Return - Book III of the Five Worlds Trilogy (9 page)

Such sadness should not have been built into her; into the others.

“Kay Free?”

At first Kay Free thought the tentative voice belonged to Mother; she was startled to see that it was Mel Sent, usually garrulous, if not downright loud, who had approached her.

Kay Free turned away from Sol to face her visitor. “You are troubled?” Kay Free asked.

“I…” Mel Sent hesitated; this was another trait foreign to her makeup.

“Were you visited by Mother?”

“Yes,” Mel Sent said; gone completely was all the loquaciousness that marked her as unique, replaced by puzzled sadness. “Mother visited Pel Front, also. But at least in my case it doesn’t seem to have helped.”

“I was reassured for a time, myself,” Kay Free said. “But now …”

She turned to regard the three stately comets in their malevolent orbits, and Mel Sent turned her attention to them also.

“You don’t think…”Mel Sent began.

Kay Free waited.

“You don’t think there was a mistake made, do you?” Mel Sent uttered finally.

Still Kay Free said nothing.

“It’s just that…” Mel Sent said tentatively.

“It’s just that it seems wrong,” Kay Free said. She turned to her companion. “Is that what you want to say?”

“Yes!” Mel Front huffed with finality. “And yet, Mother seemed so sure that everything would turn out for the best.”

“That’s what she’s supposed to say,” Kay Free replied.

“Yes, of course. And yet—”

The two of them were startled to notice the arrival of Pel Front; he, like his two companions, was very much not himself, and had merely glided up, a silent gathering of energy.

“Pel Front, are you all right?” Kay Free asked, alarmed.

“I … don’t know …” Pel Front said. “I’ve been alone so long, and it’s been so long since there was a calling … .” He, too, had oriented himself toward the distant sun, the triple bearded balls of ice and rock pimpling??? its orbit.

“Mother didn’t seem concerned about that, either,” Mel Sent said. “When I asked her why there hadn’t been a calling since we were instructed to do that”—she paused, making a gesture of distaste at the comets—”she was very cryptic. Very cryptic indeed. I worry about her!”

“I wonder if she doesn’t worry about us,” Kay Free said.

“Of course—that’s what she’s supposed to do!” Mel Sent said. “And yet…”

“Yes,” Kay Free said. “And yet…”

“Well,” Pel Front said, regaining an incremental bit of his old peevishness, “I can’t see as anything is being solved here. I suggest we each go back to our separate brooding. Whatever will happen will do so in its own time.”

“I suppose …” Kay Free said.

“I really should check in on Mother, anyway,” Mel Sent said.

They began to drift their separate ways; Kay Free continued to stare at the distant sight of coming destruction of her own design.

Suddenly, something tiny and then stronger drove through her.

“Wait a minute—” she said, as the others abruptly drew closer to her.

“Yes—” Mel Sent began to say.

And then a calling came.

Chapter 11

D
alin Shar felt something like a bolt of lightning go through him.

He was sure that, for a moment at least, his heart stopped. He ceased breathing, the world went white before him—

My God
, he thought,
could I be having a heart attack? And not yet twenty years old?

And then it passed.

The white wall before him not so much dissolved as was yanked quickly away; he was exactly where he had been before, sitting at a table studying his advisers by the light of a nearby, flickering fire.

“She? You were saying?” Erik said, looking at him with the beginnings of concern.

“I have no idea what I was saying,” Dalin said, with a slight laugh. “For a moment there, I was … not with you …”

 Erik was instantly at his side, peering into his face. “Are you ill?”

“I don’t … know…” Dalin said; but already the incident was being forgotten, and he felt himself once more. “Let’s move on,” he said with finality.

Erik was still staring at him curiously; but after a moment he shrugged, regained his place at the table, and the meeting went on.

L
ater, as Dalin reclined on a cot in his tent, Erik came to see him, appearing in the tent’s opening with the same concerned look returned to his features.

“What happened to you before?” Erik asked.

Dalin sat up on the cot and motioned the other man into the enclosed space. “I have no idea.”

“I saw something in your face. Your eyes,” Erik remarked.

“What did you see?”

“Something …” Erik laughed and shook his head. “I don’t know, exactly. But as you said, it was as if you were returning from elsewhere.”

“That’s what I felt like! For the briefest moment I was lifted, or projected out of myself, and then I was back.” A puzzled look crossed his face. “I felt something like it, in a much milder sense, once before. When Shatz Abel and I were descending Christy Chasm on Pluto, I fell from a ledge and was saved by something. He called it a goblin. I still don’t know what it was, but whatever it was, I felt a tinge of what I just felt at that meeting. Just a tinge… .”

“Whatever it is, if it happens again, I want one of the doctors to look at you,” Erik said sternly.

“Nonsense! I’m fine! No more tired than any one of us. No more tired than anyone who’s made twenty new camps in four months.”

Noting the tone of frustration in Dalin’s voice, Erik said, “You know it’s necessary. Cornelian has spies everywhere outside the Lost Lands. If we were to reenter the old kingdom, he’d be sure to attack us almost immediately. Once our people have secured the last of the governors and we’re sure of our control, we can think about returning. Until then—”

“I want to return now.”

“Sire! That would be madness! You heard the opinion of everyone in that meeting just now! And where would we return to? Your old palace is rubble; Cairo has been leveled by concussion bombs—”

“A provisional capital, then.”

“Madness, I tell you!”

“Why?” Dalin said passionately. “Even in the Lost Lands we’re vulnerable. Sooner or later one of Cornelian’s people will infiltrate and pinpoint us, and what once was an army will be a concussion crater. It’s only a matter of time.”

He looked past Erik, out of the tent flap, out over the cook fires and dark silhouettes of camp guards to the darkened and strange-colored sky. When he turned back to Erik, he looked older—more thoughtful and tired than Erik had ever seen him.

“I’ve been thinking of nothing else for weeks,” Dalin said. “We can’t hide in the Lost Lands any longer. We’ve already had cases of sickness, and they’re likely to get worse. And the army is restless. I, for one, am tired of looking at yellow and brown skies and watching every step and studying every tree to see if something deadly will fly out of it—or if the tree itself will attack!”

He lowered his voice. “They’re ready, Erik! Ready for whatever comes. We can’t hide, and we can’t go back—so I say we go forward. The sooner we begin work on restoring all of Earth, the better it will be for everyone.”

“You still have your mind set on this project of yours?”

The king smiled. “I’m betting on it. I’m counting on the fact that if Prime Cornelian learns that we have no designs on Venus, he’ll just leave us alone. He knows how long it would take to restore Earth, and if he thinks we have nothing else on our minds, he’ll leave us to do it.”

Erik shook his head slowly. “I wouldn’t be too sure of that, Sire. Cornelian is a madman—”

“But not a fool.” The king leaned closer, showing Erik his palm. He pointed with four fingers to four spots. “There are only four worlds left, Erik; in the long run, only one of them matters to Prime Cornelian.” He removed one finger. “Pluto is inconsequential. It will always be little more than an outpost.”

He removed a second finger. “If Mars is destroyed, Cornelian will have two choices—moving on to Earth or Venus.” He removed another finger. “It’s an easy choice, because Venus has been the prize all along.” He removed the last finger and looked hard into Erik’s face. “Even if Mars is saved, Cornelian will still have only one thing on his mind—keeping control of Venus. That’s been all he’s wanted all along. He knows that even in the long run Mars is doomed by what it is: cold and dry. He needs Venus, and if he sees that we don’t want it, he’ll leave us alone.”

“Are you really sure of that, Sire?” Erik said, holding the king’s gaze. “Do you really think that Prime Cornelian will be content with leaving us alone?”

“In the short run, if he sees us as no threat, he’ll let us be.”

“And in the long run?”

The king grinned and broke their locked gaze. “In the long run, he’ll want Earth for himself.”

“What!”

“Look at it from Prime Cornelian’s point of view. If he destroys Earth now, he has nothing. Not only that, but he then has, if there are survivors, a rival for possession of Venus. But if he waits for Earth to build itself back up into something worth taking, he can take it then. And that will be years from now. And, by then, I will make sure we will not be so easy to take.”

Dalin stood up. “Give orders to break camp in the morning. Tomorrow, we march out of the Lost Lands.”

Chapter 12

I
n four months, Visid had developed four new devices and improved three more of Benel Kran’s. The recreation center now had a new defense perimeter; any light soldier wandering into it would be instantly spot-targeted by a version of Benel’s weapon and destroyed. There were new, slimmer cameras on the roof, as well as satellite feeds and tapping equipment the two of them developed together. They brought in Screen programs from Martian and Earth stations when not working, and learned the political situation on both worlds. They received a total of 3,014 channels, and still, when it was time to relax, which wasn’t often, there didn’t seem to be anything on worth watching: The labs were spotless and organized.

Visid’s brilliance astounded Benel Kran, who was used to brilliant people. Anything that fired her mind she attacked with concentration and vigor, in the end not only conceiving of but producing an elegant and useful product. It was, she explained, what the Machine Master of Mars had taught her.

At first she seemed more than content with organizing the laboratory and improving what was on hand. But as the days, weeks, and then months passed, she seemed to become almost frantic with activity. And after the satellite feeds began to give them the political situation on the other worlds, she became, it seemed to Benel Kran, obsessed.

“What’s the rush?” he protested, after three days of activity that had reduced him to little more than an assistant. She would not say what she was working on, would not comment on the pile of half-finished projects that lined the workbench before them, would not sleep and barely ate.

“It needs to be done now,” Visid said, her squinting eyes close to a chip board. She pulled back, adjusting a spot beam of light onto a different chip section before eying it closely once more.

Benel laughed. “I was here alone for three years before you came, and there was never a rush to do anything!”

“It’s different now,” Visid said.

“How?”

“We have to be ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“Never mind.”

They had had this conversation over and over, but when it came time for real explanations she would give him none. Benel had figured out for himself that eventually someone, probably the Martians, would return to Venus. Even if it was sooner rather than later, so what? What did they expect to do, fight the Martians by themselves? The best they could hope for, in Benel’s mind, was to go underground and hide. If they were lucky, and had the right equipment, they could probably stay out of everyone’s way for years. But that would require leaving the lab and finding a place in the mountains, a cave or underground chamber. When he told all this to Visid, she merely grunted and went on with her work

“I don’t understand you!” Benel said in frustration. “Even if you come up with ten great gadgets, the two of us can’t fight everyone else in the Solar System!”

To this she said nothing, but held out a hand for a particular tool, which Benel, sighing in frustration, fetched for her.

“It’s like you’re in some kind of competition with the Machine Master!” Benel cried.

“Maybe I am,” Visid answered.

A
nd then, one day, Visid suddenly put down her tools, pushed her work aside, and announced, “It’s time for a trip.”

“Great!” Benel said. He was lounging on his sleep pallet in the corner, eating peanuts, watching the nearest Screen, which broadcast a game of barqui from Mars. Outside, the day was spring-like, warm, a breeze pushing the scent of flowers. Benel stood up and stretched. “Let’s make a picnic of it! And look for something to eat besides peanuts!”

He threw the can he had been eating from aside, one of thousands the Martians had ignored when they stripped the planet.

“That’s not why we’re going out,” Visid replied.

Still retaining his enthusiasm, Benel said, “Then we’ll look for a cave! A place to build our hiding spot!”

“That’s not it, either.”

“Then—”

“It’s time to see Carter Frolich”

Benel’s excitement evaporated. “I told you, he’s blind and crazy! There’s no reason to have anything to do with him!”

“I need to talk to him.”

“For what? Revenge? Because he had something to do with killing your father?”

“That’s not it, either.” Visid was calmly gathering some items into a rucksack, some tools and a device she had newly finished.

Shaking his head, Benel said, “All right, I’ll go with you, but only because being around here is driving me crazy!”

Benel reached for the strap of his light soldier disintegrator, but Visid shook her head.

“We won’t need that,” she said.

“Just because we haven’t seen one of them around here in weeks doesn’t mean we won’t run across one.”