Bob Shaw - The Fugitive Worlds

He was, however, giving little thought to his surroundings—his attention being concentrated on Divivvidiv, who was busy removing his skysuit. The silvery garment had seams which opened readily when a toggle was drawn along them, an intriguing feature which enabled Divivvidiv to shed the suit in only a few seconds, revealing a frail-looking body of humanoid form and proportions. The alien’s thin frame was clad in a one-piece suit made up of dozens of sections of black material which overlapped like birds’ feathers.

The outlandishness of the costume; the bald grey cranium; the virtually noseless, corpselike face—all of these combined to inspire in Toller a powerful xenophobia which was augmented by the discovery that the alien had a smell. The odor was not unpleasant in itself—it was sweet and soupy, like a rich beef broth—but the incongruity of the source rendered it highly distasteful to Toller. He glanced at Steenameert and wrinkled his nose. Steenameert, who had been surveying the strange room, did likewise.

You may be interested to learn that you also have an objectionable smell, Divivvidiv commented. Though I suspect that yours is much to do with inadequate hygiene and would draw complaints from members of your own species.

Toller smiled coldly. “Recovering from your little bout of the shakes, are you? Backbone beginning to stiffen again? Let me remind you that I can still end your life at any second and am quite prepared to do so.”

You are a blusterer, Toller Maraquine. At heart you doubt your ability to fulfill the role you have assumed in society, and you try to disguise that fact in various ways — one of which is the issuing of flamboyant threats.

“Take care, greyface!” Toller was disconcerted at having a ghoulish figure from some distant region of the universe so casually penetrate the innermost recesses of his mind and then blurt out its findings, revealing secrets which he scarcely ever admitted to himself. He glanced at Steenameert, but the younger man had resumed his scanning of the room, almost certainly being diplomatic.

I advise you to divest yourselves of those clumsy insulated suits, Divivvidiv replied unconcernedly. Crude though they look, they are probably quite efficient and will soon make you highly uncomfortable at these temperatures.

Toller, who was already sweating, gazed suspiciously at Divivvidiv. “If you are hoping to surprise me while I am entangled with—”

Nothing could be further from my thoughts. Divivvidiv was now free of his silver suit and was standing close to Toller, swaying slightly above anchored feet. You know that.

The multiplex levels of communication inherent in mental contact left Toller with no doubt about the alien’s truthfulness. But, he wondered, could that be a telepathic technique? Could super-speech be a vehicle for a super-lie, one which carried total conviction for the listener?

“Keep the pistol on him while I get out of this suit,” he said to Steenameert. “If he moves … if he even blinks… put a ball in him.”

Your thought processes are unusually complicated for a Primitive. Divivvidiv seemed increasingly at his ease, and his silent words might have been shaded with amusement.

“I’m glad you realize you are not dealing with simpletons,” Toller said as he struggled out of his skysuit. “And why are you becoming so satisfied with yourself, greyface? What reason is there for it?”

Reason is the reason. An incongruously human chuckle escaped Divivvidiv’s black-rimmed mouth. Now that I have had the opportunity to appraise your mental structure more thoroughly—and find you fairly amenable to reason —I realize that I can protect myself and my interests simply by making your position clear to you. The more information 1 impart to you, the more stable our relationship will be. That is why I suggested moving to these more comfortable surroundings, where we can converse without so many distractions.

“Nothing can distract me in this matter,” Toller said, wondering if the full extent of the lie would be apparent to Divivvidiv. The mode of communication alone was enough to swamp his mind with wonder, and when the outlandish nature and appearance of the alien—to say nothing of the bizarre circumstances of the meeting—were taken into consideration it was a matter of some surprise to him that his brain was able to function at all. He would have to keep Vantara in the forefront of his thoughts at all times. Nothing else mattered but the need to find and rescue her, and return her to the safety of Overland…

There is no need to keep pointing that barbaric weapon at me, Divivvidiv said as Toller got free of his skysuit and took the pistol from Steenameert to enable him to strip down as well. I told you that logic will prevail over force.

“In that case you have nothing to be alarmed about,” Toller replied comfortably, “if it comes to a falling out, you can fire syllogisms at me and I will have to make do with firing mere bullets at you.”

You grow complacent.

“And you grow tiresome, greyface. Tell me how you plan to retrieve the women and thus preserve your own life.”

Divivvidiv projected feelings of exasperation. I have a question for you, Toller Maraquine. It may seem irrelevant to our circumstances, but if you will control your impatience for a short time understanding will come. Is that reasonable?

Toller nodded reluctantly, with an uneasy suspicion that he was being manipulated.

Good! Now, how many worlds are in your planetary system?

“Three,” Toller said. “Land, Overland and Farland. My paternal grandfather—whose name I am proud to bear—died on Farland.”

Your knowledge of astronomy is deficient. Has it not come to your attention that there are now four worlds in the local system?

“Four worlds?” Toller stared at Divivvidiv, frowning, as he half-remembered someone having spoken to him in recent days about a blue planet. “ Now four worlds? You speak as if a new world had been added to our little flock by magic.”

That is exactly what has happened — although no magic was involved. Divivvidiv leaned forward. My people have transported their home planet—which is called Dussarra — across hundreds of light years. They plucked it from its ancient orbit about a distant sun, and they placed it in a new orbit about your sun. Does that suggest anything to you about their powers?

“Yes—powers of imagination,” Toller said with a show of scorn in spite of a dreadful conviction that the alien was presenting the unvarnished truth. “Even if you could move an entire world, how could its inhabitants survive in the coldness and darkness between the stars? How long would such a journey take?”

No time at all! Interstellar travel has to be accomplished instantaneously. The concepts are far beyond your grasp — through no fault of your own — but I will try to implant analogies which will give you some measure of understanding.

Divivvidiv’s inhuman eyes closed for a second. Toller felt a wrenching sensation within his head, disturbing and yet curiously pleasurable, and he gasped as—like a slewing beam from a lighthouse—a flaring intellectual luminance swept through his mind. For one tantalizing instant he seemed on the verge of knowing everything that a complete being ought to know, then there came a wavering, an accelerating slippage, followed by an aching sense of loss as the light moved away from him. The philosophical darkness which rolled in to take its place was, however, less oppressive, less monolithic than before. There were twilight areas. Toller had a fleeting glimpse of vacuums within vacuums; of interstellar space as a spongy nothingness riddled with tubes and tunnels of a greater nothingness; of insubstantial galactic highways whose entrances coincided with their exits…