Poul Anderson - The Long Way Home

He had to get Marin outside, he couldn’t leave her in this hellhole, and he had to do it in a way that the observers would consider unremarkable. For a while he sat thinking. The only way was one he didn’t like, a far New England ancestor compressed angry lips and tried to stop him. But—

He walked over to the door of her room. It opened for him, and he stood looking down on her. She was asleep. The coppery hair spilled softly around a face which held peace., He tried not to remember Peggy, and touched her arm.

She sat up. “Oh... Edwy.” Blinking her eyes open: “What is it?”

“Sorry to wake you,” he said awkwardly. “I couldn’t sleep, Come talk to me, will you?”

She regarded him with something like compassion. “Yes,” she said at last. “Yes, of course.” Throwing a cloak over her thin nightgown, she followed him onto the balcony.

There were stars overhead. Against the remote blaze of city lights swam the black shark-form of a patrol ship. A small wind ruffled his hair. He wondered just where Lora stood—not far from the ancient site of Winnipeg, wasn’t it?

Marin leaned against his side, and he put an arm about her waist. The vague light showed a wistful, uncertain curve to her mouth.

“It’s nice out,” he said banally.

“Yes—” She was waiting for something. He knew what it was, and so did Chanthavar’s observers sitting at their screens.

He stooped and made himself kiss her. She responded gently, a little clumsily as yet. Then he looked at her for a long while, and couldn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled at last.

How long to go—five minutes? Ten?

“What for?” she asked.

“I’ve no right—”

“You have every right. I’m yours, you know. This is what I’m for.”

“Shut up!” he croaked. “I mean a moral right. Slavery is wrong no matter how you set it up. I’ve ancestors who died at Gettysburg, in Germany, in the Ukraine, because there was slavery.”

“You mean you don’t want to force yourself on me,” she said. “It’s good of you, but don’t worry. I’ve been conditioned —I like the idea, it’s my function.”

“Exactly. It’s still enslavement—a worse one, I think, than just putting chains on you. No!”

She laid her hands on his shoulders, and the gaze that met his was calm and serious. “Forget that,” she said. “Everybody’s conditioned—you, I, everybody, life does that one way or another. It doesn’t count. But you need me, and I... I’m very fond of you, Edwy. Every woman wants a man. Isn’t that enough?”

There was a hammering in his temples.

“Come,” she said, taking his hand, “come on back inside.”

“No... not yet,” he stammered.

She waited. And because there seemed nothing else to do, he found himself kissing her again.

Five minutes? Three? Two? One?

“Come,” she breathed, “come with me now.”

He hung back. “Wait... wait—”

“You aren’t afraid of me. What is it? There’s something strange—”

“Shut up!” he gasped.

Fire blossomed in the air. A moment later Langley felt a fist of concussion. He lurched back, and saw a spaceship streak by, blazing at the patrol craft. Wind roared behind it.

“ Get out of the way, Edwy- Marin darted for the shelter of the living room. He grabbed her by the hair, snatched her back, and stood in the open. The attacking ship fled, gone in a blur.

And something took hold of Langley and whirled him upward.

Tractor beam, he thought crazily, a controlled gravity beam- Then something black yawned before him, a portal gaped, he went through and it clanged shut behind him.

There was a pulsing of great engines as he picked himself up. Marin huddled at his feet, he raised her and she shuddered in his arms. “It’s all right,” he mumbled shakily. “It’s all right. We got away. Maybe.”

A man in gray coveralls entered the little steel lock chamber. “Well done, sir!” he said. “I think we’re pulling clear. Will you follow me?”

“What is it?” asked Marin wildly. “Where are we going?”

“I made a deal with the Society,” said Langley. “They’ll get us out of the Solar System—we’re going to be free, both of us.”

Inwardly, he wondered.

They went down a narrow hall. The ship thrummed around them. It must be accelerating furiously, but there was no sense of pressure: a countering gravity field generated within the hull, or perhaps the drive acting equally on all masses aboard. At the end of the passage, they came into a small room studded and glittering with instruments. One screen held a complete view of the hard stars of space.

Goltam Valti surged from his chair to pound Langley’s back and pump his hand and roar a greeting. “Marvelous, captain! Excellent! A lovely job, if you pardon my immodesty.”

Langley felt weak. He sat down, pulling Marin to his lap without thinking about it. “Just exactly what did happen?” he asked.

“I and a few others slipped out of the Society tower,” said Valti. “We took an air speedster to the estate of a... sympathetic... Minister, where we maintain a little bastion. Two spaceships were required: one to create a brief diversion, and this one to pull you up and escape in the confusion.”

“How about the other boat? Won’t they catch that?”

“It has been arranged for. There will be a lucky shot which brings it down—bomb planted aboard, you know. It’s robot manned, carefully cleaned of all traces of ownership except one or two small indications which may suggest Centaurian origin to Chanthavar.” Valti winced. “A pity to lose so fine a vessel. It cost a good half-million solars. Profits are hard to come by these days, believe me, sir.”

“As soon as Chanthavar checks on you, finds you missing—”

“My good captain!” Valti looked hurt. “I am not quite an amateur. You see, my double is already peacefully and lawfully asleep in my own quarters.

“Of course,” he added thoughtfully, “if we can find Saris, it may well be necessary for me to leave Sol altogether. If so, I do hope my successor can handle the Venusian trade. It’s a difficult one, it can so easily go into the red.”

“All right,” said Langley. “It’s done. I’m committed. What’s your plan of action?”

“That depends on where he is and what methods will be required to establish contact. But this flitter is fast, silent, screened against radiation; it has weapons, and there are thirty armed men aboard. Do you think it will suffice?”

“I... believe so. Bring me some maps of the Mesko area.”

Valti nodded at the little green-furred creature Thakt, which had been sitting in a corner. It tittered and scuttled out.

“Charming young lady,” bowed Valti. “May I ask her name?”

“Marin,” she said in a thin voice. She got off Langley’s lap and stood backed against the wall.

“It’s all right,” said the spaceman. “Don’t be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” she said, trying to smile. “But bewildered.”

Thakt returned with a sheaf of papers. Langley frowned over them, attempting to find his way through an altered geography. “It was one time on Holat,” he said. “Saris and I had taken the day off to go fishing, and he showed me some caves. I told him about Carlsbad Caverns in New Mexico, and he was very interested. Later, shortly before we left for Earth, he mentioned them again, and I promised to take him there; and as we were going over some maps of Earth, for the benefit of several Holatan philosophers, I showed him their location. So if he could get maps of the modern world—Carlsbad wouldn’t be far away, and he’d know it was an unexplored warren. Of course, it may be colonized or something by now, or have gone out of existence, for all I know, but—”