Enemies of the System (11 page)

The cavern had emptied except for two forlorn bent figures, extinguishing candles on the far steps. The crowd had disappeared into side-tunnels, stumbling off to sleep out the long Lysenkan night. The six prisoners sat in their cage.

In a minute, Kordan began speaking again. His voice trembled at first. “I know I am a poor leader. Equally, you are poor followers. Our situation is unparalleled. I see that Rubyna Constanza is ideologically correct. I also see that Ian Takeido is right. We have to think in more than one context, and that is always uncomfortable; inevitably, such is often my duty as historian.

“By the way, I must apologize if my earlier remarks about language-failure causing evolutionary breakdown sounded unorthodox. I did speak unguardedly. I was thinking out what I would say when I got back to the Academy …

“We must sometimes look beyond our necessary vigilance against enemies of the system. What we have witnessed here, I believe, is a ritual which dates back to that seminal event in the generations of these debased creatures: an attempt to get their damaged ship off this planet and back into space. Over the ages, that ambition lost its force; urgency has become ceremony; the meaning is now in the means; but the means reinforces their besieged sense of identity. Though the idea of space travel has dwindled to no more than a religion, that religion helps them remain human.”

“Remain capitalist, you mean,” said Constanza, with contempt.

“
Religion
!” exclaimed Takeido. “That's the word I was after. Jaini Regentop mentioned religion. It means a kind of faith. We have just witnessed a religious ceremony.” His eyebrows twitched again. “Religion was another of those ancient enemies of the state. Before Biocom, the internal workings of man's nervous systems were so confused—dating back as they did to his animal past—that he was haunted by specters, one of which he dramatized as an external supernatural being of great power who ordered things randomly, to man's advantage or disadvantage. These people have reverted to that state of superstition.”

“Well, it's no concern of ours,” said Burek, dismissing the subject, and yawning. “I shall follow our sagacious little Constanza's example, and then try to sleep. May I suggest we all do the same?”

“There may be a way of using these—hypotheses to our advantage,” said Sygiek, ignoring him and addressing Kordan. “If these religious or ritualistic ideas you advance are near the truth, then the question to ask is, do these brutes know that we are from another world? If so, what will their attitude to us be?”

“A proper question, Millia,” said Kordan. “I already had it in mind. Tomorrow, we may get a chance to impress them. There could be a way of working on their superstitious nature to our advantage. We are weary now; as Che Burek says, it is best that we should sleep if we can and face tomorrow with fresh hope.”

“Agreed,” said Dulcifer. “At least as far as the bit about sleep goes. Hope must look after itself.”

They settled down uncomfortably within the confines of their prison.

Sygiek allowed Dulcifer to put his arms about her as she curled with her blistered shoulders against the bars of the cage. Close against his ear, she whispered, “I sense a change in Kordan. He is in command of himself again. I believe he stole my gun. There was a moment when he tried to caress me after the bureaucrat Morits died—that was when he took it from me.”

Dulcifer nodded without commenting. “Sleep, my darling,” he said. “Think of ancient peach trees and fat bare-armed women, and sleep.”

The fires in the center of the cavern guttered in a clammy draft.

After the slow night, a slow day.

As soon as a faint grey light stole into the cavern, the cave-dwellers commenced various ritualistic attendances. Warriors came and went, blessed by minor dignitaries in the ceremonial building before proceeding further—presumably to hunt or patrol. Children were marshaled and taken through vigorous calisthentics. Women worked about the fires. The machine of the tribe was in action.

Food was brought early to the six captives. It came in a thick pottery bowl and consisted of a glutinous stew, with big chunks of meat lying in gravy. It steamed. There was also a large pitcher of water, which they passed round thankfully.

“We'd better eat,” said Kordan. They stood staring down at the bowl which he held out to them.

“Looks good,” said Dulcifer. He dipped a hand in, brought up some meat and thrust it into his mouth. The others watched him with fascination as he chewed.

“Eat,” he said. “Eat. It's only our friend of yesterday, the boar.”

One by one, they dipped in. Only Constanza refused.

“You are cannibals,” she said. “It is against our ethics to taste this muck.”

“You'll be hungry,” Takeido warned. “Although it is nauseating, we need food. Never mind ideology, let me feed you, Rubyna!”

“‘Heroes never say no,'” Burek quoted.

“It's not too bad,” said Sygiek, dipping in a second time. Constanza went and sat down at the far end of the cage. The others cleared the bowl between them.

They looked at each other with guilty smiles.

An aged crone brought another bowl. They cleared that too. Some water was left; after a brief debate, they washed their hands in it, and then emptied the pitcher on the floor. The crone brought a fresh pitcher, full of cold spring water. They said nothing. They drank till they gasped.

After the old woman had retrieved her pitcher, Sygiek went over to where Rubyna sat with Takeido.

“We must think positively,” she said, looking down at the other woman. “Now that these savages have brought us underground, the chances of our being rescued by the forces from Peace City may be more remote than we estimated. So it is required of us that we keep up our strength. You made a mistake not eating.”

“Go away,” said Rubyna, sulkily. “Just because you ate that muck, you needn't force it down everyone's throat.”

“We do what the system expects us to do. We must remain strong. Surely you understand that?”

Rubyna jumped up, facing the other woman, the pupils of her dark eyes wide. “Just don't give me orders, Millia Sygiek! You've done nothing but boss people around ever since you got in my bus, and I'm sick of the sound of your voice.”

Sygiek stepped back, saying in a controlled tone, “Just behave yourself, you little Outourist girl. Some are qualified to give orders, some to take them.”

“Well, you just make sure you know who is in which category before you open your mouth again! I haven't forgotten that you called me a worker. When we get out of here, you're going to have a very nasty surprise—you and those two fools who hang around sniffing your sloppy-maos!”

“Stop it, Constanza, stop it! We mustn't fight,” cried Takeido, pulling her back. “We've got enough trouble without being divided amongst ourselves.” He ran his hands over her red tunic, cupping her breasts. She turned and stared at him, as Kordan pulled Sygiek away and soothed her at the other end of the cage.

More time passed. A group of men, eight in number, came from an inner tunnel and marched purposefully to the cage. The captives stood and looked at them.

One of the cave-dwellers was the leader, the rest his retinue. There was no mistaking his authority. He was short, middle-aged, long-haired, dressed in a red cloak which hung from a wooden yoke at his shoulders. He wore a leather helmet. His manner was brisk, and he silenced a mutter which began among his attendants. He addressed his captives in a clattering burst of speech.

“We do not understand what you say,” Kordan answered, “but before there can be any communication between us, we wish to leave this cage. Open the door.”

He rattled the bars to demonstrate his meaning.

The leader said something, the others muttered behind him. Guards were called, moving up briskly with staves.

After a curt gesture from the leader, one of his henchmen stepped forward with a key and unlocked the cage door. He flung it wide. The captives came forth, Kordan first, then Burek, then Sygiek and Dulcifer, then Takeido, and Constanza last.

“We demand an escort to the safety of Dunderzee Gorge,” said Kordan. “We can offer you benefits in exchange. Do you understand?”

“They are hardly likely to understand, are they?” asked Sygiek.

“Very well, Millia—you put the message, over to them in sign language.”

Sygiek turned to Constanza in conciliatory fashion. “You should know, Rubyna, you live on this beastly world—can anyone speak the language of these people?”

Rubyna turned a shoulder to the other man as she replied.

“They are not people but animals. We shoot them to kill them, like other animals. It is not even proved that they have a language; Kordan said as much. We shall be rescued soon, and then they will all be shot. Exterminated.”

The leader put a hand on Kordan's arm. Kordan shrank back, but the gesture, though imperious, was not hostile. He was motioning them to follow him.

They had little choice. Despite the courtesy, they were carefully watched by guards, who hemmed them in as they walked across the rough floor, past the central fires, toward the religious building. At the steps of the building, the leader halted to harangue them again. His eye burned fiercely upon them, he spoke with fervor. He pointed frequently upward, one finger stretching to the hole in the cavern roof, through which clouded sky was visible. Then he addressed himself to Sygiek, speaking intensely to her, pointing at her and at himself.

She studied him intently, deliberately not dropping her gaze, trying to divine, through centuries of divergence, what kind of man he was. All she saw was the dark surface of his eyes. He produced from his tunic a shard of glass. It was part of a broken mirror. He held it up to her so that she saw her own grey eyes, then he pointed to his own face.

“What theories do you have about this?” she asked the others.

“He is asking you to mate with him,” said Takeido, and sniggered.

“Maybe he had a daughter like you once,” suggested Burek.

“He is commenting on facial similarities between our species and his,” said Kordan.

“He is asking you to see that our kind and his are much alike,” said Dulcifer, “and that you are much prettier than he is.”

“He is going to cut your eyes out,” said Constanza.

The question was not resolved. As if vexed, the leader made a signal with his left hand. The six were led up the steps and into the roofless building. As they passed, they saw men in robes making candles. They went closely by the two masses of metal, all veined with pipes and taps, and stepped under the great wooden framework which reached up to the open sky. Some way back, almost against the stone walls of the cavern, was a range of stalls. To these stalls they were led.

Each booth contained a seat, long fetters attached two to each opposite wall, and little else. Despite protests, they were chained hand and foot.

“This is just a filthy prison!” groaned Takeido. “I can't take much more of this.”

“There are worse prisons than this all over Earth,” said Burek.

“For that remark you will be reported,” said Sygiek, with something of her old fire. “
Our
places of confinement are part of an elaborate judicial system, and are designed for re-education.”

“More to the point,” said Kordan, “observe that we have been promoted. We are no longer caged like animals but like human beings. They must keep us captive, inevitably, but they have installed us in a sacred place. What is more, I believe the president is apologizing.”

“Apologizing!” said Takeido. He buried his face in his hands and began to laugh softly.

To judge by the leader's soothing tone, he was attempting something like an apology. He clapped his hands. An object was brought and handed to Kordan. He examined it.

“It is a foil-page book,” he said. “It has some diagrams, so perhaps it is a textbook. Inevitably the language is some antique capitalist tongue. I've never seen the hieroglyphs before. It's not the Cyrillic or the Germanic, both of which I can decipher. It could be American.”

As he handed it carelessly back, he said, “Thanks. Impossible to read.”

“I doubt if he can read it either,” said Dulcifer. “It's just a relic.”

“That does not matter,” said Burek. “He tries to show you that he reveres something which comes from off this world. You don't imagine they turn out foil-page books in this damned cave, do you?”

The book was taken away, the leader made another brief speech, bowed and withdrew, his retinue following.

X

They were left alone for the rest of the day, except when the aged crone brought them separate bowls of a watery soup, tasting of mint. The hours passed slowly and the benches were hard. Although they were able to look about over the doors of the cell and over the low walls which divided them one from another, the hours crawled by with awful sloth. They speculated about rescue, knowing that they would be missed at Unity and Peace City by now. Maintaining official optimism became particularly difficult during the long stretches of the afternoon.

The order in which they sat in their cells was: Burek, Kordan, Constanza, Takeido, Dulcifer, Sygiek.

“I will tell you all what I feel and think,” Takeido burst out, when silence had ruled them for a long while. “I know that to do so is frowned upon, is either in bad taste or often punishable, but after all we shall never get back to the System, that's clear. First of all, I wish that I was lying by the river, with Rubyna Constanza in my arms, making love to her with her naked body against mine. Excuse me, Rubyna, but that's my devout wish.”

Constanza said nothing. She bit her little finger and looked down.

“‘When one wolf howls, he howls for the whole pack,'” Burek quoted. He laughed.

After more silence, Takeido said, “So much for my desires. Now for my intellect. This may be even more distasteful to you. I have little scientific knowledge beyond my own discipline of exobotany, but I have speculated more than I have ever revealed. What I say, though based on new experience, is founded on old meditation.