Travellers

Chapter 4

Chapter 4For years Taithur had been an angry unhappy man, sorely burdened by the meaningless things he was asked to do and, even worse, by his almost total inability to influence any of the decisions he was being asked to implement.

“It’s the way things are, Taith,” his unctuous superior used to say. “It’s the way things have to be. The Service knows best. Don’t make waves.”

Therein was the threat. Don’t make waves. You make waves, you find yourself towed out to a backwater and abandoned, or worse.

“But I do know best,” he said angrily to Malva. “I know my job. There’s so much more we can do here to improve food production, to enrich the cycle. Why the hell won’t they listen to me?”

But his wife, strong though she was, could offer him little solace as his powerful personality turned in on itself and gnawed its own wounds. And the pain he could see he was causing her doubled his burden.

Sometimes he would wake up in the night gasping for breath, his body rigid, pulling at his face as if to remove some suffocating hand.

Then one day, he had found himself alone in the far fields, not really knowing how he came to be there. The sky was lowering purple with an impending summer storm and his mind was awash with a purposeless, unfocussed rage. He was shaking his head from side to side and muttering snatches of some inner conversation with uncaring, uncomprehending superiors. His whole body resonated with the tension in the air, as if it were no longer his own and suddenly, with a terrible shudder, he felt all control slip away. Throwing back his head he released a great cry into the crushing sky. The sound seemed to come from every cell in his body, filling all the fields and echoing off the arching clouds above, to encase him in a cocoon of despair.

When the sound had faded he was on his knees and driving his hands into the soil.

“God help me,” he heard himself saying. “God help me.”

He looked down at his hands in the soil, wondering to whom they belonged, then his eyes lit on a small flower. He dropped down on his elbows and stared at it intently. A common weed planted elsewhere on the farm to protect a cereal crop from fungal attack. Its slender white petals radiated out from a knurled yellow centre, and both colours shone in the strange darkening stormlight.

Taithur found himself mesmerized by the tiny bright flower.

“You shouldn’t be here, should you?” he whispered. “You’re in the wrong place.” He realized that while he knew almost everything there was to know about this simple weed, he had never seen it with such intensity. Never seen how beautiful it was. “What chance brought you here, so far away from your fellows?” But he was not aware of what he was saying. His entire being was absorbed in the beauty of the flower, a beauty that made a new whole of his knowledge of the plant. And transcended it.

A drop of water fell on his hand and absently he identified it as a tear. Others followed. Then larger, colder drops joined them as the storm in turn released its own burden.

When he returned home some time later, he was soaking wet and radiant.

“Malva forgive me,” he said, embracing his wife. “Forgive me. I have to start again.”

In the tiny white flower he had seen a vision that took his torments and forged them into purposefulness. For the first time in many years, Taithur turned outwards, knowing now he must set his hand to plough the furrow that had been marked out for him.

* * * *

He lay awake on the stand-by bunk. For once, he was glad to be away from his wife, glad to be away from the comfort of his own quarters. Soon, the Rithid would swing into orbit around the planet and the final preparations would begin for the move to the surface. Hester’s assessment of their weakness had carried great weight in the Council’s many deliberations, and they decided eventually to adopt the policy of avoiding the local inhabitants for as long as possible, Proktor not dissenting. The Rithid had enormous autonomous resources: “But it has a limited capacity. We can’t use it to feed our expansion down there, the cycle might tip into decay and we’re too far from help to risk that.” No-one could dissent from that.

They had brought sufficient to seed their scheme, knowing that growth would have to be bootstrapped, but the seeding seemed to be chillingly small now that the time was near.

“We need our unity more than ever before,” said Taithur to the full company. “There’s no denying that what seemed quite plausible, even exciting, when we met and planned in secret in our prayer-meets, has a different complexion in the light of this new sun, and these difficult creatures below. But we’ve been thorough. We’ve planned well, and sadly, the deaths we’ve had have increased our available resources. So with courage and faith we’ll build our new settlements down below, and bring to life our vision of what a free society should be.”

Everyone knew that a great deal of jury-rigging would be needed and they would indeed be very vulnerable for a long time. Peaceful co-existence with the natives would be essential, and from their growing knowledge of the behaviour patterns of these people, the opinion that this could best be achieved by avoiding contact with them, gradually became unanimous

There was a critical point in Hester’s calculations, which she had shown to Taithur, but which by mutual agreement they kept from even the Council. As the surface community expanded it would effectively reduce the capacity of the Rithid to sustain them in an emergency.

“The bigger we become, the more planet-bound we will be. Eventually the Rithid will be incapable of taking the full community even beyond this system. According to my assessment — which may change with time of course — when this happens, we’ll be large enough to be conspicuous, but still small enough, and undeveloped enough, to be vulnerable to destruction by the locals.”

“We can’t put more resources into defence?” Taithur asked.

Hester shook her head. “No. We’re too finely balanced. That could jeopardize everything.”

Taithur put his head in his hands. “In other words, if we’re discovered and can’t make peace with the natives, we might have to cut and run. Leave part of the community behind for the survival of the rest?”

Hester nodded. “I’m sorry Taith, but I had to tell you. I’ll keep the situation under constant review. It may alter. It’s quite a sensitive set of equations.”

And there they had had to leave it. Nothing else could be said, or Hester would have said it.

Taithur turned in the narrow bunk. Lord give me the courage, he thought. And the wisdom to do what’s right if that should happen.

However, it was not in Taithur’s nature to fret excessively about matters over which he had little or no control, and with his brief prayer he consigned the problem to the future where it belonged. All he could do was improve Hester’s calculations by building up the community as quickly as possible. Right now, a more urgent problem taxed him.

* * * *

Following his revelation, Taithur transmitted his own new-found excitement and his sense of freedom and spiritual awakening, to anyone who cared to listen. And such was his conviction and eloquence that many did indeed care to listen. Unexpectedly, he found himself leading a religious revival that started spreading through both the central and the border systems apparently spontaneously.

The commonly held view was that while there was no great harm in his preaching, the very size of the organization that was developing would provoke the Service into doing something about it sooner or later. Religions had to be watched. They were never popular with the Service and were usually quickly institutionalized prior to fading quietly away.

However, years of blistering resentment had armed Taithur with a creative paranoia, and instinctively he ensured that the heart of his organization was both protected by the Law, and substantially funded, before it became too conspicuous.

“This bloom is not of my creating, all I can do is make sure its roots are strong and deep before it reaches out to the light.”

The Service, however, was also like a living body, and sensing a threat, its many and varied protection systems came into operation automatically. Taithur and his people found themselves under a variety of attacks throughout all the systems they had reached.

Where they were weak, local planetary bye-laws were passed which effectively outlawed them, “pending appeal to the Service’s religious tribunal”. Groups had to meet and worship in secret and thus laid themselves open to a variety of persecutions.

Where they were strong, subtler methods were used: spot audits into the financial affairs of their protecting companies, and of key individuals; endless administrative delays and confusion over the purchases of land and buildings; difficulties with approval of their religious status; a myriad regulatory tentacles reached out to choke them. Taithur learnt that his paranoia was well founded. He was in the middle of a war.

But what he had found in that far field was not to be lightly lost, and his resolve grew stronger with each setback. Furthermore, the time was right for him. His had been a lonely torment, but he had not been alone, and people flocked to him despite the growing opposition of the Service.

For all its success, though, Taithur scarcely imagined that his crusade was in reality anything more than a minor irritation to the Service. Eventually, he believed, some form of equilibrium would be established and his followers would be allowed to practice their religion relatively unhindered. He was not an evangelist, and his vision was a gentle one, of light slowly permeating into the darker recesses of the Service to the good of all.

It came as something of a surprise therefore when he went to deal with a problem on a nearby system to find himself confronted by a Grade Six official from the Education Department. It was an experience as terrifying as it was flattering — the Service’s grading levels went well into four figures, and insofar as he had any knowledge of the giddier heights, Taithur knew that even an official responsible for several systems would probably be no higher than Grade Twenty.

At their meeting, which was held in strict privacy, Taithur was almost disappointed by the peculiarly unimpressive presence of the man. Despite this, however, he remained intimidated by the Grade Six status, and although the man’s manner was friendly and pleasant, there was a dead neutrality in his gaze that slowly chilled Taithur. Although he could sense no danger, or animosity even, he knew that behind those eyes must inevitably lie a cruel and ruthless assessor who was in some way testing him, and who could even now be deciding the fate of his people.

The man explained carefully and thoroughly. “I’m relying on your confidence, Taithur. I’m compromising my position just by meeting you, and I certainly shouldn’t be telling you about these matters. They’re highly confidential. However, we’ve the greatest admiration for your work and feel you should be advised of certain... difficulties that lie ahead of you.” He used the words “we” and “they” frequently, in a tone that implied Taithur should understand about whom he was talking but Taithur was too daunted to ask for clarification.

“The problem in this system is not what it seems, Taithur. Necessarily I can only give you a crude simplification of the situation, but as far as you’re concerned, it boils down to the fact that there’s been some serious economic mismanagement here by Officials who should have known better, and to protect themselves they’re intending to pass the blame onto your followers.”

He raised a hand to stop Taithur’s response.

“I understand, Taithur. Your movement is in no way political. You’re simply legitimately exercising your right to freedom of worship. Your affairs are all in order. I’ve no doubt that you feel your innocence will carry you through any such calumnies. But...” He gave a slow regretful shrug. “I’m afraid you’ll be ranged against powers far beyond your resources. Your organization will simply be a pawn in an inter-departmental power struggle, and as a pawn you’ll be completely expendable.”

Taithur unexpectedly found his throat was painfully dry. The very quietness of the man’s speech, coupled with his enigmatic gaze, combined into a more terrifying whole than any amount of ranting and raging could have done. Could the official not help? Taithur ventured. Again the shrug. Very little, was the gist of the answer.

“The matter’s essentially local. It would be both impossible and improper for us to interfere directly. I’ve only a watching brief. It’s simply unfortunate that you’ve attracted the attention of these people.”

Taithur grimaced angrily, in spite of himself, and the official looked almost sympathetic. “You’re not a child Taithur,” he said. “You’re a man of the worlds. You’re simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. To curse and fume will merely be to send your energies out of cycle.”

Then, with a brief boldness, Taithur asked why the man had come here if he could not help. The official showed no sign of offence, but the conversation slowly seemed to lose direction and purpose, and the idea of the voyage gradually appeared, vague and insubstantial, like a shadow in the mist. Taithur could never fully recall how the subject arose, but soon they were discussing details.

Telling sentences ushered him along the way to a golden prospect.

“Out there, you’d be in our remit, and we could protect you.”

“You’d be working for the greater good of the Service, so you’d be of no value to these people, and those you left behind would be able to follow their religion in peace.”

“But...” The man had paused and looked regretful. “While the idea is sound, inspired even, you’ll have to fight for it yourself. As I’ve said, we can’t help openly, if for no other reason than that to do so would be to provoke your enemies and increase the persecution you’ve already been experiencing. Where we can help, we will. But you’ll see none of it, and I can guarantee you nothing. Just set your heart on this goal Taithur, because only you can achieve it.”

Thus, for reasons that he never paused to analyse fully, Taithur found himself dominated by a desire to lead his people to a new place. One where they could be free to practise their religion in peace, and live lives unhindered by the eternal cloying presence of the Service. His whole following began lobbying the Service passionately for an Exploration Charter.

* * * *

Now, restless on the stand-by bunk, Taithur cursed this hard-fought-for Charter. From being the key to their future hopes, it seemed now it must become the instrument of their future despair, for its essence bound them still to the Law and to the Service, and following their latest discoveries, the Law must surely require their turning from this precious planet.