3 - Barbarians of Mars (4 page)

 
          
 
He looked searchingly into my face and then
cast his glance to the floor, nodding to himself.

 
          
 
"Perhaps you are right," he said.
"Perhaps that is where I went wrong in the end."

 
          
 
I introduced my friend and myself. "This
is Hool Haji, Prince of the Mendishar in the far North; and I am Michael Kane,
Prince of Vamal, which lies to the South."

 
          
 
"Strange friends," he said, looking
up. "I thought the folk of the South and the Blue Giants were hereditary
enemies."

 
          
 
"Things aren't quite so bad now," I
said. "But who are you and why are you here?"

 
          
 
"I am One," he said, "and I am
here because of that, if you like"

 
          
 
"You mean you are the missing member of
the council which rules Cend-Amrid?"

 
          
 
"Just so.
More -
I formed the council. Have you seen where they sit?"

 
          
 
"A bizarre place - yes."

 
          
 
"I put the skeleton in the centre of the
table. It was meant to be a constant reminder of what we fought against - this
horrible plague which still ravages the city."

 
          
 
"But what caused the plague? I have heard
of no deadly disease on Mars."

 
          
 
"We caused it - indirectly. We found an
ancient canister not far from the outskirts of the city. It was so old that it
was obviously a creation of the Sheev or the Yaksha. It took us many months
before we got it open."

 
          
 
"What was inside?" Hool Haji asked
curiously.

 
          
 
"Nothing - we thought."

 
          
 
"Just air?" Hool Haji said,
unbelievingly.

 
          
 
"Not just air - the plague. It had been
there all the time. In our foolishness we released it."

 
          
 
Hool Haji nodded now. "Yes, I remember
half a story," he said. "Something about how, in their war of
self-destruction, the Sheev and the Yaksha used diseases which they somehow managed
to trap and release on their enemies. That must be what you found."

 
          
 
"So we discovered - and at what
cost!"
The man who had called himself.
One went
and sat down on his bunk, his head in his hands.

 
          
 
"But what happened then?"

 
          
 
"I was a member of the council governing
Cend-Amrid. I decided that in order to control the plague we must have a
logical system. I decided - and, believe me, it was not a decision that I
enjoyed reaching - that until the plague was wiped out we must regard every
human being simply as a machine, otherwise the plague would spread everywhere.
If the plague did not affect the person very badly - and its effects vary, you
know - then he could be considered a potentially functioning mechanism. If the
plague affected him badly, then he was to be regarded as a useless mechanism,
and thus to be destroyed, his useful parts to be stored in case they could
contribute to a functioning, or potentially functioning, mechanism.

 
          
 
"But such a concept suggests that you
have a much more sophisticated form of surgery than your society
indicates," I said.

 
          
 
"We have the Sheev device. An arm, a
hand, a vital organ may be inserted or attached where it should be in the human
body, and then the Sheev machine is switched on. Some kind of force flows out
of the machine - and knits the parts together." The man spoke wonderingly,
as if I should have known this.

 
          
 
Hool Haji broke in. "I have heard of such
a machine," he said, "but I had no idea that one existed in
Cend-Amrid."

 
          
 
"We kept it a secret from other
folk," said the man. "We are inclined to be a secretive people, as
you might know."

 
          
 
"I knew that," Hool Haji agreed.
"But I did not realize to what extent you guarded your secrets."

 
          
 
"Perhaps if we had not been so
secretive," said
One
, "we should not be in
this position today."

 
          
 
"It is hard to say," I told him.
"But why are you now in prison?"

 
          
 
"Because I saw that my reasoning had
produced something as dangerous as the plague," he replied. "I tried
to reverse the course on which I had embarked, tried to steer us all back to
sanity. It was too late."

 
          
 
I sympathized with him. "But they did not
kill you. Why?”

 
          
 
"Because, I suppose, of
my mind.
In their own strange way they still respect intelligence - or,
at least, intelligence of a certain kind. I don't think that will last."

 
          
 
Neither did
I
. I was
moved to loathe and at the same time sympathize with the tragic man who sat on
the bunk before me. But sympathy got the upper hand, though I privately cursed
him for a fool. Like others before him, on Earth and on Mars, he had become
victim of the monster he had created.

 
          
 
"Did it not occur to you," I said,
"that if the ancient people - the Sheev or the Yaksha - could devise this
plague-canister, they might also have had another device that could cure the
plague?"

 
          
 
"Naturally, it occurred to me," said
One, looking up, offended. "But does it still exist? If so, where is it?
How do you contact the Sheev?"

 
          
 
“No one knows," Hool Haji said,
"They come and they go."

 
          
 
"Surely it must be possible," I
said, looking at Hool Haji quickly, wondering if the same thought had struck
him, "to discover this device - if it still exists,"

 
          
 
Hool Haji looked up, his eyes lighting,
"You are thinking of the place we were originally destined for, are you
not?"

 
          
 
"I am," I said,

 
          
 
"Of course.
Cure
the plague - then cure the madness 1"

 
          
 
"Exactly,"

 
          
 
One was looking at us wonderingly, obviously
utterly unaware of what we were talking about, I thought it expedient at this
stage not to tell him of the treasure house of machines that lay hidden in the
vaults of the Yaksha. Indeed, by mutual consent earlier, Hool Haji and I had
agreed that the place should be secret and that only the minimum of trusted
people should be told where it was. In this, we shared the apparent anxiety of
the Sheev, feeling that there was a danger inherent in releasing such knowledge
all at once. If the Sheev took the benevolent interest in humanity that I
believed they did, then they were obviously waiting for the society on Mars to
mature thoroughly before allowing them the benefits of the previous society
which had destroyed itself.

 
          
 
One asked: "What are you saying? That
there is a chance of finding a cure for the plague?"

 
          
 
"Just so."

 
          
 
"Where?
And
how?"

 
          
 
"We cannot say," I told him,
"But if we manage to get away from Cend-Amrid, and if we do find such a
machine, I assure you we shall be
back "

 
          
 
"Very well," he said. "I accept
this. You offer hope, at least, when I had thought all hope had gone."

 
          
 
"Tell us your real name," I said.
"And restore a little hope in yourself."

 
          
 
"Barane Dasa," he said, rising again
and speaking a little more levelly. "Barane Dasa, Master Smith of
Cend-Amrid."

 
          
 
"Then wish us well and wish us luck,
Barane Dasa," I said, “and hope that the Eleven will be able to help us
repair our engine."

 
          
 
"We understand machines in
Cend-Amrid," he said with something like a former pride coming into his
eyes. "It will be repaired."

 
          
 
"Perhaps you did not understand them
quite enough," I reminded him.

 
          
 
He pursed his lips. "Perhaps we did not
make enough distinction between the machines we loved and the people we also
loved," he said.

 
          
 
"It is a distinction we should always
make," I told him. "But it does not mean we should reject the
machines altogether. Distinctions are useful, rejections are not so useful, for
the distinction comes from a love of knowledge while rejection of something
comes from a fear of it, when all's said and done."

 
          
 
"I will think about that," he said,
a faint smile touching his lips, "but I will think for some time before I
decide whether or not to agree with you."

 
          
 
"It is all we should ask," I
replied, returning his smile.

 
          
 
Then we went to sleep, Hool Haji stretching
himself out on the floor of the cell, since the bunks were not designed for
ten-foot high Blue Giants 1

FLIGHT FROM CEND-AMRID

 
          
 
In the morning, soon after the sun had risen,
we all went out to look at the engine - Hool Haji, myself, and the Eleven. I
had learned from Barane Dasa that every member of the council had been at the
top of his particular trade before the coming of the plague and understood that
these were the best people to put the engine right if anyone could.

 
          
 
I brought the airship right down to the ground
and stripped off the plates covering the engine housing. I could see almost
immediately that the trouble was simple and swore at myself for a fool. The
fuel pipe was in several sections and one of these had come loose. Somehow a
piece of rag - perhaps overlooked by a mechanic - had worked its way into the
pipe and was clogging it.

 
          
 
It is invariably the simple explanation that
one ignores. I had assumed - quite fairly, since the mechanics I had trained in
Varnal were normally very trustworthy and conscientious - that something was
intrinsically wrong with the engine.

 
          
 
Still, I had found Cend-Amrid because of this
mistake, and it was probably just as well, since I now had the chance to do
something about it. It was not only the good of Cend-Amrid that I had at heart,
but the good of the whole of Mars. I knew that both disease and creed could
spread, in much the same way that the Black Death and Black Magic had been
linked in the
Middle
Ages, and I wished to counter
this at any cost.

 
          
 
I thought it expedient, however, to pretend
that there was still something wrong with the engine and allowed the Eleven to
inspect it, their faces as blank as ever, while I drew up the plans I had
promised them. I was fairly certain that whatever fuel source they used, it
would not be sufficiently sophisticated to allow them to get very far before I
returned, since even steam-power was only understood by them in elementary
terms. This, of course, made them very different from the rest of the folk of
Mars, who had never bothered themselves with physics, save the theoretical
kind, since the Sheev machines were highly sophisticated and, to them, beyond
understanding.

 
          
 
Once again I could sympathize with the folk of
Cend-Amrid, but still felt that the situation existing throughout the rest of
Mars to my knowledge was, in the end, for the best.

 
          
 
In short, curiosity only sometimes kills the
cat, and then it usually happens because the cat hasn't found its feet
properly.

 
          
 
I felt better for the knowledge that I could
now leave Cend-Amrid without too much difficulty and watched for some sign of
puzzlement on the faces of the Eleven as they studied my drawings.

 
          
 
There was none. The only impression I received
from them was an impression of their confidence in
themselves
.

 
          
 
Inevitably, they came to ask me about the fuel
and I showed them some of the gasolene which I had had refined in Vamal. I
would point out that the Vamalians themselves did not really understand
anything of the principles behind the engines I used for the airships, just as
they did not understand the much more complicated principles behind the
original Sheev engine I had used to power my first airship. This again, I felt,
was at the moment for the best.

 
          
 
One of the
Eleven
-
he called himself Nine - asked me about gasolene and where it could be found.

 
          
 
"It is not like this in its natural
state," I told him.

 
          
 
"What is it like in natural state?"
came
the emotionless question.

 
          
 
"That is difficult to say."

 
          
 
"You come back Cend-Amrid and show. We
have many liquids we keep from old discoveries."

 
          
 
Doubtless he meant that they had found other
things left behind by the Sheev and preserved them in one way or another.

 
          
 
Now my curiosity got the better of me and I
did not wish to miss the chance of seeing these "liquids" that Nine
mentioned. I agreed to go back.

 
          
 
Leaving Hool Haji in the ship, I returned with
the entire Eleven to their laboratory building which lay just behind the
Central Place
. By daylight it was possible to see
evidence of the plague everywhere. Carts creaked through the streets, loaded
with corpses. But whereas one would have expected to see signs of grief on the
faces of those who lived, there were few. The Eleven's tyranny did not allow
such - to them - inefficient emotions as grief or joy. I gathered that signs of
emotion were regarded either as indications of "insanity" or that the
plague had infected another victim.

 
          
 
I shuddered more at this than I would have
done had anyone shown a sign of grief.

 
          
 
The Eleven showed me all the chemicals they
had discovered amongst the ruins of Sheev cities, but I told them that none was
anything like gasolene - although I lied.

 
          
 
They asked me to leave a little gasolene with
them, and I agreed. I intended to make sure, however, that it would not work
when they tried it.

 
          
 
I had refused to be borne in one of their
dreadful carriages, and so we walked back the way we had come.

 
          
 
This, although they did not show it, seemed
distasteful to the Eleven and I realized exactly why when one of them paused.
At the end of the street we were walking down I saw a man stagger from a house
and come stumbling towards us.

 
          
 
There was bloody foam on his lips and his face
had a greenish patch coming up from his neck to his nose. One arm seemed
paralysed and useless, the other waved about as if he was trying to keep his
balance. He saw us and an inarticulate cry came from his lips. His eyes were
fever-bright and hatred shone from them.

 
          
 
As he drew close to the Eleven he shouted:
"What have you done? What have you done?"

 
          
 
The Eleven turned as one man, leaving only
myself to face the plague-stricken wretch.

 
          
 
But he ignored me and ran towards them.

 
          
 
"What have you done" he screeched
again.

 
          
 
"Words mean nothing. Cannot answer,"
Nine replied.

 
          
 
“You are guilty! You released the plague. You
imposed this wicked government upon us I Why will so few realize this?"

 
          
 
"Inefficient," came the cold, dead
voice of
Six
.

 
          
 
Then, from the same doorway, a girl came running.
She was pretty, about eighteen, and dressed in the normal Martian harness. Her
brown hair was in disarray and her face was streaked with tears.

 
          
 
"Father!" she shouted, running
towards the wretch.

 
          
 
“Go away, Ala Mara," he cried. "Go
away - I am going to die. Let me use the little life left in me to protest to
these tyrants. Let me try to make them feel something human -even if it's only
hatred!"

 
          
 
"No, father!"
The girl began to pull at his arm.

 
          
 
I spoke to her. "I sympathize with you
both," I said. "But wait a little longer. I might be able to
help."

 
          
 
One of the Eleven - I believe he called himself
Three - turned. There was a dart-gun in his hand. Without even blinking, he
pulled the trigger. The things only worked at short range -and this was almost
point-blank. The man fell with a groan.

 
          
 
The girl gave a great shriek and began to
hammer at Three's chest with her fists.

 
          
 
"You've killed him. You might at least
have left him the little life he had!" she sobbed in rage.

 
          
 
"Inefficient," said Three.
"You inefficient, too."
He raised the gun.

 
          
 
I could stand no more.

 
          
 
With a wordless cry I leapt at him, knocking
the gun from his hand and putting my arm around the girl.

 
          
 
I said nothing.

 
          
 
He said nothing.

 
          
 
We simply stood there regarding each other
silently as the other ten members of the council turned.

 
          
 
With my free hand I drew my sword.

 
          
 
"A dead man is the most inefficient of
all," I said. "And I can make several of you that if you move a
step."

 
          
 
The girl was now weeping with reaction and my
heart went out to her now even more than it had done before,

 
          
 
"Do not worry, Ala Mara," I said,
remembering the name her dead father had used. "They will not harm
you."

 
          
 
Now the furthest away from me put a whistle to
his lips, ignoring my threat. Its note pierced the air and I knew that the
whistle was intended to summon guards.

 
          
 
Heaving the girl on to my shoulder, I began to
dash down the street. I knew that the gate was around the next bend and that if
I could put enough distance between myself and the Eleven fast enough their
dart-guns could not harm me.

 
          
 
I ran panting around the comer and rushed
towards the open gate.

 
          
 
Guards were coming at me as I went through the
gate and I prayed that I could reach the waiting airship before all was lost.

 
          
 
Hool Haji must have seen me being chased by
the guards because he suddenly appeared at the entrance to the airship's cabin.
I half flung the girl at him and turned just in time to engage the first couple
of swordsmen.

 
          
 
They were inexpert with their weapons and I
easily defended myself at first.
But soon others joined the
fight and I would have been hard pressed had not Hool Haji's massive bulk
dropped down beside me.

 
          
 
Together we held them off until several lay
dead or wounded on the ground.

 
          
 
Hool Haji muttered to me: "Get aboard.
I'll join you at once."

 
          
 
Still fighting, I managed to clamber into the
cabin.

 
          
 
Hool Haji made one last thrust, killing a
guard and, in that spht-second lull in the fighting, jumped into the cabin.

 
          
 
I was ready with the door and slammed it shut.
Leaving Hool Haji to bolt it, I went past the still frightened girl and seated
myself at my airship's controls.