Monument (novel)

11

Fornri ran.

He widely circled the village, where Dabbi’s small body lay surrounded by mourners, and he moved at top speed along a forest path, forcing himself forward, ignoring protesting muscles and aching lungs, willing his body to respond to his desperate haste.

At a point where several paths intersected, he panted to a halt, looked about him carefully, and then burrowed into the apparently impenetrable undergrowth that lined the path.

He emerged in a small clearing. Two native youths were lolling in front of a native dwelling, bored with waiting for nothing to happen. Banu sat cross-legged on the ground nearby, head bowed, eyes closed, sifting his recollections. At one side was a hammock, where the Elder lay resting. All of them leaped up when Fornri burst upon them, and they waited expectantly while he tried to catch his breath.

Finally he was able to speak. He gasped, “The ambassador is the enemy!”

The secret headquarters was but one of many parts of the Plan that they could not understand. It was a meeting place for those responsible for the Plan. It also was the center of a complicated arrangement for keeping track of every alien on Langri. The children were organized into an army of small patrols, and the moment the ambassador or one of his staff made a move, a child nipped off at top speed to the secret headquarters to report that fact. A map had been sketched on the level ground in front of the dwelling, and by means of stones the position of every alien was marked, and his every movement followed.

They did it even though it made no sense to them, because the Plan said they should do it. In the beginning the embassy staff had been larger, and many of its members wandered about with little to do; but very soon the ambassador decided that they weren’t needed and sent them away. Of the four staff members remaining, three of them always accompanied the ambassador. Further, the ambassador had asked for natives to assist him and give him information when he needed it, and he never went anywhere without a large escort. The leadership council frequently debated why the children should bring reports about the ambassador when he always had adult natives with him.

Then there was Aric Hort, who very quickly became one of them, a genuine friend who was always willing to help them in disagreements with the ambassador. It seemed almost a breach of friendship to be following him about secretly when everything he did was done so openly.

The Plan said they must know where everyone was, all the time, and they followed the Plan. They had no choice.

The ambassador’s sister-daughter introduced a complication that made the Plan’s dictates more understandable. Everything she did was unpredictable. Worse, others reacted strangely to her. Aric Hort, having announced that he would go to a certain place, or do a certain thing, would meet her along the way and go elsewhere to do something entirely different.

That was bad enough, but the ambassador’s unexpected dash into the forest to show his sister-daughter the ferry, along with Aric Hort’s dash after them, left the council confounded. After weeks and months of painstaking care always to have the ferries in use when the ambassador passed that way, it was a shock to have their secret discovered by Miss Warr. Aric Hort had known, but they knew instinctively that Hort would not tell the ambassador. They knew nothing at all about Miss Warr.

The incident prompted a debate. Fornri sat on the ground before the map, scowling at the stones representing the ambassador, Miss Warr, and Aric Hort and attempting to fathom this turn of events that so swiftly and inexplicably moved them from embassy to forest. The Elder, who always was present in their deliberations but rarely spoke, looked on solemnly while others furiously argued the import of Miss Warr’s seeing Rarnt and Mano cross a stream without using the ferry.

Finally Fornri said, “Banu?”

Banu was in his usual position, legs crossed, head bowed. He spoke without moving. “Nothing. She is not important.”

“I think the sister-daughter of the ambassador is important,” Fornri said.

Narrif, who frequently opposed Fornri, remarked lightly, “She laughs at us and our world. Soon she will leave. She has said so. How can she be important?”

Dalla asked, “What are the marriage customs of the ambassador’s people? Airk is attracted to her, and he is our friend. If they were to marry—”

“Is she attracted to him?” Tollof asked. “Would Airk need her consent or the ambassador’s?”

In the silence that followed, Fornri gave the boy who had brought the message a friendly pat and sent him away to rest. He said, “The next time Airk questions any of us concerning our customs, he should be asked about his own marriage customs.”

In the end they did nothing, and if the ambassador’s sister-daughter told him of the river crossing, he never mentioned it. But once again the wisdom of the Langri’s Plan stood starkly revealed to them, and never after that did anyone question the need for knowing where everyone was, always.

It worried Fornri desperately that there were so few questions they could resolve, and that a growing minority of the council advocated rash moves or—occasionally—disregarding the Plan. He knew that soon he would lose his leadership, for almost every decision he made was challenged by Narrif, and that worried him—not because Narrif was incapable, for he was very capable, but Fornri feared that he would not follow the Plan.

Everything the Plan predicted had happened, every instruction they had followed succeeded easily, and Fornri needed no further evidence of the Langri’s infallibility. Either they followed the Plan, or they would lose their world and their lives.

The fate of his people depended on his leadership, and he found it increasingly difficult to lead. Even when the Plan clearly told them what should be done, it sometimes was impossible to say when it should be done.

Almost daily Narrif would ask Fornri, “Have you spoken to Airk about the message to the attorneys?”

And Fornri would reply, “I am asking him, one at a time, the questions the Langri suggested.”

“Are you still testing his friendship?” Narrif would exclaim. “Surely Airk is a friend worthy of trust.”

Fornri could only answer that he agreed, but when possible he preferred to follow the Langri’s wisdom rather than his own; and then Banu would dredge up an appropriate recollection: “The Langri said—a friend worthy of trust won’t object to proving his worthiness.”

Then there were the crystals. The Langri had said that they should be converted into monetary credits as soon as possible, but they feared to mention them to anyone until they fully understood what must be done and had friends whose worthiness was tested. The Langri himself had told them, over and over, how strangers would prey upon them if they were not alert.

The most difficult thing of all was not knowing whom the Plan was directed against. They could not identify their enemy. Some thought it was the ambassador, but there was no proof, and the ambassador seemed to be sincerely trying to help them. Further, the Langri himself had said that the enemy might not arrive for years after the first spaceship.

Fornri felt increasingly alienated from the other members of the council. That Dalla frequently joined his opponents hurt him most of all. It had been a long time since they shared their joy, and the burden of leadership grew heavier and heavier on him.

But now they knew the enemy.

The others listened, heard Banu recite tonelessly what the Langri had said about the first person who got the idea of building a vacation resort on their world, and doubtfully assented.

“What do we do?” Dalla asked.

Fornri did not know. He said slowly, “The Langri told us so much, and we understand so little.”

“What will the ambassador do?” Dalla asked. “What can he do?”

No one knew.

“We must continue to watch with care,” Fornri suggested, and at least no one could disagree with that.

They watched, and they waited, and nothing happened. One of the embassy staff, Hirus Ayns, left on the courier ship to visit his family. Their friend Aric Hort seemed increasingly preoccupied, but when Fornri asked him why he was troubled, he would only say, “There’s something peculiar going on, and I can’t find out what it is.”

Nothing seemed to have changed. The ambassador marched about each day making suggestions that they usually declined with thanks. The ambassador’s sister-daughter continued to spend her days on the beach, doing nothing at all, and that, too, they found incomprehensible. Aric Hort’s somber mood puzzled them only until Dalla observed that he no longer was seen with Miss Warr.

Fornri, taking an overland short cut through the forest near the embassy, suddenly heard the faint, shrill whistle of an incoming spaceship. Perplexed, he halted and listened. The courier ship was not due for many weeks, and no other ship came to Langri.

A moment later he was able to distinguish a second whistle, and a third, and he broke into a run. By the time he reached the edge of the forest and stood looking down on the landing field, two ships had landed and a third was settling to ground. He paused a moment to stare at them, because they were the largest ships he had seen except for the navy battle cruiser.

Then he hurried down to them.

The man the ambassador was talking with wore a uniform that vaguely reminded Fornri of the clothing Captain Dallman had worn. The two of them were leafing through a thick stack of the plastic sheets the aliens used for records.

Fornri, still breathing deeply from his long run, slowed to a walk and tried to catch his breath as he approached. The ambassador greeted him with his usual broad smile.

“Captain,” he said, “this is Fornri, the leader of the Langri Government.”

“Honored,” the captain murmured, snapping off a salute.

Fornri acknowledged it gravely before turning to the ambassador. “May I ask why these ships have landed without official clearance?”

The ambassador seemed astonished. “But you gave us permission to land routine supplies at any time!”

“The permission applied only to the courier ship,” Fornri said. He hesitated; what he was about to do troubled him, but the Plan offered no alternative. “I must ask that these ships leave immediately.”

The ambassador was smiling again. “Frankly, I wanted to surprise you, but I suppose I’ll have to tell you about it. You may want to keep it as a surprise for your people, though. These ships have brought part of Langri’s new medical center.”

“Medical center?” Fornri echoed blankly.

“I’m also bringing in a doctor to study Langri’s diseases, so no more children will have to share Dabbi’s fate. This is a gift to the people of Langri from Wembling and Company.”

Fornri stared at him. “Wembling and Company?”

They were angry. Often the council members had been resentful of Fornri, but now they were openly rebellious.

“I can’t believe that an enemy would give us a medical center!” Narrif exclaimed.

Banu, seated as usual with bowed head and closed eyes, completed the search of his memory. “The Langri didn’t mention a medical center,” he said.

Fornri said stubbornly, “We must refuse this gift and ask the ships to leave.”

Dalla turned on him furiously. “What harm can come of a medical center? How can it be bad to save lives?”

“The Langri said gifts always have a price,” Fornri said slowly. “He said to beware of them, or we might learn too late that we have sold our world and ourselves.”

“How can there be a price on something that is freely given?” Dalla demanded. “Are you too proud to admit that we need this medical center? Must we watch our children die while Fornri enjoys his pride?”

Fornri said wearily, “I ask your support. We must refuse this medical center and ask the ships to leave.” He looked about the circle of silent, hostile faces. “Very well,” he said finally. “According to the Plan, you must choose a new leader.”

He had intended merely to step down from the leadership and become a member of the council, but when he took a place beside Dalla, she deliberately turned her back to him. Slowly, feeling very tired, he pushed through the undergrowth and walked off into the forest.

Later the Elder found him, and after they had talked long together, they walked toward the embassy looking for Aric Hort. They came upon him at the edge of the landing field, talking with Talitha Warr, and at the sound of angry, raised voices they discreetly watched from the concealment of a convenient cluster of bushes.

“There’s such a thing as too great a price!” Hort shouted.

“Too great a price for whom?” Miss Warr returned. “For Dabbi? Someone has to violate the natives’ rights in order to save their lives!”

“It isn’t that simple. You have to understand—”

“I understand that you can watch a child die without being affected,” she said furiously. “I can’t.”

She stormed off, leaving Hort looking after her. Finally he walked a short distance to a group of boulders and sat down to watch the bustle of unloading around the ships.

He greeted Fornri and the Elder with a wan smile when they approached him. “My friends,” he said, “I need your help. The ambassador wants to send me to another world. I’d rather stay here, so I’m no longer employed by him. Have I your permission to remain on Langri?”

“We implore you to remain,” the Elder said. “I fear that my people are in serious trouble.”

“That is my fear,” Hort said soberly.

“We welcome your presence as a friend, and we need your counsel,” Fornri said. “Now more than ever. Have you found a way to send a message to the attorneys?”

“The problem was to find a safe way to send a message,” Hort said. “The answer is no. Every ship that lands here from now on will be owned or chartered by Wembling and Company—I have a hunch that we won’t see the courier ship again. If we paid a crewman to smuggle out a message, he would guess that the ambassador would pay more to know what the message said, and he’d be right. It’s a difficult problem.”

“What if one of us were to go to see the attorneys?” the Elder asked.

Hort smiled at them. “You’re asking whether it would be easier to smuggle out a person than a message. Probably not. It might be possible to have someone leave openly, as a passenger; and when a passenger pays his passage there are laws protecting him and he’s under no obligation to tell the captain his ultimate destination or why he’s going. Whoever went would find it a frightening experience. Whom were you going to send?”

“Fornri,” the Elder said. “Since he has lost his leadership—”

“What?”

Hort scrutinized their faces. “So that’s how it is,” he said finally. “Tried to get them to turn it down, did you? And they wouldn’t. I don’t know if it would have made any difference. I don’t know—yet—just how Wembling means to do it and how he expects to get away with it, but obviously he intends to build a resort, whether you want one or not. By accepting the medical center, they’re making it much easier for him. So you want to see the attorneys yourself.”

“If that is possible,” Fornri said.

“It may be much worse than a frightening experience. It may be worse than terrifying.”

“If you will tell me what to expect and what I must do,” Fornri said, “I will go in confidence.”

“There won’t be any trouble about the passage,” Hort said. “Ill tell Wembling that I’m leaving, and he’ll be so pleased he’ll arrange it himself. Just before the ship lifts you can go aboard in my place. You’ll need clothing. I’ll see what I can buy from the crewmen.”

“When would I go?” Fornri asked.

“There’s a ship leaving tonight, but that’s rather soon. I think on the last of these three, if I can arrange it. We’ll need as much time as possible. I’ll send you first to a friend of mine, who is also an anthropologist. He’ll be delighted to give you lessons in civilization, and he’ll help you find those attorneys. Or, if that firm no longer exists, perhaps he can help you find another.”

“There is one thing more,” Fornri said. “We have some retron crystals.”

“Really?” Hort exclaimed. “You actually have some crystals? Now that’s interesting!”

“We would like to convert them to monetary units. Should I take them with me?”

“Certainly not. Crystals have to be transported in special containers, or their emissions mess up a ship’s instrumentation. You’d be asked to leave the ship before lift-off. Maybe the attorneys could help you find out how to do it.”

The three of them sat for a time in silence, looking down at the ships. Finally Hort said to the Elder, “Has Langri developed any sayings about the fickleness of women?”

“Many,” the Elder said. “But I think the word is ‘contrariness.’”

Hort nodded. “Yes. That’s the word.”