Bob Shaw: The Ragged Astronauts

The way ahead for mankind on Overland lay in treating the brakka with the respect it deserved. Only dead trees should be used for their yield of super-hard materials and power crystals, and if the supply seemed insufficient it was incumbent on the immigrants to develop substitutes or to modify their way of life accordingly.

If they failed to do so, the history of humanity on Land would, inevitably, be repeated on Overland.…

“I admit to being impressed,” Chakkell said when Toller had finally finished speaking. “There is no real proof that what you say is true, but it is worthy of serious consideration. Luckily for our generation, which has seen its full share of hardships, there is no need to make any hasty decisions. We have enough to worry about in the meantime.”

“You must not think that way,” Toller urged. “You are the ruler… and you have the unique opportunity… the unique responsibility…” He sighed and stopped speaking, yielding to a tiredness which seemed to dim the very heavens.

“Save your strength for another time,” Chakkell said gently. “I should let you rest now, but before I leave I’d like to know one more thing. Between you and Leddravohr — was it a fair contest?”

“It was almost fair… until he destroyed my sword with brakka slime.”

“But you overcame him just the same.”

“It was required of me.” Toller was experiencing the mysticism which can come with illness and utter weariness. “I was born to overcome Leddravohr.”

“Perhaps he knew that.”

Toller forced his gaze to steady on Chakkell’s face. “I don’t know what you.…”

“I wonder if Leddravohr had any heart for all of this, for our brave new beginning,” Chakkell said. “I wonder if he pursued you — alone — because he divined that you were his Bright Road?”

“That idea,” Toller whispered, “has little appeal for me.”

“You need to rest.” Chakkell stood up and addressed himself to Gesalla. “Look after this man for my sake as well as your own — I have work for him. I think it would be better not to move him for some days yet, but you seem quite comfortable here. Do you need any supplies?”

“We could use more fresh water, Majesty,” Gesalla said. “Apart from that our wants are already satisfied.”

“Yes.” Chakkell studied her face for a moment. “I’m going to take your bluehorn because we have only seven all told, and the breeding must begin as soon as possible, but I will post guards nearby. Call them when you deem you are ready to leave here. Does that suit you?”

“Yes, Majesty — we are indebted.”

“I trust your patient will remember that when his health is recovered.” Chakkell turned and strode away towards the waiting soldiers, moving with the energetic assurance peculiar to those who feel themselves to be responding to the calls of destiny. Later, when silence had again returned to the hillside, Toller awoke to see that Gesalla was passing the time by sorting and arranging her collection of leaves and flowers. She had spread them on the ground before her, and her lips were moving silently as she thoughtfully placed each specimen in an order of her own devising. Beyond her the vivid purity of Overland sparkled and advanced on the eye.

Toller cautiously raised himself in the bed. He glanced at the mound of rocky fragments intherearofthe cave, then turned his head away quickly, unwilling to risk seeing the tiny lantern gleaming at him. Only when it had ceased to shine altogether would he know for certain that the fever had entirely left his system, and until then he had no wish to be reminded of how close he had come to death and to losing all that Gesalla meant to him.

She looked up from her emergent patterns. “Did you see something back there?”

“There’s nothing,” he said, mustering a smile. “Nothing at all.”

“But I’ve noticed you staring at those rocks before. What is your secret?” Intrigued, and playing a game for his benefit, Gesalla came to him and knelt to share his line of sight. The movement brought her face very close to his, and he saw her eyes widen in surprise.

“Toller!” Her voice was that of a child, hushed with wonder. “There’s something shining in there!”

She rose to her feet with all the speed of which her weightless body was capable, stepped over him and ran into the cave.

Prey to a strange fear, Toller tried to call out a warning, but his throat was dry and the power of speech seemed to have deserted him. And Gesalla was already throwing the outermost stones aside. He watched numbly as she put her hands into the mound, lifted something heavy and bore it out to the brighter light at the entrance to the cave.

She knelt beside him, cradling the find on her thighs. It was a large flake of dark grey rock — but it was unlike any rock Toller had ever seen before. Running across and through it, integral to and yet differing from the stone, was a broad band of material which was white, but more than white, reflecting the sun like the waters of a distant lake at dawn.

“It’s beautiful,” Gesalla breathed, “but what is it?”

“I don’t.…” Grimacing with pain, Toller reached for his clothing, found a pocket and brought out the strange memento given to him by his father. He placed it against the gleaming stratum in the stone, confirming what he already knew — that they were identical in composition.

Gesalla took the nugget from him and ran a fingertip across its polished surface. “Where did you get this?”

“My father… my real father… gave it to me in Chamteth just before he died. He told me he found it long ago. Before I was born. In the Redant province.”

“I feel strange.” Gesalla shivered as she looked up at the misty, enigmatic, watchful disk of the Old World. “Was ours not the first migration, Toller? Has it all happened before?”

“I think so — perhaps many times — but the important thing for us is to ensure that it never.…” His weariness forced Toller to leave the sentence unfinished.

He laid the back of his hand on the lustrous strip within the rock, captivated by its coolness and its strangeness — and by silent intimations that, somehow, he could make the future differ from the past.