|
(1) -Death. He walked along the deserted street, shoulders slouched forward, feet shuffling aimlessly. So he appeared, but a careful observer would have noted that he walked with a controlled urgency, stealing through the shadows' darkest depths. Two men lay on a roof above, overlooking the surrounding area. "Now?" one of them asked. The other raised his hand a fraction. "Not yet," he replied. The first man looked puzzled. "But there is no-one around." "Exactly. When he turns into the main street then shoot him." The other nodded, and lined up the walking man in his sights once more. The intended victim continued to stride stealthily along. Then he turned into the throng of people that surged and jostled in the main street. "Now?" asked the assassin. "Yes. Now." The ray blaster recoiled hard into the sniper's shoulder as a bolt of death seared from it's muzzle. It lanced down, blasting into the walking man's chest, flinging him savagely to the ground. Women screamed. Men drew their breath sharply. Police turned their guns upward. "We have done well," opined one of the men on the roof. He stood up in full view of the police below. "Yes," agreed the other, also rising from his hiding place. The police blasters riddled the two assassins with beams of flickering death. Their bodies toppled forward onto the street below. Already an ambulance was speeding to the spot in the street where a cluster of people milled. The police cleared a way for the ambulance men as they picked up the inert body and laid it on a stretcher. Passers-by shook their heads sadly as the blanket was pulled up over the man's face. No-one spared a glance for the two bodies lying in the gutter. (2) - Escape. The ambulance sped through the night towards the mortuary. When it was not far from it's destination, the man on the stretcher sat up, pushed back the blanket that covered him, and karate chopped the attendant before that man had got over the shock of seeing a corpse come to life. With a single blow of his fist, the man tore a hole in the side of the ambulance and leapt out onto the street. He looked around, but the thoroughfare was deserted. Cursing his bad luck, he examined the hole in the front of his body. It had almost healed by now, but that was not important. What DID matter was that whoever had killed him had very likely known that he was indestructible, and had shot him only to reveal that fact to the authorities. He cursed again. He might as well take the next ship home - his picture would be all across the planet by the morning. Those who were behind the plot to kill him were bound to 'assist the authorities' and produce a picture of him for witnesses to identify. He looked down at his stomach again. The wound had healed completely now. The best thing that he could do was to get as far away from here as possible, he reflected, He looked up. There was a bar only a few feet down the street. He pondered the idea. Hell, at least there was time for a drink, dammit. He went into the bar. (3) - Newsflash. He ordered a drink. When the bartender pushed a filled glass across the bar he picked it up and strolled across to the triviewer, to watch a program that was just starting. It was a long tedious discourse on local politics and, bored, he was just about to leave when the screen faded out and the announcer cut in: "We are just receiving unconfirmed reports," he began, "that the planet Trix 4, famed for it's race of immortals has been utterly destroyed by the Preztons, who were utilising a new weapon, of frightful power, that has recently been developed by them. If this is true it could mean that the local war, which has been in progress now for three decades could turn into a major solar battle. We understand that the President is in touch with the authorities on Terra, to consider emergency measures. Our normal service will be replaced with a programme of music so that we can bring you any developments as they ensue." The resurrected man stood, stunned with horror, as music began to blare from the triviewer. Hubbub had broken out in the bar. He was stunned. Quite apart from the fact that his home planet had been destroyed, there was the fact that his people were forbidden by intergalactic law, from leaving their home world. Their presence on other worlds tended to stir up trouble, it was said. The fact that it was not their fault didn't matter to the authorities. The best way to stamp out the trouble was planetary isolation. It had only been a trick that had got him this far from his homeworld - made him the only immortal at large in the Galaxy. The rest of his race would have died with their planet. He had no where to go. He was alone in the Universe. (4) - Argument. He put his glass down on a table and looked around. The crowd in the bar were getting angry, they didn't fancy the idea of getting involved in a war that wasn't really their concern. They began to mutter about a protest march to the control area. A half-drunk man grabbed the immortal by the arm. "Hey, son," he said, "you seem to be mighty quiet about the whole thing. I don't reckon we should risk getting ourselves blasted for the sake of a few Terran freaks, and a whole load of blue savages." The immortal nodded. "I guess you're right," he agreed. "But who is going to take revenge on the Preztons. All the people of Trix 4 have been killed off." "I thought that they were immortal - indestructible," the man argued. "Yeah. So they are. Their bodies have fantastic powers of reconstruction. But look at it this way. They are all blown up when their world is destroyed, so, being immortal, their bodies reform. As soon as they have done so, they are destroyed again, being probably still within the radius of the inferno. If they finally drift out of the area, and reform into empty space, their bodies explode in the vacuum through decompression. So they go on, reforming and dying. I suppose that they aren't really dead, but they might as well be." The other man pondered this for a moment, then his face broke into a grin. He burst out laughing. "I never thought of that," he said. "I guess you're right. Well, that'll teach them to be immortal." The immortal barely managed to restrain himself from hitting the drunkard. "But what about the Preztons?" he said. "They're still there." "Perhaps we ought to give them a medal," mocked the man. "Seems like they've done us a favour." The immortal couldn't stand it any more. His fist lashed out and caught the drunkard in the face, knocking him to the floor. The man staggered to his feet. "Now that don't seem to be a very friendly thing to do," he said, fingering his jaw. He pulled out his gun and waved it at the immortal. "What do you say to this, kid?" he shouted. "We don't like troublemakers round here, or freak-likers." The immortal glowered. "And I don't like Prezton-lovers," he countered. "I don't like the blue vermin," the man shouted, "but I don't like freaks either!" "Freaks!" the immortal cursed. "Because they're superior to you, you call them freaks. Listen, mister, what do you think the Preztons'll do if they get away with this? Blow this place up?" The man's eyes narrowed. "Seems you're just a bit too pro-freak for my liking, son," he said. "How about me putting a bullet or two in you, and see what happens?" He realised that he'd pushed the drunk too far. If he was shot, the wound would heal, and he'd be revealed as an immortal. It was obvious that feeling in this place wasn't very much in favour of his race. He broke out into a sweat. "Now wait a minute," he muttered. "You're making a big mistake. Murder is a capital crime out here." "Not for killing freaks, though." "I'm not a freak," the immortal shouted. "I'm as real as any of you." He fell to his knees, and, swallowing pride, wept at the drunkard's feet. "Please spare me," he cried. The man looked down at him distastefully. "We don't like cowards either," he sneered. "At least them freaks is proud." He kicked his boot into the immortal's face, knocking him over on his back. "Now get outa here, before I change my mind." The immortal got to his feet, and felt the blood streaming from his forehead. He had to get out of the bar before the wound healed. He turned towards the door, but before he reached the exit, a voice called out from behind him. "Hey, stranger, you've left your cape behind." The immortal turned to pick it up. The man who'd kicked him grabbed his arm as he walked by. "Your cut has healed!" he exclaimed. He twisted the immortal round so that the occupants in the bar could see. "He's a freak!" he shouted. "Kill the freak. Murder him," the crowd shouted, surging forward. The immortal looked wildly around, but there was no was out. The drunkard had got his gun out again. "Lets just how immortal you are, freak," he shouted, raising the gun and firing at point-blank range. As the immortal's body went limp and slumped to the floor he emptied his gun into it. The crowd moved in, kicking and firing bullets aimlessly. A full scale riot nearly ensued before the bartender regained control. "Pick up the body and dump it into the river," he shouted above the din. "The current'll carry that freak downstream." Members of the crowd picked up the battered body, and stuffed it into a plastic refuse container. They then carried it down to the river and dumped it over the wall. Satisfied that it had sunk, they returned to the bar. "That newsflash was all a lie," the bartender announced as they returned. "A bit of Prezton propaganda." "Cursed freaks, causing all this trouble," muttered the crowd. (5) - Dawn. When he came to, the immortal found himself lying on a beach, the sea washing over his feet, frothing about his ankles. As he lay there, memories came pouring back. How long had he been dead, he wondered, and how had he got here. More important, where was he ? He staggered to his feet, and gazed down at his body. It seemed to have recovered from it's ordeal, but he felt weaker than he normally did after a 'death'. He must have been treated really roughly. The horizon began to spin before his eyes, and he passed out. Next time he opened his eyes, it was to the sensation of someone gently smacking his face. He looked upwards into a girl's blue eyes. It was beginning to get dark, and there were tracks in the sand that suggested that he had revived last time at low tide, but that the water had washed over him again while he had been unconscious. This girl must have pulled him up to safety. "Where am I? Who are you? What's the date?" he asked. The girl smiled. "How about 'how did I get here'" she suggested. "No," he replied. "I'm not interested in that. Besides, I have a good idea of the answer. Last thing I remember I was down by the river. I must have been washed out to sea." The girl frowned. "Which river was that ?" "The Dekon river, in Town." "You've come across a hundred and fifty miles of sea," she said, as the immortal climbed to his feet. "You're on the island 'Pathway To Another Day." "Which day is it?" "Wednesday." "And who are you?" "You tell me your name first," she insisted. "My name is Destiny." "A strange name," the girl replied. "My name is Dawn." She stared out, across the waters, towards the darkening sky. "I always walk along the seashore at dusk." "Dawn comes at dusk," the immortal murmured.. The girl frowned. "What?" Destiny shook his head. "I don't know. It's a phrase I heard somewhere." "I think I'd better get you to our hospital," the girl suggested. "No," he insisted. "All I want is a spaceport." "You'll have to go back to the mainland. The nearest port is at Town. If they'll take you, you can get a boat back there, but not until the morning." Destiny bit his lip. "Surely there must be more than one boat on the island." "No. There is only the ferry that comes across from the mainland. You will have to stay with me." "The revenge of a planet is at stake," Destiny shouted. "How can I wait?'' "How can you avenge a planet?" the girl asked. "You have no weapons. Anyway, what planet is it?" The immortal shook his head. "It doesn't matter," he replied. "You are quite right." Follow me then," Dawn suggested. "I will give you shelter for the night." They walked together along the beach in silence, then turning off and walking along a winding path up an embankment. Darkness began to creep upon them. (6) - Moorman. Destiny peered forward into the night. A bleak moorlike expanse stretched out before them. "Great danger lies ahead of us," Dawn announced. "Oh? Why?" "The wildman of the moors roams here at night." "Why on Earth do you walk here alone then?" the immortal enquired wonderingly. "One day he will kill me," the girl replied. "And I will be released onto a higher plane." Destiny looked uncertainly at the girl through the veil of darkness that separated them. Her face showed no emotion. She continued to walk across the moor. The ground underfoot was slightly soggy and their feet made squelching noises as they moved forward. They strode on in this manner for about five minutes, when suddenly a huge black shadow loomed out of the darkness. Huge white eyes flashed out of nowhere, and a tremendous roaring shook the very ground on which they walked. The thing seemed to be lumbering directly towards them. The immortal paused as the girl strode on towards it. Destiny stood as if hypnotised while the girl walked up to the monster. But, just as it seemed that she would collide with it, it veered off to one side, and charged past her. As it raced past the immortal it leant forward so that, for a moment, it's white, blazing eyes were staring into his. It let out a low moan, and lumbered off into the distance. "It has gone," the girl announced needlessly. "I have failed again." Destiny looked at her. She must be mad, he thought to himself. They walked on in silence for some moments, until Dawn pointed at a light that shone in the distance. "This is where we live," she stated. The immortal could make out little detail at that distance, but as they got nearer he observed there was not just one building, but a small cluster of them. (7) - Android. Destiny followed Dawn past several of the buildings until finally she stopped before one. "You may rest here until the morning," she stated. She opened the door and he stepped into a brightly lit room. As the door closed behind him, he glanced around the chamber, noting with a thrill that he was not alone. A creature sat on the floor, in the corner, silent as if in a trance. He was unable to tell at first whether it was a man, a robot, or an android. He walked over cautiously for a closer glance. It was an android, he decided. As he stared down it, it stirred into life. "You are troubled," it said. "I can see it in your eyes." "The revenge of a planet is to hand,'' Destiny replied. "But how can you avenge a planet?" the android asked. "You have no weapons. Anyway, what planet is it?" The immortal realised numbly that the android had used exactly the same word that the girl had spoken previously. Was Dawn an android as well, programmed to the same response pattern as this creature? "You have come here for shelter for the night?" the thing asked. "I wished to leave," Destiny said, "but the girl told me that there is only one boat to the mainland, and that does not come until the morning. I wish go to a spaceport, so that I can leave this planet." "You'll have to go back to the mainland. The nearest port is at town. If they'll take you, you can get a boat back there, but not until the morning." Destiny frowned. Surely Dawn had said those same words as well. The android was still speaking: "But you want a spaceship...Yes? I have one hidden out on the moor." "What?" "Yes. It is fully operational. It is no use to me. You may have it. It is yours. I want nothing in return." "You will show me where it is?" Destiny enquired. The android leapt to it's feet. "Yes," it exclaimed. "Let us go now." Destiny followed the android out of the door and into the night. The creature touched it's skull, and it's eyes turned into glowing coals that cast a sharp beam of light before them. (8) - Battle. They walked together out of the complex of buildings, towards the open moorland. "I could not hide it too near the buildings," the android explained, "in case the blast of the take-off destroyed them." "Blast? Take-off blast?" "Yes." "You once planned to leave, then?" "No. I have never had such a wish." Why then, reflected the immortal, as they trudged onwards, had the thing hidden the rocket. He had certainly come upon a strange place when the sea had washed his body up on this island. After a few more minutes the android paused. "The rocket is hidden somewhere around here," it stated. "Underground." Destiny peered through the night. It was hard to tell in the dark, and these moors all looked the same, but this looked like the area where the moorman roamed. "Aren't you afraid that the moorman will attack you?" he asked. The creature shook it's head. "One day he will kill me," it replied, "and I will be released onto a higher plane." The being poked around in the soil with hard fingers for a while. Suddenly it stood erect. "Move away," it requested. "You are standing on the platform." The immortal backed away until the android motioned for him to stop. It pulled at a lump of turf, then hastily stepped back in the other direction, as the ground began to slide away, revealing a large opening. It looked, Destiny reflected, as though at least a part of what the creature had said was true. The android edged it's way around the perimeter of the opening to where Destiny stood. It shone it's searchlight eyes down into the pit as it walked. It walked past the immortal, motioning for him to follow. Finally it halted and pointed down at a metal runged ladder. Destiny saw that a large object lay at the bottom of the pit, reflecting the light from the android's glowing eyes. "This ladder will lead us down to the ship," the creature stated. It stood back so that the man could descend first. He began to climb down, the android following. Suddenly there came a rustle that broke the silence of the night air, and a low moaning. "The moorman," shouted the android. It stopped on the ladder, then was climbing back to the surface, almost before Destiny had realised what was happening. By the time he had regained the top rung of the ladder, the android was running towards the black shape that loomed on the horizon, it's white, headlamp eyes flashing. The light beams played across the mighty beast, illuminating it's huge bulk for brief seconds at a time as the android stumbled on across the uneven moorland. Finally, it stopped dead in front of the huge creature. "Kill me," it pleaded. "Kill me." The moorman ignored it, and lumbered to one side. The android stared after it in desperation. Then it bent and picked up a lump of stone from the soil. This it hurled after the retreating beast. The stone struck the back of the creature's head. The beast let out a huge yelp and turned to face it's assailant. It moved in towards him, growling, crouched low. The android encouraged it, by hurling lumps of earth at it's head. It was making no attempt at retreat. In fact, it moved forward. The moorman lashed out a huge paw at it's tormentor, that sent it spinning through the air. It crashed to the ground with a sickening thump, but was back on it's feet immediately, running towards the beast. This time the moorman picked up the android and raising itself to its full height, dashed the creature to the ground. Still the android staggered back to it's feet. With a yell of "freedom," it lunged at the moorman's chest. A huge animal paw grabbed it by the head, spun it around in a dizzying arc through the night air, then suddenly released it. The android smashed down onto the ground, in a maze of sparks, alight with the crackle of circuits burning out. It moved no more. Satisfied, the moorman lumbered away from the site of the battle, in the direction in which it had been travelling originally. (9) - Escape. The immortal stood, shocked, for a few minutes, then, satisfied that the beast had departed, he moved over to where the android lay. In the darkness that enveloped the countryside all that could be seen was a mass of burnt and twisted metal and plastic. Destiny cursed. He would have to master the controls to the ship, if it existed, by himself. He turned away and made his way back to the pit. He edged his way down the ladder in the darkness, rung by rung. After descending a distance that he estimated to be about a hundred feet his shoe touched the bottom. His eyes had become accustomed to the darkness by now, and he was able to see a huge shape laying amidst a cradle of scaffolding. He noted a large switch set into a control panel on the wall next to the ladder. He hesitated. Should he pull it? It was unlikely to fire the ship, for it was laying on it's side, and didn't look capable of a vertical take- off. What had he got to lose? He was indestructible, after all. With some difficulty, he activated the control. There was the sound of a large motor clicking into gear, followed by a thrum of power. The ground around him began to tremble. The scaffolding was moving. He pressed himself up against the wall, as the nearest piece began to slide back towards him. It swung past in a lazy arc. Slowly, the ship was being raised into the vertical takeoff position. A quarter of an hour later the ship stopped moving. It had come to rest in the take-off position. The im- mortal looked up. The airlock was near the top of the ship. He was going to have some climbing to do. As he clambered up the scaffolding it began to sway with his weight. He just reached the top when it finally gave way. He grabbed for the airlock handle as the scaffolding crumbled beneath him. He held on for grim death, activating the airlock control button with his nose. It opened out past him, and he swung himself around and edged into the lock. He rested for a moment as the outer door closed, then opened the interior lock and passed into the ship. He strode through an empty corridor and found himself outside the control room. Hastily examining the instruments he found that the ship was of a standard design, a design that had been accepted across the entire Terran region of space, a design that he knew very well. His luck was changing at last. Destiny punched out his course on the computer keyboard, but was dismayed to see that the bank of indicators remained unlit. No power was coming through. The immortal cursed and spun round in his seat, trying to remember what power source these ships utilised. Was it a nuclear drive, with a dead pile, was it a cryogenic fuel drive with no fuel? If so, was there a supply near by. He walked out of the pilot room, and down a passageway to the map room. He looked through the maps until he discovered a plan of the ship. On the top of the plan was a statement. The ship was owned by Automining-Inc. He'd heard of that company, even out on Trix 4. It was a big employer of androids. But what was the ship doing here? He frowned. Still, that was of little importance. He studied the plan. The ship had an atomic motor. There appeared to be two piles. One to power the lights and air supply and the other that powered the drive. The latter was the one that was inoperative. He studied the plans, tracing the lines back from the pile to a switch in the control room. That was the one he wanted. He dashed back to the pilot room and flipped the switch. It would take about an hour for the pile to reach critical level. He switched to automatic and the computer took over the job of monitoring the power build-up. Destiny waited as the computer digested the details of the course that he had fed into it. A red light flashed on the control board. The immortal gasped. His course had been rejected. Destiny cursed at his bad luck. This ship must be designed to ply only between set points. He punched out for a computer-derived course. The reply issued from a slot. He scanned it swiftly, looking for the pre- programmed destination. Then he found it. The adjoining planet. His stomach sank as he punched out for all alternatives. But, as he had known in his heart, there were none. He made his way back to the map room, to try and find a reason for this ship's strange limitations. He mulled over the assorted data for nearly an hour before he found the answer. It was contained in one of the last entries in the ship's computer-kept log. The neatly printed pages told the whole story. Automining, Inc. was centred on the neighbouring planet, one of it's important bases. But the planet was drenched in a radiation that affected the android's brains - deranged them. They were shipped back here every few months, for the rest which returned them to normal, making them fit for another spell of duty. He saw with a wave of comprehension that the radiation gave the androids a self-destruction complex. The whole puzzle fell into place now. Automining sent the androids out to the island here to recover. This ship was their ferry. Obviously the Company had not known of the existence of the moorman, or maybe he had only recently arrived on the island, but whatever the answer it had provided the androids with a method of carrying through their death wish. So Dawn had been an android after all..... But all this wasn't helping to solve his problem. The next planet would be no better for him than this one. He would be hated there just the same. He needed a refuge, a hiding place where he would not be hated. But Trix 4 had been the only such planet, and it had been destroyed by the Preztons. There was nowhere in the Galaxy. But.... An idea began to form in his mind. It was out of the question for him to attempt to reprogram the computer. It was too complex. He hadn't got the knowledge. But perhaps he could achieve the same result in another way. Again the immortal studied the plans of the ferry-ship. At last he found what he wanted. He made his way to a lower level, where the main bulk of the computer was housed. He pulled a tool kit from a recess in the panelling and began to unscrew a section of the wall. He donned a pair of protective goggles against the glare that he knew would be present, and pulled out the section of wall. Inside was a Gossamer's Globe, a gigantic sphere of crystal that curved up behind the wall. In the interior of the vast sphere hung countless points of lambent light, a billion flickering specks that marked the billion stars of the Galaxy, each one positioned accurately to within an inconceivably minute fraction of a millimetre. As the ship moved through space, the sphere's aspect changed with the revised view of the outside. Impulses from the energy-specks guided the ship, informed the computer of speed, course, and a myriad other necessary data. If he could just alter the aspect of the Globe, confuse the computer's direction sense. He surrounded himself with a mass of charts and reference volumes, comparing the co-ordinates with the energy specks in the Gossamer's Globe. At last he succeeded. He could interpret the view in the crystal sphere in terms of the real Universe outside. Straining with the effort, he unbolted the locking nuts on the sphere and put his shoulder against it, and pushed. It swivelled a full ten degrees. Where the speck that had represented this system had been was now only emptiness - the emptiness that represented the space beyond the spiral arm - beyond the Galaxy itself. He made his way back to the control room. He had in effect told computer to go nowhere. Would it obey? No-one had travelled outside the Galaxy before. It took too long, but not if you were immortal. Then the computer light switched to green as he watched. It would obey. Not automatically, for it was unprogrammed, but it would allow him to pilot it. Destiny took his place at the board. It would not be easy, he knew, for he would be going where no-one had gone before. But it was the only way out. At last all was ready. He fired the atomic drive, fingers dancing from one switch to another in easy motion. The ship rose from it's gantry and sped up into the night sky. As it sped away from the planet, he locked the controls. He had made it. The computer would steer a safe path now, and he could hardly miss the Andromeda Galaxy altogether. He was on his way! Weeks later his ship passed Trix 4, where his immortal race still lived their eternal lives. But he was not to know. He thought them destroyed. So he went on, sad-faced, thinking that he was alone of his kind in the Galaxy, always staring ahead, at the misty blob of the far Andromeda, for which he was headed. How was he to know? He felt alone. So terribly alone. He travelled on. At times he would hallucinate; the moorman would lumber across the viewer window. He begged it to destroy him, though he knew in his heart it was just a shadow. He cried out for the souls of his lost race, imagining them forming and exploding in the vacuum of space, again and again, for all eternity. There was no-one he could talk to who would understand what he felt. There would never be. He beat his fists against the metal walls as the ship ploughed on into the unknown. If only he knew the truth, if only............ |