Barrington Bayley - The Sinners of Erspia

But he wasn’t satisfied with the status quo ante . He wanted to free the Erspians from mind control altogether. So he had decided on his second plan, which called for something more drastic. It would also endanger the cargo ship, which was why he had taken the dreadful risk of leaving it behind.

In little more than half an hour a glowing Erspian world swam into view. The station took up its fixed non-orbiting position diametrically opposite the Ahrimanic projector and automatically pointed the projector tube at the planetoid’s surface. Nothing issued from it, of course. The beam was still switched off.

Laedo took over the manual controls. He moved the station again, steering it to the other side of the worldlet. Gleaming in the light of the tiny sun, the Ahrimanic globe was wickedly on station.

“See that, Histrina? That’s Ahriman’s mouth. That’s where all your evil thoughts come from. Do you remember my showing it to you before?”

“It’s all vague,” she murmured, standing behind him. “What are you going to do?”

He waved to her. “Strap yourself into that couch. The inertial field should protect us, but it might get a little bumpy.”

He took the station further out and positioned it behind the Ahrimanic globe, which he could see hovering against the beautiful, slowly turning spectacle of Erspia-1. The projector stations did not need to orbit or maintain themselves against Erspia-1’s gravity—that petered out some miles below them. Laedo reasoned that the adjusting mechanism which rectified drift would therefore be low-powered. He was gambling that a sudden displacement would be too much for that mechanism to handle.

At a velocity of fifty miles per hour he steered the Ormazdian globe directly at its Ahrimanic twin. It was frightening to see the other projector station expand swiftly on the viewscreen until its striated surface hurtled close and still loomed larger. Histrina screamed, her hand to her mouth. Collision came with a shattering, clanging noise which rang throughout the station, but there was little effect on the two humans otherwise—the inertial field ensured that. Instead of being smashed against the forward wall, they felt no more than a shudder. Laedo heard a hiss of escaping air, but he didn’t worry about it very much. The inertial field would also be capable of compensating for breaches in hull integrity; if that failed bulkheads would close, sealing off the damaged area.

Ahriman moved, pushed off position. Where the two globes came in contact they seemed stuck together, but this was only because Laedo was keeping up the pressure, accelerating Ahriman down towards the surface of Erspia-1.

As soon as they hit the atmosphere he disengaged. Ahriman kept on falling, well within the gravity well by now. If the station staff, demented as they would be by a century and a half of living in the backwash of the evil beam, still had the presence of mind to activate the star drive, then his gamble would be lost.

He had been careful not to take Histrina and himself through the Ahrimanic beam. He continued to stay well clear of it as he followed the station down, aware that the structure might start to tumble. It did not appear to recover, but plummeted towards the ground, hurtling through the thin cloud layer.

At the very end the staff seemed to make some attempt to regain control. The station faltered in its trajectory. But it was too late. The globe struck the ground and crumpled, then went rolling much as the Ormazdian station had on Erspia-2, though with far more destructive results. When it came to rest, it was all but shattered. As for the cylindrical tube of the beam projector, that was gone altogether, the place where it had been gaping up at the sky.

Very likely the staff had survived. The inertial field should have held through all or most of the landing, which would have saved them.

But with luck, the station itself was permanently out of action. Dipping low, he passed several times over the wreck to test whether any violent thoughts came into his mind. He detected nothing abnormal.

Erspia-1’s long, artificially contrived moral drama was over.

Turning the station aside, he began, with Histrina’s help, to search for the village of Courhart.

Histrina’s heart was in her mouth as they sailed through the air over her home world. Her mind was in confusion. She could remember doing violent things, even killing people, but it was as if somebody else had done them. She could not, now, understand what had made her behave in that way.

She was nervous of coming home. She was extremely nervous of facing the priest and confessing her sins. But she was also eager to see her family again. She felt as though she had been away for years, though in reality it was only days.

After a while she spotted a landmark: a range of high hills known as the Thespan Mounts. Laedo had noticed that similar formations dotted all the Erspia worlds. He surmised that Klystar had put them there as windbreaks; part of a pattern of climatic variation.

They passed over the smashed and still-smoking remains of villages. Once they saw a column of men, some mounted, some on foot, dragging themselves towards an unknown destination. The men gawped upwards as the projector station passed over, momentarily pausing from their incessant quarrels and fights. Their once gaudy apparel was bedraggled and torn.

Histrina became more and more frightened as she saw the burned and deserted villages. When Courhart came in sight she shrieked.

It was the same as everywhere else. The roofs of the few unburnt cottages had been stoved in. But unlike in many of the other villages, there were still some people about, stumbling among the ruins.

And what gave her some faint cause for hope, the chapel still stood.

Knuckles in her mouth, she sat staring at the screen. Guided by Laedo, the station descended and set down outside the village.

He turned to her, and said gently, “I told you there might be bad news, Histrina.”

Histrina gave a bird-like cry and ran from the control room along the corridor leading to the hatch.

Before Laedo could gather his wits she had pulled the lever to open it and was hurrying down the stairway even as it unfolded. She went racing towards the ruined village.

What a terrible sight! Blackened walls, desolation, smashed furniture thrown out into the streets. Histrina looked wildly about her for some sign of life. She spotted a ragged boy sitting on a wall, head hanging.

She ran up to him. He raised a smudged, tear-stained face. Even in his wretched condition she recognised him.

“Tippy!”

In place of a greeting, the youngster gave her an evil leer.

Then his face collapsed and he began to weep in snivelling sobs.

Her home! Histrina left the boy and ran until she came to the cottage where she had been raised.

It had been burned like the others.

Disconsolately she wandered through the charred, once cosy rooms. Where were her parents? Where was her younger sister Questra? There was no sign of them.

The sound of footsteps brought her to the door. Ragged, bearded, weaponed men stood grinning at her.

From their colourful clothing she knew they were of Hoggora’s camp; but they seemed to have forgotten to take care of their appearance. It was as if they were too sunk in depravity to care. Indeed they seemed exhausted.

“What a choice morsel,” said one teasingly. He grinned, showing white teeth. “How about it, lads?”

Another spoke sullenly. “Hoggora says the young ones are to be taken to the chapel, for the Father.”

“Oh, for the Father.” The first speaker shrugged, and turned away. “Take her, then.”

The Father! Perhaps he could tell her if her family was safe! Unresistingly Histrina allowed herself to be grabbed by the wrist and led away. At the entrance porch to the chapel, she was yanked roughly within.