Symbol of Terra

Chapter Eleven

Captain Lauter was a broad, thick-set man, old, experienced, loyal to the Karroum, more than loyal to Mirza Annette. From the depths of his big pilot's chair he lifted a hand to point at the screen before him.

"There," he said. "Skedaka."

A world which was a child of death; seared, torn, gouged, warped by the tremendous cataclysm which had created the Burdinnion. Standing beside the chair Dumarest studied the image set against the background of stars. One which seemed disfigured, diseased, blotched and mottled with drab colors.

"Where's the Ryzam?"

"There." Again Lauter pointed. "That patch to the north."

The image swelled as he increased the magnification, growing to almost fill the screen, the patch looking like a crusted scab on leprous flesh. One composed of soaring spires, jagged, edged with sawlike serrations as if rock had been rendered molten then flung upwards to solidify in flight to form a pattern resembling the gigantic bristles of a monstrous brush.

"You can't land on it," said Lauter. "No clear space for one thing and the forces which stream from it for another. Get to within a certain height and the generators fail. Some ships tried it. None came back."

"None?"

Lauter said, dryly, "It happens about five miles up. When the ships hit the ground-" He clapped his hands together, the sound sharp in the control room. "We'll have to find a spot well clear of the area."

A good spot and a safe one; Lauter had a high regard for his vessel. Dumarest watched as the image shifted, shrank to normal size, looking forlorn and alone in the bright immensity of the cosmos.

"You've been here before, Captain?"

"Yes."

"Then you've heard of the legend. Do you believe in it?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not a fool." Lauter was blunt. "Ryzam is unusual, that I'll admit, but so are a thousand other places on as many worlds. Most of them have legends, tales, stories invented in taverns and spread by the credulous. Usually it's because the natives want to encourage tourists and the money they bring. Expeditions, even. Skedaka is no different. People live there, poor devils trying to scratch a living from dirt that's mostly ash. Sometimes they find gems and rare metals and there's a kind of herb which grows wild. Maybe the legend grew from that-the stuff can give energy and tighten the skin so as to reduce wrinkles. Instant youth. It doesn't last though no one down there will admit that. They have a vested interest in maintaining the legend. In the town they'll sell you everything you need to explore Ryzam. Maps, guns, everything. Sell," he repeated. "They never hire."

"Because no one ever comes back?"

"That's right."

"Do you know why?"

For answer Lauter magnified the image again, this time larger than before, the scab shown in greater detail, accentuating its bleak harshness.

"A maze," said the captain. "Go into it and it's certain you'll get lost. No food. No water. There could be predators and God alone knows what else. The only thing you can be sure of is that there's nothing to find. I guess, when the searchers realize that, they've passed the point of no return."

A facile answer; one to be expected from a man who had spent his life in the ordered confines of a ship, the predictable regions of space. Yet Chenault with his dream was just as bad; his obsession blinding him to what could be an obvious explanation.

He sat in the salon of the vessel together with Mirza and the others; Toetzer, Lopakhin, Massak, Shior. Hilary was with Govinda, and Toyanna, together with Baglioni, was in the cabin holding the casket. Working at the major task of keeping Chenault alive while, in the salon, he planned the next steps of the operation.

"We shall land to the north," he said. "Opposite to the town. The section we want is marked by a cluster of spires resembling a pair of lifted hands. We must pass between them to a space shaped like a star."

Massak said, "And then?"

"Once we have reached it I'll give further instructions as to direction."

"No." Dumarest stepped into the room and up to the table at which the others sat. "That isn't good enough. So far we've followed you blind but no longer. I want to know why you think you can succeed when so many others have failed."

"Because I have information they lacked." Chenault rested his hand on the papers before him. "Ryzam is a mystery, a trap for the unwary, as events have proved. But one man found the solution to the problem and set it down in his journal. I have the relevant passages from it here. Lydo Agutter was an educated and knowledgeable man. I say 'was' but the chances are that he is still alive. He discovered the truth and set the details down in his book. I have them here."

Shior said, "The secret of eternal life?"

"Yes."

"If he found it why didn't he sell it?" Mirza snapped the question. "Such a secret would have made him rich enough to buy a world."

"Money." Toetzer echoed his disgust. "There are more things in the universe than the lust for wealth. If Agutter were intelligent he would know that."

Dumarest said, "How old is the information?"

"Two centuries at least." Chenault lifted a hand to silence any protest. "Time is meaningless when compared to immortality."

"True, but in a couple of hundred years things can change." Massak voiced the obvious. "Even if he did find the way how can we be certain it's still open?"

"We can't," admitted Chenault. "But knowing it exists gives us the vital clue as to the necessary direction. We follow his instructions, circumnavigate any obstacles, regain the given route as soon as possible. With the talents among us it should be simple."

Talents? Dumarest glanced around the table. Shior and Massak to provide protection with their fighting skills. Vosper, now asleep, and Lopakhin to maintain the surrogate. Toetzer? A sensitive of some kind as was Hilary to warn of danger or discern the correct direction. Toyanna to keep Chenault alive. Baglioni to act as personal bodyguard. Govinda a magnet he couldn't resist. Mirza a passenger and himself?

"You will be in charge, Earl." Chenault adjusted his papers. "When we land you will take over the expedition."

The cabin was small, dark, full of ghostly whispers; the transmitted sounds of activity vibrated through the stanchions, decks and hull. Noise no living ship in space was ever without and one which served as a background to his thoughts. Dumarest turned on the narrow bunk, turned again, feeling metal against his temple, the ghost-sound growing louder, fading as he moved away.

Rising he snapped on the lights and stood breathing deeply before stepping into the mist-shower. The thin spray cooled his flesh and, dressed, he left the cabin and walked down the passage outside. Doors flanked it; cabins holding sleeping figures, one more important than the rest. Dumarest tested it, found it locked, tapped and waited.

"Earl?" Pia Toyanna looked at him through the open door. "Is something wrong?"

"Maybe. Can we talk?" He saw the movement of her eyes and stared beyond her to where Chenault rested in his casket. "Inside? Can he hear us?"

"He's asleep." She stepped back, closing the door as he stepped into the cabin, locking it behind him. "What is it?"

Dumarest looked around before answering. The cabin was much larger than his own, one adapted for its special occupant, a clutter of medical apparatus lying close to the casket itself. A cot near it showed the recent imprint of a body, Toyanna's he guessed, and the puffiness of her eyes told of her fatigue and recently broken sleep.

"I'm sorry if I woke you but-"

"That doesn't matter." She was impatient. "Get to the point."

"Can Tama stand the journey?"

"What?"

"The expedition. He intends to accompany us. Personally, I mean, not just his surrogate." Dumarest glanced to where the machine rested in a chair, slumped a little, looking like a corpse. "Is he strong enough to survive?"

"Yes, if-" She broke off, confused, then said, with a rush, "He isn't as old as he looks. The muscular dystrophy has weakened him but his vital signs are strong and, aside from fatigue, he is in no worse condition than when we left Lychen."

Dumarest said, bluntly, "Don't misunderstand me. I don't give a damn whether he lives or dies but he has something he promised to give me. I want to be sure he has it."

"He has."

"Tell me how you are so sure."

"You gave him the names of stars and their distances from Earth. The names have changed but their relationship remains the same. A box enclosing Earth's primary. It is a simple matter of association to find that box and, when you do, the coordinates of Earth are revealed. And there are other clues which lead to the inescapable-"

"He knows," said Dumarest. "He knows how to find Earth. He knew it long before we met." He read the admission in her eyes. "Why, wanting to reach Earth as he does, didn't he go there?"

"Like this?" She glanced at the casket, the figure it contained. "Look at him. He can't stand. He can't walk. He needs help even to talk. He can barely open his eyes. Yes, he knows where Earth is to be found, but the discovery came too late. Can you appreciate the irony of it?" Her voice grew brittle with emotion. "At times the Gods are more than cruel. They give but demand too high a price. For him it was the culmination of a lifetime of searching-a dream he could never enjoy."

Not unless the secret of Ryzam could be found and he could be made young again and strong and able to walk with pride on the Mother World he considered Earth to be.

Dumarest slowed as he neared his cabin, hearing movement from within, slamming open the door to stare at the woman on his bunk.

"I've been waiting." Govinda threw back the scarlet mane of her hair. Framed by the tresses, her face held an aching familiarity. "I want to talk to you, Earl. Why am I to be left behind with the ship while that old bitch is going with you?"

"A matter of policy." Dumarest crossed the cabin to sit beside her, taking her hands in his own. "We can't always do everything together. Sometimes we have to part as we did that time on Chron. You remember-" He saw the puzzlement in her eyes and changed the subject. The way she appeared to him was familiar as if time itself had folded back on itself, but the memories they shared were limited to recent events. "Mirza insisted," he explained. "She may be old but she's tough and can handle herself."

"She wants to be with you."

"I'm glad of it." He softened the admission with a smile. "While she's with me I'll have no fear of the ship leaving us stranded. And, if you're with the ship, I'll have no fear of losing you, my darling." His hand reached out to touch her hair, her cheek, the smooth line of her throat. "Don't you know how much I care for you?"

"Show me!"

A demand he couldn't refuse and for a time the cabin became a palace filled with wondrous delights and the murmurs of their passion added strength to the ghost-sounds roving the vessel.

"Earl!" Her hand was the warm caress of a kitten. "I love you, my darling. Always remember that I love you."

"For ever and ever?"

"Until the end of time. Earl, my darling, I swear it! I've never felt this way before. I can't imagine life without you. Please be careful."

"I will."

"Ryzam!" She shuddered in his arms. "A deathtrap. Everyone says so. Even if you find what you're looking for you'll never come back. I'll be alone again. Alone. Earl, how can I bear to be without you? How can I live?"

Fears he soothed with soft words and gentle caresses until, exhausted, she fell asleep in his arms. A warm, soft and yielding bundle of feminine loveliness. A woman who was all he could ever hope to find. One reborn, resurrected, more precious to him than anything in the universe aside from the one thing which dominated his life.

Ryzam could provide it.

Once Chenault had solved its secret and had gained what he was after Dumarest would finally learn where Earth was to be found.

The Kasse landed at dawn as near to Ryzam as Lauter could manage, and an hour before noon the expedition was on its way.

From his position in the lead raft Dumarest looked back at the others strung out in line to the rear. One, the third, was bulked with Chenault's casket, the surrogate itself, Toyanna and Baglioni who, armed and grotesque in his armor, looked like a malevolent gnome from some tale of an ancient time.

Behind them, at the rear, Hilary rode with Shior and Vosper together with supplies of food, water and other essentials for survival. Toetzer and Massak held second place. Mirza and Lopakhin completed the complement of the lead vehicle.

All wore mercenary combat armor complete with air tanks and radio communication. All were armed.

"It's like an army." Mirza turned to look back at the line. "I've seen pictures like this in old books. Men wearing metal casings and going out to fight. They looked like machines and I guess we look the same."

"Killing machines," said Lopakhin. He leaned forward to gain a better view of what lay before them. "And there's another." He gestured at the forest of bleak and serrated spires now clear in the russet light of a sullen sun. "There it is, Earl. A graveyard if ever I saw one. Let's hope to God we don't add to its reputation."

"Men don't die without reason." Dumarest adjusted the controls and sent the raft higher, watching to see if those following did likewise. "And we can't be sure that no one has ever come back. Maybe they did and decided not to talk about it. Or, if they did, their stories never got around."

"Or they found the secret and wanted to keep it for themselves." Mirza turned to face forward, her machine rifle falling to clash on the side of the raft as the sling slipped from her shoulder. "Damn! Sorry, Earl!"

"Is it cocked?"

"No. I'm not that stupid. I told you I knew how to handle these things."

The truth and he hoped the others had been as honest. Shior and Massak placed among them would provide a steadying influence and yield fast action if it was needed. Chenault was another matter. His casket was fitted with antigrav units for easy handling but nothing could lessen its bulk. If an attack came the other rafts would provide covering fire.

Details settled on long before the Kasse had landed and put into operation with the minimum of delay. Ryzam was too harsh, too foreboding to be contemplated for long without imaginary fears rising to augment any real dangers. And those, if they existed, were still unknown.

"An army," mused Lopakhin. "You'd think a force like this could go in and search and find whatever is to be found. Given enough men and firepower who could stop it? That's what makes nonsense of most legends. If the lure is strong enough the truth will be found. Even curiosity will do it. Any problem which-" He broke off pointing. "Earl! Quick! There!"

"What did you see?"

"Movement. Something-" Lopakhin shook his head. "It's gone now."

Dumarest searched the area and saw nothing. An illusion, perhaps, one born of the light and shadow and an active imagination. Even so he tripped the radio switch within his helmet.

"Movement reported directly ahead," he said. "Can anyone verify?" His listened to the chorus of negatives. "All right. It was probably a trick of the light. We'll lift another hundred yards."

The height would betray them to a greater number of watchers if any existed but gave a sense of comfort to those unaccustomed to the dangers of the unknown. As the sun passed its zenith they neared a configuration of spires which held the vague likeness of a pair of uplifted hands.

"There!" Chenault was triumphant. "The hands Agutter mentioned. Beyond will lie the star."

The beginning of the journey discovered in the old journal and Dumarest hoped it would be as uneventful as the trip so far.

Mirza voiced his suspicions. "It's too easy," she said. "Just fly in and land and then keep moving. I don't like it."

Dumarest made no comment, eyes narrowed as he stared ahead. Ryzam was beneath them now, the area ringing the edge and, he guessed, relatively harmless. But to plunge on would be to invite destruction.

"All rafts halt," he said into the radio. "Massak, Shior, bracket Chenault between you. I'm going ahead to see what's waiting. Keep alert." To the others in the raft with him he said, "Keep watch to either side. If anything comes at us shoot."

He sent the vehicle rising, aware of the turbulence which must exist close to the sun-warmed spires, the danger of being swept against their serrated edges. As it moved forward he searched the crevasses, most shrouded in shadows cast by the spires, haunts of mystery and menace. On, the configuration of hands passing to one side. Farther, the star-shaped clearing a splotch of relative brightness; then, as it drew level, he felt the raft lurch beneath his hands.

"Earl!"

He heard Mirza's cry, ignoring it as he fought to maintain height, the raft wheeling as it fell, tilting, Lopakhin shouting his fear as he was thrown against and over the edge. A clutching hand saved him, fingers which caught in the straps restraining the supplies and he hauled himself back into the body of the vehicle as it juddered, veering to drop as Dumarest sent it back the way it had come. A fall which threatened to send them hard against the spires to be impaled by the jagged peaks then, abruptly, the vehicle was alive again and heading up and out from the heart of Ryzam.

"God!" Lopakhin was sweating within his helmet. "I looked at death just then. What the hell happened?"

"No power. Something cut the engine." Dumarest cautiously tested the controls. "It's all right now."

"A fault?" Mirza thinned her lips. "These rafts were supposed to have been checked."

"They were." Dumarest glanced at the handlike spires as they fell to the rear. "Captain Lauter told me of a force which comes from Ryzam. Something which cuts out ship generators. It must affect rafts the same way."

"So we can't just fly in." Lopakhin grunted. "It's obvious when you think about it. If rafts worked Ryzam would be mapped and charted by now. So what now, Earl? Do we walk?"

"Not all the way." Dumarest spoke into the radio telling the others what had happened. "Come in to meet me, Shior. We'll unload, move back out and transship the supplies. Chenault comes in last."

"What about the rafts?"

"They stay outside. All but one. Let's get moving!"

The uplifted spires rose to enfold them with a symbolic embrace, one too like a grasping prison to be comfortable. The star-shaped clearing was smooth, the seven pointed rays set equally at the circumference of the central space. There they landed to stack the supplies. By mid-afternoon it was done, only Chenault waiting for transshipment.

"I'll get him." Dumarest climbed into the sole remaining raft. "Take over, Ian. Set guards and keep everyone on combat alert."

Massak saluted. "You expect trouble? Here?"

"Everywhere. Keep the women among the bales and have men watch from every angle." Dumarest glanced at the surrounding spires, their bases wreathed in thickening shadows. "Stay put. No exploring. We shouldn't be long."

A wind had risen by the time he reached Chenault, small dunes piling against the sides of the grounded rafts. Chenault himself, impatient, looked at the lowering sun.

"We're wasting time," he complained. "This shift could have been completed in one move."

"We can afford wasted time," said Dumarest. "We can't afford mistakes." He glanced at Toyanna and jerked his head. She followed him to one side out of earshot of the others. "Tell me something," he said. "Can Tama operate his surrogate by a cable?"

"Yes. Why?"

"It could be necessary. One other thing, the midget stays behind."

"I can see why," she admitted. "But he won't like it."

Baglioni was furious. "No. I refuse. You can't make me."

"You stay." Dumarest was firm, then softening his tone, explained. "I'm leaving two rafts here, one under the hands and the other in the clearing. There'll be a gun in each. We may have to come out in a hurry and we'll need all the help we can get. The raft, the guns, someone to come to the rescue. That's you, Baglioni. You're the best suited." He allowed of no argument. "Pia, follow me in your raft to the hands and pick me up. I'll ride with you to the clearing."

Where the camp had been set and death was waiting.