Bob Shaw - The Fugitive Worlds

“Out with it!” Toller scowled into the alien’s livid face. “Out with it at once, or I may be…”

There is no need to bluster against me, Toller Maraquine, Greturk replied. I was opposed to the Xa project from the day of its inception. I am not culpable in any way, and therefore have no compunction about informing you that on the instant in which Dussarra is projected into the target galaxy your home world… and its neighbor… will cease to exist.

In common with the rest of his companions, Toller was so stunned by Greturk’s words that—in spite of the alien’s diminutive stature—he meekly allowed himself to be pushed and prodded out of the vehicle. The darkness outside was as copiously shot through with glowing color as before, and in addition there were curved, tapering columns at the focus of which hovered a sheet of green luminance. Paying little heed to his surroundings, Toller brought Greturk to a halt by grasping his shoulders, and the rest of the humans crowded around him.

“What was that?” he demanded, using the form of words through force of habit—the telepathic communication had been perfectly clear, each word loaded with associated and corroborative layers of meaning. The Kolcorronians knew that a death sentence had been passed on their home worlds, but their minds were unable to accept the concept.

Greturk vainly tried to squirm free of Toller’s grip. It is vital that we should keep moving.

“It is even more vital that you explain yourself,” Toller countered, refusing to leave the spot. “Why is Overland to be destroyed?”

Greturk’s black-drilled eyes swept around the group, and Toller knew at once that all of them were about to be subjected to that disconcerting form of telepathy in which many facts were implanted in the mind forcibly and simultaneously. As had been the case with Divivvidiv, he felt a cerebral beam of lighthouse intensity begin to slew across his consciousness…

As the sister worlds rotate about their common center of gravity the disk-shaped instrument known as the Xa turns with them. Twice in the course of each revolution the Xa’s axis points directly at the Dussarran home world — once when it is projected through Land, once when it is projected through Overland. It is at one of these instants of perfect alignment that the Xa will be activated, making Dussarra the focus of supra-geometrical energies which will cause the planet to be relocated in the target galaxy. In that same instant Land and Overland will cease to exist in this continuum. Because Overland is the less massive of the pair, the relocation pulse will be directed through it during the forthcoming alignment. That alignment is due to occur less than ten minutes from now. If we are to prevent the relocation taking place — and thus save your home worlds from annihilation — we must proceed with all possible speed. The Director is almost certain to unleash the Vadavaks upon us. RELEASE ME AT ONCE—AND FOLLOW ME CLOSELY!

The moment of communion ended and Toller found himself—totally convinced that what he had learned was true—running behind the little alien. They were heading towards the circle of inward-leaning columns whose tips were immersed in greenish fire. Vantara was holding Toller’s left hand and Steenameert was running by his right, in step with Jerene. The three female rankers—Tradlo, Mistekka and Arvand—were keeping pace, and it was obvious from the grimly urgent set of their faces that they had absorbed Greturk’s message to the full. It was impossible to see far into the ambient darkness because of the profusion of glowing blocks and crisscrossing lines of radiance, but Toller was somehow persuaded that silent battles were taking place over a wide area. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of black-clad Dussarrans were locked together in their strange form of hand-to-hand combat, clogging and coagulating, each individual content to do no more than immobilize one of his counterparts on the enemy side.

“Why are you doing this?” Toller shouted at Greturk’s back, giving voice to the queries which had been accumulating in sheltered bywaters of his mind ever since the escape from the dome. “What is it to you if others perish?”

Again the swinging beam of mental radiance… but faster this time … a flaring whiplash of knowledge…

Dussarran society has long been divided over the issue of relocating the planet. Despite various pronouncements from the Palace of Numbers about Ropes, many citizens have always doubted that they exist in actuality. We believe that other interpretations of the sub-space probe data could be just as valid. In any case, it is our opinion that intergalactic relocation is an intemperate response to the situation. We had, however, failed to bring Director Zunnunun round to our point of view, or to rally a majority of the public behind us.

The relocation seemed destined to take place without any concrete opposition — and then came the rumors that one of the sacrificial worlds was inhabited by a humanoid species. It was in an attempt to prevent the spread of that knowledge that Director Zunnunun insisted on the Xa station being designed in such a way that it could be governed by a single Decisioner.

His plan could well have succeeded had it not been for one unforeseen development. The Xa, of necessity, had to have some degree of consciousness to enable it to control its own growth, but the technologists had never before produced such an instrument on that scale. They were taken by surprise when, on reaching a certain level of complexity, the Xa developed self-awareness — a personality — and began to fear its own dissolution. It was during imperfectly screened exchanges between the Xa and Decisioner Divivvidiv that adepts here on Dussarra established beyond doubt that a burgeoning civilization would be annihilated as a result of the relocation—and that was sufficient to unite and mobilize the opposition parties.

The telepathic communication, as well as lodging a store of hard facts like pebbles in the forefront of Toller’s mind, was luridly stained with anxiety and urgency. There was a despairing sense of time slipping away too quickly, of great invisible doors of opportunity being slammed in his face. Toller tried to run faster to draw abreast of Greturk, but the alien was fleet of foot and easily kept ahead. They were now only forty or so paces from the tapering columns, and Toller saw that other green-dappled aliens were waiting at the center of the circle. There were at least six of them, some beckoning to the runners, others struggling to move a white box which was about the size of a small desk.

“Why are we running?” Corporal Tradlo called out from close behind Toller, her words punctuated with gasps. “What is to be gained by… wearing ourselves out… if naught can be achieved?”

Good question, Toller thought. It had just occurred to him that there was little point in escaping by means of the alien matter transmitter to a world which was about to be obliterated.

There is much that can be done, came Greturk’s reply. The problem lies in doing it quickly enough.

“What can be done?” The question came from several of the humans simultaneously.

The white object you see being dragged on to the transfer plate by my brothers is a simplified version of the machine which was used to transport this world to its present location. The plan is to take it to Overland and use it to displace the planet by a short distance. A few tens of miles would be sufficient to destabilize the Xa and start its axis wandering. Under those conditions the relocation of Dussarra could not be attempted.