E. Tubb - Child of Earth

Shandaha frowned. “An agreement?”

“Provisions, transport, tools, release from this place for Chagal and myself. All in return for allowing you to drag me through a trip to hell. My hell-you probably enjoyed it.”

“It was interesting.”

“But, for you, disappointing,” said Dumarest. “It wasn’t the journey you wanted. Not the ending you hoped for.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You wanted to accompany me on the most important journey of my life. One which would dominate my future. You gained what you asked for but it wasn’t what you intended. You wanted to be with me, inside my head, watching through my eyes when I was given a gift stolen for the Cyclan. But you would have made another mistake. I didn’t know I had been given the gift. You would have been no wiser.”

And now would never be. The secret of the affinity twin, as far as Dumarest was concerned, would remain that. The possible sequences in which the fifteen biological units could be assembled ran into millions. The Cyclan knew their composition but had lost the sequence in which they had to be assembled.

Shandaha said, “I don’t understand. I agree we had an agreement. I will double the items you desire if you will-”

“Grant you another trip into my past?” Dumarest shook his head. “No.”

“Must I remind you that I need give you no choice?”

“And give me further proof of how badly I was mistaken?” Dumarest drank more of the wine enjoying the moment. “The second time when I returned to the chamber in which you had arranged the chess pieces I sat and studied the situation. Only the Cyclan could have gained control of Earth. A Cyclan vessel attacked our ship and brought us down. The Cyclan could have spotted our signals and known of our position and our hopeless situation. They probably thought I was dead but, being what they are, they had to be sure. So they sent you. I assumed you were a cyber masking himself in a bizarre disguise. Creating a habitation out of illusion. Now I know that cannot be the case.”

“Then who and what am I?”

Dumarest paused before answering, studying the man, noting small details which increased his conviction. Things overlooked before had grown a new clarity and, within his skull, he felt what seemed to be a subtle movement of cranial tissue.

“Who you are is a matter of title. What you are is a farmer.”

“A farmer!”

“Or a herdsman. The title isn’t important. My guess is that you are a minion of the Cyclan. You have been given the task of rearing and breeding cattle to be checked and tested and then to be harvested when the crop is ripe.” Dumarest leaned forward, his words like ice. “Cattle, Shandaha. Men and women. The children of Earth. People just like me!”

“No, Earl! You are mistaken!”

“Why bother to deny it? What difference can it make? You and others like you scattered over the planet, have a single task. That of selecting, rearing, and farming humans to gain an ingredient vital to the Cyclan. The homochon elements growing in the mutated brains.”

“This is madness!” Shandaha’s hand shook as he poured the goblets full of wine, the ruby liquid splashing to soil the table. “Earl, what has come over you? Shall I summon Chagal?”

“Do you want him to hear what I have to say?” Dumarest paused, waiting, then as the other remained silent said, “As I thought. Now take a drink, you are shaking and we both know why. You have tried to control me and have failed to do so. And if the Cyclan discover what you have tried to do they will not be gentle.”

“Dare you tell them?”

“When you have lost everything then what do you have to lose?” Dumarest drank and shrugged. “It seems we are back on logic, again. Of question and answer. So tell me this-how can a blind man complete a jigsaw?”

“By touch.”

“You are correct but most would say it was impossible as he could not see the picture or pattern and so would have no visual guide. But he has hands and fingers and could feel, imagine and remember. As I did when I tried to find a way out of this maze. To find motive, means and opportunity. I found them, but I had some help. In the secret chamber I fell into after I had broken the wall. The barrier of crystal which you said didn’t exist,” he explained. “The odd area in an odd place which also had no existence. But it held something else and it taught me things I had never suspected.”

Shandaha said nothing, waiting, looking at his wine.

“All planets have their speciality,” continued Dumarest. “But none the exact history of Earth. The surface ravaged by cycles of destruction from meteoric impact and climatic change and, always, the lashing storms of solar radiation. Then the suicidal impact of atomic wars. The climax which slaughtered billions and started the panic which caused those who could to leave and find other worlds to live on. To abandon those who couldn’t to survive as best they could.”

A time long before he’d been born but his own childhood had taught him how it must have been. To huddle in deep caverns, to eat what could be eaten no matter in what shape or flavour it came. To die young, to breed fast, to survive no matter what the cost. To live but to be changed by the mutated symbiote which gave as it took.

The homochon elements which had become the heritage of the children of Earth.

Which were now a part of his brain.

Shandaha said, “You trouble me, Earl. I would never have taken you for one who dwelt in fantasy yet what else can you call the things you seem to believe are the truth. Mutated brains. Symbiotes nestling in the cortex. The Cyclan owning and ruling this planet. Proscribing it. Why should they do that?”

“To prevent contamination.” Dumarest was blunt. “To keep their herds free of disease. The reason why you slaughtered those with me. The people of Earth are unique in their heritage. The Cyclan cannot risk losing it.”

“But you are losing me.” Shandaha reached again for the flagon, this time pouring with a steady hand. “Come, now, let us not be enemies. Drink to understanding and prosperity. All things can be settled.”

“With honesty, yes.” Dumarest lifted his goblet and said, over its rim, “How did you know Earth was proscribed?”

“Did I? You must have mentioned it.”

“Not to you.”

“To Nada, then. That must be it!” Shandaha drank and waited until Dumarest had followed suit, then said, “When you were together in close embrace and you were telling her of your travels. Worlds you have seen, planets you have touched on. A life of adventure. A wealth of experience. Hers has been much different.”

“I suppose it has.”

“You could make it otherwise, Earl. She loves you and would willingly remain at your side. All I ask in return is a little cooperation.”

“And if I don’t give it?”

“I will kill you. You will leave me no choice.”

The man was not bluffing. Dumarest knew it as he knew the wine was red, as he knew how it would be done. Lasers were focused on his chair. At a word of command, even a directed thought, they would send searing beams into his flesh. His legs would be burned from his body, the heat cauterising the wounds and preventing the loss of blood. He would be alive but crippled, unable to stand, unable to walk, to escape the clutches of the Cyclan.

“I mean it, Earl.”

“I know you do. But your masters will not be gentle with you if I should die.”

“I have no masters! I am the Lord of my domain!”

“Yes,” said Dumarest. “Of course you are.”

A man living a fantasy born of isolation and frustrated ambition, of limited power and small achievement. One driven by the desire for fame, respect, acknowledgment of his capabilities. A dangerous adversary walking on a razor’s edge.