Bob Shaw - The Ceres Solution

In spite of the confusion and fear which dominated her thoughts, Gretana was amazed at the audacity of what she had heard. Any Mollanian who knowingly made a cerebral imprint containing false information would be flouting one of the most rigid ethical codes ever devised. His statement that Vekrynn had done so was proof, if any more were needed, that Lorrest was alone and lost in his private reality.

“This is all so…” Gretana paused, aware of the need to conciliate her visitor. “You’re telling me that the murder charges against you are falsifications?”

“Charges plural?”

“There was a Bureau worker who disappeared.”

“Oh, I see. That’s all part of the technique. Any time an observer meets with an accident—which is bound to happen now and then—the Bureau says 2H was responsible.” The humorous expression returned to Lorrest’s face. “We ought to be able to sue.”

Gretana shook her head. “I need time to think about this.”

“Well, if you’re not really out of celery salt, perhaps we could…” Lorrest gestured towards the dining area.

“Of course.” As she began to serve the main course, Gretana found that her hands were trembling in spite of the fact that she no longer sensed an immediate threat. She did her best to conceal the reaction, encouraging Lorrest to expand on his ideas while she, knowing that a too-quick acceptance would arouse suspicion, pretended to give them impartial consideration. A new short-term goal overshadowed everything else in her life—she had to part company with Lorrest in safety, and as soon as possible afterwards go to the Cotter’s Edge nodal point, transfer to Station 23 and report on the day’s events. She had no idea what action the Bureau might take, but that was a matter for the future, and merely coping with the present was taking all her resources.

As the minutes went by, however, she found evidence that she was not the Gretana ty Iltha of two decades earlier. Her conditioned dread of being in the presence of a murderer was abating and some measure of self-possession was returning. By the time Lorrest had turned his attentions to the dewberry substitute she felt confident enough to play the role of a near-convert who had earned the right to do some plain talking.

“These are good ,” Lorrest said. “You must tell me how you did it.”

“Certainly—on one condition.”

“Name it.”

“That you tell me the real reason you’re here.” She met his gaze squarely. “The story I’ve heard so far doesn’t make sense.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“You took a big risk contacting me the way you did—in fact, you still have no guarantee I won’t report everything. And for what? My sympathy or allegiance couldn’t make any difference to the 2H movement, otherwise you’d have contacted me long ago.” She kept her tone mild and impersonal, as though solving a party puzzle. “So there must be something you haven’t told me.”

“Not bad,” Lorrest replied, smiling. “You’re not just a pretty face.”

“Calling me pretty by Terran standards hardly constitutes flattery, so there’s no point in…”

“I give in!” Lorrest set his spoon down and raised both hands. “You’re quite right—I admit you can help me a lot. You see, there’s a kind of unofficial truce between the Bureau and 2H at present. Vekrynn would like to see us put away, but as long as we’re content to skulk around on Earth and do nothing it isn’t a big thing with him.”

Lorrest paused to scan Gretana’s face in a way that made her feel uncomfortable. “But that situation is about to change. Everything is going to change, Gretana, and when it does Vekrynn is going to take this planet apart to find us. That’s why I’m going to need your help.”

“You still haven’t…” Gretana broke off as urgent new questions invaded her mind. “What can you possibly do? Break the secrecy?”

“Go around telling people they’ve got visitors from another world? Warn them they’ve got to beat their missiles into ploughshares before it’s too late? Groups of Terrans have been doing that for a long time and they get nothing but horselaughs. Besides, I’d have to turn the spotlight on myself and the Bureau would pick me up within a day.”

“What, then?”

“I can’t tell you,” Lorrest said, his eyes holding hers with white-rimmed intensity. “You’ll know about it when it happens, though. Everybody in the world will know about it when it happens—but I can’t tell you anything in advance. That’s the way it has to be.”

Megalomania, paranoia, schizophrenia Gretana thought. How many madnesses are compatible?

“Everything seems a little one-sided so far,” she said. “I’m being asked to give my trust and my…Exactly what was it you wanted me to do?”

“I doubt if I’ll be able to get off the planet without your help—it’s as simple as that.” Lorrest gave her a rueful smile. “We’re short of manpower and resources in 2H. We’ve only been able to find three major nodes on Earth, and the nearest is in Chile, of all places—hardly what you would call a convenient location. The Bureau is aware of all three, anyway, and I know they are permanently watched, so they’ve got me penned here on Earth, unless…”

“I can’t do it,” Gretana said quickly, her original fears returning in force. “It’s too much.”

“How can you say it’s too much? It’s nothing !” Lorrest’s heavy eyelids slid downwards, censors. “I’d use the node once only— once only —then I’d be gone, and nobody would even know I’d done it.”

“I took an oath.”

“Have you weighed up your priorities? Which is more important to you—honouring a meaningless bit of ritual or helping throw a lifeline to billions of human beings?”

“It’s easy to put it like that.” Gretana almost sneered, wondering how far she dared go. “You’re talking about changing the history of an entire planet, and you want me to invest my whole future in some wild plan you won’t even discuss.”

“That’s the way it has to be,” Lorrest replied. “Some knowledge is too dangerous.”

“For whom?”

“I see.” Lorrest picked up a table knife and examined it, causing reflections to run like quicksilver on the blade. “What if I admitted I really am a murderer and threatened to use force on you?”

“I wouldn’t be able to believe anything you’ve told me,” Gretana said steadily. “And that would be a pity.”

“No psychological manipulation, please.” Lorrest let the knife fall. “Where do we go from here?”

“I suggest we don’t go anywhere for a while—I need a little time to think things through. Does that sound fair?”

“Fair she says!” Lorrest stood up suddenly, almost toppling his chair behind him. “Have you a television set?”

“There’s a portable in my bedroom,” Gretana said, taken aback, feeling her pulse quicken. It appeared that Lorrest’s mood had changed again, that the hours of talking had come to an end, and she had no idea what was coming next.

“That’s good.” Lorrest walked into the hall, then reappeared in the doorway as he pulled on his grey overcoat. “I suggest you pay attention to the newscasts during the next day or so—you might see something worth thinking about .”

He turned and left, moving with the silent speed that had confounded her earlier, and a second later the outer door of the apartment slammed so violently that the coffee cups she had set out shivered delicately on their saucers. She ran to the door and secured it, then went straight to the bedroom and began to pack an overnight bag.

The familiar task was almost completed when she paused, pressing the back of one hand to her forehead, forcing herself to review the events of the day. There was no doubt that Lorrest’s principal reason for contacting her had been that he wanted the location of the Carsewell node, and on the face of it he had bungled the mission, alienating her with his wild talk and irrational behaviour. But was it possible that it had all been calculated?