Eye Among the Blind Page 7

  By the time Zeitman had arrived on Ree’hdworld there were over twenty thousand humans in the installation, and the two cultures, human and native, were very mixed within the artificial boundaries of Terming. And it had worked well, until now. Suddenly, within a few months, the Ree’hd communities scattered about the continent had begun to object to the human presence on Ree’hdworld. Some of them, Erlam pointed out, had probably been nursing a grudge against the invaders for centuries—he meant, of course, those who had moved from the burrows upon which a part of Terming lay.

  Zeitman wondered if he would go on to rationalize that ancient trespass with a cursory “had to have something to show the tourists.” But Erlam went on, “It began some months after you left. For a while there were little armies of outside Ree’hd moving continually through the city streets, trying to convince the Ree’hd living here to move away. A few of them did, but most of them would have nothing to do with it. When they saw that their policy of persuasion was failing, then the acts of open aggression started.”

  “Killing?”

  Erlam grimaced. His gaze was openly surprised. “This isn’t Earth, Robert. The worst aggression a Ree’hd will demonstrate is destruction of personal property.”

  Zeitman could guess. Air-cars, installations…

  “That sort of thing. We’ve lost all our geophysical installations, but managed to rebuild the two beacons that they burned down. The most annoying thing they’ve done is to burn clothing. They capture tourists, strip them and send them back to the city in the raw. Bloody unsociable behaviour these chilly spring days, but imagine the winter! We lost two tourists from exposure and are having an almighty struggle to keep the whole business quiet.”

  “Indirect murder. Do the Ree’hd know?”

  “No. Why bother? They have no conception of how inefficient the undressed human body is. That’s something you can do: drop the hint that human temperature tolerance is restricted to warm”

  “I’ll do my best. Have they said they want us off-world?”

  It was not a pleasant thought, and was not the case. If the Ree’hd did request the evacuation of Ree’hdworld, then, by their own laws, the Federation would have no choice but to evacuate. While Zeitman would have loved to have seen Terming gone, if Terming went, so would he. He couldn’t have it both ways.

  Erlam said, “All they’ve asked is for us to stop interfering with their evolution. I presume they mean their cultural development.”

  “Well, we’re not. Those communities are left very well alone.”

  “Apart from the busloads of intrepid explorers… but that’s not what they’re worried about. It seems their anxiety is restricted to the Ree’hd in the city. Our population of terraformed natives is increasing and they want us to give them back. How do we tell them there’s more than a thousand Ree’hd visiting other map-space worlds at this moment?”

  “Let’s hope they’re not susceptible to…”

  That stopped them both, and for a long while they sat and gazed at the table that separated them. There seemed to be a great sadness in Erlam’s expression, and Zeitman could well understand it—he himself had managed to overcome his own emotional reaction to the fate of Earth, the effective loss of the homeworld, but it still gave him sleepless nights and frightening waking-dreams—it was as if some essential sentience in the Earth was screaming across space to each and every one of her offspring, sharing her death-dream with them all, for Zeitman had not met a single man or woman, born (like him) on the homeworld, who did not feel that something was wrong.

  Erlam’s was a secondary emotion since he had never been on or seen Earth, merely heard…

  “You’ve seen it, Robert. You’ve seen the evidence?”

  “Yes. There’s no hope.”

  “But how? Why? I’d always thought that the Fear was something restricted to hostile worlds, planets where man really had to fight to survive. Why Earth?”

  It was true. Whatever caused the disease known colloquially as the Fear—the irrational development of auto-destructive psychoses—it had always had its effect on worlds of darkness, of mud, of rain and storms, of dust, of hostile atmosphere.

  Erlam had never seen Earth and he entertained the romance of green hills and idyllic existence. He had a dream of the homeworld and it was his right to die with that dream. But the dream was a myth. The Earth, the world of man, was the most hostile world that Zeitman had ever visited. He had stood in an atmosphere so thick with man-made dust that he could see no horizon, and he had wondered what had taken the Fear so long to strike this, its most logical victim.

  He had seen cities laid waste, the ensuing destruction of whole landscapes. It would take a thousand years to accomplish, but the death of Earth was, without doubt, in process of accomplishment.

  “What ideas? What reason?” said Erlam. “Surely someone has an inkling of what man has caught.”

  “The most widely held idea—no evidence for it, but then there’s no evidence for anything—is a virus-symbiote, something we all have that has not troubled us for thousands of years, but which in certain environmental situations gets activated with the consequences we have seen. A modification of the theory is that it is the psychological climate that’s important.”

  Erlam poured himself another drink and after a moment pushed the flask across to Zeitman, who decided he would indulge this time and filled his own glass.

  “When you called me at the barracks you said it was classified information. Half the galaxy knows about it by now, so how are you working that?”

  “Simple—we’re not telling anybody.”

  “Yes but why? Why not let them know?”

  Erlam was suddenly irritable. “Oh come on Robert,” he snapped. “Use some imagination. The moment a world hears about Earth, what do you think it does? Sends a bunch of flowers and a ‘get well’ card? It panics! Hostile worlds are one thing, but when Earth goes—that’s something else. I mean, if Earth goes, everything will go eventually—the thing to do, so the worlds unaffected until now reason, is to get to a place as far away as possible from the colonized worlds cluster, and find the most Earthlike world—a longer chance of survival means more time for a cure to be found. There are about ten worlds that qualify as such temporary havens—and one of them is Ree’hdworld.”

  “You mean there’s an exodus on its way here?”

  “That’s exactly what I mean. And I don’t mind admitting that it scares the hell out of me—within a day the leaders will be arriving, demanding landing rights—”

  “Oh my God.”

  “Oh your God nothing—they’re not coming down, and if they try we’ll shoot them down.”

  “But hasn’t the Federation warned them to leave Ree’hdworld alone?”

  “The Federation, as far as I can see, is too busy planning to cope with millions of panic-stricken humans. They do not apparently care about our intelligent natives any more. Fortunately I do, and so do the other city fathers, and we’ll allow no single ship to land—not even a Federation ship.” He rose and walked to the window, pointed down into the street below. “There’s a tourist population of several thousand on the world, scattered across the globe, but mostly in the city, and they all have their ships with them, and they’re all ignorant of what has happened—and over the next few weeks they’ll be leaving and good riddance. We want them to go. If we tell them about Earth they will want to stay for sure and there’s just no way short of murder that we’ll be able to stop them. We’re not telling the legitimate inhabitants of Terming, either. My big worry, you see, is panic. Panic might cause one or two things to happen. There could be those individuals who would attempt to sabotage our efforts at keeping the planet free of extra refugees—reasons might range from feelings of good samaritanship to wanting to get their families together from all over. Panic might also cause mass migration from the city into the surrounding countryside and I want that as little as you do. It means we get a colonized planet and soon we breed like flies and goodbye
Ree’hd, not to mention Rundii, and the fauna you find so fascinating. If we keep everyone together in the city, the worst that can happen is that we extend our borders by a few miles, but the very nature of our physical environment cuts down birthrate. We’d be no trouble to the natives at all.”

  Zeitman said, after thought, that he agreed with Erlam’s reasons, but didn’t find his policy practicable. Surely there were radios among the tourist population?

  “No there aren’t. A restricted artifact—you should know that—but to be honest, yes, it’s just a short-term plan. Eventually of course everyone has to be told, but hopefully by then they can be told in such a way that panic can be avoided.”

  Erlam sat back down behind his desk and emptied the flask of baraas into his glass. He looked at it sadly and then threw the empty container into a disposal chute out of Zeitman’s sight. “A good drink,” he murmured, then drained the glass and settled back, contemplating Zeitman for a long time. At last he said, “One other thing. This… blind man that you were supposed to be bringing down with you. The Realta sent down his picture. It’s very interesting. What did you know about him, Robert?”

  “Virtually nothing, Dan. We got friendly on the Realta, shortly after it stopped at Eternity. He wasn’t really blind, you know. He had some sort of extra-sensory perception.”

  “Not to mention travel abilities of an unusual nature.”

  “Yes indeed. I can’t explain that—he just vanished in mid flight.”

  “I find that disagreeably metaphysical,” said Erlam, scowling slightly. “But never mind. Look at this.” He skated a photoblok across the desk and Zeitman reached out to look at it. “He’s younger, but yes. That’s the man.”

  Erlam shook his head. “That is a man called Kevin Maguire.”

  “Maguire? I’ve heard of him…”

  “The Pianhmar record, in the museum. Remember?”

  Zeitman remembered. “Of course. Kevin Maguire.” He looked at the photoblok again. Then it struck him. “Look, wait a minute—let’s not confuse ourselves too much…”

  “Why? Because Maguire lived seven hundred years ago?”

  “That’s good enough.”

  “Explain the likeness.”

  “I suppose he could have had descendants.”

  Erlam was unimpressed. “All the records I checked—which were all the records we have—said that Maguire went off into the mountains with a native guide called… Hans-ree, yes Hans-ree. The guide was found dead six weeks later, and the only sign of Maguire that was ever found was a shattered recorder, discovered by a wandering Ree’hd nearly a hundred years later. I don’t believe Maguire ever left the planet. I believe his destiny was to die in the Hellgate mountains. What I want to know is, how did he cheat that destiny? Because that’s Maguire, all right, and he’s seven hundred years out of time.”

  Later Erlam said, “I’m glad to see you back, in one way; in another, I’m not. I wish you’d stayed the hell off Ree’hd world.”

  “I don’t understand, Dan.”

  “I resent you. It’s not a feeling that can be talked out of my system, either. I feel resentment, and that feeling will grow. It’s something that has to be faced.”

  It was Kristina, of course. Zeitman realized that without even thinking—by intuition, perhaps, something he had long ago felt draining away from him. He stared at Erlam and felt a mixture of emotions. He felt sympathy for his friend. He felt anger at the extra level of complication. He felt annoyance that Erlam should interfere. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Dan. I really am. I’ll try not to cause too much trouble between us.”

  He felt cold, felt the warmth slip away, evaporating with the alien drug in his blood stream.

  Erlam stared down at his hands, clasped before him on the desk. He seemed to be regretting what he had said, but after a moment he looked up sharply. “You’re a scientist, Robert, and—let’s indulge in a little false flattery—a very good one. So go out and be a scientist…”

  “It’s difficult to involve oneself with the mysteries of an ecology when all you can think of is a woman, and how to repair four years of battling.” He smiled, but the smile was not reciprocated.

  “You’re a fool, Robert. You always were. You’re a self-pitying, self-centred fool, and it will break you. For the last time—”

  Zeitman couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Dan! What the hell’s happened to you? This doesn’t sound like—”

  “For the last time, Robert! Pull yourself together. You’ve been sitting here for the last hour oozing redundancy. I can’t use a man who can’t see beyond his own skull. I want you like you were, Robert, and that means putting your emotions down…”

  “Easy for you, Dan; not so bloody easy for most of us!”

  Silence. Regret. Erlam stared sullenly across his desk. “All right, Major Zeitman. All right.” “Look, I’m sorry Dan…”

  “I said it’s all right. We’re both jumpy, so let’s forget it. Keep in touch—I’ll want to know how you’re getting on.” “Sure.” Zeitman rose and left the office.

  Chapter Five

  Sunset, with Kristina watching. The river was quiet now, the air still. Her senses were sharp and she could smell the vegetation smell of Ree’hdworld, the effusion of waste products from the mat covering and from the micro-fauna that lived in the well drained earth.

  The sky was orange and the clouds ran across from south east to north west in parallel rows, and they were highlighted by the last light from the setting star.

  Urak sat beside her, asking her not to go.

  “I must, Urak. I must. You said yourself that I shouldn’t put the unpleasant task off for too long.”

  “It’s not the meeting, Kristina,” said Urak. His anxiety was very great, a yellow flush spreading across his chest and down his arms. “It’s not the meeting, it’s the old burrows. Why go back there? They’re empty of true meaning, and H’sark has told us that he saw Rundii there when he last visited them.”

  Kristina shook her head. “I must go. The burrows have a special meaning for both Robert and myself. I can’t explain, Urak. It’s too… human.” She was aware of the Rundii sightings, and she knew of the ghosts as well (which Urak did not). She had never seen a ghost, but knew that they were not ghosts in the terran sense, echoes or projections. She was intrigued, certainly, but for the moment there was only Zeitman, and what she must reveal to him, and how he would respond to her, and what it would do to her.

  She kissed the Ree’hd and was pleased to notice the natural brown colouration return to his skin. Urak, of all the Ree’hd, should know that she could look after herself. She walked with him to her skimmer which stood, slightly askew, right upon the water’s edge.

  The sun dropped out of sight and there was total stillness. From the Rundii sphere came the sounds of beasts and moving earth, carrying through this calmest of moments for many miles. Ree’hd, gathering along the water’s edge, sang their still-songs, praying for the lost. Always, at this time, it was the lost Ree’hd of all ages who were foremost in the Ree’hd minds. Urak walked away from Kristina and squatted among his kin, facing the Rundii sphere and the unknown lands to the north. Tonight he was close to Hans-ree, the Ree’hd from the time of Maguire. Tomorrow, perhaps, he might tell Kristina what he learned.

  Finding no immediate interest in such things, Kristina concentrated her thoughts on her “ex”-husband. The skimmer lifted and glided away into the gloom. She wondered if Urak was watching her departure. As the skimmer passed across the distant hills he might see the silver surface flashing as it caught the last rays of the sun, still visible from this higher elevation.

  In all probability Urak was unaware of these things.

  Zeitman arrived at the burrows an hour after dusk. By now the life of the city was beginning to peak. From the depressed, almost aimless wandering of the day, the population outside the centre began to move with vigor. Work was finished, trade and exchange centres were closed, schools—segregated and mixed alik
e—were putting up wind shutters, and streams of young Ree’hd and humans paced in three-abreast columns through the streets towards the public transport station.

  Zeitman found the bustle very pleasant, for a change. He immersed himself in the flow of visitors that moved through the main streets of the southern part of the city, and finally came to the gates of the museum. They were electrically charged, electronically controlled, absolutely impenetrable barriers, still manned by three uniformed servicemen. Zeitman showed his identity card and waited for the usual call to higher authority, but to his surprise, this time his arrival had been anticipated. He passed the gates and walked into the squat dome that covered the museum.

  The interior was still fully lit and there were servicemen moving through the exhibits and checking each display for damage. Zeitman stood in the doorway for a moment and looked around at the vast array of statues, photographs, obscure objects and preserved animals. There seemed to be no order in the arrangement—a cluster of things of interest and education, designed for the impatient visitor, not the enthusiastic student. There was a second museum devoted to biology and behaviour some miles away, and a third devoted to the geology and human involvement on Ree’hdworld very close by. But neither of those museums allowed access to the burrows, and were the least popular two houses of history.

  Zeitman walked round the exhibits until he came to the wax models of the three intelligent and pseudo-intelligent species that inhabited the planet, the Ree’hd, the Rund-iamha-reach, and man himself. In a case, next to three naked males that stared blindly out at the visitor, was a model of a Pianhmar. It was labelled as such, with great emphasis being laid upon its existence being only in legend. Zeitman smiled to himself, and wondered how many times a Pianhmar would have to show itself before the label on the display would be changed. And quite suddenly the hair on Zeitman’s neck prickled and he found himself looking into the glass eyes of the model and feeling a strange tension, a feeling of wonderment and fear that a past might have been coming closer again, making itself felt in a universe that scorned it…