The Winds of Limbo

CHAPTER TWELVE

"MY father…" Alan groped for words, failed, became silent.

The Fireclown spread his large hands, his painted fool's face incongruous now.

"I was, in spite of anything you may have heard, much in love with your mother.

We planned to marry, though Simon Powys wouldn't hear of it. I was a common space-pilot and she was Miriam Powys. That was before we could find the courage to tell him you were going to be born. We never did tell him-not together, anyway."

"What happened?" Alan spoke harshly, his heart thumping with almost overwhelming emotion.

"I got sent on a secret project. I couldn't avoid it. I thought it would only last a couple of months but it kept me away for nearly two years. When I got back Simon Powys wouldn't let me near you-and your mother was dead. Powys said she'd died of shame. I sometimes think he shamed her into dying." The Fireclown broke into a laugh but, unlike his earlier laughter, this was bitter and full of melancholy.

Alan stood up, his body taut.

"What's your real name? What did you do? What did my grandfather say?"

The Fireclown ceased his laughter and shrugged his great shoulders.

"My real name-Emmanuel Blumenthal-Manny Bloom to my friends…"

"And fans," Alan said softly, remembering a book he'd had confiscated as a child. His grandfather had, meaninglessly he'd thought, taken it from him with no explanation. The book had been called Heroes of Space. "Manny Bloom, test pilot of the Tearaway, captain of the Saturn Expedition. That was the secret project, wasn't it? Savior of Venus Satellite Seven."

"Co-pilot of the Solstar…" The Fireclown added.

"That's right-the Solstar, an experimental ship. It was supposed to have gone off course and crashed into the sun. You were reported dead."

"But a Martian freighter, carrying contraband so that it dare not notify the authorities or land in an official port, rescued us."

"Corso told me. That was ten years ago, as I remember. Why have you never contacted me? Why didn't you get custody of me when you came back from Saturn and found my mother was dead?"

"Simon Powys threatened to ruin me if I went near you. I was-heartbroken.

Heartbroken-yes-but I reckoned you'd have a better chance than any I could give you."

"I wonder," Alan said gloomily. "A kid would have been happy just knowing his father was Manny Bloom-Commander Manny Bloom, frontiersman of space!" The last phrase held a hint of irony.

"I wasn't like the stories, though I thought I was when younger. I loved my own legend then, had it in mind nearly all the time. I wasn't naturally brave. But people behave as other people expect them to-I acted brave."

"And now you're the Fireclown, shouting and raving against intelligence-championing mindless consciousness-with your fingerprints burned off, I suppose, and no records of who you really are. That's part of the general mystery solved, anyway. And part of my own-the main part."

"And now you know I’m your father, what will you do?"

"What can the knowledge possibly affect?" Alan said sadly.

"Your subconscious." The Fireclown grinned, half enjoying a private joke against his son.

"Yes, that, I suppose." He sighed. "What are you going to do?"

"I have work that holds me. Soon Corso, Cornelia and I will journey out beyond the Solar system in the Pi-meson. There I shall conduct certain experiments on my own mind and on theirs. We shall see what good intelligence serves- and what great good, I suspect, pure consciousness achieves. Do you want to come, Alan?"

Alan deliberated. He had no place with the Fireclown. There were things to sort out on Earth. He shook his head.

"It grieves me to see you reject a gift-maybe the greatest gift in the universe

F'

"It is not a gift that suits my taste-Father."

"So be it," the Fireclown sighed.

The Solar Bird soared down into Earth's atmosphere and streaked across oceans and continents before Helen switched on its braking jets and plunged into Hamburg spaceport.

The berth was ready for her and she steered into it. The water drained from the interior chamber.

Alan preceded her out of the airlock.

As he stepped into the chamber, a man entered through the other door.

"My God, Powys, where've you been?" It was Denholm Curtis, a mixture of worry and anger on his face.

Alan didn't answer immediately but turned to help Helen out of the ship. He didn't need the pause since he had already worked out his answer.

"We've been to see my father."

"Your father! I didn't know you…"

"I only found out who he was recently."

"I see. Well…" Curtis was nonplussed. "I wish you and Helen had told me."

"Sorry. We had to leave in a hurry. Your ship's perfectly all right."

"The ship's not important-it was you and Helen…" Curtis pursed his lips.

"Anyway, I'm glad that's all it was. What with the threat of the Fireclown making an attack and everything, I thought you might have been kidnapped or killed." He smiled at his sister, who didn't respond. Helen had been silent for most of the trip. "But rumors about the pair of you are rife. Scandal won't do either of you any good-least of all Helen. Uncle Simon's popularity is rising incredibly. Overnight he's become the dominant man in Solar politics. You've got a tough fight on-if you still intend to fight."

"More than ever," Helen said quietly.

"I've got a car upstairs. Want to come back with me?"

"Thanks," they said.

As her brother lifted his car into the pale Hamburg sky Helen said to him: "What do you think of this Fireclown scare, Denholm?"

"It's more than a scare," he said. "It's a reality. How can we be sure he hasn't planted bombs all over the world- bombs he can detonate from space?"

Alan felt depressed. If Denholm Curtis, who rebelled habitually against any accepted theory or dogma, was convinced of the Fireclown's guilt then there was little chance of convincing anyone else to the contrary.

"But do you realize, Denholm," he said, "that we have only the word of one man-Simon Powys-and circumstantial evidence to go on? What if the Fireclown isn't guilty?"

"The concept's too remote for me, I’m afraid," Denholm said with a curious glance at Alan. "I didn't think anyone doubted the Fireclown had planned to detonate his cache. There were enough bombs there to blow the world apart."

"I doubt if he planned anything," Helen said.

"So do I." Alan nodded.

Denholm looked surprised. "I can understand you being uncertain, Helen, after your support of the Fireclown. It must be hard to find out you've been wrong all the way down the line. But you, Alan-what makes you think there could be a mistake?"

"There's the one big reason-that all the evidence against the Fireclown is circumstantial. He might not have known about the bombs, he might not have been responsible for the holocaust that swept the levels. He might not, in fact, have had any plan to destroy anything at all. We haven't captured him yet, we haven't brought him to trial-but we've all automatically judged him guilty. I want to see my grandfather-he's the man who has convinced the world that the Fireclown is a criminal!"

Curtis was thoughtful. "I never thought I'd get caught up in hysteria," he said.

"But, although I'm fairly sure the Fireclown is guilty, I admit there's a possibility of his being innocent. If we could prove him innocent, Alan, the war scare would be over. I'm already perturbed about that. You know the government has been approached by the arms. syndicate?" This last remark to Helen.

"It's logical." Helen nodded. "And we've also considered the chance that this whole thing has been engineered by the dealers-not the Clown."

"That crossed my mind, too, at first," Denholm agreed. "But it seems too fantastic."

"Let's go and have this out with the Man of the Moment," Alan suggested. "Can you take us to Grandfather's apartment, Denholm?"

"Take you? I'll come with you."

As the trio entered Simon Powys' apartment, they were greeted by Junnar.

"Glad to see you're both all right," he said to Alan and Helen. "Minister Powys is in conference with the President, Chief Sandai, Minister Petrovich and others."

"What's it about?" asked Alan, unwilling to be put off. "The Fireclown situation."

"So that's what they're calling it now!" Alan said with a faint smile. "You'd better disturb them, Junnar. Tell them we've got some fresh information for them."

"Is it important, sir?"

"Yes!" Helen and Alan said in unison. Junnar took them into the sitting room, where they waited impatiently for a few moments before he came back, nodding affirmatively.

They entered Simon Powys' study. The most powerful politicians in the Solar System sat there-Powys, Benjosef, gloomy-faced Petrovich, Minister in the Event of Defense; hard-featured Gregorius, Minister of Justice; smooth-skinned, red-cheeked Falkoner, Minister of Martian Affairs; and tiny, delicate Madame Ch'u, Minister of Ganymedian Affairs. Beside the mantelpiece, standing relaxed and looking bored, was a man Alan didn't recognize. His eyes were at once amiable and deadly.

Simon Powys said harshly: "Well, Alan, I hope you've got an explanation for your disappearance. Where have you been?"

"To see the Fireclown." Alan's voice was calm.

"But you said…" Denholm Curtis broke in.

"I had to tell you something, Denholm. That was before I decided to come here."

"The Fireclown! You know his whereabouts?" Powys glanced at the tall man by the mantelpiece. "Why didn't you tell us as soon as you knew?"

"I didn't know for certain until I found him."

"Where is he?" Powys turned to address the tall man. "Iopedes, be ready to get after him!"

"I met him in space," Alan said carefully. "We went aboard his space-ship. He won't be in the region of space now. He wouldn't let us go until he'd moved on."

"Damn!" Simon Powys got up. "We've got every ship of the three planets combing space for him and you discovered him, by chance. Did you learn anything?"

"Yes." Somewhere, in the last few action-filled days, Alan had found strength.

He was in perfect control of himself. He addressed the entire group, ignoring his fuming grandfather.

"I believe the Fireclown to be innocent of any deliberate act of violence," he announced calmly.

"You'll have to substantiate that, Mr. Powys," purred Madame Ch'u, looking at him quizzically.

"How do you know?" Simon Powys strode over to his grandson and gripped his arm painfully.

"I know because I spent some hours in the Fireclown's company and he told me he had nothing to do with the bomb plot or the burning of the levels."

"That's all?" Powys's fingers tightened on Alan's arm.

"That's all I needed," Alan said, and then in a voice which only his grandfather could hear: "Let go of my arm, Grandfather. It hurts."

Simon Powys glared at him and released his grip. "Don't tell me you're still being gulled by this monster! Helen- you saw him, too-what did you think?"

"I agree with Alan. He says the policemen tampered with his delicate flame-machines and that's what caused the holocaust. He says he knew nothing of the bombs. I suspect they were planted on him by the arms syndicate-in order to start the scare which you're now helping to foster."

"In short," Alan said, "I think this whole business has been engineered by the syndicate."

The room was silent.

Alan pressed his point. "I think you've all been blinded by the apparent discovery that the Fireclown wasn't what he at first seemed. Now you've turned completely against him-you believe him capable of any crime!"

"Mr. Powys"-Petrovich spoke with an air of assumed patience-"we are the government of the Solar System. We are not in the habit of jumping to ill-considered and emotional conclusions."

"Then you're not humans," Alan said sharply. "Everyone can make mistakes, Minister Petrovich-especially in a heated atmosphere like this."

Petrovich smiled patronizingly. "We have considered the place of the arms syndicate in this business. We are sure they are taking advantage of the situation-but we are convinced that they did not 'engineer it,' as you say."

Simon Powys roared: "My grandson's an immature fool! He has no understanding of politics or anything else. When the Fireclown lisps his innocence he believes him without question. Helen Curtis is just as bad. Both of them, to my own knowledge, were on the Fireclown's side from the start. Now they refuse to see the facts!"

The tall man, Iopedes, began to walk towards the door. Simon Powys called after him. "Iopedes-where are you going?"

"The young people said the Fireclown had left the area of space he was originally occupying. That could indicate he's gone to Mars or Ganymede. It's a better lead than we held, at any rate." Iopedes left.

"Who's he?" Alan said.

"Nick Iopedes, the ARP's top agent. He's been commissioned to bring the Fireclown to justice-by any means he has to employ."

"You're turning the system into a police state!" Helen said angrily.

"There's a state of-emergency existing!" Simon Powys said coldly. "The world-perhaps the Solar System-is threatened with destruction."

"In your mind and in the minds of those you've managed to convince!" Alan retaliated. "Have any bombs exploded? Has any threat been made?"

"No." This was Benjosef, who had hitherto seemed detached from the argument taking place around him.

"And the arms syndicate has approached you with a bargain, I hear." Alan laughed sharply.

"That is true," Benjosef agreed. Quite obviously, he»was no longer in control of his cabinet. Simon Powys dominated it now, as if he had already superseded Benjosef. The old man seemed to accept the situation fatalistically.

"So there's your answer-the syndicate plants the bombs and starts the scare.

Then they sell you more bombs to 'defend' yourselves against a non-existent menace! Then what? Another scare-another move by the syndicate-until the seeds of war have been thoroughly planted. Everybody's armed to the teeth and the possibility of conflict between the planets is increased!"

"Oh, that's very pat," Simon Powys sneered. "But it doesn't fit the evidence.

You know what you've done? You've been to see the Fireclown and instead of gaining information which could help us capture him, you've listened to his sweet protestations of innocence and thrown away a chance to help save the world!"

"Really?" Alan said in mock surprise. "Well, I disagree. It seems to me that you are taking the world to the brink of destruction, Grandfather, by your blind hatred of the Fire-clown."

"Leave, Alan!" Simon-Powys' voice shook with anger.

The assembled ministers looked disturbed and embarrassed by what was, in the main, a family row.

Alan turned and walked out of the door, Helen following him. Denholm Curtis remained in the room, a frown on his face.

Outside, Helen smiled faintly. "Well, we seem to have antagonized everyone, don't we?"

"I'm sure we're right!" Alan said. "I'm certain of it, Helen. That trip the Fireclown took us on convinced me. He's too interested in his weird philosophizing to be capable of any plots against the system."

Helen took his arm.

"It's our opinion against theirs, I'm afraid."

"We've got to do something about convincing the ordinary people," Alan said as they descended the steps to the ground floor. "This is still a democracy, and if enough people protest they can be ousted from power and a more sane and rational party can solve the situation better."

"They're sane and reasonable enough," she pointed out. "They just don't happen to believe in the Fireclown's innocence."

"Then what are we going to do about it?"

She looked up at him. "What do you expect? I’m still in the running for President, Alan. I'm still leader of my party. We're going to try and win the election."