Bob Shaw - The Fugitive Worlds

Cassyll bowed in acquiescence, and there followed an intensive planning session which—in the space of a single hour—was intended to shape the future of two worlds.

On quitting the overheated atmosphere of the palace Cassyll decided against returning home immediately. A glance at the sky showed him that he had some thirty minutes in hand before the sun would slide behind the eastern rim of Land. He had time for a quiet walk in the tree-lined avenues of the city’s administrative area. It would be good to get some fresh air into his system before he responded to the ever-present call of his business commitments.

Accordingly, he dismissed his coachman, strolled down to the Lord Glo Bridge and turned east along the bank of the river, a route which would take him past several governmental buildings. The streets were busy with the flurry of activity which usually preceded the littlenight meal and the daily change of tempo in human affairs. Now that the city was half-a-century old it appeared mature to Cassyll’s eyes, with a permanence which was part of his life, and he wondered if he would ever make the journey to Land to view the results of millennia of civilization. She had not said as much, but he suspected it was in Queen Daseene’s heart—age-weakened though she was—to return to the world of her birth and perhaps end her days there. Cassyll could empathize with such feelings, but Overland was the only home he had ever known and he had no desire to leave it, especially as so much work remained to be done in so many different spheres. Perhaps, also, he lacked the spirit or courage to face that awesome journey.

He was drawing close to the Neldeever Plaza, which housed the headquarters of the four branches of the armed services, when he espied a familiar blond head projecting above the stream of pedestrians coming towards him. Cassyll had not seen his son for perhaps a hundred days, and he felt a pang of affection and pride as—almost with the eyes of a stranger—he noted the clear-eyed good looks, splendid physique and the easy confidence with which the young man wore his skycaptain’s blue uniform.

“Toller!” he called out as their courses brought them together.

“Father!” Toller’s expression had been abstracted and stern, as though something weighed heavily on his mind, but his face lit up with recognition. He extended his arms and the two men embraced while the flow of pedestrians parted around them.

“This is a happy coincidence,” Cassyll said as they drew apart. “Were you on your way home?”

Toller nodded. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get home last night, but it was very late before I got my ship safely berthed, and there were certain problems…”

“What manner of problems?”

“Nothing to cloud a sunny day like this,” Toller said with a smile. “Let’s hasten homewards. I can’t tell you how much I look forward to one of mother’s littlenight spreads after an eternity of shipboard rations.”

“You appear to thrive on those selfsame rations.”

“Not as well as you on proper food,” Toller said, trying to pinch a roll of fat at Cassyll’s waist as they began to walk in the direction of the family home. The two men exchanged the kind of inconsequential family talk which, better than deliberated speeches, restores a relationship after a long separation. They were nearing the Square House, named after the Maraquine residence in old Ro-Atabri, before the conversation came round to weightier affairs.

“I’ve just been to the palace,” Cassyll said, “and have come away with news which should interest you—we are to send a twenty-strong fleet to Land.”

“Yes, we’re entering a truly wondrous era—two worlds, but one nation.”

Cassyll glanced at his son’s nearer shoulder flash, the saffron-and-blue emblem which showed that he was qualified to pilot both skyships and airships. “There’ll be a deal of work for you there.”

“For me?” Toller gave a humorless chuckle. “No thank you, father. I admit I’d like to see the Old World some day, but at present it is one great enamel house and I don’t relish the prospect of clearing away millions of skeletons.”

“But the journey! The adventure! I thought you’d jump at the chance.”

“I have quite enough to occupy me right here on Overland for the time being,” Toller said, and for a moment the somber expression Cassyll had noted earlier returned to his face.

“Something is troubling you,” he said. “Are you going to keep it to yourself?”

“Have I that option?”

“No.”

Toller shook his head in mock despair. “I thought not. You know, of course, that it was I who picked up the advance messenger from Land. Well, another ship appeared on the scene at the last moment—unwarranted—and tried to scoop up the prize from under my very nose. Naturally I refused to give way…”

“Naturally!”

“… and there was a minor collision. As there was no damage to my ship I forbore making an official entry in the log—even though the other commander was entirely to blame—but this morning I was informed that an incident report had been filed against me. I have to face Sky-commodore Tresse tomorrow.”

“There’s no cause for you to worry,” Cassyll said, relieved to hear that nothing more serious was afoot. “I will speak to Tresse this aftday and acquaint him with the real facts.”

“Thanks, but I think I am obliged to deal with this kind of thing by myself. I should have covered my flank by making an entry in the flight log, but I can call on enough witnesses to prove my case. The whole thing is really very trivial. A flea-bite…”

“But one you continue to scratch!”

“It’s the sheer deceitfulness involved,” Toller said angrily. “1 trusted that woman, father. I trusted her, and this is how she repays me.”

“Aha!” Cassyll almost smiled as he began to plumb beneath the surface of what he had heard. “You didn’t say that this unprincipled commander was a woman.”

“Didn’t I?” Toller replied, his voice now casual. “It has no relevance to anything, but it so happens that she was one of the Queen’s brood of granddaughters—the Countess Vantara.”

“Handsome woman, is she?”

“It is possible that some men might… What are you trying to say, father?”

“Nothing, nothing at all. Perhaps I’m a little curious about the lady because this is the second time within the span of a couple of hours that her name has been mentioned to me.” From the corner of his eye Cassyll saw Toller give him a surprised glance, but—unable to resist tantalizing his son—he volunteered no further information. He walked in silence, shading his eyes from the sun in order to get a better view of a large group of ptertha which were following the course of the river. The near-invisible spheres were swooping and bounding just above the surface of the water, buoyed up by a slight breeze.

“That’s quite a coincidence,” Toller finally said. “What was said to you?”

“About what?”

“About Vantara. Who spoke of her?”

“No less a person than the Queen,” Cassyll said, watching his son carefully. “It appears that Vantara has volunteered to serve with the fleet we are sending to Land, and it is an indication of the strength of the Queen’s feelings towards the enterprise that she is giving the young woman her blessing.”

There was another protracted silence from Toller before he said, “Vantara is an airship pilot—what work is there for her on the Old World?”

“Rather a lot, I’d say. We’re sending four airships whose task it will be to circle the entire globe and prove there are no disputants to Queen Daseene’s sovereignty. It sounds quite an adventure to me, but of course there will be all the privations of shipboard life—and you’ve had your fill of service rations.”