Travellers

Chapter 2

Chapter 2Captain Trasant Ersand removed the monitoring visor and laid it gently on the console in front of him. After-images still lingered and he rubbed his eyes to dispel them. His hands felt cool against his face which was flushed through contact with the visor and, covering his face entirely, he leaned back and relaxed into his chair, feeling its stress relievers adjust automatically to ease the tension in his stiff frame.

Well, at least something still works around here, he thought ruefully, and almost involuntarily he opened one eye and looked across at the damage control screen. The burden of its content weighed heavily on him and, hearing his chair’s stress relief circuits starting to whirr anxiously, he stood up. No point gratuitously overloading the thing, it does its best, and the repair gangs had taken no small effort to keep it in good order for him, even though there were more important things to be dealt with.

Far more important things, he reflected, as he looked again at the damage control screen. It was a constant reminder of their condition. He had had it enlarged and left on permanent full display after they had survived the last Darvod-hunt incline.

“There’ll be no returning that way,” a grim-faced Matthew had told him. “All the Rithid’s fit for now is planet hopping — perhaps nursery slopes to local systems — but no more.”

“It is the nature of the Way,” Taithur had said when Ersand told him. There were times then when Taithur’s faith irritated the Captain, and it was with some difficulty that he kept his temper.

“We’re effectively stranded Taith,” he said angrily to the younger man. “Stranded in the Wastes. Farther out than anyone else has ever been, as far as we know. I’d value a little less fatalism. Everything’s going to be one continuous fight now, more even than before. We’re going to need every personal and technical resource we can muster, and I don’t want anyone sitting back waiting for his problems to be sorted out by divine intervention. If you must invoke the Way, then you can pray that rock we’re heading towards is habitable.”

Taithur bridled at this response, but Ersand met his stern gaze squarely and pointed towards a viewport. Through it could be seen the thin scattering of stars that was so typical of this bare, empty region. Taithur followed the extended arm and then, turning back, lowered his gaze and, unusually, raised his hands in a placatory gesture.

“I will, Ersand.” he said softly. “I will.”

At the next prayer-meet he had delivered a thoughtful sermon on the great gift of free will, and how it was the duty of each person to travel the Way with awareness and to make the very best of whatever befell him.

The memory of the incident made Ersand smile as he turned away from the damage control screen. Taithur’s integrity, with its blend of sincere faith and hard-nosed pragmatism, made him irresistible.

A soft, two-note hum signalled the opening and closing of the door into the ship’s control centre. Ersand turned towards the sound.

“Think of the devil,” he said.

Taithur c****d his head on one side and raised an eyebrow in mild reproach.

Ersand’s smile broadened and he indicated his chair. It was an old ritual between them. Taithur never took the Captain’s seat, for all the comfort it offered, and for all his status as head of the expedition. He sat, as usual, in the daywatchman’s chair. A chair with negative stress relievers that were activated if the concentration of the occupant wavered unacceptably.

“Where do we start?” he asked bluntly after a moment. Ersand settled back down into his own chair and made a vague gesture.

“I don’t know,” he said. “But we have to talk. A few gentle D-h hops and we’ll be in the system. There’ll be too much activity then for prolonged debate.”

Taithur nodded. “We can’t make any detailed plans — landing sites, settlement areas — we’re too far away...”

“And we haven’t the equipment for a proper survey anyway.” Ersand finished the sentence. It had been a minor source of irritation between the two men from the beginning, that equipment had been pared down too much for the sake of squeezing in more travellers.

Taithur waved the remark aside. “We’ve been through that,” he said. “That’s not what’s bothering you. Has something developed out of the monitoring?”

Ersand shook his head unconvincingly. “No,” he said. “Nothing specific.”

Taithur stared at him narrowly.

They had left their home system in a welter of relief and blind faith and their trajectory had been determined as much by folk history as by calculation.

“In the outer reaches of that sector of the galaxy there are countless planets waiting to be discovered. Rich and bountiful planets where people can live free and unburdened, where people can determine their own destinies.” So went the tales persistently through the years, dismissed by scientists and ignored by politicians and bureaucrats.

Blatantly, the travellers had cited this idea in their negotiations with the Service, and equally blatantly the Service had affected serious consideration of it before allowing them their Exploration Charter. What the Service really thought, no-one knew.

One piece of equipment that had not been pared to the minimum was that used for long-range scanning. In fact it was the most sophisticated then available and had cost them dear. Once well away from their system, the travellers had linked this to the navigation data fields and given the Rithid its head. It had been a genuine act of faith that had carried them well beyond the inner systems of the galaxy.

Working from a basic premise that as much distance as possible was to be put between the travellers and their old homes, the Rithid had nosed out into the unmarked areas of the galaxy like a hunting dog after a faint scent. However, it had proved to be a testing time as target after target had been located, approached for a little while, and then rejected. Taithur’s faith in the Way had barely wavered, nor had Ersand’s in Taithur, but it was only the steadfastness of these two men that held the group together through the long bleak light years of their journey.

Eventually, when it seemed that even Taithur must be plunged into uncertainty, the Rithid located and confirmed a star with a suitable planet.

“It’s so far away,” said Taithur’s wife fearfully. But Taithur had reached and passed his lowest ebb.

“No, Malva,” he said. “It’s a beacon in a lonely wilderness. We’re travelling home now. This is where we have to go. This is where we’ll build a free world for our children, away from all the intolerance and oppression.”

And now they were nearly there. The star was actually visible, and since their last Darvod-hunt hop they had been receiving electromagnetic radiation from the system. A jangle of transmissions which were obviously artificial, but which seemed to be wildly incoherent.

“If there’s nothing specific,” continued Taithur, “then what is bothering you in general?” He laid a mocking emphasis on the last two words and Ersand was obliged to smile. Spit it out, was what Taithur was telling him, spit it out.

“I’m sorry, Taith,” he said. “I’m not normally so vague, but I’ve an unhappy feeling about this place.”

Taithur’s face showed a mixture of sympathy and impatience, and Ersand turned away from it.

“There’s some kind of civilization in this system, Taith. The analysers are beginning to put together the bones of what seems to be a dominant language, and...” He paused.

Taithur waited. “And?” he offered after an uncomfortable pause.

Ersand cleared his throat. “And, insofar as it makes any sense at all, it’s looking bad. It’s mainly a gut reaction on my part, but I feel this system is a dangerous place.”

Taithur looked at the Captain thoughtfully. “We’re still a long way away, Ers. The signals are very weak and distorted. And, as you’re so fond of pointing out, our equipment is rather... er... basic, isn’t it? Is it really a time for coming to that kind of conclusion?”

Ersand placed his elbows on the arms of his chair and rested his chin on his interlinked fingers. “It’s not a conclusion, Taith,” he said. “It’s nothing that solid. You’re quite right. There isn’t enough data to form even a preliminary conjecture — the computer keeps telling me that. But I’ve travelled too many space miles not to listen to my instinct when it plays up like this.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” asked Taithur. “You’re the expert. There’s nothing I can help with. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

Ersand sighed and looked slightly embarrassed. “I’m telling you now because I’m following my instinct, and it said — discuss it — discuss it with Taithur.”

Taithur accepted his friend’s unease. Ersand’s need to talk was apparent, and at worst it was a simple act of kindness to allow him to do so. Then, of course, the Way was strange. Who knew what hidden guidance might make itself felt.

“All right.” he said. “Let’s talk. Let’s conjecture. Let’s assume this system is inhabited — and inhabited by some dangerous species. We’ll have their language worked out fully by the time we arrive, so we can tell them we don’t mean them any harm, can’t we? They can only be some primitive sub-culture. What else could have developed in a wilderness like this?”

Ersand looked uncertain. A light came into Taithur’s eyes and he poked a finger forward. “Good grief. We’ve survived persecutions and treachery. We’ve survived Irm blows, gravity silo leaks, D-h distortion fevers... all manner of hazards — mental and physical.” He waved his hand extravagantly, then the light in his eyes darkened. “And if the worst comes to the worst. How can they harm us? How can some fringe galactic primitives harm us? We’re not Adjustment Troops and the Rithid’s no Fleet ship, but we have enough weapons to defend ourselves if provoked, haven’t we? Though God forbid we should need to.”

Ersand nodded. “That’s true enough. And if there’d been a civilization of any worth in the system, they’d have spotted us long ago and been out to greet us, one way or the other.”

“Exactly,” said Taithur. “Primitives. I’m sure we’ll be able to deal peaceably with them. I’m sure we haven’t come all this way just to slaughter innocents. Who knows, maybe all our trials and suffering have been just to bring us here, to bring a light to this corner of the galaxy.”

Ersand smiled and dropped his hands onto the arms of his chair. The younger man’s enthusiasm was infectious, and the shadow of discontent that seemed to have grown round him of late, faded. “You’re right Taith,” he said. “Too many hours looking out into this emptiness. It’s probably incipient agoraphobia. Either that or I’m turning into an old woman.”

Unexpectedly, Taithur leaned forward, his face serious. “No, no, Ersand.” he said intently. “Never. Only a fool doesn’t listen to his inner voices. I trust yours more perhaps than you do. They’ve helped you keep us safe through some fearsome dangers. Keep listening to those transmissions, and keep the analysers busy on them.”

He stood up, his face thoughtful, as if he had just felt the shadow that had left Ersand.

Ersand caught the change in mood. “What’s the matter?” he asked, also standing.

Taithur kept his gaze down as he replied. “Konrad always used to say ‘Put your faith in the Way, but keep your weapon hand free.’” He moved over to the main viewport. “And he armed us accordingly. I really didn’t find out what he’d done until it was too late — as you know.” He gazed out at the few points of light ahead. “Don’t doubt your heart, Ers. Just by our brief talk, we’ve raised a spectre that we couldn’t afford to have come on unawares. I must think — and pray for guidance.”

“I don’t understand,” said Ersand. “Don’t let my worries bother you, they’re just an old space-hand’s fidgets. You’ve got enough to do. I wouldn’t have spoken if I’d known it was going to distress you.”

Taithur smiled. “I’m not distressed, Ers, but our future options are limited. We can’t go back. The long-range scanners are keeping us moving towards this system, and they haven’t found anything new since we first detected it. We go forward no matter what we find. Forward, Ersand, if we’re to survive. Forward into armed conflict if we have to.” He paused for a long moment. “It never once occurred to me that that might happen. Konrad armed us secretly for protection against our own kind, but I don’t think even he had considered having to fight for our new home.” He breathed out noisily. “I’ll have to think. We have to determine how we’ll conduct ourselves if that eventuality arises. We must guard against becoming like those we’re fleeing from, mustn’t we?”