Pebble In The Sky

19. The Deadline That Approached

The hours that followed saw turmoil within and without Fort Dibburn. More so, perhaps, in Chica itself.

It was at noon that the High Minister at Washenn inquired via Communi-wave after his Secretary, and a search for the latter failed. The High Minister was displeased; the minor officials at the Hall of Correction were perturbed.

Questioning followed, and the guards outside the assembly room were definite that the Secretary had left with the prisoners at ten-thirty in the morning…No, he had left no instructions. They could not say where he was going; it was, of course, not their place to ask.

Another set of guards was equally uninformed and uninformative. A general air of anxiety mounted and swirled.

At 2 P.M. the first report arrived that the Secretary's ground car had been seen that morning-no one had seen if the Secretary was within-some thought he had been driving, but had only assumed it, it turned out- By two-thirty it had been ascertained that the car had entered Fort Dibburn.

At not quite three, it was finally decided to put in a call to the commander of the fort. A lieutenant had answered.

It was impossible at that time, they learned, for information on the subject to be given. However, His Imperial Majesty's officers requested that order be maintained for the present. It was further requested that news of the absence of a member of the Society of Ancients be not generally distributed until further notice.

But that was enough to achieve the direct opposite of the Imperial desires.

Men engaged in treason cannot take chances when one of the prime members of a conspiracy is in the hands of the enemy forty-eight hours before trigger time. It can mean only discovery or betrayal, and these are but the reverse sides of a single coin. Either alternative would mean death.

So word went out- And the population of Chica stirred- The professional demagogues were on the street corners. The secret arsenals were broken open and the hands that reached withdrew with weapons. There was a twisting drift toward the fort, and at 6 P.M. a new message was sent to the commandant, this time by personal envoy.

Meanwhile, this activity was matched in a smaller way by events within the fort. It had begun dramatically when the young officer meeting the entering ground car reached out a hand for the Secretary's blaster.

"I'll take that," he said curtly.

Shekt said, "Let him take it, Schwartz."

The Secretary's hand lifted the blaster and stretched out; the blaster left it, was carried away-and Schwartz, with a heaving sob of breaking tension, let go.

Arvardan was ready. When the Secretary lashed out like an insane steel coil released from compression, the archaeologist pounced upon him, fists pumping down hard.

The officer snapped out orders. Soldiers were running up. When rough hands laid hold of Arvardan's shirt collar and dragged him up, the Secretary was limp upon the seat. Dark blood was flowing feebly from the corner of his mouth. Arvardan's own already bruised cheek was open and bleeding.

He straightened his hair shakily. Then, pointing a rigid finger, said firmly, "I accuse that man of conspiring to overthrow the Imperial Government. I must have an immediate interview with the commanding officer."

"We'll have to see about that, sir," said the officer civilly. "If you don't mind, you will have to follow me-all of you."

And there, for hours, it rested. Their quarters were private, and reasonably clean. For the first time in twelve hours they had a chance to eat, which they did, despite considerations, with dispatch and efficiency. They even had the opportunity of that further necessity of civilization, a bath.

Yet the room was guarded, and as the hours passed, Arvardan finally lost his temper and cried, "But we've simply exchanged prisons."

The dull, meaningless routine of an army camp drifted about them, ignoring them. Schwartz was sleeping and Arvardan's eyes went to him. Shekt shook his head.

"We can't," he said. "It's humanly impossible. The man is exhausted. Let him sleep."

"But there are only thirty-nine hours left."

"I know-but wait."

A cool and faintly sardonic voice sounded. "Which of you claims to be a citizen of the Empire?"

Arvardan sprang forward. "I am. I-"

And his voice failed as he recognized the speaker. The latter smiled rigidly. His left arm he held a bit stiffly as a remaining memento of their last meeting.

Pola's voice was faint behind him. "Bel, it's the officer-the one of the department store."

"The one whose arm he broke," came the sharp addition. "My name is Lieutenant Claudy and yes, you are the same man. So you are a member of the Sirian worlds, are you? And yet you consort with these. Galaxy, the depths a man can sink to! And you've still got the girl with you." He waited and then said slowly and deliberately, "The Earthie-squaw!"

Arvardan bristled, then subsided. He couldn't-not yet

He forced humbleness into his voice. "May I see the colonel, Lieutenant?"

"The colonel, I am afraid, is not on duty now."

"You mean he's not in the city?"

"I didn't say that. He can be reached-if the matter is sufficiently urgent."

"It is…May I see the officer of the day?"

"At the moment I am the officer of the day."

"Then call the colonel."

And slowly the lieutenant shook his head. "I could scarcely do so without being convinced of the gravity of the situation.'.

Arvardan was shaking with impatience. "By the Galaxy, stop fencing with me! It's life and death."

"Really?" Lieutenant Claudy swung a little swagger stick with an air of affected dandyism. "You might crave an audience with me."

"All right…Well, I'm waiting…

"I said-you might crave one."

"May I have an audience, Lieutenant?"

But there was no smile on the lieutenant's face. "I said, crave one-before the girl. Humbly."

Arvardan swallowed and drew back. Pola's hand was on his sleeve. "Please, Bel. You mustn't get him angry."

The archaeologist growled huskily, "Bel Arvardan of Sirius humbly craves audience with the officer of the day."

Lieutenant Claudy said, "That depends. "

He took a step toward Arvardan and quickly and viciously brought the flat of his palm down hard upon the bandage that dressed Arvardan's open cheek.

Arvardan gasped and stifled a shriek.

The lieutenant said, "You resented that once. Don't you this time?"

Arvardan said nothing.

The lieutenant said, "Audience granted."

Four soldiers fell in before and behind Arvardan. Lieutenant Claudy led the way.

Shekt and Pola were alone with the sleeping Schwartz, and Shekt said, "I don't hear him any more, do you?"

Pola shook her head. "I haven't either, for quite a while. But, Father, do you suppose he'll do anything to Bel?"

"How can he?" said the old man gently. "You forget that he's not really one of us. He's a citizen of the Empire and cannot be easily molested…You are in love with him, I suppose?"

"Oh, terribly, Father. It's silly, I know…

"Of course it is." Shekt smiled bitterly. "He is honest. I do not say he isn't. But what can he do? Can he live here with us on this world? Can he take you home? Introduce an Earthgirl to his friends? His family?"

She was crying. "I know. But maybe there won't be any afterwards."

And Shekt was on his feet again, as though the last phrase had reminded him. He said again, "I don't hear him."

It was the Secretary he did not hear. Balkis had been placed in an adjoining room, where his caged-lion steps had been clearly and ominously audible. Except that now they weren't.

It was a little point, but in the single mind and body of the Secretary there had somehow become centered and symboled all the sinister force of disease and destruction that were being loosed on the giant network of living stars. Shekt jarred Schwartz gently. "Wake up," he said.

Schwartz stirred. "What is it?" He felt scarcely rested. His tiredness went in and in, so deep as to come out at the other side, projecting in jagged streaks.

"Where's Balkis?" urged Shekt.

"Oh-oh yes." Schwartz looked about wildly, then remembered that it was not with his eyes that he looked and saw most clearly. He sent out the tendrils of his mind and they circled, sensing tensely for the Mind they knew so well.

He found it, and avoided touching it. His long immersion in it had not increased his fondness for the clinging of its diseased wretchedness.

Schwartz muttered, "He's on another floor. He's talking to someone."

"To whom?"

"No one whose mind I've even Touched before. Wait-let me listen. Maybe the Secretary will-Yes, he calls him Colonel."

Shekt and Pola looked quickly at one another.

"It can't be treason, can it?" whispered Pola. "I mean, surely an officer of the Empire wouldn't deal with an Earthman against the Emperor, would he?"

"I don't know," said Shekt miserably. "I am ready to believe anything."

Lieutenant Claudy was smiling. He was behind a desk, with a blaster at his finger tips and the four soldiers behind him. He spoke with the authority that such a situation would lend one.

"I don't like Earthies," he said. "I never liked them. They're the scum of the Galaxy. They're diseased, superstitious, and lazy. They're degenerate and stupid. But, by the Stars, most of them know their place.

"In a way, I can understand them. That's the way they were born, and they can't help it. Of course I wouldn't endure what the Emperor endures from them-I mean their blasted customs and traditions-if 1 were the Emperor. But that's all right. Someday we'll learn-"

Arvardan exploded. "Now look here. I didn't come to listen-"

"You'll listen, because I'm not finished. I was about to say that what I can't understand is the workings of the mind of an Earthie-lover. When a man-a real man, supposedly-can get so low in filth as to crawl in among them and go nosing after their womenfolk, I have no respect for him. He's worse than they are-"

"Then to Space with you and your poor filthy excuse of a mind!" fiercely. "Do you know that there's treason against the Empire afoot? Do you know just how dangerous the situation is? Every minute you delay endangers everyone of the quadrillions in the Galaxy-"

"Oh, I don't know, Dr. Arvardan. It is Dr., isn't it? I mustn't forget your honors. You see, I've got a theory of my own. You're one of them. Maybe you were born in Sirius, but you've got a black Earthman's heart, and you're using your Galactic citizenship to advance their cause. You've kidnaped this official of theirs, this Ancient. (A good thing, by the way, in itself, and I wouldn't mind rattling his throat for him.) But the Earthmen are looking for him already. They've sent a message to the fort."

"They have? Already? Then why are we talking here? I must see the colonel if I have to-"

"You expect a riot, trouble of any sort? Perhaps you even planned one as the first step in an arranged revolt, eh?"

"Are you mad? Why would I want to do that?"

"Well, then, you wouldn't mind if we released the Ancient?"

"You cannot." Arvardan rose to his feet, and for a moment it looked as though he might hurl himself across the desk at the other.

But the blaster was in Lieutenant Claudy's hand. "Oh, can't we? Look here, now. I've gotten a little of my own back. I've slapped you and made you crawl before your Earthie pals. I've made you sit here while I told you to your face what a low worm you are. And now I would love an excuse to blast your arm off in exchange for what you did to mine. Now make another move."

Arvardan froze.

Lieutenant Claudy laughed and put his blaster away. "It's too bad I have to save you for the colonel He's to see you at five-fifteen."

"You knew that-you knew that all the time." Frustration tore his throat into hoarse sandpaper.

"Certainly."

"If the time we have lost, Lieutenant Claudy, means that the issue is lost, then neither of us will have much time to live." He spoke with an iciness that distorted his voice into something horrible. "But you will die first, because I shall spend my last minutes smashing your face into splintered bone and mashed brain."

"I'll be waiting for you, Earthie-lover. Any time!"

The commanding officer of Fort Dibburn had grown stiff in the service of the Empire. In the profound peace of the last generations there was little in the way of "glory" that any army officer could earn, and the colonel, in common with others, earned none. But in the long, slow rise from military cadet he had seen service in every part of the Galaxy-so that even a garrison on the neurotic world of Earth was to him but an additional chore. He wanted only the peaceful routine of normal occupation. He asked nothing beyond this, and for it was willing to humble himself-even, when it was necessary, to apologize to an Earthgirl.

He seemed tired when Arvardan entered. His shirt collar was open and his tunic, with its blazing yellow "Spaceship and Sun" of Empire, hung loosely over the back of his chair. He cracked the knuckles of his right hand with an abstracted air as he stared solemnly at Arvardan.

"A very confusing story, all this," he said, "very. I recall you well, young man. You are Bel Arvardan of Baronn, and the principal of a previous moment of considerable embarrassment. Can't you keep out of trouble?"

"It is not only myself that is in trouble, Colonel, but all the rest of the Galaxy as well."

"Yes, I know," somewhat impatiently. "Or at least I know that that is what you claim. I am told that you no longer have papers of identification."

"They were taken from me, but I am known at Everest. The Procurator himself can identify me, and will, I hope, before evening falls."

"We'll see about that." The colonel crossed his arms and teetered backward on his chair. "Suppose you give me your side of the story."

"I have been made aware of a dangerous conspiracy on the part of a small group of Earthmen to overthrow the Imperial Government by force, which, if not made known at once to the proper authorities, may well succeed in destroying both the Government and much of the Empire itself."

"You go too far, young man, in this very rash and farfetched statement. That the men of Earth could stage annoying riots, lay siege to this fort, do considerable damage, I am quite prepared to admit-but I do not for a moment conceive them capable of as much as driving the Imperial forces from this planet, let alone destroying the Imperial Government. Yet I will listen to the details of this-uh-plot."

"Unfortunately, the seriousness of the matter is such that I feel it vital that the details be told to the Procurator himself in person. I request, therefore, to be put into communication with him now, if you don't mind."

"Umm…Let us not act too hurriedly. Are you aware that the man you have brought in is Secretary to the High Minister of Earth, one of their Ancients and a very important man to them?"

"Perfectly!"

"And yet you say that he is a prime mover in this conspiracy you mention."

"He is."

"Your evidence?"

"You will understand me, I am sure, when I say that I cannot discuss that with anyone but the Procurator."

The colonel frowned and regarded his fingernails. "Do you doubt my competency in the case?"

"Not at all, sir. It is simply that only the Procurator has the authority to take the decisive action required in this case."

"What decisive action do you refer to?"

"A certain building on Earth must be bombed and totally destroyed within thirty hours, or the lives of most, or all, of the inhabitants of the Empire will be lost."

"What building?" asked the colonel wearily. Arvardan snapped back. "May I be connected with the Procurator, please?"

There was a pause of deadlock. The colonel said stiffly, "You realize that in forcibly kidnaping an Earthman you have rendered yourself liable to trial and punishment by the Terrestrial authorities? Ordinarily the government will protect its citizens as a matter of principle and insist upon a Galactic trial. However, affairs on Earth are delicate and I have strict instructions to risk no avoidable clash. Therefore. unless you answer my questions fully, I will be forced to turn you and your companions over to the local police."

"But that would be a death sentence. For yourself tool… Colonel, I am a citizen of the Empire, and I demand an audience with the Pro-"

A buzzer on the colonel's desk interrupted him. The colonel turned to it, closing a contact. "Yes?"

"Sir," came the clear voice, "a body of natives have encircled the fort. It is believed they are armed."

"Has there been any violence?"

"No, sir."

There was no sign of emotion on the colonel's face. This, at least, was what he was trained for. "Artillery and aircraft are to be made ready-all men to battle stations. Withhold all fire except in self-defense. Understood?"

"Yes, sir. An Earthman under flag of truce wishes audience."

"Send him in. Also send the High Minister's Secretary here again."

And now the colonel glared coldly at the archaeologist. "I trust you are aware of the appalling nature of what you have caused."

"I demand to be present at the interview," cried Arvardan, nearly incoherent with fury, "and I further demand the reason for your allowing me to rot under guard here for hours while you closet yourself with a native traitor. I tell you that I am not ignorant that you interviewed him before speaking with me."

"Are you making any accusations, sir?" demanded the colonel, his own voice ascending the scale. "If so, make them plainly."

"I make no accusations. But I will remind you that you will be accountable for your actions hereafter, and that you may well be known in the future, if you have a future, as the destroyer, by your stubbornness, of your people."

"Silence! I am not accountable to you, at any rate. We will conduct affairs, henceforward, as I choose. Do you understand?"