Ben Bova - End of Exile

“And you say that Jerlet has died,” Monel added, “so that he can’t tell us what he wants us to do. We’ve got to learn about it from you.”

“That’s right.”

“And we must trust that you’re telling the truth about what Jerlet desires.”

Linc felt his fists clenching. “Do you think that I’m a liar?”

“Did I say that?” Monel countered smoothly.

Long ago, when he was only a tiny child and Jerlet still lived with the kids, Linc saw a pair of cats getting ready to fight one another. They glared at each other, made weird wailing sounds, and paced stiffly around one another. It took a long time for them to actually fight, but they finally worked themselves up to it.

That’s what we’re doing now. Linc realized as he and Monel traded questions and demands. Just like the cats; we’re getting ready to fight.

“I’ve got to repair the machinery on the bridge,” Linc heard himself saying. “It’s necessary, if we’re to reach the new world.”

“The Ghost Place,” Magda added.

Monel didn’t seem surprised.

“I’ve forbidden it,” Magda said. “No one can go there and live.”

“I can,” Linc insisted.

“Jerlet told you how to do it?” Monel asked.

“Yes.”

Magda shook her head violently. “It’s wrong! You mustn’t disturb the ghosts!”

“It’s either that, or we all die.”

Monel laughed. He threw his head back and laughed, a scratched, harsh, cackling laughter that grated against Linc’s nerves.

“You really think anybody will believe you?” he demanded of Linc. “Do you think that the people will let you tamper with the machines—or go to the Ghost Place?”

“They will,” Linc answered, “if Magda tells them it’s all right.”

He turned to look at her. She stared straight back at him, her space-black eyes hard and glittering. But she said nothing.

“Magda will say what I want her to say,” Monel told Linc. And he wheeled his chair over to her. She stood unmoving as he reached an arm around her waist. “Magda is mine.”

Linc felt the flames of anger flare within him.

But before he could say or do anything, Monel added, “And all you have is this crazy story about Jerlet. You have no proof. No one will believe you. No one at all.”

Linc took a step toward the smirking rat-faced thing in the wheelchair. He wanted to silence Monel, wipe the evil smile off his face, close his ratlike eyes forever.

Magda stopped him with a word.

“Linc.”

He stood there balanced on the balls of his feet, hanging between his desire to smash Monel and his desire to make Magda his own.

“Go in peace, Linc,” she commanded.

And suddenly Monel’s smile evaporated. He looked displeased, angry. That’s it! Linc realized. He wants me to attack him. Then the guards outside can come in and save him, and he’ll have me for the sin of violence.

Linc felt ice replacing the fire inside him. He stood there for an uncertain moment, then said to Monel:

“I know what has to be done. All you offer the people is death, but I bring the gift of life from Jerlet. And I’ll show you—and all the people—proof of what Jerlet demands from us.”

Monel’s voice was low and ominous. “How will you do that?”

Linc ignored his question and said to Magda, “Call a meeting of the people. Meditate and ask for Jerlet’s guidance. He’ll answer you with the proof that we have a chance to reach the new world. He’ll show you that world, and tell you what needs to be done to reach it.” If I can get back to Jerlet’s domain and set up the proper tapes for the wall screens to show.

“There’ll be no meeting,” Monel snapped.

“I’ll tell the people about it. They’ll want a chance to see the proof,” said Linc. “The priestess can’t deny giving someone a chance to be heard.”

“That’s true,” Magda said. “If the people ask for a meeting, I can’t refuse. It’s my duty as priestess.”

“After the next workday,” Linc said. “Call the people together to see Jerlet’s proof.”

Magda nodded her head so slightly that Linc wondered if she moved it at all. Monel sat glaring, red-faced with fury.

Linc turned and pushed the door open. He strode past the guards and down the corridor to his own room.

It should be a simple matter to set up the back-up communications antennas. Linc told himself as he paced down the corridor. Jerlet showed me how, and the computer has all the information I need to do it. Then I can beam the data about Beryl into the screens down here, even though the regular c ommunications channels are broken.

But sleep was making its insistent demands on him. By the time he got to his old room, he knew that he had to rest for a few hours, at least.

He was asleep as soon as his head touched the bunk. A deep dreamless sleep of exhaustion.

He awoke to someone shaking him by the shoulder.

“Linc…wake up. Please! Wake up.”

He swam up through a fog, focusing his eyes slowly, with enormous effort. It was so good to sleep, to slide back into warm oblivion…

“Linc, please! Wake up!”

He flicked his eyes open. Bending over him was Jayna. She looked terribly upset.

“Wha… what’s wrong?” Linc pushed himself up to a sitting position.

Jayna brushed back a wisp of hair. She was pretty, Linc realized. Golden hair and ice-blue eyes. Like the gold and blue of Baryta and Beryl, except that she was close enough to touch, warm, alive.

“What’s the matter?” he asked again.

She glanced nervously at the door to the corridor. It was closed, but from the look on her face, she seemed to be afraid that someone could see her in here with Linc.

“You’re in danger,” Jayna said breathlessly. Her voice was soft and high-pitched, a little girl’s voice. “Monel wants to cast you out.”

“That’s nothing new,” he grumbled as he reached down for his slippers.

“No! You don’t understand! He’s going to do it now. This shift. Before the meeting.”

Linc looked up at her. “What time is it?”

“Firstmeal’s just starting.”

He tugged on the slippers. “I’ve got a lot to do.”

Jayna sank to her knees beside him. “Linc… please listen to what I’m saying. Monel is out to kill you. He won’t let you get to the meeting. He wants you dead.”

He stared at her. She seemed really frightened. “How do you know? And why…”

“I heard him telling his guards to find you and bring you to the deadlock. They’re waiting for you at the galley. If you don’t show up there, they’ll come down here and get you.”

He got to his feet. Jayna stood up beside him. She’s shorter than Magda, he automatically noticed. But softer.

“We can hide in my room,” she said. “They won’t think of looking for you there.”

A trap? Aloud, he said, “Grab that helmet. I’ll get the rest of the suit.” He picked up the various pieces of his pressure suit, limp and lifeless now without him inside it. The backpack with its oxygen tanks was heavy, but Linc hefted it over one shoulder, gripping it by the straps.

“Hurry!” Jayna urged.

“The boots… can you carry them?”

She scurried to the corner of the room where he had left the boots and picked them up, shifting the bulbous helmet under her other arm.

Linc eased the door open and peeked out. A few people were walking in the corridor, but none of Mend’s guards were in sight.

“Come on,” he said, and started down the corridor.

“My room’s in the other direction.”

With a shake of his head, Linc countered, “This way. Toward the deadlock. That’s where we’re heading.”