The Status Civilization

Chapter Nineteen

Barrent recovered consciousness in a dim, high-ceilinged room. He was lying on a bed. Two people were standing near by. They seemed to be arguing.

“There simply isn’t any more time to wait,” a man was saying. “You fail to appreciate the urgency of the situation.”

“The doctor said he needs at least another three days of rest.” It was a woman’s voice. After a moment, Barrent realized that Moera was speaking.

“He can have three days.”

“And he needs time for indoctrination.”

“You told me he was bright. The indoctrination shouldn’t take long.”

“It might take weeks.”

“Impossible. The ship lands in six days.”

“Eylan,” Moera said, “you’re trying to move too fast. We can’t do it this time. On the next Landing Day we will be much better prepared—”

“The situation will be out of hand by then,” the man said. “I’m sorry, Moera, we have to use Barrent immediately, or not use him at all.”

Barrent said, “Use me for what? Where am I? Who are you?”

The man turned to the bed. In the faint light, Barrent saw a very tall, thin, stooped old man with a wispy moustache.

“I’m glad you’re awake,” he said. “My name is Swen Eylan. I’m in command of Group Two.”

“What’s Group Two?” Barrent asked. “How did you get me out of the Arena? Are you agents of The Black One?”

Eylan grinned. “Not exactly agents. We’ll explain everything to you shortly. First, I think you’d better have something to eat and drink.”

A nurse brought in a tray. While Barrent ate, Eylan pulled up a chair and told Barrent about The Black One.

“Our Group,” Eylan said, “can’t claim to have started the religion of Evil. That appears to have sprung up spontaneously on Omega. But since it was there, we have made occasional use of it. The priests have been remarkably cooperative. After all, the worshipers of Evil set a high positive value upon corruption. Therefore, in the eyes of an Omegan priest, the appearance of a fraudulent Black One is not anathema. Quite the contrary, for in the orthodox worship of Evil, a great deal of emphasis is put upon false images—especially if they are big, fiery, impressive images like the one which rescued you from the Arena.”

“How did you produce that?” Barrent asked.

“It has to do with friction surfaces and planes of force,” Eylan said. “You’d have to ask our engineers for more details.”

“Why did you rescue me?” Barrent asked.

Eylan glanced at Moera, who shrugged her shoulders. Looking uncomfortable, Eylan said, “We’d like to use you for an important job. But before I tell you about it, I think you should know something about our organization. Certainly you must have some curiosity about us.”

“A great deal,” Barrent said. “Are you some kind of criminal elite?”

“We’re an elite,” Eylan said, “but we don’t consider ourselves criminal. Two entirely different types of people have been sent to Omega. There are the true criminals guilty of murder, arson, armed robbery, and the like. Those are the people you lived among. And there are the people guilty of deviational crimes such as political unreliability, scientific unorthodoxy, and irreligious attitudes. These people compose our organization, which, for the purposes of identification, we call Group Two. As far as we can remember and reconstruct, our crimes were largely a matter of holding different opinions from those which prevailed upon Earth. We were nonconformists. We probably constituted an unstable element, and a threat to the entrenched powers. Therefore we were deported to Omega.”

“And you separated yourselves from the other deportees,” Barrent said.

“Yes, necessarily. For one thing, the true criminals of Group One are not readily controllable. We couldn’t lead them, nor could we allow ourselves to be led by them. But more important than that, we had a job to do that could only be performed in secrecy. We had no idea what devices the guardships employed to watch the surface of Omega. To keep our security intact, we went underground—literally. The room you’re in now is about two hundred feet below the surface. We stay out of sight, except for special agents like Moera, who separate the political and social prisoners who belong in Group Two from the others.”

“You didn’t separate me,” Barrent said.

“Of course not. You were allegedly guilty of murder, which put you in Group One. However, your behavior was not typical of Group One. You seemed like good potential material for us, so we helped you from time to time. But we had to be sure of you before taking you into the Group. Your repudiation of the murder charge was strongly in your favor. Also, we questioned Illiardi after you had located him. There seemed no reason to doubt that he performed the murder you were charged with. Even more strongly in your favor were your high survival qualities, which had their ultimate test in the Hunt and the Games. We were badly in need of a man of your abilities.”

“Just what is your work?” Barrent asked. “What do you want to accomplish?”

“We want to go back to Earth,” Eylan said.

“But that’s impossible.”

“We don’t think so,” Eylan said. “We’ve given the matter considerable study. In spite of the guardships, we think it’s possible to return to Earth. We’ll find out for certain in six days, when the breakout must be made.”

Moera said, “It would be better to wait another six months.”

“Impossible. A six months’ delay would be ruinous. Every society has a purpose, and the criminal population of Omega is bent upon its own self-destruction. Barrent, you look surprised. Couldn’t you see that?”

“I never thought about it,” Barrent said. “After all, I was part of it.”

“It’s self-evident,” Eylan said. “Consider the institutions—all centered around legalized murder. The holidays are excuses for mass murders. Even the law, which governs the rate of murder, is beginning to break down. The population lives near the edge of chaos. And rightfully so. There’s no longer any security. The only way to live is to kill. The only way to rise in status is to kill. The only safe thing is to kill—more and more, faster and faster.”

“You exaggerate,” Moera said.

“I don’t think so. I realize that there seems to be a certain permanence to Omegan institutions, a certain inherent conservatism even to murder. But it’s an illusion. I have no doubt that all dying societies projected their illusion of permanence—right up to the end. Well, the end of Omegan society is rapidly approaching.”

“How soon?” Barrent asked.

“An explosion point will be reached in about four months,” Eylan said. “The only way to change that would be to give the population a new direction, a different cause.”

“Earth,” Barrent said.

“Exactly. That’s why the attempt must be made immediately.”

“Well, I don’t know much about it,” Barrent said. “But I’ll go along with you. I’ll gladly be a part of any expedition.”

Eylan looked uncomfortable again. “I suppose I haven’t made myself clear,” he said. “You are going to be the expedition, Barrent. You and only you . . . . Forgive me if I’ve startled you.”