The Unreasoning Mask (25 page)

 

 

There was nothing to do but wait until he returned to al-Buraq. This was
done swiftly, the pilot having set the launch to return on the plotted
course, the computer slowing the velocity only when turn and obstacle
demanded it.

 

 

Sitting in the rear, the only one watching him a marine guard, Ramstan
moved his lips, subvocalizing. He called to the glyfa, but he got no reply.
Ramstan cursed and struck his thigh with his fist, causing the marine
to jump back, his hand moving toward his holstered olson.

 

 

"Don't worry, lad," Ramstan said. "I'm just angry at myself." The launch
shot into the port in the midst of shrill alarms and glowing orange orders
on moving screens. Ship was being readied for standby before alaraf drive.

 

 

The deck and bulkheads quivered, al-Buraq's welcome home to him,
a tail-wagging, as it were. He wondered how ship would react when she
found out that he was no longer the master. Would she shift loyalty to
Benagur? The commodore probably was not aware of the affection circuit
in her system, but Indra was. Would be recommend its excision if Benagur
had trouble with her?

 

 

In the long history of sea navies, many crews had mutinied. But, so far,
there was no record of a rebellion in a spaceship.

 

 

A squad of marines was waiting for him. If the marine lieutenant felt
any emotion at arresting her captain, she did not betray it. Her face
was expressionless, and her voice was steady. She told him that he would
be conducted straight to the brig. He was outraged.

 

 

"Benagur is trying to humiliate me! He could at least let me be in my
own quarters!"

 

 

"Sorry, sir," she said. "Orders."

 

 

He was marched through the passageways and up a lift and was put in a
spherical room with a diameter of four meters. Unlike the ancient cells,
this had no bars. He could close the iris-door if he or his jailors wished.
But if he tried to pass through the opening without authorization,
he would be stunned with a beam.

 

 

Armed marines stationed themselves on each side of the entrance. Ramstan
wanted privacy, so be told ship to close the door. Meanwhile, the cell had
been enlarging. Evidently, al-Buraq did not think that he had enough room.
Ramstan at once told her to contract it to regulation size. Otherwise,
an engineer might notice that she was ignoring the order to obey the
new master.

 

 

He tried to call the bridge, but the transmission was now one-way.

 

 

He called to the glyfa. No response. Why was it not telling him what was
going on? It could not be refusing to communicate because it was afraid
that the Vwoordha would detect it. It must know that they were aware of
its presence in al-Buraq. It had curiosity, the characteristic of all
sentients; it could not have resisted listening in. It would have to
know what was going on.

 

 

"The glyfa plays a deep game," Grrindah had said.

 

 

Ramstan paced back and forth while he tried to imagine what was going on.
Benagur had the glyfa, but what was he going to do with it? Would he
allow it to attract and persuade him as it had his captain? Or would
he . . . ? No, surely he would not! Would he give the glyfa back to
the Tenolt?

 

 

A luminous circle on the bulkhead showed Benagur's head and shoulders.

 

 

"Hűd Ramstan!" the bull-like head bellowed.

 

 

Ramstan stopped, unclasped his hands from behind his back, raised them
toward the image, and said, "You see me." He was acutely aware that the
commodore had not addressed him as "Captain."

 

 

Benagur did not look triumphant or as if he regarded Ramstan as contemptible
or repulsive. Though his voice was that of a judge sentencing a criminal,
his expression was the mask of one who was attempting to show supreme
indifference. No, not indifference. Aloofness.

 

 

"You will be tried at court-martial in due time. Meanwhile, you'll have
benefit of counsel. You can name any of the crew you wish to defend you,
with the exception of those charging you. I recommend Lieutenant Enver,
our lexologist. She is on duty now, however, and won't be available
until the current crisis is over. No one will be until it's over."

 

 

"Thank you," Ramstan said.

 

 

"When there's time," Benagur said, "I'd like a complete report on your
mission. Nuoli is giving hers, but I want to know what happened in that
. . . habitation."

 

 

"I'll record it as soon as possible."

 

 

"I want to know every little detail!" Benagur bellowed.

 

 

"Where is the glyfa?"

 

 

"It's not necessary that you know."

 

 

Benagur paused, smiled, and said, "We've been in communication with the
Popacapyu. Her captain has been told that we have the glyfa, and we're
negotiating for its return to their ship."

 

 

Ramstan kept his face rigid to conceal his dismay.

 

 

"One of the items in the negotiations is the return to us of Lieutenant
Branwen Davis. We haven't heard her story yet, so we don't know if she'll
be subject to a court-martial. The Tolt captain, however, has told us that
she was forced by them to steal the glyfa from you."

 

 

Ramstan thought, How did they make her betray me? I mean, us.

 

 

He said, "Commodore . . ."

 

 

"Captain, not commodore!" Benagur said loudly. "I am the captain now!"

 

 

Ramstan swallowed his rage. "Captain Benagur, please think about this.
The Tenolt will never forgive the theft of their god. They will arrange
for its return, but, once they have the glyfa, they'll do their best
to destroy ship and all in it. Their religion demands that they do that.
They won't rest until the thieving blasphemers who stole the glyfa are
destroyed. So . . ."

 

 

"I know that!" Benagur shouted, raising a finger as if he were a teacher
admonishing a pupil. "I know that! Your crime has put all of us in peril!
Believe me, that will be marked against you when you stand trial! I've told
the Tenolt captain that you and you alone are responsible, that we were not
in the plot to steal the glyfa, that we knew nothing about it until just
now, that we share no culpability, that we are eager to make amends by
returning the glyfa at once! But their captain has told us that if that
is true, then we must surrender you to them!"

 

 

There was a silence. At last, Ramstan said, "I'm not pleading for myself,
not asking for mercy. The Tenolt will torture me until I die. They have
to do that, since their law exacts that as punishment for blasphemy."

 

 

"Their captain has told me that," Benagur said. He paused, then said,
"Their captain has informed me that we will not share the blame, that
he will not attack us if we deliver you to him."

 

 

"You can't trust his promise," Ramstan said. "According to what I know of
Tenolt law, you, everybody in the crew, is guilty by association. He'll get
the glyfa back and then attack."

 

 

"I don't think so," Benagur said. "His first duty is to get his false god
back to its temple. If he attacks us, he risks being destroyed and so
committing an unforgivable sin by not returning the glyfa to the temple.
He'll take it back and then come looking for us. He must. That's his
inescapable first priority."

 

 

"That may be," Ramstan said. "Are you going to give me up?"

 

 

Benagur reddened.

 

 

"Believe me, I'd like to! I'd do it if I could! You deserve such a fate!"

 

 

He bit his upper lip, then said, "But I'd take no pleasure in that.
I despise you, but I would not wish you to suffer what the Tenolt would
inflict on you. I am not vindictive! I weep for you, believe it or not,
I weep for you because you are what you are! But . . ." he drew in and
expelled a deep breath . . . "my first concern is ship and her crew! What
am I to do with you? About you, I mean? Captain Tkashikl demands that you
be given to him. But you are under Terran law, not Tenolt. I'm required
to keep you under arrest and bring you to trial. I know what the trial
will result in. There's not the slightest doubt that you are guilty."

 

 

He blew out another deep breath, his lips forming an O as if he were
expelling smoke from a fire in his own body. "You are guilty, aren't you?
Admit it, Ramstan, and save us!"

 

 

"Save you?" Ramstan said.

 

 

"Yes, save us. At least, redeem yourself somewhat, Ramstan. Admit your guilt.
If you do, then you'll make the way clearer . . ."

 

 

"For deciding whether or not you'll turn me over to the Tenolt?"

 

 

"No!" Benagur said. His fist flashed across the screen and struck something
beyond its field of vision.

 

 

Somebody -- he sounded like Tenno -- said, feebly, "Captain!"

 

 

"No! Terran government law and naval regulations forbid me to turn you
over to any extraterrestrial authority, regardless of what you've done!
But . . . this . . . case . . . wasn't anticipated by either. I have to
make a decision on an unprecedented situation. I have to bear all
the responsibility!"

 

 

"You're the captain now," Ramstan said. At the same time that he relished
Benagur's plight, he sympathized with him. But he somehow had to make the
commodore understand that this particular predicament was unimportant,
of no real significance. Vital as it was for himself, it was as nothing
compared to the larger event.

 

 

Then he thought, No, this situation is very important. Not just because
my honor and life are at stake. I, and I alone, as far as I know, can tell
Benagur, tell the crew, what is involved.

 

 

The commodore, however, gave him no chance. He shut off the channel,
and, though Ramstan tried to get him to reopen it, he either was not
hearing him or was ignoring him.

 

 

He had no idea at what stage the negotiations were. If they were in the
final phase, then they would be only a few hours, as long as it took a
launch from the Popacapyu to get to al-Buraq or vice versa.

 

 

He opened the door and called to one of the marines.

 

 

"I want a messenger to take a recording at once to . . ."

 

 

He swallowed; it was difficult to use the title.

 

 

". . . Captain Benagur. It's extremely urgent, a matter of life and death
for everybody."

 

 

"I'm sorry, sir," the marine said. "I have no authorization for that."

 

 

"You must! To hell with authorization! If you don't, we'll be attacked
by the Tenolt!"

 

 

"Sorry, sir, I can't do it."

 

 

"Listen! There's one possibility Benagur and I overlooked! The Tenolt are
not going to insist that Benagur turn me over to them! Once they have the
glyfa, they'll get me by destroying al-Buraq and everybody in it!

 

 

"Also . . ."

 

 

"Sorry, sir."

 

 

Ramstan closed the door. He took the three gifts of Wassruss from his
jacket pocket and looked at them. The triangle, the square, the circle.
He did not know if they could do what Wassruss claimed, but the Vwoordha
had said that they could. They had certainly been eager to get their hands
on them. He could escape now. Flight, however, was the last resort. Allah
alone knew where he might end up; wherever it was, he could be stranded
there until he died.

 

 

"Glyfa!" he cried. "I must talk to you! You must know what the situation
is! Are you going to allow everything to go to hell?"

 

 

Silence.

 

 

 

 

 

 

... 22 ...

 

 

In one aspect, that lack of response was encouraging. It might mean that
the glyfa knew that he could do what was required by himself.

 

 

On the other hand, the glyfa may have abandoned him. Perhaps it had decided
that Benagur was now to be its means for getting whatever it was that
it wanted.

 

 

Ramstan stood before a glowing but empty screen and spoke a code word.
It overrode all other commands or at least was supposed to do so. When he
had given it to al-Buraq in secret, he had been empowered by all the laws
governing ship to do so. Now, he was acting against regulations. What
about it? He had been doing that for some time.

 

 

At once, the screen displayed words in the Arabic alphabet of the
twenty-third century.

 

 

"Acknowledged, Captain!"

 

 

Al-Buraq's brain was supposed to be no more self-conscious than a dog's,
but there was considerable debate about the degree of that. It was, however,
agreed that a dog had far more self-awareness than a parrot. What mattered
now was that ship would obey his orders whether or not she comprehended
human language.

 

 

Ramstan spoke, and a darkness appeared on the screen. Of course. The glyfa
was locked up in a safe. He gave another order, and now the view was from
a screen in Benagur's quarters. The bulkhead opposite the one on which
it was placed was that containing the safe.

 

 

He gave another order. If al-Buraq responded, and there was no reason
to think she would not, the glyfa would be passing through an opening
in the back of the safe. Moved along by osmosis, the glyfa would head
for Ramstan's cabin.