Brian Aldiss - Non-Stop

As Gregg drank, Complain made to go. He was still feeling shaken at the sight of Roffery.

‘We’ll put your proposition to the Council,’ he said. ‘They should accept it when they hear about the rats. I’ll come back and report to you what they say. Now we must get back: the next sleep-wake is a dark, and there is much to be done before that.’

Gregg looked hard at his brother. Beneath the morose indifference of his expression, uneasiness stirred; undoubtedly he was anxious to get his band to Forwards as soon as possible. Perhaps he realized for the first time that his younger brother was a force to reckon with.

‘Here’s a present for you to take with you,’ he said clumsily, picking up something from the bed and thrusting it at Complain. ‘It’s a sort of dazer I took off a Giant we speared two wakes back. It kills by heat. It’s awkward to handle, and you’ll burn yourself if you aren’t careful, but it was a useful enough weapon against the rats.’

The ‘sort of dazer’ was a stubby metal object, as cumbrous as Gregg had said; he pressed the button, and a fan of almost invisible heat spread from the front. Even standing away from it, Complain could feel its heat, but its range was obviously short. Nevertheless, Complain accepted it gratefully, and he parted from his brother on an unexpectedly cordial note. It felt funny, he thought, to be pleased by a personal relationship like that.

Vyann and Complain made their way back to Forwards unescorted, the latter with more anxiety than when they had set out, keeping his senses alert for rats. They arrived safely, only to find Forwards in an uproar.

A Giant had entered Forwards. He had not come through any of the barriers, which of course were guarded continually, but had suddenly appeared before a homeward-bound labouring girl on Deck 14. Before she could cry out, the unfortunate girl had been seized, gagged and bound; she was in no way molested, and as soon as the Giant had finished tying her up, he disappeared. Without much delay, the girl managed to bite off the gag and call for help.

Police and guards had started a search for the invader at once. Their alarm at this confirmation of the existence of Giants, if confirmation still was needed in Forwards, was increased by the apparent pointlessness of his action; obviously some sinister move was afoot. General consensus of opinion was that the Giants were returning from their long sleep to take back the ship. In the pursuit that followed, Master Scoyt and most of his staff joined, and were at present scouring all levels near the scene of the incident.

This Vyann and Complain learned from an excited sentry at the barriers. As they made for their own apartments, distant whistles could be heard; the corridors were almost empty — evidently most people had joined in the chase. A diversion was always as welcome in Forwards as it had been in Quarters.

Vyann breathed a sigh of relief.

‘This gives us a lull,’ she said. ‘I didn’t want to face the Council before I had talked to you. I don’t know how you feel, but I’m sure of one thing: we can’t have your brother’s mob here — they’d be unmanageable.’

Complain had known instinctively how she felt. Inclined to agree, he nevertheless said, ‘Do you feel happy about leaving them to the rats?’

‘Gregg’s deliberately over-estimating the abilities of the rats, as a lever to get himself in here. If he’s really so anxious about them he can move further into Deadways. He certainly can’t come here: our organization would collapse.’

Vyann had the stubborn look about her mouth again. She was so self-possessed that a wave of rebellion ran through Complain. Catching the defiance in his eyes, Vyann smiled slightly and said, ‘Come into my room and talk, Roy.’

It was an apartment much like Complain’s, rather bare, rather military, except for a bright rug on the floor. Vyann shut the door behind them and said, ‘I shall have to recommend to Roger and the Council that we keep Gregg out at all costs. You may have noticed that half his men had some sort of deformity; I suppose he has to pick what recruits he can from the freaks of Deadways, but we can’t possibly allow that sort here.’

‘He has more knowledge of that area of the ship than anyone here,’ Complain said, stung by the contempt in her voice. ‘For any forays into the ponics he’d be invaluable.’

She waved a hand gently, bringing it to rest on his arm.

‘Let us not quarrel. The Council can decide the matter. Anyhow I have something to show you –’

‘Before we change the subject,’ Complain interrupted, ‘Gregg made a remark that worried me. He thought you came with me to keep an eye on me, was that true?’

She looked at Complain searchingly and said, her seriousness dissolving, ‘Supposing I like keeping an eye on you?’

He had reached one of those points there could be no retreat from; already his blood hammered with a mysterious foreknowledge of what he was bound to do. He dropped the cumbrous weapon Gregg had given him on to the bed. Any rebuff was worth this delirious event of putting his hands behind her back and pulling her — her, the dark, unattainable Vyann! — towards him, and kissing her on the lips. There was no rebuff; when she opened her eyes again they were full of an excitement as wild as his.

‘“Home is the hunter, home from the hull…”,’ Vyann whispered, quoting from a poem she had learnt in childhood. ‘You’ll stay in Forwards, now, won’t you, Roy?’

‘Do you need to ask?’ he exclaimed, putting his hand up to touch the hair that had always so compelled him. They stood together for a long while, just looking at each other, just living, until at last Vyann said, ‘This will not do. Come and see what I’ve got to show you — something thrilling! With any luck it will tell us a great deal we need to know about the ship.’

Vyann was back to business; it took Complain somewhat longer to recover. She sat down on the bed. As Complain sat beside her, she unbuttoned her tunic and pulled out a narrow black object, handing it to him. It was warm from her body heat. Dropping it, he put his hand on her blouse, tracing the arable contours of her breasts.

‘Laur, darling –’ This was the first time he had spoken her first name aloud, ‘– must we look at this wretched thing just now?’

Vyann put the item playfully but firmly back into his hands.

‘Yes, we must,’ she said. ‘It was logged by an ancestor of yours. I stole it from Gregg’s locker when I had sent that dreadful monster Hawl out to get me a drink. It’s the diary of Gregory Complain, sometime Captain of this ship.’

When the file was clicked open, words faded into being.

The instinct which prompted Vyann to steal the diary was a sure one; although the entries were comparatively few, the vistas they opened up came like a revelation. Because Vyann read more quickly than he, Complain soon gave up, lying with his head in her lap as she read aloud. Neither of them could have been more fascinated, even if they had known of the lucky flukes to which, over the years, the little file owed its continued existence.

At first the account was difficult to follow, by virtue of its reference to things of which Vyann and Complain had no knowledge; but they soon grew to understand the alartning predicament in which the comper of the diary and his contemporaries found themselves. That ancient crisis seemed suddenly very near, although it had happened so long ago; for Captain Gregory — as Vyann soon discovered — had been the first captain on the ship’s journey home from Procyon.

An illuminating entry occurred several lines after the diary began:

‘28.xi.2221. More trouble from Agricultural Bay (the long-dead Captain Gregory had put). Glasser, I/C Floriculture was up to see me after morning watch. He reports that the chlorosis afflicting many species of plants is no better, despite constant iron treatments. Advance spectrum output has been increased two degrees. Lt. Stover — I understand the ratings call him “Noah” — was up shortly afterwards. He is I/C Animal Insemination, and is no happier about his lower animals than Glasser is about his higher plants. Apparently the mice are breeding at a significantly faster rate, but bearing undeveloped foetuses; guinea pigs show similar tendencies. This is hardly a major worry. Most of these creatures went offboard at New Earth (Procyon V’s fancy name) as planned; the few we have are concessions to Noah’s sentimentality — though his argument that they may be useful for laboratory experiments has something to commend it.