Liberator Of Jedd

Chapter Four

The next month was as frenetic as any Blade had experienced in his thirty years. Lord Leighton, always a martinet and a slavedriver, reached into some hidden reserve of energy and summoned a demonic fury that sorely tried Blade and J, both younger men. All three became master liars. Lord L, as chief Ananias, was a good teacher and was expert in twisting the truth into odd shapes. His Lordship's great fear, his chief nightmare, was that the world would find out about Ogar — as they had come to call the creature, from the snarling sounds he made — and wrest his prize from him before he could complete his studies.

J, who had a plan of his own, had a blazing battle with Lord L about this. J insisted that the Prime Minister be let in on the secret. His Lordship said no. J insisted.

«He must know,» J said flatly. «For our protection and his. Else how do we explain the delay in Project DX? Be practical, Leighton! Our money is running out. The PM has to go before a committee and beg for more secret funds. He can't, and won't, do that unless he knows exactly what is going on.»

J won that argument. It was the only one.

When the massive complex was excavated beneath the Tower someone had thought to include a single large cell, a modern dungeon, in the lowest sub-basement. It was to this cell that Blade carried the unconscious Ogar after Lord L summarily cleared the place of all personnel. It was there that Ogar slept his drugged sleep, fed intravenously, while Lord L did a detailed and loving Bertillon, crooning happily to himself as he made cranial measurements. When J rashly suggested that perhaps a professional anthropologist should be called in, the old man flew into a rage.

The Prime Minister came in the dead of night, spent half an hour viewing Ogar and listening to Lord L, and left in a state of shock, muttering to himself. His position, he told J later, was unique in every sense of the word. No politician had ever had to cope with a situation like this before.

The coming of Ogar did accomplish one other thing. For the time being, at least, it healed the growing breach between J and Lord Leighton. There was no more talk of brain surgery and, as they became less snappish, the two older men regained some of their former rapport. Even so, J, on the first day, could not refrain from jabbing the needle into Lord L.

With a malicious grin he quoted directly from the old man's computer speech at Reading University: «… we have at least succeeded in eliminating the danger of schizophrenia… when they are built, they function exactly as intended.»

He received a cold glare from the hooded yellow eyes. «May I point out,» said his Lordship, «that some of the greatest scientific discoveries have been made by accident. In any case I have already found the error and the computer will be rebuilt in a month or so. But that is not my chief concern at the moment. I have plans, great plans.»

Both J and Blade left their apartments and moved into quarters far below the Tower computer complex. Here they were self-sufficient, with no need to venture outside. There was no elevator — it stopped on the level above — and the only way out or in was by a narrow stairway. This was guarded by a massive steel door that was kept locked. Above them the lesser computers were humming again, all personnel back at work, and the security had been redoubled.

The stone axe was shipped away, with elaborate security precautions, for an appraisal by experts. Within three days the report was back and his Lordship shared it with them.

HAFT — this wood is unknown to us. Suggest may be some species of iron-wood believed extinct since Lower Palaeolithic Age. Workmanship suggests culture unknown to us.

AXE — this macrolith also a puzzler. We have seen nothing like it before. Main component is undoubtedly quartz, but with a mixture of greenstone, quartzite and cherty. This is impossible according to present knowledge, yet repeated tests prove it to be so. Possible that meld might be a result of intense heat, in which case heat would have to approach that of inner sun. Workmanship again suggests no culture known to us.

At the bottom of the report was a scribble. Dear Leighton — what goes on here?

The scribble made Lord L most unhappy.

«They're bound to start nosing around sooner or later,» he told J and Blade.

«All the more reason to start cracking,» rejoined J, who had his plan and was keeping it to himself for the moment. J was in a very good form and biding his time. For the moment the Prime Minister was appeased, if slightly dazed, and matters were going smoothly enough. J kept a steady pressure on the old man to see that the computer was rebuilt as rapidly as possible. This was not easy, but J did it. Left to his own designs, Lord L would have spent every waking hour by the cot on which Ogar still lay drugged.

At the end of the first week Lord Leighton summoned them to the cell and, as they stood around the cot on which Ogar slept, gave his first full report. Blade and J were too impressed to interrupt. The cell by this time was full of the body smell of the hairy creature on the cot.

Lord L, using a ruler as a pointer, poked and prodded and explained. You would have thought, as J said later hi jest, that the old man had himself spawned the thing on the cot.

«Ogar,» said Lord L, «is from another dimension. A Dimension X. It is very important to remember that.»

Blade, recalling the bloody struggle in the computer room, thought that he was hardly likely to forget it.

J said: «Do get on with it, Leighton, and do remember to whom you are speaking. Dick and I aren't scholars or intellects. Keep it simple.»

His Lordship smiled. «I will try. But remember also that any statement I make, any description, is only an analogue and not an exact statement of fact.

«We know that in our own dimension, Home Dimension, our world,» the old man continued, «that evolution develops along parallel lines, but at a slower or faster pace in remote and unconnected parts of the world. So, to get started at all, I must have a model, an abstract and theoretical model for guidance. I have chosen one. I have, a priori, chosen to think along the lines that Ogar here came from a dimension, a world, that is much like our own, but in a much earlier stage of development. Put it like this — when the computer malfunctioned and Ogar was snatched from his world, his dimension, he left behind a world similar to our own — half a million years ago.»

J, practical man, and with the Prime Minister and committee to keep happy, relished this. Would there not, in such a dimension, be gold and oil and all the rest? Untold and untouched, wealth to be exploited by England when teleportation was perfected. It made a strong talking point.

Lord L tapped the creature's flattened skull with the ruler. «A puzzle,» he admitted. «Not Pithecanthropus. Far short of Cro-Magnon, though he did walk upright in the, er, short time we saw him move of his own volition. The braincase is flat and the brow ridges very heavy. Yet the arms and legs are sum and well developed, the body protected by hair with an undercoat for additional protection from cold. That itself is totally unknown to us — a subhuman species with an undercoating of hair like some dogs have.»

Blade said, with a faint smile, «What makes him smell like that, sir?»

J tried not to laugh. His Lordship scowled but answered the question.

«Pure animal odor. Ogar never took a bath in his life. Over the years a protective coating of dirt and grease build up. It would come in very handy in bad weather.»

Ogar turned on the cot. Despite the heavy dosage of drugs he was given to tossing and turning and had several times fallen off the cot. Each time, Blade, the only one strong enough to lift him, had been summoned for the duty. And had taken a shower immediately to get the stink off him.

Now Ogar showed his teeth and snarled in his sleep. «Ogarrrrrr — rrrrrr — Ogarrrrrrrrrr—»

«Having a bad dream,» said Blade.

His Lordship tapped the hairy jaw. «Teeth much the same as ours, but larger and lacking any wisdom teeth. The canines are long and fang-like, as you can see.»

Blade was still healing from the bites inflicted by Ogar in their brief scuffle.

Lord Leighton moved closer to the cot. He seized a handful of hair at the back of Ogar's neck and raised the head. He poked with the ruler at the nape of Ogar's neck. «The amazing thing is the foramen magnum. Identical with our own, or so close to being as makes no difference. So he walks upright and his brain stalk is vertical. Ogar, my dear fellows, is a human being. Or very close to being one. I only wish it were possible to work out a lineal descent pattern, a phylogeny, but that is impossible since he is not of our dimension.»

His Lordship lectured them for two hours on Ogar. Blade was patient, abiding the smell and wondering what J was up to. That his chief was up to something Blade did not doubt — he had known J a long time and had come to know the meaning of that covert smile.

But it was Lord L who exploded the first bombshell. Two days later Blade awoke to the sound of jackhammers chipping away at stone. The sound was remote, in some far off sub-basement, but there was no mistaking the source. J, over breakfast, explained it.

«From our viewpoint,» he said over the sausage and eggs, «the old boffin may have gone around the bend, but from his viewpoint it makes good sense. He is having a cave built for Ogar.»

Blade halted his fork in upswing. «A cave?»

J speared the last sausage. «Yes, dear boy, a cave. Ogar is going to live in it when he comes out of the drug. So are you.»

«So am I what?»

«Going to live in the cave,» said J cheerfully. «With Ogar.»

Blade dropped his knife and fork. «Like bloody hell I am!»

J nodded. «So right. You are. I am going to order you to do it. I'm sorry, Dick, but it has to be done. I have to humor him and I have to keep him working on the computer. He can finish repairing it in a week if I can keep him at it, but not if he gets a case of the sulks. You must be a good fellow and go along.»

Blade groaned and choked back the obscenity he felt like voicing. «But why? Why in hell does he have to have a cave and why do I have to live in it with that — that whatever it is?»

J, though usually a taciturn and humorless man, was not without his moments. He said, «You mean Ogar? Our guest?»

Blade scowled at him. He tried to think of women. Tender-limbed, sweet-smelling, soft-breasted women. This monkish life was steadily taking its toll.

J shattered all that. «Lord L has deduced that Ogar, in his own dimension, lived in a cave. Probably he is right So he is going to give Ogar a cave. And a fire — he is having special ventilation installed — and he is going to play tapes that simulate the night sounds Ogar must have been used to hearing. There will be meat, raw meat — he can hardly wait to see if Ogar eats it raw or cooks it — and of all this he is going to make moving pictures and sound tapes. In other words, he wants a record of Ogar living in his own natural environment. Or what Lord L thinks must have been his environment. It really isn't a bad idea, you know.»

«It's a miserable idea,» said Blade crossly. «That thing is dangerous, for God's sake. I should know.»

J tutted that. He knew his Blade. «You're not afraid, Dick. Don't try to have me on. You're bored and restless and missing your totsies. But this thing you have got to do — it fits in exactly with my plans.»

And J revealed his plan to Blade, who had to laugh. Lord L was in for a rude shock.

«Besides which,» said J, «you will have a club and Ogar won't. You will be dressed in animal skin of some sort and Ogar will be, as usual, stark naked. That in itself should give you an overwhelming psychological advantage. Even a creature like Ogar is at a disadvantage without pants.»

Blade left the table. He did not feel like eating.

A good-sized cave had been bored out of the bedrock. Noiseless ventilators kept a current of cool air moving through it. A small fire was built in the center of the cave, a crude jar of water provided, and Lord L installed his movie cameras and recording equipment in secret crannies. Ogar was still drugged in his cell.

Lord Leighton, waxing more ecstatic by the moment, talked incessantly as he puttered about making final arrangements.

«Ogar will be terrified when he comes out of the drug,» he explained. «That will be the critical moment. And most interesting, too. I am counting on the night noises to keep him in the cave. If I am right he will not venture out of the cave at night. He will use the cave as a shelter and the fire as protection from the beasts. My guess is that he will remain very quiet and huddle by the fire.»

«And if he doesn't, sir?»

The old man touched Blade's arm and smiled. «Then you will have to handle him, my dear boy. It is, after all, your job. You did it before. No, I anticipate no difficulty there.»

Blade did not share his confidence. «Ogar is bound to be hungry,» he pointed out. «For meat. Probably raw meat. That just might make him forget his manners, sir. He might toss the script away.» He did not think it necessary to add that he, Blade, represented 210 pounds of good firm meat on the hoof.

«Meat he shall have,» said Lord L. «Fresh raw meat. I ordered a freshly killed beef yesterday. You, Richard, are going to offer him the meat as a gesture of friendship. Now let us go and fetch him.»

Blade carried Ogar to the cave and stretched him out by the fire. Leighton was testing his tapes and the night noises began to filter into the cave. Blade, alone with the sleeping Ogar, felt a chill creep up his spine. It was all very realistic. And atavistic. The flickering firelight brought shadows alive. Ogar slept on, his brute face cushioned on a hairy forearm. In the darkness outside, the roars and bellows and death cries of great mammals and reptiles came from the tapes in eerie authenticity. For a moment time slid back and it was a million years ago and Richard Blade stood naked and alone in a primeval night.

The hours passed. They watched Ogar through cleverly placed peepholes. Blade, naked now but for a skin about his loins, and carrying a club, began to be caught up in the thing. In a rawhide pouch he carried several chunks of raw and slightly gamey meat. He waited patiently for the game to begin, his handsome face impassive, his great muscles relaxed.

J, watching Blade closely, marveled at the change in his top operative. He began to understand better why Blade had survived four trips into Dimension X. A faculty for absolute adaptation. Blade was like a chameleon in that. To look at him now, J thought with a sense of awe, he is living a million years ago. He is a caveman.

At last Ogar stirred. Lord Leighton made frantic signs. It had all been rehearsed beforehand and each man knew what to do. The old man flicked a switch and the night noises began. First a hideous bellowing, then a hissing, then sounds of deadly struggle and, at last, a high screech of triumph and a death groan.

Ogar opened his eyes. He rolled on his side, got to his knees and glared around the cave. He cocked his head to listen. He snarled, an ominous guttural chest sound, and showed his fangs. He fell to all fours and stared into the fire.

Blade, from a corner of his eyes, saw Lord L rubbing his hands together and grinning like an idiot. J watched in silence, without expression on his long horsey face.

Ogar was on his feet now, walking upright but with his shoulders hunched forward and his long arms dangling to his knees. He was plainly puzzled. He began to walk about the cave, examining it, all the time making sounds in his throat. Now and again he would pause and listen to the sounds from outside.

A pile of faggots had been placed in one corner of the cave. Ogar stared at them, snarled, then picked up several and placed them on the fire. The flames leaped higher. Ogar then began to search around on the floor of the cave. He was annoyed and angry. Several times he thumped his chest and growled.

The stone axe! Ogar was looking for his axe.

Lord L, unable to contain himself any longer, dying to share his triumph, sidled in beside Blade, whispering.

«I've got it. I do believe I've got it — or as close as is possible. Ogar is Australopithecine. Or what would correspond to austral-P in our scale and in our world. Six hundred thousand years ago! I—»

Blade put a finger to his lips. They shared the peephole. Ogar, even over all the hideous night sounds, appeared to have heard the whispering. He scampered to the far side of the fire and crouched there, fangs bared, his little eyes fixed on the cave entrance. His hands beat a slow tattoo on his chest, and from his throat came a steady snarling— Groooorrrr — rrrr — grin—

Lord Leighton touched Blade's arm and smiled.

«Better go in now, Richard. He's expecting you.»