched the weapon from his grasp. "The tranquilisers," she said to Avon. "We can't use them now. He'll need an injection."
"I'll get it." Dayna was already half-way across the flight deck. "Poor devil--I don't suppose this would have happened but for Tarrant babbling as usual."
"You have to turn the ship," Vila was whimpering. "If you don't, I'm going to get into one of those survival capsules and head back by myself. I'm not going out any further, I swear it.. Please, Avon, please..."
"You have to face the truth," Avon said gently. "There's nothing I can do just yet, Vila." It was then that Vila began to scream.
#
"It's none too good," Tarrant said. "Some of the repair mechanisms have been damaged, so Zen has to attend to those before he can get down to repairing the flight controls."
"How long do you think?"
"Perhaps thirty-six hours. It's hard to say. Even Zen won't be specific, which is rather worrying."
"Yes...it is. Could we effect some manual repairs, I wonder? Get our speed lower, for example to lessen the drain on the energy banks?"
"Standard by two isn't all that bad."
"No. On the other hand, if these repairs turn out to be time— consuming, we'll need all the energy we can muster just to keep the work going. If Zen is unable to give a completion time, we must assume that it could be extended."
"All right.... How's Vila?"
"Unconscious. It seems best to keep him that way, for the moment." Avon frowned and rose to his feet. "Next time you speak to an agoraphobic, mind what you say. I don't want something like that happening every time we near the rim."
"It didn't occur to me."
"No, it wouldn't, would it? I'll remember to throw you off the flight deck next time, before you have the chance to cause chaos... I'll work on some bypass loops; it shouldn't take more than an hour and then we can get into drift mode."
"Fine." Tarrant turned his attention to his inspection of the wrecked controls, thankful that Zen's speedy sealing of the hole torn in the hull obviated the need for a suit. Hang Vila for being such an idiot, he thought irritably, and yet I suppose it's not so pleasant hurtling into the unknown, virtually out of control. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad for him if there were something useful he could do? An idea came to him and he nodded to himself. Why not? He thought I don't really want him around here and I expect he'd chatter interminably but I suppose it might be worthwhile if it keeps him sane.
#
"You have to be joking." Vila said in disbelief.
"Of course I'm not," said Cally evenly, "Tarrant needs your help, Vila. More--you are the only person who can help. Those controls are in a shocking state and he reckons that he can speed up the repairs if he can dismantle some of the sections so that Avon can get at the circuits. We all know, don't we, that you are far and away the quickest and most deft when it comes to that sort of work."
"It sounds like an excuse to force me to do the job for him." Vila grumbled.
"Perhaps it is; does it matter? I thought you wanted this ship turned round and on its way back as soon as possible...."
"Oh, all right." Vila muttered and stomped off to find Tarrant.
Cally smiled to herself as she finished tidying the medi-unit and then made her way unhurriedly to the flight deck. "He was suspicious, of course," she said to Avon, "but he went nonetheless."
"I doubt if it matters what he thought," Avon remarked, "so long as he went. Tarrant and I can find more than enough to keep him busy."
"I see we are still travelling at standard by two," Cally remarked after a moment, "I thought you were going to bypass..."
"It's a matter of damage compounded by damage," Avon said. "Nothing I can't attend to--or indeed that Zen can't attend to--given time and sufficient power."
She looked at him sharply. "Power," she said. "That's the problem isn't it? If we cannot slow down we are losing too much power."
"Yes. It's by no means desperate now, may never become so, but I'd prefer to feel that the risk did not exist. I'm detailing you to do some of the simple checks and adjustments, Cally."
"Gladly," she replied, relieved to be of use, and she listened carefully to his explanations. As he listed the actions required, she began to realise the enormity of the task. This, she thought, will take hours of meticulous effort, and it is just my part of the work. Furthermore, everything we do relies on the hope that we will not encounter any obstacles outside the ship, for at the moment we can't even manoeuver.
"As you can see," Avon murmured, interrupting her thoughts, "it is probably fortunate that we are in intergalactic space. I'm inclined to doubt whether we could have survived a sustained, uncontrolled flight within the galaxy."
"Perhaps I should tell Vila that?" Cally suggested. "It might help to cheer him up." She hesitated and then forced herself to continue. "Avon, do you think we are going to survive?"
He looked up from the diagram he had drawn for her benefit and stared into her troubled eyes. "Do you want comfort," he enquired, "or the truth?"
"What is the truth?" she asked. "It's too late for comfort now."
Avon turned his gaze away from her to the small machine humming indolently nearby. "Tell us the truth, Orac," her said. "No long speeches, just the odds, if you please."
"The odds," Orac replied dispassionately, "are 2.37 to one against survival, given all known factors. I trust that is succinct enough for you?"
"Masterfully brief," Avon said acidly and looked again at Cally.
"Do the others know?" she asked, grimly hiding her dismay beneath her usual air of sensible practicality.
"Tarrant will have guessed long since. Dayna? I doubt whether she has even thought of failure. Vila must not be told, of course."
"He's liable to suspect. He's sensitive when it comes to his own survival."
"I know... So we must be wary, that's all. Now, the sooner you start, the sooner we might be able to turn those odds in our favour."
#
"I'm exhausted," Vila complained, hours later. "Surely we can stop for a moment?"
"No point," Tarrant replied firmly. "We're well on with this task and I want it done and out of my mind before I relax at all."
"Will we be able to turn back then?"
"No. There's a good deal more to do yet."
"So why aren't the others helping? Why only me, eh?" Vila asked aggrievedly. "I don't think much of them lazing about while I..."
"They aren't lazing about." Tarrant looked up for a moment from the mass of machinery before him and wiped his brow with his arm. "They're helping Avon."
"It's down here the help is needed." Vila grumbled. "It's not Zen that's out of action, it's this muddle surely?"
"Uhuh." Tarrant agreed non-committally, forcing his tired eyes to concentrate again on his work.
Vila eyed him with sudden suspicion. "Is there something wrong with Zen?" he demanded.
Tarrant groaned inwardly. Don't you dare go off your head again, he thought angrily. It's hard enough trying to cope with all this without you throwing a fit on me. "You know it's all interconnected," he said mildly.
"Yes, but.... You're hiding something from me, aren't you? It's not so easy for you to pretend because you're worrying about it, whatever it is."
"There's nothing." Tarrant insisted, putting into his voice a firm confidence he did not feel. "Do you think you could get on with that...."
"I'm not going to become hysterical again," Vila said. "I've passed that now. Just tell me." As Tarrant shook his head, Vila added quietly, "Don't you think it might be better for me to know for sure."
"Very well," Tarrant replied, accepting the logic of Vila's point and so told him. He then waited for the terror.
There was a long silence. "I see." Vila said slowly, and then he bent his head back to the task before him. "I wonder," he added calmly, as though talking of the most mundane matters, "where this ship will eventually end up. Andromeda, perhaps... D'you think Orac will survive it, Tarrant? Will he enjoy meeting those Andromedans again? What a pity we don't have intergalactic drive. Just at this moment, even a revolting, unlovable blob would be better than nothing for company."
"I'm sorry to disappoint you," Tarrant murmured, "but we are going the wrong way. We're directly on line for Fornax at the moment."
"Of course, no minefields."
"Right."
"I wonder what the aliens will look like," Vila continued casually. "We've had blobs, so what next?"
"Sentient seaweed, perhaps?" Tarrant suggested.
"Do you think we could survive that long?" Vila demanded. "I mean if we had enough power, of course."
"Eight hundred thousand light years," Tarrant murmured. "It's a long way, Vila, but considerably nearer than Andromeda. Perhaps...if we had the power."
Vila smiled. "Who knows, I might even get to like sentient seaweed!"
#
"It's so bleak," Cally said, staring at Zen's screen which showed a forward projection with the galaxy Fornax directly at the centre, "and yet so beautiful. How marvelous it would be to visit all those galaxies and see what they have done with their lives, and the people who live there."
"The chance of finding life in Fornax is remote," Orac intoned, "You will notice that it is an elliptical galaxy, thus not likely to contain life of any description."
"Now you've dashed all our hopes," Dayna protested, "We don't need your doom—laden predictions, Orac, thank—you very much."
"Nonetheless," Orac continued remorselessly, "I shall greatly enjoy the opportunity to visit another galaxy, and perhaps another system if the Liberator is fortunate enough to survive for a long enough period of time."
"Oh, that machine gets on my nerves," Dayna muttered. "I've got a good mind to remove the key...."
"Don't." Cally shook her head. "Avon wants him activated at all times in case of necessity. It's only sensible."
"I might mention," Orac remarked next, "that it is fortunate that Avon has taken this precaution, since I have to tell you that there is an obstacle in the path of the Liberator.
"What?" Cally leapt to her feet and activated the ship's intercom. "Avon, Tarrant. Emergency." She returned her attention to the little machine. "What is it, Orac?"
"Sensors indicate," Orac said importantly, "that it is a solitary star, encircled by a planetary system."
"But surely that's not possible," Dayna protested, "We're so far from the galaxy..."
"An eccentric sun," said Avon from behind her. "It will have escaped from some galaxy, probably ours, and is wandering in the intergalactic void. Eventually, it will most likely become attached to some other galaxy unless it disintegrates first." He moved to his console and punched a few keys.
+INFORMATION, Zen intoned +IT IS ANTICIPATED THAT THE LIBERATOR WILL PASS CLOSE TO THE ECCENTRIC SUN'S THIRD PLANET BUT A COLLISION IS UNLIKELY.+
"That's a relief," Tarrant said as he entered the flight deck with Vila.
"Third planet," Vila remarked, "I wonder if that's significant?"
Avon turned and stared at him. "Should it be?"
Vila sighed. "I'm just trying to be cheerful," he explained patiently.
"Do it somewhere else" Avon suggested shortly and returned his attention to the screen. "It occurs to me," he remarked, "that there might just be life of some kind on one of the planets--most likely the third."
"It is highly probable," Orac interrupted. "The third planet is definitely of the terran type. The alien computer will be able to show you a close view in three seconds from now. As you will see, it is somewhat cooler than Earth, not surprising in view of the distance of this sun from the galaxy, but still eminently suitable for life, especially if life evolved before its extragalactic phase--although I should mention that it has not yet escaped the gravitational pull of the galaxy nor is it likely to do so for some considerable time. Indications are that it will eventually be captured by the gravitational pull of another galaxy, namely...."
"That will do," Avon said. "Our main interest at the moment is our own fate, not that of some wandering system. Orac, see if you can contact the inhabitants, if any."
#
"There is no doubt of the presence of sentient life," Orac announced, ten minutes later, "but I am unable to communicate with it in the normal fashion. Sensors indicate that it is fairly primitive."
"How primitive?" Avon inquired.
"The data I am gathering suggests that it does not possess an extensive space technology," Orac said. "On the other hand, it seems possible that the sentient life form is reasonably intelligent."
"If we could slow our speed sufficiently to be captured by the gravity of the sun, or one of the planets, we could regain our power," Tarrant said, excitement creeping into his voice. "Avon, is there any chance?...."
"I need just a few more minutes," Avon said. "But if it takes too long, we shall overshoot the star altogether. However...do you have the manual override free yet, Tarrant?"
"Almost. I'd have finished by now but for this interruption...."
"So what are you waiting for?" Avon snarled. "We have...how long, Orac?"
"Six minutes and thirty-one seconds precisely," Orac announced with usual brevity.
"I can do it if you can," Tarrant shouted as he ran.
#
"There seems no easy way to contact the planet's leaders," Orac declared. "They appear to have no normal means of communication with extraterrestrial sources. I would liken the technology to that of Earth in the late twentieth century of the old calendar."
"Do we really need to contact them?" Cally asked. "They might not welcome us."
"Perhaps," Avon replied, "but Orac has discovered that they have registered our presence and our arrival has caused more than a little excitement, hardly surprising given their circumstances. I'd prefer them to know that our intentions are strictly neutral and peaceful. Orac, I think you are going to have to interrupt one of their world-wide news bulletins; I am sure you will find their reactions fascinating."
"Peaceful?" Vila muttered, "They'll have a massive outbreak of heart-failures, I should think."
"It's one risk weighed against another," Avon said, "Liberator is in no condition to argue with them at present. Now that we have-achieved orbit around this planet, I am not all that enthusiastic to leave until necessary."
"I am in contact with one of the broadcasting stations," Orac announced, "and I have succeeded in setting up a two-way relay. A political leader is being summoned but it will be at least fifteen minutes before he or she is available to speak to Liberator...."
#
"You can't be serious!" Carmion Ren, Prime Minister of Pellastra, was struggling into his clothing. "It's a hoax, Jadelle, it has to be. I mean, starships! It's like something out of a scurrilous novel."
"It all ties in with that mysterious object which was spotted on the defence systems," Jadelle said.
"It's probably some trick by that swine Andorric!"
"We've checked, of course. Andorric swears Kellermon has nothing to do with it. They've also been monitoring the object, as you know, and they are hopping mad because this contact hasn't been made with them."
Carmion Ren grimaced as he pulled on his shoes. "Or at least, so they say," he remarked. "Well, what has this thing, whatever it is, condescended to say to us, eh?"
"Nothing much really. Apart from a few pleasantries, they merely asked to speak to our leader."
"There you are; it is something from one of those filthy science fiction sagas."
"Perhaps they, whoever they are, read them too?" Jadelle suggested as she opened the door and Ren hurried through. "Wouldn't it be priceless if some of those strange stories are true. Perhaps our ancestors really did come from the Stars of the Crown and perhaps the spaceways are filled with starships flitting to and fro."
"Don't be ridiculous!" Carmion Ren snapped as he climbed into his road vehicle. "Everyone knows how unlikely that is. Oh, we can be sure that beings have ventured into space, just as we have tried to do, and more advanced civilisations, always supposing there are any, may move slowly about in starships but those stories about ships tearing about as though it were Freeway 1 during rush hour are quite ridiculous."
"Advanced civilisations may have succeeded in perfecting a light-speed drive," Jadelle ventured. "Surely anything coming here would need it."
"It depends how long they've been travelling, whoever they are."
"Why are you so convinced it has to be a trick?" Jadelle demanded. "It could be that they are genuine space travellers; even you must admit that."
"Oh yes, of course they could be; but, Jadelle, ask yourself. Why should anyone want to come here? To this distant, lost world, forsaken even by the gods themselves? Tell me that Jadelle and then I'll believe in them...perhaps."
"If they took us on to their space ship...."
"It could be a simulation, all of it. Andorric could arrange it."
I wish I could tell you that I think that a pretty silly idea, Jadelle thought irritably, but I suppose one does not dare say things of such flippant nature to one's Prime Minister. Perhaps if you read a few of the science fiction books, you'd see that there is a chance for us, however distant it may seem. And if these strangers could help us, one day there may be hope for our descendants instead of the awful fate these Realists see as inevitable. My goodness, Carmion, I wonder what you'd say if you knew that I'm an Escapist at heart...
"Yes," she said politely, "of course it's possible, but it would be such a juvenile trick."
"Andorric is a juvenile idiot. Lord knows how he ever gets himself elected." Carmion frowned, thinking angrily of his implacable opponent on the Nether Continent, and glared out of the window at the busy streets. "Why doesn't this thing hurry?"
"It is hurrying. We're nearly there," Jadelle said as the roadcar turned into the television centre's forecourt.
"Thank heaven!" Carmion Ren clambered out of the vehicle and hurried up the building's steps. "Where's the person who took this extraordinary extraterrestrial message then?"
"Here, Ren," said a tall, grey haired man, moving forward to greet the Premier. "The message came through on one of our spare receivers which somehow managed to switch itself on."
"Excellent!" Carmion Ren said, assuming his habitual air of sensible practicality. "Lead me to it then."
They hurried through the building and into a poky studio. Carmion Ren looked around disparagingly. "Hardly the place for our first-ever contact with astronauts, is it?" he muttered to his aide. "They might have chosen somewhere more auspicious for their dramatic approach."
You really are a tetchy old thing, Jadelle thought irreverently. When it comes to it, you aren't much better than Andorric. "Perhaps this is the kind of environment they--the astronauts--like," she said, a little tongue-in-cheek.
Carmion Ren glanced at her suspiciously before his attention was taken by the flickering screen. "What on earth is that?" he demanded.
"Apparently, it is their ship. Someone up there has been filling in the time showing us what appear to be pictures of the ship's interior and exterior, or so the voice says, but we haven't seen the people yet."
"Andorric trying to convince us, eh?" Carmion Ren murmured to his aide. "All right," he said to the technician, "let's hear what these incredible people have to say."
Before the technicians had time even to send a signal, the screen flickered and a dark-haired, cold-eyed being appeared before them. "You are Carmion Ren?" it enquired in a chilly, forbidding voice.
"I am. And you?"
"My name is Avon. My ship, the Liberator, is in geostationary orbit about your planet. We request your permission to stay here unharmed while we carry out essential repairs to our ship."
"Where have you come from, Avon?" Ren demanded, while his mind raced with possibilities. Dare I believe in this? he asked himself. Could Andorric possibly have set it up? How can we find out?
"Our home is your adjacent galaxy, Carmion Ren, which we call the Milky Way."
"I see. And why are you here?"
As the stranger explained, Jadelle's attention wandered to what she could see of the ship itself. Behind the dark man were other beings, not unlike the peoples of Pelladion apart from their outlandish clothing and shorn hair. They have to be real, she thought; they must be real! At last the dreams of the Escapists could come true! We shall leave this dreadful place and find ourselves a new planet, a safe planet cocooned within the Star Crown, where the legend says we belong.
"As a matter of interest," said Carmion Ren said after a momentary hesitation, "how do you speak our language so perfectly?"
"A simple matter," the stranger said, "our computer is translating."
"You must realise," Carmion Ren said to the stranger, "that I need to consult my brother premier on the Nether Continent. I will speak to you again shortly." As the screen blanked, he looked across at Jadelle. "You're convinced, aren't you?" he said.
"Well...yes. I see no reason to doubt them."
"It's so easy," he said, "to be convinced, Jadelle. But I am Prime Minister and the people of the Upper Continent are in my care. I have to be sure, don't I?"
"Yes," she said, admitting his wisdom in spite of her enthusiasm, "you do have to be sure...." but don't be too cautious, she thought, for I want to meet these people and learn and learn and learn...
#
"They're not very friendly, are they?" remarked Vila as the Prime Minister of Pellastra faded from the screen.
"They're bound to be cautions. If they've no advanced space technology, they must feel totally isolated, far more than any of us could ever imagine." Cally's eyes were dark at the very thought of it. "But at least, they are not quite alone," she added softly, "They do have each other."
One hour later, the Premier's answer came via his aide. "You can stay" she said, "but only on the condition that two of your people come here as hostages."
Avon treated her to a choice example of his most insincere, tooth-laden smile. "By all means," he said smoothly, "That'll be no problem at all. It will, of course, mean that we shall have to stay here longer--but perhaps that is what you intend?" He smiled again, "Two of our valuable crew members will be pleased to join you," he said. "Cally, our Communications Officer, and Vila, our Public Relations Officer."
"You can't be serious," Tarrant grinned as the connection was cut. "Vila's the last person...."
"Not if he behaves himself," Avon said coolly. "No thieving, Vila--not on this trip, if you please. Try to behave like one of the reprehensible moralistic classes for once."
"That," Vila grumbled, "will be sheer mental torture. No wonder you chose me; it pleases your sadistic nature."
"Quite right," Avon murmured. "I shall gloat throughout. Get yourselves ready to go down."
"Avon," Cally said quietly, "you wouldn't leave without us, would you?
He saw the shadow in her eyes and shook his head. "No," he said. "We won't leave without you...but at the same time we aren't going to agree to ship out the planet's entire population. Is that clear?"
She stared at him with hostility. "Did I suggest it?"
"No, but I wouldn't be surprised if your tender emotions lead you to do so later."
"I am sure there are limits to my 'tender emotions'," Cally snapped, and she strode angrily out.
They departed an hour later and teleported to the only definite coordinates they had, the small television studio.
"Welcome," Jadelle said. "You will imagine what an excitement this is for us."
""We are sure that we will find our visit to your planet interesting," Cally said hesitantly. She had learned the sentence laboriously on Orac's instruction. She stared at the other woman, wondering what she had said. Strangely, the words had a familiar ring to them, as though the woman spoke a distant, awkward dialect. Then the woman spoke again and Cally picked out words which she was sure made sense, something about them meeting the Premier. She nodded and, with Vila, followed the woman out of the studio and through the corridors of the complex.
Carmion Ren made a polite but hurried speech of welcome of which Cally understood virtually nothing and she replied to him briefly. "I thank you for your welcome. I regret that without our computer I cannot converse with you."
"So much for your 'exciting conversations' that you were looking forward to," Carmion remarked tartly to his aide, before she departed with his unwanted visitors for a guided tour of the city. "You aren't going to learn much are you?"
"This is our museum," Jadelle said as they walked through the vast doorway of an imposing building.
"Museum?" Cally understood that word and her eyes brightened with delight. Time and time again throughout the tour her memory seemed to have been jogged by the words of their hostess and the sights they had seen and now it occurred to her that the museum might provide some explanations. It was quickly obvious to her that Jadelle found the museum fascinating and was willing to spend a great deal of time there, and by means of signs and a few remembered words Cally succeeded in indicating--that she was interested in the history of the planet.
Jadelle nodded and with a smile led them to a section near the back of the building. "History," she said. "Same word. But why?"
The two women stared at one another for a moment. "Books?" Cally said hopefully, and again Jadelle seemed to understand her. They moved into a long, quiet room where numbers of precious volumes were laid out for inspection and Cally pored over one of them, her eyes widening as she went through it. Then she looked up at Vila who was gazing around the room with little enthusiasm and wishing that--someone would provide him with a good, cool drink. "I'm glad we came here," Cally said softly. "Vila, I think I have found a legend."
"Whatever do you mean by that?" Vila enquired, not really wanting to know but remembering Avon's orders to cooperate.
"Look," Cally pointed to the book.
"A humanoid," Vila said after a casual glance. "So what?"
"It's the Thaarn," Cally said.
"Oh, no," Vila exclaimed, "I don't want to hear anything about that maniac, thank you very much. Anyway, it can't be the Thaarn. He belongs to Auron."
Jadelle was staring at Cally in astonishment. "What do you know of the Thaarn? she demanded. "And why have you mentioned Auron?" she asked Vila, sparing him a brief glance before returning her attention to Cally.
"I have to talk to her properly," Cally exclaimed to Vila. "This is so extraordinary... I'm going to open the communicator and ask Zen or Orac to translate."
"Avon won't like that," Vila protested. "You know he doesn't want us to be too friendly with these people."
"I can't help it. I have to know why a wandering sun losing itself in the intergalactic void knows of the Thaarn and Auron. Look--there's the word 'Auron' on the page, and there are many other words I recognise. I sensed it and yet I could not believe it; even now I hardly can. The language of Auron, that's what it is, Vila, an old dialect, but Auron nonetheless." She paced across the room and looked in another volume, her excitement mounting. "See--I can understand even more of this. It's probably an older book, nearer to the common language our planets must have shared at some time."
"You think this is an Auron colony?" Vila asked. "Is that possible? Are they telepaths?"
"There were a few Auron colonies," Cally replied. "By the time we were ready for serious space travel, the Federation's tentacles had spread in our direction and opportunities became limited. But right at the beginning, there were said to be ships which left Auron carrying groups of brave people who traveled at sub-light speed, looking for habitable planets. Auron suffered a population explosion and was in serious difficulties, so these explorers elected to leave on the early ships. They disappeared forever but it seems reasonable to suppose that some of the missing ships finally found planets on which the occupants could make a new life. As to telepathy, that's a fairly recently—developed Auron attribute, I have not sensed it here."
"But this planet?" said Vila. "It's a terrible place for the Auronar to choose, remembering how you all feel about loneliness...."
"You must tell me what you are saying," Jadelle was exclaiming frantically. "This is intolerable, Cally!"
"Intolerable," Cally repeated, nodding to indicate that she understood the word. "Wait!" she turned again to Vila. "I don't care what Avon says," she declared. "If these are my people, I have to talk to them. Surely you understand that."
Vila nodded gloomily. "I suppose this is going to delay our return to bearable life even more," he grumbled, but his eyes were faintly sympathetic and he made no further attempt to protest.
Cally spoke into her communicator. "Orac?"
"Well?" snapped the little machine tetchily. "What do you want? Surely you realise I am fully occupied...."
"Yes, I know," Cally soothed, "but this is also different. The language of the Palladion people...can you specify its root, Orac?"
"Of course I can," Orac retorted. "It is Auronar, as you should have realised by now if you have made any effort to understand."
"Good," Cally said, suppressing a sudden desire to fling her arms around the Premier's aide. "Please listen and translate the conversation."
"I would prefer," Orac said irritably, "to continue with far more important work...."
"Just do it!" Cally flared. "You will now be able to understand me," she said to Jadelle. "Copy me and speak into the communicator."
"That's amazing!" Jadelle declared, fascinated. "Now--tell me about the Thaarn and Auron."
"Presumably you know all about the Thaarn," Cally said, "and surely your history is well documented here. It is I who am surprised, not you, to discover our common ancestry, for I too am from Auron."
"We know nothing of Auron," Jadelle said, "except that it is some paradise lost in the mists of time. The Thaarn is one of the gods who lives on Auron, or so the legends say."
"But you must know the whole history of your planet. It is not many centuries since it was colonised--if my theory is correct."
There was a sudden silence. Jadelle stared away from Cally, sadness clouding her normally cheerful expression. "The whole history of Palladion commences eight thousand units before this time," she said, "Everything before that is lost--unknown."
"I would deduce from what I have ascertained through Palladion's data banks that eight thousand time units would equal approximately four hundred years," Orac interrupted, "which would be nearly two hundred years after Palladion obviously commenced its eccentric path out of the Milky Way's ambience. It would appear that some cataclysmic event occurred previous to the last four hundred years, an event which the Palladions can neither explain nor fully recall."
Jadelle was staring now at the communicator on Cally's wrist. "What is that?" she demanded. "How can it know?"
Swiftly Cally explained something of Orac's function. "Even if they cannot explain nor recall," she said to Orac, "I'm sure you have some theories."
"I will investigate the matter, and when I have some answers, or conjectures, I will tell you," Orac replied repressively. "At the moment, I do not imagine I can enlighten you any further than to suggest you question your hosts."
"Your machine mentioned Palladion's eccentric path out of the Milky Way galaxy," Jadelle remarked. "What did it mean?"
Cally explained. "On Auron, we call the galaxy the Star Crown," she added as an afterthought.
"So it's true," Jadelle breathed. "Our planet does come from the Star Crown. Why, even the name is similar."
"Palladion is moving further and further away from the Star Crown," Cally said. "Have you come to terms with that?"
"I believe that most of us have not, although it is undesirable to say so," Jadelle replied. "We have no means of escape, and our technology offers us little hope of it in the near future. We are forced to accept the situation and yet we cannot bear to think about it. Cally, I believe that all of us are afraid, deep down, although the Realists refuse to admit it. There is a tradition that we were once part of a group of many suns and no amount of cheerful Realism has ever persuaded me to accept isolation contentedly... Cally, tell me about Auron."
Cally's eyes darkened and her face set hard. How can I tell her the truth, she asked herself bitterly, that it had isolated itself from all other planets, including its own colonies; that in spite of our fear of loneliness, Auron had cut itself off from the rest of the galaxy; and then it was destroyed at the whim of one vicious woman...
"Suddenly you look so sad," Jadelle said, "what is wrong?"
"It is a long time since I have lived on Auron," Cally replied. "I miss my home so much."
"The cataclysm," Orac announced when Cally questioned him a day later, "might have been some form of planet—wide mental derangement. There is indeed no other explanation for what appears to be a case of total amnesia. There was no war, apart from isolated skirmishes, and certainly nothing violent enough to have killed approximately seventy percent of the planet's population, and driven memory from the rest. It is obvious that some vague memories remained, and in the usual way of primitive societies these became myths--a recollection of Auron as somewhere marvelous or safe, of the Thaarn and other deities, of the galaxy from whence the people of Palladion originated, and so on. I assume that this distressing occurrence was the result of the panic, agoraphobia on a massive scale and the realisation that the populace lacked the scientific data needed to avert the disaster."
"You really think it could have been averted?" Cally enquired.
"Obviously. It is perfectly feasible, as you know, to move a planet to another location if you have the technology available."
"I see," Cally said. "And what would you, Orac, if you were the Premier of Pallastra?"
"I would request information on suitable technology for planet relocation and the hyperspace driver," Orac responded simply. "I believe that the scientists of Pallastra and the Nether Continent are quite capable of developing their own solutions from that information within a century or two."
"Could you feed that information into Pallastra's data banks right away, if I asked it?" Cally enquired.
"Certainly, I could, but I would advise caution. Pallastra and Kellermon are technically in a state of war, and to give information partially would cause immense problems. Every action taken by one or other side is coloured on account of this confrontation. You will realise that we have already caused considerable friction when I was forced to make an arbitrary decision which Premier to approach originally."
"Let's hope you made the right decision, or they might decide to murder us as a justified reprisal," Vila muttered. "Orac, how much longer do we have to stay on this godforsaken planet?"
"The Liberator's functions should be fully restored in sixteen hours and thirty minutes from now," Orac replied. "However it must be understood that the Palladions may not wish the Liberator to depart if they have understood that the ship represents a form of escape from their doomed planet."
"You don't seriously think they'd try to steal the Liberator?" Vila demanded.
"Indeed I do. Even now, Kellermon is preparing missiles to launch at the Liberator and Pallastra has started its countdown on two primitive space vehicles in the hope that one might reach the Liberator. I must say that this spirit of cooperation between the two continents in the face of an external force may be heartening, although...."
"Thanks!" Vila exclaimed. "I am pleased you think their threats against us are admirable. How pleased will you be if one of their precious missiles manages to destroy the Liberator--with you in it?"
"The Liberator is well equipped to deal with such minor threats--or, at least, it will be when functions are fully restored. In the meantime, it would be advisable to avoid provoking the Palladions."
"We don't want to provoke them, we want to help them," Cally protested angrily. "Surely they'll understand that."
"Perhaps," Orac replied, "but my monitors suggest that the Realist parties on Palladion are so indoctrinated with the need to resist the agoraphobia which continually threatens the people of this planet that they may well reject our assistance rather than admit their fears of the future Palladion faces alone in the void."
"That's petty foolishness," Cally said scornfully.
"It may be," Vila commented, "but it's a natural reaction to fear. How do you think I suppress my own fear, Cally? I tell myself it's illogical and try and make the best of this planet and its people while I can. Imagine that in all the people here, except those few who were not cursed with the Auron fear of loneliness! And worse, imagine it extending over centuries and centuries with no hope of respite. They have to resist safety or they could never live with their failure to achieve it."
"I suppose you are right," Cally said sadly. "Perhaps Avon was wiser than he knew when he named you 'Public Relations Officer', Vila. On this occasion, it seems that he was only too right--if for the wrong reasons." She paced the room impatiently, cudgelling her brain to deal with the problem. "What are we going to do about it, Vila? I can't leave them to face that doom without trying to avert it, yet if I endanger the Liberator, all our lives will be at stake."
"Whatever you do, don't risk the ship," Vila said. "It's our only escape from here. If you must help your people, be practical. Without us they have no chance at all...."
#
"Aurons?" said Avon, staring at Orac with surprise and more than a little annoyance.
"You don't look too pleased," Dayna remarked, not attempting to hide her own delight. "Shouldn't you be pleased for Cally's sake?"
"She'll want to help them, won't she? Avon won't like that!" Tarrant remarked, snidely provocative.
Avon turned slowly to face the other man and a cold smile flickered briefly on his lips. "Palladion is preparing to attack us," he said. "Perhaps you both like the idea?" His hard gaze moved from Tarrant to Dayna the back to Orac. "Tell them," he said.
"Now that," Tarrant said after Orac's dissertation, "is quite another matter. I have no wish to become a martyr just to try and help a planet—full of maniacs. You'd think that they'd want to escape!"
"I would suggest," Avon said, "that they are not insane, but that their grip on sanity must be very tenuous. Perhaps our arrival, the one hope of freedom, will drive them into a frantic bid to destroy us and restore their precious equilibrium."
"Fear will drive them to cut off their own escape route?" Dayna queried.
"Paradoxical, but highly probable," Orac announced. "It also explains why our arrival here was kept secret. I leave you to imagine the consequences of not doing so."
"Mass hysteria?"
"Precisely. The leaders of the populace are taking the only course open to them; suppression, and elimination of the threat. Furthermore, it would appear that the technicians who received my original message have been liquidated."
"That's atrocious!" cried Dayna.
"That's politics," Avon said cynically. "I presume Carmion Ren has blamed his rival on the Nether Continent?"
"Andorric and Ren have agreed to let Kellermon take the whole blame. The technicians were accused of complicity with Andorric's government."
"Puerile," Dayna said scornfully. "But surely they've seen Vila and Cally? It's not as if they've been behind locked doors--they've been touring the principal city in Pallastra."
"They were persuaded to wear Pallastrian clothing," Orac explained. "One must imagine that they were of normal appearance, so far as the Palladions are concerned; and you may be sure that they will not have been allowed to talk to the general public."
#
"You can't turn down this opportunity," Jadelle cried, staring at Carmion Ren in total disbelief. "They are willing to help us!"
"So the woman says, but I've spoken again to that hard—eyed bastard who seems to be in charge and he doesn't seem quite so friendly: in fact, he's distinctly unpleasant. I think they're all criminals-—pirates perhaps."
"No one's asking them to give us their ship," Jadelle protested. "It's merely a case of passing on information. Surely you aren't going to refuse that?"
"Don't worry," Carmion Ren murmured, "I'm not going to do anything foolish."
When she had left the room, he reached for the communicator on his desk. "A minor emergency," he informed his security officer coolly, "but I'd be grateful if you would deal with it right away. No, it's an internal problem. I've reason to believe that a member of my staff is involved with the Escapists...yes--Jadelle. And while you're about it, find out who screened her. Yes, eliminate all of them. It's clear they are dangerously inefficient. I hope, incidentally, that you were not involved, Selmarre, or I shall be obliged to... Well that's very fortunate for you, isn't it?"
A pity, he thought, but that's what comes of involving yourself with dangerous heresies, Jadelle. You know only too well that there's no need for us ever to leave this planet. It is our home, we are safe here. We don't need another home, and we don't need other people. We want to be alone, Jadelle, and out here in the safety of the void, we are free... Oh Auron, Carmion Ren screamed in his terrified mind, help me want to be alone!
#
"I predict," Orac stated, "that Palladion's attack will commence in approximately three hours from now. The missiles will be launched first and afterwards the space vehicles."
"It sounds like a suicide mission," Tarrant remarked. "One can hardly imagine they would bother us."
"Why take chances?" Avon said. "We must, I think, leave immediately. Orac, bring Cally and Vila back up here."
There was a moment's silence and then the small machine said, "I regret that I cannot do that. It would appear that they are no longer wearing their teleport bracelets."
"Be assured," Tarrant said, looking hard at Avon, "that we will not leave them here, not under any circumstances."
For a moment Avon stared back, and then his gaze dropped down and away. "Don't you think it significant that the attack will be made just before we planned to leave?' he queried. "It appears that the plans have just recently been put forward by several hours...."
"Though with difficulty," Orac interjected, "as their technology is so primitive."
"Did Cally know when the Liberator's functions would be fully restored?" Dayna asked, suddenly realising the implication of Orac's remark.
"Yes," Orac replied, "she has questioned me on this matter."
"So--either she told her contact, Jadelle, or...."
"Jadelle has been eliminated," Orac stated.
"One must imagine Jadelle was tortured first," Tarrant remarked.
"Or," Avon added softly, "Vila. He would tell them anything to save his worthless skin." He turned abruptly to Orac. His gaze, usually so cold, was anxious now. "Orac, can you trace Cally and Vila?"
"I have not been able to do so as yet," Orac responded.
"Hostages indeed," Avon murmured. "We have two choices haven't we? Either we go down and look for them, or we threaten Palladion from here."
"We could abduct Carmion Ren or Andorric," Dayna suggested.
Avon shook his head. "No point. Given the curious mental state of the people on this planet, I think it highly probable that either man would rather die than allow us to cause havoc...and there, I think, is the answer. We cause havoc. We terrify them out of their wits. We allow the ordinary people to know that there really is an escape route from Palladion!"
"That's cruel!" Dayna cried. "There will be another cataclysm...hysteria. They'll be plunged into chaos, once more."
"Can you think of anything better?' Avon snarled, losing his patience. "Believe me, Dayna. I am not going to stay here and I'm not going to die here. Orac, I want to speak to Ren...NOW!"
#
"I can't imagine what you mean," Ren said calmly. "Of course they are safe. I cannot tell you why their communicators are not working but I will have one of my staff enquire."
"We will be leaving soon," Avon said. "I wish to be certain that my compatriots will be accompanying me. I am asking you to show them to me so that I may be ensured of their safety."
"They are visiting one of our industrial complexes," Ren said. "It's much too far away... However, if you tell me when you are leaving, I will ensure they are here."
"Tell me," Avon said, his manner still diplomatically mollifying, "whether there is anything you want of us? Information, perhaps? We have, I am certain, much that could assist you...."
"We don't need any information," Carmion Ren replied shortly. "Palladion is a haven of perfection and has all that is necessary for our existence."
"I see," Avon murmured, a sudden touch of malice creeping into his voice. "You wouldn't, perhaps, like to find the true Auron?"
Carmion Ren's eyes became dazed, just for a fraction of a second, but the three watchers on the Liberator saw it. So near to insanity, Dayna thought sadly; how can they stand it? "Auron is a myth," Ren said, recovering swiftly.
"Auron is a planet," Avon replied. "It is a very ordinary planet--like yours; or, like yours would be if it were still in the confines of the galaxy. Don't you really think, Ren, that you might like to return home to Auron?"
"No!" Ren's face was red with anger. "This conversation is at an end." Turning aside he signalled his technicians to silence the receiver.
"Wait!" Avon commanded, and the Premier glanced back at him. "Cally is from Auron," Avon said. "No doubt you have already discovered that. If you will allow us, we can help you return."
But you can't, Dayna agonised, for Auron is lifeless, its people dead.
"All we want you to do is to leave," Ren said. He turned to the technicians and said: "No communications, understand. None! Ignore them!"
#
"It's a terrible thing, agoraphobia," Vila was remarking to his guards. "Fear of open spaces: it's what you are all suffering from, you know."
"Don't know what he's talking about," one of the men muttered. "Doesn't he go on, and on!"
"Hey!" someone called, "There's something very odd coming over the radio...."
They gathered around the radio and attended with transfixed amazement.
"...and if you do not deliver my compatriots to me within ten of your minutes, I shall commence am attack upon your planet. Believe me," Avon's grim voice said, and all over the planet people shivered involuntarily, "I shall not leave without them, and I have the facilities to devastate your planet. Ten minutes, Ren, Andorric, ten short minutes...."
A few moments later Vila watched mystified, as the guards moved off in a body. "Amazing!" he grinned. "Well, at least it gives me a chance to open this footling little lock." Within a few seconds, the door was open and he was out in the corridor, peering through the cell windows. At the fifth door he was lucky and was soon at Cally's side. "Wake up!" he cried "Come on, we've got to get out of here, Cally!"
She surfaced groggily and staggered to her feet, leaning on him heavily. "Where...where...?"
"I don't know," he said, "but all we can do is try."
They lurched out into the corridor and along in the direction the guards had taken. After a few minutes, they heard a commotion and Vila groaned "Typical. Now they're going to capture us again. This won't do...."
"There they are!" yelled one. "Give them the bracelets before their friends destroy the place!"
"I command you to be still!" shouted a frantic official, but the guards ignored him.
"Here!" the guard cried, thrusting the bracelets into Vila's hands. "Take them and don't ever come back, whatever you are!"
"Gladly," said Vila, guessing at the gist of the remark from the man's expression. "Believe me, I never wanted to visit you in the first place."
#
Vila sank into his console seat and wiped a shaking hand across his brow. "Never, never again!" he said. "Are you really sure we are on the way home?"
"Of course I'm sure," Tarrant replied. "Slowly, since we've had to leave before we're quite ready, but we are moving towards the Milky Way and we'll be up to normal speed in about half an hour."
"I can't believe they'd let us go so easily," Vila continued.
"I imagine they had no idea what to do," Tarrant replied. "One must assume that the Commandant of the prison simply could not get any sense out of his superiors so he did the best thing he could think of...got rid of you!"
"Any minute now," Vila said, "I am going to have an appalling attack of hysterics, I know it. I've been utterly terrified for days!"
"I thought Dayna gave you some tranquiliser or other."
"She did. I could do with soma too."
"You know they don't mix," Dayna said reprovingly. "If it weren't for that, I might have let you, just this once."
Vila groaned. "I'd have preferred the soma to the tranquiliser," he wailed glumly.
Cally was resting in the medic-unit while the medical computer checked her over. "There doesn't seem to be much wrong," Avon remarked. "The computer deduces that you were administered a novel form of truth drug which caused no damage to your system. That's interesting, isn't it? One might wish that the Federation could use more humane methods to obtain its information."
"So perhaps the Palladions have something they could teach us?" Cally said. "Avon...."
"Yes?"
"What is going to happen to them?"
"I don't know. Perhaps another 'cataclysm' just as Orac believes occurred previously, or perhaps they'll pass off this event in some way and forget about it. Perhaps, it will bring them to their senses."
"I can't believe, even, that there was nothing we could do!" Cally exclaimed.
"Even the 'cataclysm' may not be a disaster, for the next time their solution may be different. However...."
"What is it?" she asked, suddenly suspicious. "What have you done, Avon?"
"Nothing to speak of," he said. "Just sitting around, all very low key, on the whole."
"Aren't you going to tell me?" she demanded. "Avon...."
He smiled at her, for once without a shadow of sarcasm. "Orac has been feeding their data banks with information for several hours," he said. "They now have all they need to help them to escape--in time. Perhaps, in some future century, your lost relatives will return to their galaxy from beyond the rim."
"You're not so heartless as you pretend," she said, smiling back at him. "You really did want to help them."
"I like to see people using their native intelligence," he replied, the mask of indifference drifting over his face again. "Waste is always criminal, don't you think?"
"Don't spoil it all now with some bitter remark," she murmured. "You can't help having the occasional human impulse."
He shrugged and left her alone. But not entirely, she thought, her spirits lifting. One day they will return, find a new planet and make Auron live again.
the end
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