Harry Harrison - Planet of the Damned

“I doubt it very much,” Lea said. “A brain would be of absolutely no use to it. So even if it originally possessed reasoning powers they would be gone by now. Symbiotes or parasites that live internally like this always degenerate to an absolute minimum of functions.”

“Tell me about it. What is this thing?” Ulv broke in, prodding the soft form of the brain-symbiote. He had heard all their excited talk but had not understood a word.

“Explain it to him, will you, Lea, as best you can,” Brion said, looking at her, and he realized how exhausted she was. “And sit down while you do it; you’re long overdue for a rest. I’m going to try—” He broke off when he looked at his watch.

It was after four in the afternoon—less than eight hours to go. What was he to do? Enthusiasm faded as he realized that only half of the problem was solved. The bombs would drop on schedule unless the Nyjorders could understand the significance of this discovery. Even if they understood, would it make any difference to them? The threat of the hidden cobalt bombs would not be changed.

With this thought came the guilty realization that he had forgotten completely about Telt’s death. Even before he contacted the Nyjord fleet he must tell Hys and his rebel army what had happened to Telt and his sand car. Also about the radioactive traces. They couldn’t be checked against the records now to see how important they might be, but Hys might make another raid on the strength of the suspicion. This call wouldn’t take long, then he would be free to tackle Professor-Commander Krafft.

Carefully setting the transmitter on the frequency of the rebel army, he sent out a call to Hys. There was no answer. When he switched to receive all he heard was static.

There was always a chance the set was broken. He quickly twisted the transmitter to the frequency of his personal radio, then whistled in the microphone. The received signal was so loud that it hurt his ears. He tried to call Hys again, and was relieved to get a response this time.

“Brion Brandd here. Can you read me? I want to talk to Hys at once.”

It came as a shock that it was Professor-Commander Krafft who answered.

“I’m sorry, Brion, but it’s impossible to talk to Hys. We are monitoring his frequency and your call was relayed to me. Hys and his rebels lifted ship about half an hour ago, and are already on the way back to Nyjord. Are you ready to leave now? It will soon become dangerous to make any landings. Even now I will have to ask for volunteers to get you out of there.”

Hys and the rebel army gone! Brion assimilated the thought. He had been thrown off balance when he realized he was talking to Krafft.

“If they’re gone—well, then there’s nothing I can do about it,” he said. “I was going to call you, so I can talk to you now. Listen and try to understand. You must cancel the bombing. I’ve found out about the magter, found what causes their mental aberration. If we can correct that, we can stop them from attacking Nyjord—”

“Can they be corrected by midnight tonight?” Krafft broke in. He was abrupt and sounded almost angry. Even saints get tired.

“No, of course not.” Brion frowned at the microphone, realizing the talk was going all wrong, but not knowing how to remedy it “But it won’t take too long. I have evidence here that will convince you that what I say is the truth.”

“I believe you without seeing it, Brion.” The trace of anger was gone from Krafft’s voice now, and it was heavy with fatigue and defeat “I’ll admit you are probably right. A little while ago I admitted to Hys too that he was probably right in his original estimation of the correct way to tackle the problem of Dis. We have made a lot of mistakes, and in making them we have run out of time. I’m afraid that is the only fact that is relevant now. The bombs fall at twelve, and even then they may drop too late. A ship is already on its way from Nyjord with my replacement. I exceeded my authority by running a day past the maximum the technicians gave me. I realize now I was gambling the life of my own world in the vain hope I could save Dis. They can’t be saved. They’re dead. I won’t hear any more about it”

“You must listen—”

“I must destroy the planet below me, that is what I must do. That fact will not be changed by anything you say. All the off-worlders—other than your party-are gone. I’m sending a ship down now to pick you up. As soon as that ship lifts I am going to drop the first bombs. Now—tell me where you are so they can come for you.”

“Don’t threaten me, Krafft!” Brion shook his fist at the radio in an excess of anger. “You’re a killer and a world destroyer—don’t try to make yourself out as anything else. I have the knowledge to avert this slaughter and you won’t listen to me. And I know where the cobalt bombs are—in the magter tower that Hys raided last night. Get those bombs and there is no need to drop any of your own!”

“I’m sorry, Brion. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but at the same time I know the futility of it. I’m not going to accuse you of lying, but do you realize how thin your evidence sounds from this end? First, a dramatic discovery of the cause of the magters’ in-transigency. Then, when that had no results, you suddenly remember that you know where the bombs are. The best-kept magter secret.”

“I don’t know for sure, but there is a very good chance it is so,” Brion said, trying to repair his defences. “Telt made readings, he had other records of radioactivity in this same magter keep—proof that something is there. But Telt is dead now, the records destroyed. Don’t you see—” He broke off, realizing how vague and improvable his case was. This was defeat.

The radio was silent, with just the hum of the carrier wave as Krafft waited for him to continue. When Brion did speak his voice was empty of all hope.

“Send your ship down,” he said tiredly. “We’re in a building that belonged to the Light Metals Trust, Ltd., a big warehouse of some kind. I don’t know the address here, but I’m sure you have someone there who can find it. Well be waiting for you. You win, Krafft.” He turned off the radio.

“Do you mean what you said, about giving up?” Lea asked. Brion realized that she had stopped talking to Ulv some time ago, and had been listening to his conversation with Krafft. He shrugged, trying to put his feeling into words.

“We’ve tried—and almost succeeded. But if they won’t listen, what can we do? What can one man possibly do against a fleet loaded with H-bombs?”

As if in answer to the question, Ulv’s voice drowned him out, the harsh Disan words slashing the silence of the room.

“Kill you, the enemy!” he said. “Kill you umedvirk!”

He shouted the last word and his hand flashed to his belt. In a single swift motion he lifted his blowgun and placed it to his lips. A tiny dart quivered in the already dead flesh of the creature in the magter’s skull. The action had all the symbolism of a broken lance, the declaration of war.

“Ulv understands it a lot better than you might think,” Lea said. “He knows things about symbiosis and mutualism that would get him a job as a lecturer in any university on Earth. He knows just what the brain-symbiote is and what it does. They even have a word for it, one that never appeared in our Disan language lessons. A life form that you can live with or cooperate with is called medvirk. One that works to destroy you is umedvirk. He also understands that life forms can change, and be medvirk or umedvirk at different times. He has just decided that the brain symbiote is umedvirk and he is out to kill it. So will the rest of the Disans as soon as he can show them the evidence and explain.”