The Fall of The Towers Page 2

  On the sea-wall, two merchants were talking above the roar of tetron-powered winches and lorries.

  'It looks like your boat's bringing in a cargo of fish,' said the stout one.

  'It could be fish. It could be something else,' answered the other.

  'Tell me, friend,' asked the portly one, whose coat was of cut and cloth expensive enough to suggest his guesses in business were usually right, 'why do you trouble to send your boat all the way to the mainland to buy from the little fishermen there? My aquariums can supply the city with all the food it needs.'

  The other merchant looked down at a clip board of inventory slips.

  'Perhaps my clientele is somewhat different from yours.'

  The first merchant laughed. 'You sell to those families of the Toron who still insist on the doubtful superiority of your imported delicacies. Did you know, my friend, I am superior in every way to you? I feed more people, so what I produce is superior to what you produce. I charge them less money, and so I am financially more benevolent than you. I make more money than you do, so I am also financially superior. Also, later this morning my daughter is coming back from University Island, and this evening I will give her a party so great and so lavish that she will love me more than any daughter has ever loved a father before.'

  The self-satisfied merchant laughed again, and turned down the wharf to inspect a cargo of tetron ore that was coming in from the mainland.

  As the merchant of imported fish turned up another inventory slip, a third man approached him. 'What was old Koshar laughing about?' he asked.

  'He was gloating over bis good fortune in backing that hare-brained aquarium idea. He was also trying to make me jealous of his daughter. He's giving her a party tonight to which I am no doubt invited; but the invitation will come late this afternoon with no time for me to reply properly.'

  The other shook his head. 'He's a proud man. But you can bring him to his place. Next time he mentions his daughter, ask him about his son, and watch the shame storm into his face.'

  'He may be proud,' said the other, 'but I am not cruel. Why should I move to hurt him. Time takes care of her own. This coming war will see.'

  'Perhaps,' said the other merchant. 'Perhaps.'

  Once over the island city of Toron, capital of Toromon, the transit-ribbon breaks from its even course and bends among the towers, weaves among the elevated highways, till finally it crosses near bare concrete, edged with block-long aircraft hangars. Several airships had just arrived. At the passenger gates the people waiting for arrivals crowded the fence.

  Among them was a young man in military uniform. A brush of red hair, eyes that seemed double dark in his pale face, along with a touring power in his legs, back, and shoulders; these were what struck you in the swift glance. A close look brought you the incongruity of the major's insignia and his youth.

  He watched the passengers coming through the gate eagerly.

  Someone called, 'Tomar!'

  A grin leaped on his face.

  'Tomar,' she called again. Tm over here!'

  Too bumptiously, he rammed through the crowd until he almost collided with her. Then he stopped, bewildered and happy.

  'Hey, I'm glad you came,' she said. 'Come on. You can walk me back to father's.' Her black hair fell close to broad, nearly Oriental cheekbones. Then the smile on her strange mouth fell.

  Tomar shook his head; they turned, arm in arm, through the people wandering on the field.

  'No?' she asked. 'Why not?'

  'I don't have time, Clea,' he answered. 'I had to sneak an hour off just to get here. I'm supposed to be back at the Military Ministry in forty minutes. Do you have any bags to carry?'

  Clea held up a slide rule and notebook. 'I'm travelling light.'

  'What's that?' He pointed to a picture stuck between the rule and the book cover.

  'Oh, this.' She handed him the picture.

  It was a folded paper. On the cover was the picture. Tomar frowned, trying to interpret the shapes and their meaning. Inside was a poem. That made him frown more. 'I don't know much about this sort of-'

  'Look at it,' she insisted. 'Read it. The poem was written by a boy at school, Vol Nonik. I didn't know him, but he printed a few poems up like this. Someone told me the picture was done by his girlfriend. Her name was--'

  'Renna ... something,' Tomar read the signature at the corner. 'I can't make out the last name.' He looked at the poem again, read it slowly. Then he shrugged. 'I just don't understand it,' he said, 'stuff like this. But it's—strange. The thing about the eye in the boy's tongue, that made me feel funny.'

  Clea nodded. 'Me too. That's why I like it.'

  Tomar looked at the drawing again. He was looking at a strange landscape, but from behind the teeth and contorted lips of a scream. 'I don't... understand it,' he repeated uneasily and handed it back quickly. And realized he very much wanted to look at the picture again, to re-read the words.

  But Clea put the pamphlet into her notebook. 'It's funny,' she said. 'Just before I left University Island, I heard he had been expelled, for cheating on an examination. Somehow you don't know what to do with two pieces of information like that about somebody.'

  'Two ?'

  'One, his poem. Two, his expulsion. They fall like random parts of a puzzle, and you can't see where they fit together.'

  'This is a pretty confused and random time we're living in,' Tomar said, taking her arm. 'People are starting to move and migrate all over Toromon. And there's all this preparation for the war. Well, if you don't have any bags, I better get back to the Ministry. I'm awfully busy.'

  'Next time I'll be sure to bring a suitcase,' Clea said. 'I just .figured I'd be back at the University for summer courses, so I didn't bring anything home.' She paused. 'Wait a minute; you're not going to be too busy for the party Dad's giving me tonight, are you?'

  Tomar shrugged.

  Clea began a word, but pushed her tongue hard against the roof of her mouth. 'Tomar?' she asked after a moment.

  'Yes?' He had a rough voice, which, when he was sad, took on the undertones of a bear's growl.

  'There really will be a war?'

  Again he shrugged. 'More soldiers, more planes, and at the Ministry there's more and more work to do. I was up before dawn this morning getting a fleet of survey planes off for a scouting trip to the mainland, to go over the radiation barrier. If they come back this afternoon, I'll be busy all evening with the reports.'

  'Oh,' Clea said. 'Tomar?'

  'Yes, Clea. Koshar?'

  'Oh, sometimes you sound so formal. You've been in the city long enough to be able to relax with me. Tomar, if the war comes, do you think they'll draft prisoners from the tetron mines into the army?'

  "They talk about it.'

  'Because my brother ...'

  'I know.'

  'But if a prisoner from the mines distinguished himself as a soldier, would he be freed at the end of the war? They wouldn't send him back to the mines, would they?'

  "The war hasn't even begun yet,' said Tomar. 'No one knows how it will end.'

  'You're right,' she said, 'as usual.' They reached the gate. 'Look, Tomar, I don't want to keep you if you're busy. But you've got to promise to come see me and spend at least an afternoon before I go back to school.'

  'If the war starts, you won't be going back to school.'

  She stopped. 'Why not?'

  'You already have your degree in theoretical physics. Now you're only doing advanced work. Not only will they conscript prisoners from the mines, but all scientists, engineers, and mathematicians will have to lend their efforts to the cause as well.'

  'I was afraid of that," Clea said. 'You believe the war will actually come, don't you, Tomar?'

  'They get ready for it night and day,' Tomar said. 'What is there to stop it? When I was a boy on my father's farm on the mainland, mere was too much work, and no food. I was a strong boy, with a strong boy's stomach. I came to the city and I took my strength to the army. Now I have work that I like. I'm not hungry. With the war, there will be work for a lot more people. Your father will be richer. Your brother may come back, and even the thieves and beggars in the Devil's Pot will have a chance to do some honest work.'

  'Perhaps,' said Clea. 'Look, like I said, I don't want to keep you—I mean I do, but. Well, when will you have some time?'

  'Probably tomorrow afternoon.'

  'Fine,' said Clea. 'We'll have a picnic then. All right?'

  Tomar grinned. 'Yes,' he said. 'Yes.' He took both her hands and she smiled back at him. Then he turned away, and was gone through the crowd.

  Clea watched a moment, then turned towards the taxi-stand. The sun was beginning to warm the air as she pushed into the shadow of the great transit-ribbon that soared between the towers.

  Buildings dropped bands of shadow across the ribbon as it wound through the city, although occasional streaks of light from an eastward street still made silver half-rings around it. At the centre of the city it raised a final two hundred feet and entered the window of the laboratory tower in the west wing of the royal palace of Toron.

  The room in which the transit-ribbon ended was deserted. At the end of the metal band was a transparent crystal sphere, fifteen feet in diameter, above the receiving platform. A dozen small tetron units of varying sizes sat around the room. The viewing screens were dead grey. On a control panel by one ornate window, a bank of forty-nine scarlet-knobbed switches pointed to off. The catwalks over the receiving platform were empty.

  In another room of the palace, someone was screaming:

  Tetron!'

  "... if Your Highness would only wait a moment to hear the report,' began the aged minister. 'I believe ...'

&nbsp
; 'Tetron!'

  '... you would understand the necessity,' he continued calmly, 'of disturbing you at such an ungodly hour ...'

  'I never want to hear the word "Tetron" again!'

  '... of the morning.'

  'Go away, ChargUl; I'm sleeping!' King Uske, who had just turned twenty-one, though he had been the official ruler of Toromon since age nineteen, jammed his blond head beneath the over-stuffed pillows that lay about the purple silken sheets. With one too slender hand he sought feebly for the covers to hide himself.

  The old minister quiedy picked up the edge of the ermine coverlet and held it out of reach. After several half-hearted swipes, the pale head emerged once more and asked in a cold voice: 'Chargill, why is it that roads have been built, prisoners reprieved, and traitors disembowelled at every hour of the afternoon and evening without anyone expressing the least concern for what I thought. Now, suddenly, at--' Uske peered at the jewel-crusted chronometer by his bed in which a shimmering gold light fixed the hour. 'My God, seven o'clock in the morning! Why must I suddenly be consulted at every twist and turn of empire?'

  'First!' explained Chargill, 'you are now of age. Secondly, because we are about to enter a war. In times of stress, responsibility is passed to the top, and you are in drat unfortunate position.'

  'Why can't we have a war and get it over with?' asked Uske, rolling over to face Chargill, a trifle more amenable. 'I'm tired of all this idiocy. You don't think I'm a very good king, do you?' The young man sat up, planting his slender feet on the three-inch-thick fur rug. 'Well, if we had a war,' he continued, scratching his stomach through his pink sateen pyjama top, 'I'd ride in the first line of fire, in the most splendid uniform imaginable, and lead my soldiers to a sweeping victory.' At the word sweeping, he threw himself under the covers.

  'Commendable sentiment,' stated Chargill dryly. 'Seeing that there may just be a war before the afternoon, why don't you listen to the report, which merely says that another scouting flight of planes has been crippled trying to observe the enemy just beyond the tetron mines over the radiation barrier.'

  'Let me continue it for you. No one knows how me planes have been crippled, but the efficacy of their methods has led the council to suggest that we consider the possibility of open war even more strongly. Isn't this more or less what the reports have been for weeks?'

  'It is,' replied Chargill.

  'Then why bother me. Incidentally, must we really attend this imbecilic party for the fish-pedlar's daughter tonight? And talk about tetron as little as possible, please.'

  'I need not remind you,' went on the patient Chargill, 'that this fish-pedlar has amassed a fortune nearly as large as mat in the royal treasury—though I doubt if he is aware of the comparison—through the proper exploitation of the unmentionable metal. If there is a war, and we should need to "borrow" funds it should be done with as much goodwill as possible. Therefore, you will attend his party to which he has so kindly invited you.'

  'Listen a minute, Chargill,' said Uske. 'And I'm being serious now. This war business is ridiculous, and if you expect me to take it seriously, then the council is going to have to take it seriously. How can we have a war with whatever is beyond the radiation barrier? We don't know anything about it. Is it a country? Is it a city? Is it an empire? We don't even know if it's got a name. We don't know how they've crippled our scouting planes. We can't monitor any radio-communication. We don't even know if it's human. One of our silly planes got its tetron (pardon me. If you can't say it, I shouldn't say it either.) device knocked out and a missile hurled at it. Bango! The council says war. Well, I refuse to take it seriously. Why do we keep on wasting planes anyway? Why not send a few people through the transit-ribbon to do some spying.'

  Chargill looked amazed.

  'Before we instituted the penal mines, and just after we annexed the forest people, the transit-ribbon was built, correct? Now, where does it go?'

  'Into the dead city of Telphar,' answered Chargill.

  'Exactly. And Telphar was not at all dead when we built it, sixty years ago. The radiation hadn't progressed that far. Well, why not send spies into Telphar and from there across the barrier and into enemy territory? Then they can come back and tell us everything.' Uske smiled.

  'Of course Your Majesty is joking.' Chargill smiled. 'May I remind Your Majesty that the radiation level in Telphar today is fatal to human beings. Fatal. The enemy seems to be well beyond the barrier. Only recently, with the great amount of tetron ... ah, excuse me ... coming from the mines have we been able to develop planes than can perhaps go over it. And that, when and if we can do it, is the only way.'

  Uske had started out smiling. It turned to a giggle. Then to a laugh. Suddenly he cried out and threw himself down on the bed. 'Nobody listens to me! Nobody takes any of my suggestions!' He moaned and stuck bis head under the pillows. 'No one does anything but contradict me. Go away! Get out! Let me sleep!'

  Ohargill sighed and withdrew from the royal bed-chamber.

  CHAPTER II

  It had been silent for sixty years. Then, above the receiving stage in the laboratory tower of the royal palace in Toron, the crystal glowed.

  On the stage a blue haze shimmered. Red flame shot through the mist, a net of scarlet, contracting, pulsing, outlining the recognizable patterning of veins and arteries. Among the running fires, the shadow of bones formed a human skeleton in the blue, till at once the shape was laced with sudden silver, the net of nerves that held the body imprisoned in sensation. The blue became opaque. Jon Koshar staggered forward to the rail and held on for a moment. Above, the crystal faded.

  He blinked his eyes hard before he looked up. He looked around. 'Alright,' he said out loud. 'Where the hell are you?' He paused. 'Okay. I know. I'm not supposed to get dependent. I guess I'm all right now, aren't I?' Another pause. 'I feel fine.' He let go of the rail and looked at his hands, back and palms. 'Dirty as hell,' he mumbled. 'Where can I get washed up?' He looked up. 'Yeah, sure. Why not?' He ducked under the railing and vaulted to the floor. Once again he looked around. 'So I'm really inside the castle. After all these years. I never though I'd see it again. Yeah, I guess I'm really here.'

  He started forward, but as he passed under the shadow of the ribbon's end, something happened.

  He faded.

  At least the exposed parts of his body, head, hands, and feet, faded. He stopped and looked down. Through one bare foot he could see the rivet heads in the metal floor. He made a disgusted face, and continued towards the door. Once in the sunlight, he grew opaque again.

  There was no one in the hall. He walked along, ignoring the triptych of silver partitions that marked the council chamber. A stained-glass window farther on rotated by silent machinery flung colours over bis face. A golden disc-chronometer fixed in the ceiling behind a carved crystal face said seven-ten.

  He stopped in front of a book cabinet and opened the glass door. 'Here's the one,' he said out loud again. 'Yes, I know we haven't got time, but you're from a desert world with a double sun. This will explain it to you better than I can.' He pulled a book from the row of books. 'We used this in school,' he said. 'A long time ago.'

  The book was Catham's Revised History of Toromon. He opened the shark-skin cover and flipped a few pages into the text.

  '…from a few libraries and texts that survived the Great Fire (from which we will date all subsequent events). Civilization was reduced beyond barbarism. But eventually the few of us, surviving on the Island of Toron, established a settlement, a village, a city. We pushed to the mainland, and the shore became the central source of food for the island's population which now devoted itself to manufacturing. On the coast, farms and fishing villages flourished. On the island, science and industry became sudden factors in the life of Toromon, now an empire.

  'Beyond the plains at the coast, explorers discovered the forest people who lived in the strip of jungle that held in its crescent the stretch of mainland. They were a mutant breed, some giant in stature, others stunted like neanderthals, both tribes peaceful. They quickly became part of Toromon's empire, with no resistance.

  'Beyond the jungle were the gutted fields of lava and dead earth, and it was here that the strange metal tetron was discovered. A great empire has a great crime rate. Our penal system was used to supply miners for the tetron. Technology leapt ahead, and we developed many uses for the power that could be released from the tetron.