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diff --git a/31619-h/31619-h.htm b/31619-h/31619-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..710bbb5 --- /dev/null +++ b/31619-h/31619-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6472 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Planet Savers, by Marion Zimmer Bradley. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 15%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + color: #BDBDBD; +} + +hr.hr2 { + width: 10%; + margin-top: 2.5em; + margin-bottom: 2.5em; + clear: both; + color: #BDBDBD; +} + +hr.front { + width: 15%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 3em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + color: #BDBDBD; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 95%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + color: #C0C0C0; +} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.caption {text-align: center; margin-top: 10px;} + +.captionr {float: right; width: auto;} + +.image {text-align: center; margin: auto;} + +.image3 {text-align: center; float: right; width: auto;} + +.dropcap { + float: left; + font-size: 310%; + line-height: 77%; + padding-right: 2px; + padding-bottom: 1px; + width: auto; +} + +.upper {text-transform: uppercase;} + +.tnote { + border-style: double; + border-width: 6px; + padding: 1em; + background: #FFFFFF; + text-align: left; + margin-left: 15%; + margin-right: 15%; + font-size: 95%; + border-color: #000000; +} + +.minispace {margin-bottom: 1em;} + +.microspace {margin-bottom: .5em;} + +.nanospace {padding-bottom: .25em;} + +.border2 { + border-style: solid; + border-width: 2px; + background: #FFFFFF; + border-color: #000000; + margin: auto; +} + +.u { + border-bottom-style: solid; + border-bottom-width: 4px; + border-bottom-color: #000000; + margin-left: 25em; + margin-right: 25em; +} + +table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Planet Savers, by Marion Zimmer Bradley + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Planet Savers + +Author: Marion Zimmer Bradley + +Release Date: March 13, 2010 [EBook #31619] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PLANET SAVERS *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Meredith Bach, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="microspace"> </div> + +<div class="tnote"> +<h3>Transcriber's Note:</h3> + +This etext was produced from Amazing Stories, November, 1958. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. +</div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="image"> +<img src="images/icover.jpg" width="366" height="480" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="center"> +<table summary="title header"> +<tr><td align="left"><img src="images/iamazing.png" width="254" height="119" alt="AMAZING STORIES" title="" /></td> +<td align="right"><span style="font-size: 135%; font-weight: bold; margin-left: 1.5em;">SCIENCE FICTION NOVEL</span></td></tr> +</table> +</div> + +<div class="microspace"> </div> +<div class="microspace"> </div> +<h1>THE<br /> +PLANET<br /> +SAVERS</h1> + +<h3>By</h3> + +<h3>MARION ZIMMER BRADLEY</h3> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="microspace"> </div> +<h3>ILLUSTRATOR NOVICK</h3> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3>A SHORT NOVEL</h3> + +<hr class="front" /> +<h1>the planet savers</h1> + +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="u"> </div> +<div class="center u"><i>Marion Zimmer Bradley has written some of the finest +science fiction in print. She has been away from our +pages too long. So this story is in the nature of a triumphant +return. It could well be her best to date.</i></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<p><span class="dropcap">B</span><span class="upper">y</span> the time I got myself all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> +the way awake I thought I +was alone. I was lying on a +leather couch in a bare white +room with huge windows, alternate +glass-brick and clear glass. +Beyond the clear windows was a +view of snow-peaked mountains +which turned to pale shadows in +the glass-brick.</p> + +<p>Habit and memory fitted +names to all these; the bare office, +the orange flare of the great +sun, the names of the dimming +mountains. But beyond a polished +glass desk, a man sat watching +me. And I had never seen the +man before.</p> + +<p>He was chubby, and not +young, and had ginger-colored +eyebrows and a fringe of ginger-colored +hair around the edges of +a forehead which was otherwise +quite pink and bald. He was +wearing a white uniform coat, +and the intertwined caduceus on +the pocket and on the sleeve proclaimed +him a member of the +Medical Service attached to the +Civilian HQ of the Terran Trade +City.</p> + +<p>I didn't stop to make all +these evaluations consciously, of +course. They were just part of +my world when I woke up and +found it taking shape around me. +The familiar mountains, the +familiar sun, the strange man. +But he spoke to me in a friendly +way, as if it were an ordinary +thing to find a perfect stranger +sprawled out taking a siesta in +here.</p> + +<p>"Could I trouble you to tell me +your name?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p> + +<div class="microspace"> </div> +<div class="image"> +<img src="images/i085.jpg" width="320" height="470" alt="" title="" /><br /> +</div> +<div class="caption">The man in the mirror was a stranger.</div> +<div class="microspace"> </div> + +<p>That was reasonable enough. +If I found somebody making +himself at home in my office—if +I had an office—I'd ask him his +name, too. I started to swing my +legs to the floor, and had to stop<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> +and steady myself with one +hand while the room drifted in +giddy circles around me.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't try to sit up just +yet," he remarked, while the +floor calmed down again. Then +he repeated, politely but insistently, +"Your name?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. My name." It was—I +fumbled through layers of +what felt like gray fuzz, trying +to lay my tongue on the most +familiar of all sounds, my own +name. It was—why, it was—I +said, on a high rising note, +"This is damn silly," and swallowed. +And swallowed again. +Hard.</p> + +<p>"Calm down," the chubby man +said soothingly. That was easier +said than done. I stared at him +in growing panic and demanded, +"But, but, have I had amnesia +or something?"</p> + +<p>"Or something."</p> + +<p>"What's my <i>name</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Now, now, take it easy! I'm +sure you'll remember it soon +enough. You can answer other +questions, I'm sure. How old are +you?"</p> + +<p>I answered eagerly and quickly, +"Twenty-two."</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>The chubby man scribbled +something on a card. "Interesting. +In-ter-est-ing. Do you know +where we are?"</p> + +<p>I looked around the office. "In +the Terran Headquarters. From +your uniform, I'd say we were +on Floor 8—Medical."</p> + +<p>He nodded and scribbled +again, pursing his lips. "Can +you—uh—tell me what planet we +are on?"</p> + +<p>I had to laugh. "Darkover," I +chuckled, "I hope! And if you +want the names of the moons, +or the date of the founding of +the Trade City, or something—"</p> + +<p>He gave in, laughing with me. +"Remember where you were +born?"</p> + +<p>"On Samarra. I came here +when I was three years old—my +father was in Mapping and Exploring—" +I stopped short, in +shock. "He's dead!"</p> + +<p>"Can you tell me your father's +name?"</p> + +<p>"Same as mine. Jay—Jason—" +the flash of memory closed +down in the middle of a word. +It had been a good try, but it +hadn't quite worked. The doctor +said soothingly, "We're doing +very well."</p> + +<p>"You haven't told me anything," +I accused. "Who are +you? Why are you asking me all +these questions?"</p> + +<p>He pointed to a sign on his +desk. I scowled and spelled out +the letters. "Randall ... Forth +... Director ... Department +..." and Dr. Forth made a note. +I said aloud, "It is—<i>Doctor</i> +Forth, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you know?"</p> + +<p>I looked down at myself, and +shook my head. "Maybe <i>I'm</i> Doctor +Forth," I said, noticing for +the first time that I was also +wearing a white coat with the +caduceus emblem of Medical. +But it had the wrong feel, as if +I were dressed in somebody else's +clothes. <i>I</i> was no doctor, was I?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> +I pushed back one sleeve slightly, +exposing a long, triangular scar +under the cuff. Dr. Forth—by +now I was sure <i>he</i> was Dr. Forth—followed +the direction of my +eyes.</p> + +<p>"Where did you get the scar?"</p> + +<p>"Knife fight. One of the bands +of those-who-may-not-enter-cities +caught us on the slopes, +and we—" the memory thinned +out again, and I said despairingly, +"It's all confused! What's the +matter? Why am I up on Medical? +Have I had an accident? +Amnesia?"</p> + +<p>"Not exactly. I'll explain."</p> + +<p>I got up and walked to the +window, unsteadily because my +feet wanted to walk slowly while +I felt like bursting through some +invisible net and striding there +at one bound. Once I got to the +window the room stayed put +while I gulped down great +breaths of warm sweetish air. I +said, "I could use a drink."</p> + +<p>"Good idea. Though I don't +usually recommend it." Forth +reached into a drawer for a flat +bottle; poured tea-colored liquid +into a throwaway cup. After a +minute he poured more for himself. +"Here. And sit down, man. +You make me nervous, hovering +like that."</p> + +<p>I didn't sit down. I strode to +the door and flung it open. +Forth's voice was low and unhurried.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter? You can +go out, if you want to, but won't +you sit down and talk to me for +a minute? Anyway, where do +you want to go?"</p> + +<p>The question made me uncomfortable. +I took a couple of long +breaths and came back into the +room. Forth said, "Drink this," +and I poured it down. He refilled +the cup unasked, and I +swallowed that too and felt the +hard lump in my middle begin +to loosen up and dissolve.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>Forth said, "Claustrophobia +too. Typical," and scribbled on +the card some more. I was getting +tired of that performance. +I turned on him to tell him so, +then suddenly felt amused—or +maybe it was the liquor working +in me. He seemed such a funny +little man, shutting himself up +inside an office like this and talking +about claustrophobia and +watching me as if I were a big +bug. I tossed the cup into a disposal.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it about time for a few +of those explanations?"</p> + +<p>"If you think you can take it. +How do you feel now?"</p> + +<p>"Fine." I sat down on the +couch again, leaning back and +stretching out my long legs comfortably. +"What did you put in +that drink?"</p> + +<p>He chuckled. "Trade secret. +Now; the easiest way to explain +would be to let you watch a film +we made yesterday."</p> + +<p>"To watch—" I stopped. "It's +your time we're wasting."</p> + +<p>He punched a button on the +desk, spoke into a mouthpiece. +"Surveillance? Give us a monitor +on—" he spoke a string of +incomprehensible numbers, while +I lounged at ease on the couch.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> +Forth waited for an answer, +then touched another button and +steel louvers closed noiselessly +over the windows, blacking them +out. I rose in sudden panic, then +relaxed as the room went dark. +The darkness felt oddly more +normal than the light, and I +leaned back and watched the +flickers clear as one wall of the +office became a large visionscreen. +Forth came and sat beside +me on the leather couch, but +in the picture Forth was there, +sitting at his desk, watching another +man, a stranger, walk into +the office.</p> + +<p>Like Forth, the newcomer +wore a white coat with the caduceus +emblems. I disliked the +man on sight. He was tall and +lean and composed, with a dour +face set in thin lines. I guessed +that he was somewhere in his +thirties. Dr.-Forth-in-the-film +said, "Sit down, Doctor," and I +drew a long breath, overwhelmed +by a curious, certain sensation.</p> + +<p><i>I have been here before. I +have seen this happen before.</i></p> + +<p>(And curiously formless I felt. +I sat and watched, and I knew I +was watching, and sitting. But +it was in that dreamlike fashion, +where the dreamer at once +watches his visions and participates +in them....)</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>"Sit down, Doctor," Forth said, +"did you bring in the reports?"</p> + +<p>Jay Allison carefully took the +indicated seat, poised nervously +on the edge of the chair. He sat +very straight, leaning forward +only a little to hand a thick folder +of papers across the desk. +Forth took it, but didn't open it. +"What do you think, Dr. Allison?"</p> + +<p>"There is no possible room for +doubt." Jay Allison spoke precisely, +in a rather high-pitched +and emphatic tone. "It follows +the statistical pattern for all recorded +attacks of 48-year fever +... by the way, sir, haven't we +any better name than that for +this particular disease? The +term '48-year fever' connotes a +fever of 48 years duration, +rather than a pandemic recurring +every 48 years."</p> + +<p>"A fever that lasted 48 years +would be quite a fever," Dr. +Forth said with the shadow of a +grim smile. "Nevertheless that's +the only name we have so far. +Name it and you can have it. +Allison's disease?"</p> + +<p>Jay Allison greeted this pleasantry +with a repressive frown. +"As I understand it, the disease +cycle seems to be connected +somehow with the once-every-48-years +conjunction of the four +moons, which explains why the +Darkovans are so superstitious +about it. The moons have remarkably +eccentric orbits—I +don't know anything about that +part, I'm quoting Dr. Moore. If +there's an animal vector to the +disease, we've never discovered +it. The pattern runs like this; a +few cases in the mountain districts, +the next month a hundred-odd +cases all over this part +of the planet. Then it skips exactly +three months without increase. +The next upswing puts<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> +the number of reported cases in +the thousands, and three months +after <i>that</i>, it reaches real pandemic +proportions and decimates +the entire human population of +Darkover."</p> + +<p>"That's about it," Forth admitted. +They bent together over +the folder, Jay Allison drawing +back slightly to avoid touching +the other man.</p> + +<p>Forth said, "We Terrans have +had a Trade compact on Darkover +for a hundred and fifty-two +years. The first outbreak of this +48-year fever killed all but a +dozen men out of three hundred. +The Darkovans were worse off +than we were. The last outbreak +wasn't quite so bad, but it was +bad enough, I've heard. It has +an 87 per cent mortality—for +humans, that is. I understand the +trailmen don't die of it."</p> + +<p>"The Darkovans call it the +trailmen's fever, Dr. Forth, because +the trailmen are virtually +immune to it. It remains in their +midst as a mild ailment taken by +children. When it breaks out +into the virulent form every 48 +years, most of the trailmen are +already immune. I took the disease +myself as a child—maybe +you heard?"</p> + +<p>Forth nodded. "You may be +the only Terran ever to contract +the disease and survive."</p> + +<p>"The trailmen incubate the +disease," Jay Allison said. "I +should think the logical thing +would be to drop a couple of +hydrogen bombs on the trail +cities—and wipe it out for good +and all."</p> + +<p>(Sitting on the Sofa in Forth's +dark office, I stiffened with such +fury that he shook my shoulder +and muttered, "Easy, there, +man!")</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>Dr. Forth, on the screen, looked +annoyed, and Jay Allison +said, with a grimace of distaste, +"I didn't mean that literally. But +the trailmen are not human. It +wouldn't be genocide, just an exterminator's +job. A public health +measure."</p> + +<p>Forth looked shocked as he +realized that the younger man +meant what he was saying. He +said, "Galactic center would +have to rule on whether they're +dumb animals or intelligent non-humans, +and whether they're +entitled to the status of a civilization. +All precedent on Darkover +is toward recognizing them +as men—and good God, Jay, +you'd probably be called as a witness +for the defense! How can +you say they're not human after +your experience with them? +Anyway, by the time their status +was finally decided, half of the +recognizable humans on Darkover +would be dead. We need a +better solution than that."</p> + +<p>He pushed his chair back and +looked out the window.</p> + +<p>"I won't go into the political +situation," he said, "you aren't +interested in Terran Empire +politics, and I'm no expert either. +But you'd have to be deaf, dumb +and blind not to know that Darkover's +been playing the immovable +object to the irresistible +force. The Darkovans are more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> +advanced in some of the non-causative +sciences than we are, +and until now, they wouldn't admit +that Terra had a thing to +contribute. However—and this is +the big however—they do know, +and they're willing to admit, that +our medical sciences are better +than theirs."</p> + +<p>"Theirs being practically non-existent."</p> + +<p>"Exactly—and this could be +the first crack in the barrier. +You may not realize the significance +of this, but the Legate received +an offer from the Hasturs +themselves."</p> + +<p>Jay Allison murmured, "I'm +to be impressed?"</p> + +<p>"On Darkover you'd damn well +better be impressed when the +Hasturs sit up and take notice."</p> + +<p>"I understand they're telepaths +or something—"</p> + +<p>"Telepaths, psychokinetics, +parapsychs, just about anything +else. For all practical purposes +they're the Gods of Darkover. +And one of the Hasturs—a +rather young and unimportant +one, I'll admit, the old man's +grandson—came to the Legate's +office, in person, mind you. He +offered, if the Terran Medical +would help Darkover lick the +trailmen's fever, to coach selected +Terran men in matrix mechanics."</p> + +<p>"Good Lord," Jay said. It was +a concession beyond Terra's +wildest dreams; for a hundred +years they had tried to beg, buy +or steal some knowledge of the +mysterious science of matrix +mechanics—that curious discipline +which could turn matter +into raw energy, and vice versa, +without any intermediate stages +and without fission by-products. +Matrix mechanics had made the +Darkovans virtually immune to +the lure of Terra's advanced +technologies.</p> + +<p>Jay said, "Personally I think +Darkovan science is over-rated. +But I can see the propaganda +angle—"</p> + +<p>"Not to mention the humanitarian +angle of healing—"</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>Jay Allison gave one of his +cold shrugs. "The real angle +seems to be this; <i>can</i> we cure +the 48-year fever?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet. But we have a lead. +During the last epidemic, a Terran +scientist discovered a blood +fraction containing antibodies +against the fever—in the trailmen. +Isolated to a serum, it +might reduce the virulent 48-year +epidemic form to the mild +form again. Unfortunately, he +died himself in the epidemic, +without finishing his work, and +his notebooks were overlooked +until this year. We have 18,000 +men, and their families, on Darkover +now, Jay. Frankly, if we +lose too many of them, we're going +to have to pull out of Darkover—the +big brass on Terra +will write off the loss of a garrison +of professional traders, but +not of a whole Trade City colony. +That's not even mentioning the +prestige we'll lose if our much-vaunted +Terran medical sciences +can't save Darkover from an +epidemic. We've got exactly five<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> +months. We can't synthesize a +serum in that time. We've got +to appeal to the trailmen. And +that's why I called you up here. +You know more about the trailmen +than any living Terran. +You ought to. You spent eight +years in a Nest."</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>(In Forth's darkened office I +sat up straighter, with a flash +of returning memory. Jay Allison, +I judged, was several years +older than I, but we had one +thing in common; this cold fish +of a man shared with myself that +experience of marvelous years +spent in an alien world!)</p> + +<p>Jay Allison scowled, displeased. +"That was years ago. I was +hardly more than a baby. My +father crashed on a Mapping +expedition over the Hellers—God +only knows what possessed +him to try and take a light plane +over those crosswinds. I survived +the crash by the merest chance, +and lived with the trailmen—so +I'm told—until I was thirteen or +fourteen. I don't remember much +about it. Children aren't particularly +observant."</p> + +<p>Forth leaned over the desk, +staring. "You speak their language, +don't you?"</p> + +<p>"I used to. I might remember +it under hypnosis, I suppose. +Why? Do you want me to translate +something?"</p> + +<p>"Not exactly. We were thinking +of sending you on an expedition +to the trailmen themselves."</p> + +<p>(In the darkened office, watching +Jay's startled face, I +thought; God, what an adventure! +I wonder—I wonder if +they want me to go with him?)</p> + +<p>Forth was explaining: "It +would be a difficult trek. You +know what the Hellers are like. +Still, you used to climb mountains, +as a hobby, before you +went into Medical—"</p> + +<p>"I outgrew the childishness of +hobbies many years ago, sir," +Jay said stiffly.</p> + +<p>"We'd get you the best guides +we could, Terran and Darkovan. +But they couldn't do the one +thing you can do. You <i>know</i> the +trailmen, Jay. You might be able +to persuade them to do the one +thing they've never done before."</p> + +<p>"What's that?" Jay Allison +sounded suspicious.</p> + +<p>"Come out of the mountains. +Send us volunteers—blood donors—we +might, if we had enough +blood to work on, be able to isolate +the right fraction, and +synthesize it, in time to prevent +the epidemic from really taking +hold. Jay, it's a tough mission +and it's dangerous as all hell, but +somebody's got to do it, and I'm +afraid you're the only qualified +man."</p> + +<p>"I like my first suggestion +better. Bomb the trailmen—and +the Hellers—right off the +planet." Jay's face was set in +lines of loathing, which he controlled +after a minute, and said, +"I—I didn't mean that. Theoretically +I can see the necessity, +only—" he stopped and swallowed.</p> + +<p>"Please say what you were going +to say."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I wonder if I am as well +qualified as you think? No—don't +interrupt—I find the natives +of Darkover distasteful, +even the humans. As for the +trailmen—"</p> + +<p>(I was getting mad and impatient. +I whispered to Forth in +the darkness, "Shut the damn +film off! You couldn't send <i>that</i> +guy on an errand like <i>that</i>! I'd +rather—"</p> + +<p>(Forth snapped, "Shut up and +listen!"</p> + +<p>(I shut up and the film continued +to repeat.)</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>Jay Allison was not acting. He +was pained and disgusted. Forth +wouldn't let him finish his explanation +of why he had refused +even to teach in the Medical college +established for Darkovans +by the Terran empire. He interrupted, +and he sounded irritated.</p> + +<p>"We know all that. It evidently +never occurred to you, Jay, +that it's an inconvenience to us—that +all this vital knowledge +should lie, purely by accident, in +the hands of the one man who's +too damned stubborn to use it?"</p> + +<p>Jay didn't move an eyelash, +where I would have squirmed, +"I have always been aware of +that, Doctor."</p> + +<p>Forth drew a long breath. "I'll +concede you're not suitable at +the moment, Jay. But what do +you know of applied psychodynamics?"</p> + +<p>"Very little, I'm sorry to say." +Allison didn't sound sorry, +though. He sounded bored to +death with the whole conversation.</p> + +<p>"May I be blunt—and personal?"</p> + +<p>"Please do. I'm not at all sensitive."</p> + +<p>"Basically, then, Doctor Allison, +a person as contained and +repressed as yourself usually has +a clearly defined subsidiary personality. +In neurotic individuals +this complex of personality traits +sometimes splits off, and we get +a syndrome known as multiple, +or alternate personality."</p> + +<p>"I've scanned a few of the +classic cases. Wasn't there a +woman with four separate personalities?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly. However, you aren't +neurotic, and ordinarily there +would not be the slightest chance +of your repressed alternate taking +over your personality."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," Jay murmured +ironically, "I'd be losing sleep +over that."</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless I presume you +<i>do</i> have such a subsidiary personality, +although he would +normally never manifest. This +subsidiary—let's call him Jay<sub>2</sub>—would +embody all the characteristics +which you repress. He +would be gregarious, where you +are retiring and studious; adventurous +where you are cautious; +talkative while you are +taciturn; he would perhaps enjoy +action for its own sake, +while you exercise faithfully in +the gymnasium only for your +health's sake; and he might even +remember the trailmen with +pleasure rather than dislike."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p> + +<p>"In short—a blend of all the +undesirable characteristics?"</p> + +<p>"One could put it that way. +Certainly he would be a blend of +all the characteristics which you, +Jay<sub>1</sub>, <i>consider</i> undesirable. But—if +released by hypnotism and +suggestion, he might be suitable +for the job in hand."</p> + +<p>"But how do you know I actually +have such an—alternate?"</p> + +<p>"I don't. But it's a good guess. +Most repressed—" Forth coughed +and amended, "most <i>disciplined</i> +personalities possess such +a suppressed secondary personality. +Don't you occasionally—rather +rarely—find yourself doing +things which are entirely out +of character for you?"</p> + +<p>I could almost feel Allison taking +it in, as he confessed, "Well—yes. +For instance—the other +day—although I dress conservatively +at all times—" he glanced +at his uniform coat, "I found +myself buying—" he stopped +again and his face went an unlovely +terra-cotta color as he finally +mumbled, "a flowered red +sports shirt."</p> + +<p>Sitting in the dark I felt +vaguely sorry for the poor gawk, +disturbed by, ashamed of the +only human impulses he ever +had. On the screen Allison +frowned fiercely, "A crazy impulse."</p> + +<p>"You could say that, or say it +was an action of the suppressed +Jay<sub>2</sub>. How about it, Allison? You +may be the only Terran on Darkover, +maybe the only human, +who could get into a trailman's +Nest without being murdered."</p> + +<p>"Sir—as a citizen of the Empire, +I don't have any choice, do +I?"</p> + +<p>"Jay, look," Forth said, and I +felt him trying to reach through +the barricade and touch, really +touch that cold contained young +man, "we couldn't <i>order</i> any man +to do anything like this. Aside +from the ordinary dangers, it +could destroy your personal balance, +maybe permanently. I'm +asking you to volunteer something +above and beyond the call +of duty. Man to man—what do +you say?"</p> + +<p>I would have been moved by +his words. Even at secondhand +I was moved by them. Jay Allison +looked at the floor, and I saw +him twist his long well-kept +surgeon's hands and crack the +knuckles with an odd gesture. +Finally he said, "I haven't any +choice either way, Doctor. I'll +take the chance. I'll go to the +trailmen."</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>The screen went dark again +and Forth flicked the light on. +He said, "Well?"</p> + +<p>I gave it back, in his own intonation, +"Well?" and was exasperated +to find that I was +twisting my own knuckles in the +nervous gesture of Allison's +painful decision. I jerked them +apart and got up.</p> + +<p>"I suppose it didn't work, +with that cold fish, and you decided +to come to me instead? +Sure, <i>I'll</i> go to the trailmen for +you. Not with that Allison—I +wouldn't go anywhere with that +guy—but I speak the trailmen's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> +language, and without hypnosis +either."</p> + +<p>Forth was staring at me. "So +you've remembered that?"</p> + +<p>"Hell, yes," I said, "my dad +crashed in the Hellers, and a +band of trailmen found me, half +dead. I lived there until I was +about fifteen, then their Old-One +decided I was too human for +them, and they took me out +through Dammerung Pass and +arranged to have me brought +here. Sure, it's all coming back +now. I spent five years in the +Spacemen's Orphanage, then I +went to work taking Terran +tourists on hunting parties and +so on, because I liked being +around the mountains. I—" I +stopped. Forth was staring at +me.</p> + +<p>"You think you'd like this +job?"</p> + +<p>"It would be tough," I said, +considering. "The People of the +Sky—" (using the trailmen's +name for themselves) "—don't +like outsiders, but they might be +persuaded. The worst part would +be getting there. The plane, or +the 'copter, isn't built that can +get through the crosswinds +around the Hellers and land inside +them. We'd have to go on +foot, all the way from Carthon. +I'd need professional climbers—mountaineers."</p> + +<p>"Then you don't share Allison's +attitude?"</p> + +<p>"Dammit, don't insult me!" I +discovered that I was on my feet +again, pacing the office restlessly. +Forth stared and mused +aloud, "What's personality anyway? +A mask of emotions, superimposed +on the body and the intellect. +Change the point of +view, change the emotions and +desires, and even with the same +body and the same past experiences, +you have a new man."</p> + +<p>I swung round in mid-step. A +new and terrible suspicion, too +monstrous to name, was creeping +up on me. Forth touched a +button and the face of Jay Allison, +immobile, appeared on the +visionscreen. Forth put a mirror +in my hand. He said, "Jason Allison, +look at yourself."</p> + +<p>I looked.</p> + +<p>"No," I said. And again, "No. +No. No."</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>Forth didn't argue. He pointed, +with a stubby finger. "Look—" +he moved the finger as he +spoke, "height of forehead. Set +of cheekbones. Your eyebrows +look different, and your mouth, +because the expression is different. +But bony structure—the +nose, the chin—"</p> + +<p>I heard myself make a queer +sound; dashed the mirror to the +floor. He grabbed my forearm. +"Steady, man!"</p> + +<p>I found a scrap of my voice. +It didn't sound like Allison's. +"Then I'm—Jay<sub>2</sub>? Jay Allison +with amnesia?"</p> + +<p>"Not exactly." Forth mopped +his forehead with an immaculate +sleeve and it came away damp +with sweat, "No—<i>not</i> Jay Allison +as I know him!" He drew a +long breath. "And sit down. +Whoever you are, sit <i>down</i>!"</p> + +<p>I sat. Gingerly. Not sure.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But the man Jay might have +been, given a different temperamental +bias. I'd say—the man +Jay Allison started out to be. +The man he <i>refused</i> to be. Within +his subconscious, he built up +barriers against a whole series +of memories, and the subliminal +threshold—"</p> + +<p>"Doc, I don't understand the +psycho talk."</p> + +<p>Forth stared. "And you do remember +the trailmen's language. +I thought so. Allison's +personality is suppressed in you, +as yours was in him."</p> + +<p>"One thing, Doc. I don't +know a thing about blood fractions +or epidemics. My half of +the personality didn't study +medicine." I took up the mirror +again and broodingly studied +the face there. The high thin +cheeks, high forehead shaded by +coarse dark hair which Jay Allison +had slicked down now heavily +rumpled. I still didn't think I +looked anything like the doctor. +Our voices were nothing alike +either; his had been pitched +rather high, falsetto. My own, +as nearly as I could judge, was a +full octave deeper, and more +resonant. Yet they issued from +the same vocal chords, unless +Forth was having a reasonless, +macabre joke.</p> + +<p>"Did I honest-to-God study +medicine? It's the last thing I'd +think about. It's an honest trade, +I guess, but I've never been that +intellectual."</p> + +<p>"You—or rather, Jay Allison +is a specialist in Darkovan parasitology, +as well as a very competent +surgeon." Forth was sitting +with his chin in his hands, +watching me intently. He scowled +and said, "If anything, the +physical change is more startling +than the other. I wouldn't have +recognized you."</p> + +<p>"That tallies with me. I don't +recognize myself." I added, "—and +the queer thing is, I didn't +even <i>like</i> Jay Allison, to put it +mildly. If he—I can't say <i>he</i>, +can I?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know why not. +You're no more Jay Allison than +I am. For one thing, you're +younger. Ten years younger. I +doubt if any of his friends—if +he had any—would recognize +you. You—it's ridiculous to go +on calling you Jay<sub>2</sub>. What should +I call you?"</p> + +<p>"Why should I care? Call me +Jason."</p> + +<p>"Suits you," Forth said enigmatically. +"Look, then, Jason. +I'd like to give you a few days +to readjust to your new personality, +but we are really pressed +for time. Can you fly to Carthon +tonight? I've hand-picked a good +crew for you, and sent them on +ahead. You'll meet them there. +You'll find them competent."</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>I stared at him. Suddenly the +room oppressed me and I found +it hard to breathe. I said in +wonder, "You were pretty sure +of yourself, weren't you?"</p> + +<p>Forth just looked at me, for +what seemed a long time. Then +he said, in a very quiet voice, +"No. I wasn't sure at all. But if +you didn't turn up, and I couldn't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> +talk Jay into it, I'd have had to +try it myself."</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>Jason Allison, Junior, was +listed on the directory of the +Terran HQ as "Suite 1214, Medical +Residence Corridor." I found +the rooms without any trouble, +though an elderly doctor stared +at me rather curiously as I barged +along the quiet hallway. The +suite—bedroom, minuscule sitting-room, +compact bath—depressed +me; clean, closed-in and +neutral as the man who owned +them, I rummaged them restlessly, +trying to find some scrap of +familiarity to indicate that I had +lived here for the past eleven +years.</p> + +<p>Jay Allison was thirty-four +years old. I had given my age, +without hesitation, as 22. There +were no obvious blanks in my +memory; from the moment Jay +Allison had spoken of the trailmen, +my past had rushed back +and stood, complete to yesterday's +supper (only had I eaten +that supper twelve years ago)? +I remembered my father, a +lined silent man who had liked +to fly solitary, taking photograph +after photograph from his plane +for the meticulous work of Mapping +and Exploration. He'd liked +to have me fly with him and I'd +flown over virtually every inch +of the planet. No one else had +ever dared fly over the Hellers, +except the big commercial spacecraft +that kept to a safe altitude. +I vaguely remembered the crash +and the strange hands pulling +me out of the wreckage and the +weeks I'd spent, broken-bodied +and delirious, gently tended by +one of the red-eyed, twittering +women of the trailmen. In all I +had spent eight years in the +Nest, which was not a nest at +all but a vast sprawling city +built in the branches of enormous +trees. With the small and +delicate humanoids who had +been my playfellows, I had gathered +the nuts and buds and +trapped the small arboreal animals +they used for food, taken +my share at weaving clothing +from the fibres of parasite plants +cultivated on the stems, and in +all those eight years I had set +foot on the ground less than a +dozen times, even though I had +travelled for miles through the +tree-roads high above the forest +floor.</p> + +<p>Then the Old-One's painful decision +that I was too alien for +them, and the difficult and dangerous +journey my trailmen foster-parents +and foster-brothers +had undertaken, to help me out +of the Hellers and arrange for +me to be taken to the Trade +City. After two years of physically +painful and mentally +rebellious readjustment to daytime +living, the owl-eyed trailmen +saw best, and lived largely, +by moonlight, I had found a +niche for myself, and settled +down. But all of the later years +(after Jay Allison had taken +over, I supposed, from a basic +pattern of memory common to +both of us) had vanished into the +limbo of the subconscious.</p> + +<p>A bookrack was crammed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> +with large microcards; I slipped +one into the viewer, with a queer +sense of spying, and found myself +listening apprehensively to +hear that measured step and Jay +Allison's falsetto voice demanding +what the hell I was doing, +meddling with his possessions. +Eye to the viewer, I read briefly +at random, something about +the management of compound +fracture, then realized I had understood +exactly three words in +a paragraph. I put my fist +against my forehead and heard +the words echoing there emptily; +"laceration ... primary efflusion +... serum and lymph ... +granulation tissue...." I presumed +that the words meant +something and that I once had +known what. But if I had a medical +education, I didn't recall a +syllable of it. I didn't know a +fracture from a fraction.</p> + +<p>In a sudden frenzy of impatience +I stripped off the white +coat and put on the first shirt I +came to, a crimson thing that +hung in the line of white coats +like an exotic bird in snow country. +I went back to rummaging +the drawers and bureaus. Carelessly +shoved in a pigeonhole I +found another microcard that +looked familiar; and when I +slipped it mechanically into the +viewer it turned out to be a book +on mountaineering which, oddly +enough, I remembered buying as +a youngster. It dispelled my last, +lingering doubts. Evidently I +had bought it before the personalities +had forked so sharply +apart and separated, Jason from +Jay. I was beginning to believe. +Not to accept. Just to believe it +had happened. The book looked +well-thumbed, and had been +handled so much I had to baby +it into the slot of the viewer.</p> + +<p>Under a folded pile of clean +underwear I found a flat half-empty +bottle of whiskey. I remembered +Forth's words that +he'd never seen Jay Allison +drink, and suddenly I thought, +"The fool!" I fixed myself a +drink and sat down, idly scanning +over the mountaineering +book.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>Not till I'd entered medical +school, I suspected, did the two +halves of me fork so strongly +apart ... so strongly that there +had been days and weeks and, I +suspected, years where Jay Allison +had kept me prisoner. I tried +to juggle dates in my mind, looked +at a calendar, and got such a +mental jolt that I put it face-down +to think about when I was +a little drunker.</p> + +<p>I wondered if my detailed +memories of my teens and early +twenties were the same memories +Jay Allison looked back on. +I didn't think so. People forget +and remember selectively. Week +by week, then, and year by year, +the dominant personality of Jay +had crowded me out; so that the +young rowdy, more than half +Darkovan, loving the mountains, +half-homesick for a non-human +world, had been drowned in the +chilly, austere young medical +student who lost himself in his +work. But I, Jason—I had al<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>ways +been the watcher behind, +the person Jay Allison dared not +be? Why was he past thirty—and +I just 22?</p> + +<p>A ringing shattered the silence; +I had to hunt for the intercom +on the bedroom wall. I +said, "Who is it?" and an unfamiliar +voice demanded, "Dr. Allison?"</p> + +<p>I said automatically, "Nobody +here by that name," and started +to put back the mouthpiece. +Then I stopped and gulped and +asked, "Is that you, Dr. Forth?"</p> + +<p>It was, and I breathed again. +I didn't even want to think +about what I'd say if somebody +else had demanded to know why +in the devil I was answering Dr. +Allison's private telephone. +When Forth had finished, I went +to the mirror, and stared, trying +to see behind my face the sharp +features of that stranger, <i>Doctor</i> +Jason Allison. I delayed, even +while I was wondering what few +things I should pack for a trip +into the mountains and the habit +of hunting parties was making +mental lists about heat-socks and +windbreakers. The face that +looked at me was a young face, +unlined and faintly freckled, the +same face as always except that +I'd lost my suntan; Jay Allison +had kept me indoors too long. +Suddenly I struck the mirror +lightly with my fist.</p> + +<p>"The hell with you, Dr. Allison," +I said, and went to see if +he had kept any clothes fit to +pack.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>Dr. Forth was waiting for me +in the small skyport on the roof, +and so was a small 'copter, one +of the fairly old ones assigned +to Medical Service when they +were too beat-up for services +with higher priority. Forth took +one startled stare at my crimson +shirt, but all he said was, "Hello, +Jason. Here's something we've +got to decide right away; do we +tell the crew who you really +are?"</p> + +<p>I shook my head emphatically. +"I'm not Jay Allison; I don't +want his name or his reputation. +Unless there are men on the +crew who know Allison by +sight—"</p> + +<p>"Some of them do, but I don't +think they'd recognize you."</p> + +<p>"Tell them I'm his twin brother," +I said humorlessly.</p> + +<p>"That wouldn't be necessary. +There's not enough resemblance." +Forth raised his head +and beckoned to a man who was +doing something near the 'copter. +He said under his breath, +"You'll see what I mean," as the +man approached.</p> + +<p>He wore the uniform of Spaceforce—black +leather with a little +rainbow of stars on his sleeve +meaning he'd seen service on a +dozen different planets, a different +colored star for each one. He +wasn't a young man, but on the +wrong side of fifty, seamed and +burly and huge, with a split lip +and weathered face. I liked his +looks. We shook hands and Forth +said, "This is our man, Kendricks. +He's called Jason, and +he's an expert on the trailmen. +Jason, this is Buck Kendricks."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Glad to know you, Jason." I +thought Kendricks looked at me +half a second more than necessary. +"The 'copter's ready. Climb +in, Doc—you're going as far as +Carthon, aren't you?"</p> + +<p>We put on zippered windbreaks +and the 'copter soared +noiselessly into the pale crimson +sky. I sat beside Forth, looking +down through pale lilac clouds +at the pattern of Darkover +spread below me.</p> + +<p>"Kendricks was giving me a +funny eye, Doc. What's biting +him?"</p> + +<p>"He has known Jay Allison for +eight years," Forth said quietly, +"and he hasn't recognized you +yet."</p> + +<p>But we let it ride at that, to +my great relief, and didn't talk +any more about me at all. As we +flew under silent whirring +blades, turning our backs on the +settled country which lay near +the Trade City, we talked about +Darkover itself. Forth told me +about the trailmen's fever and +managed to give me some idea +about what the blood fraction +was, and why it was necessary +to persuade fifty or sixty of the +humanoids to return with me, to +donate blood from which the +antibody could be, first isolated, +then synthesised.</p> + +<p>It would be a totally unheard-of +thing, if I could accomplish +it. Most of the trailmen never +touched ground in their entire +lives, except when crossing the +passes above the snow line. Not +a dozen of them, including my +foster-parents who had so painfully +brought me out across +Dammerung, had ever crossed +the ring of encircling mountains +that walled them away from the +rest of the planet. Humans +sometimes penetrated the lower +forests in search of the trailmen. +It was one-way traffic. The trailmen +never came in search of +<i>them</i>.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>We talked, too, about some of +those humans who had crossed +the mountains into trailmen +country—those mountains profanely +dubbed the Hellers by the +first Terrans who had tried to +fly over them in anything lower +or slower than a spaceship. (The +Darkovan name for the Hellers +was even more explicit, and even +in translation, unrepeatable.)</p> + +<p>"What about this crew you +picked? They're not Terrans?"</p> + +<p>Forth shook his head. "It +would be murder to send anyone +recognizably Terran into the +Hellers. You know how the trailmen +feel about outsiders getting +into their country." I knew. +Forth continued, "Just the same, +there will be two Terrans with +you."</p> + +<p>"They don't know Jay Allison?" +I didn't want to be burdened +with anyone—not anyone—who +would know me, or expect +me to behave like my forgotten +other self.</p> + +<p>"Kendricks knows you," Forth +said, "but I'm going to be perfectly +truthful. I never knew Jay +Allison well, except in line of +work. I know a lot of things—from +the past couple of days<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>—which +came out during the hypnotic +sessions, which he'd never +have dreamed of telling me, or +anyone else, consciously. And +that comes under the heading of +a professional confidence—even +from you. And for that reason, +I'm sending Kendricks along—and +you're going to have to take +the chance he'll recognize you. +Isn't that Carthon down there?"</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>Carthon lay nestled under the +outlying foothills of the Hellers, +ancient and sprawling and squatty, +and burned brown with the +dust of five thousand years. +Children ran out to stare at the +'copter as we landed near the +city; few planes ever flew low +enough to be seen, this near the +Hellers.</p> + +<p>Forth had sent his crew ahead +and parked them in an abandoned +huge place at the edge of +the city which might once have +been a warehouse or a ruined +palace. Inside there were a couple +of trucks, stripped down to +framework and flatbed like all +machinery shipped through +space from Terra. There were +pack animals, dark shapes in the +gloom. Crates were stacked up +in an orderly untidiness, and at +the far end a fire was burning +and five or six men in Darkovan +clothing—loose sleeved shirts, +tight wrapped breeches, low +boots—were squatting around it, +talking. They got up as Forth +and Kendricks and I walked toward +them, and Forth greeted +them clumsily, in bad accented +Darkovan, then switched to Terran +Standard, letting one of +the men translate for him.</p> + +<p>Forth introduced me simply as +"Jason," after the Darkovan custom, +and I looked the men over, +one by one. Back when I'd climbed +for fun, I'd liked to pick my +own men; but whoever had picked +this crew must have known +his business.</p> + +<p>Three were mountain Darkovans, +lean swart men enough +alike to be brothers; I learned +after a while that they actually +were brothers, Hjalmar, Garin +and Vardo. All three were well +over six feet, and Hjalmar stood +head and shoulders over his +brothers, whom I never learned +to tell apart. The fourth man, a +redhead, was dressed rather better +than the others and introduced +as Lerrys Ridenow—the +double name indicating high +Darkovan aristocracy. He looked +muscular and agile enough, but +his hands were suspiciously well-kept +for a mountain man, and I +wondered how much experience +he'd had.</p> + +<p>The fifth man shook hands +with me, speaking to Kendricks +and Forth as if they were old +friends. "Don't I know you from +someplace, Jason?"</p> + +<p>He looked Darkovan, and wore +Darkovan clothes, but Forth had +forewarned me, and attack seemed +the best defense. "Aren't you +Terran?"</p> + +<p>"My father was," he said, and +I understood; a situation not exactly +uncommon, but ticklish on +a planet like Darkover. I said +carelessly, "I may have seen you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> +around the HQ. I can't place you, +though."</p> + +<p>"My name's Rafe Scott. I +thought I knew most of the professional +guides on Darkover, +but I admit I don't get into the +Hellers much," he confessed. +"Which route are we going to +take?"</p> + +<p>I found myself drawn into the +middle of the group of men, accepting +one of the small sweetish +Darkovan cigarettes, looking +over the plan somebody had +scribbled down on the top of a +packing case. I borrowed a pencil +from Rafe and bent over the +case, sketching out a rough map +of the terrain I remembered so +well from boyhood. I might be +bewildered about blood fractions, +but when it came to climbing I +knew what I was doing. Rafe +and Lerrys and the Darkovan +brothers crowded behind me to +look over the sketch, and Lerrys +put a long fingernail on the +route I'd indicated.</p> + +<p>"Your elevation's pretty bad +here," he said diffidently, "and +on the 'Narr campaign the trailmen +attacked us here, and it was +bad fighting along those ledges."</p> + +<p>I looked at him with new respect; +dainty hands or not, he +evidently knew the country. +Kendricks patted the blaster on +his hip and said grimly, "But +this isn't the 'Narr campaign. +I'd like to see any trailmen attack +us while I have this."</p> + +<p>"But you're not going to have +it," said a voice behind us, a +crisp authoritative voice. "Take +off that gun, man!"</p> + +<p>Kendricks and I whirled together, +to see the speaker; a tall +young Darkovan, still standing +in the shadows. The newcomer +spoke to me directly:</p> + +<p>"I'm told you are Terran, but +that you understand the trailmen. +Surely you don't intend to +carry fission or fusion weapons +against them?"</p> + +<p>And I suddenly realized that +we were in Darkovan territory +now, and that we must reckon +with the Darkovan horror of +guns or of any weapon which +reaches beyond the arm's-length +of the man who wields it. A simple +heat-gun, to the Darkovan +ethical code, is as reprehensible +as a super-cobalt planetbuster.</p> + +<p>Kendricks protested, "We +can't travel unarmed through +trailmen country! We're apt to +meet hostile bands of the creatures—and +they're nasty with +those long knives they carry!"</p> + +<p>The stranger said calmly, +"I've no objection to you, or +anyone else, carrying a knife for +self-defense."</p> + +<p>"A <i>knife</i>?" Kendricks drew +breath to roar. "Listen, you bug-eyed +son-of-a—who do you +think you are, anyway?"</p> + +<p>The Darkovans muttered. The +man in the shadows said, "Regis +Hastur."</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>Kendricks stared pop-eyed. My +own eyes could have popped, but +I decided it was time for me to +take charge, if I were ever going +to. I rapped, "All right, this +is my show. Buck, give me the +gun."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p> + +<p>He looked wrathfully at me +for a space of seconds, while I +wondered what I'd do if he +didn't. Then, slowly, he unbuckled +the straps and handed it to +me, butt first.</p> + +<p>I'd never realized quite how +undressed a Spaceforce man +looked without his blaster. I balanced +it on my palm for a minute +while Regis Hastur came out +of the shadows. He was tall, and +had the reddish hair and fair +skin of Darkovan aristocracy, +and on his face was some indefinable +stamp—arrogance, perhaps, +or the consciousness that +the Hasturs had ruled this world +for centuries long before the +Terrans brought ships and trade +and the universe to their doors. +He was looking at me as if he +approved of me, and that was +one step worse than the former +situation.</p> + +<p>So, using the respectful Darkovan +idiom of speaking to a +superior (which he was) but +keeping my voice hard, I said, +"There's just one leader on any +trek, Lord Hastur. On this one, +I'm it. If you want to discuss +whether or not we carry guns, I +suggest you discuss it with me +in private—and let me give the +orders."</p> + +<p>One of the Darkovans gasped. +I knew I could have been mobbed. +But with a mixed bag of +men, I had to grab leadership +quick or be relegated to nowhere. +I didn't give Regis Hastur +a chance to answer that, +either; I said, "Come back here. +I want to talk to you anyway."</p> + +<p>He came, and I remembered to +breathe. I led the way to a fairly +deserted corner of the immense +place, faced him and demanded, +"As for you—what are you doing +here? You're not intending +to cross the mountains with +us?"</p> + +<p>He met my scowl levelly. "I +certainly am."</p> + +<p>I groaned. "Why? You're the +Regent's grandson. Important +people don't take on this kind of +dangerous work. If anything +happens to you, it will be my +responsibility!" I was going to +have enough trouble, I was +thinking, without shepherding +along one of the most revered +Personages on the whole damned +planet! I didn't want anyone +around who had to be fawned +on, or deferred to, or even listened +to.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>He frowned slightly, and I had +the unpleasant impression that +he knew what I was thinking. +"In the first place—it will mean +something to the trailmen, won't +it—to have a Hastur with you, +suing for this favor?"</p> + +<p>It certainly would. The trailmen +paid little enough heed to +the ordinary humans, except for +considering them fair game for +plundering when they came uninvited +into trailman country. +But they, with all Darkover, +revered the Hasturs, and it was +a fine point of diplomacy—if the +Darkovans sent their most important +leader, they might listen +to him.</p> + +<p>"In the second place," Regis<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> +Hastur continued, "the Darkovans +are my people, and it's my +business to negotiate for them. +In the third place, I know the +trailmen's dialect—not well, but +I can speak it a little. And in the +fourth, I've climbed mountains +all my life. Purely as an amateur, +but I can assure you I +won't be in the way."</p> + +<p>There was little enough I +could say to that. He seemed to +have covered every point—or +every point but one, and he +added, shrewdly, after a minute, +"Don't worry; I'm perfectly willing +to have you take charge. I +won't claim—privilege."</p> + +<p>I had to be satisfied with that.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>Darkover is a civilized planet +with a fairly high standard of +living, but it is not a mechanized +or a technological culture. The +people don't do much mining, or +build factories, and the few +which were founded by Terran +enterprise never were very successful; +outside the Terran +Trade City, machinery or modern +transportation is almost unknown.</p> + +<p>While the other men checked +and loaded supplies and Rafe +Scott went out to contact some +friends of his and arrange for +last-minute details, I sat down +with Forth to memorize the +medical details I must put so +clearly to the trailmen.</p> + +<p>"If we could only have kept +your medical knowledge!"</p> + +<p>"Trouble is, being a doctor +doesn't suit my personality," I +said. I felt absurdly light-hearted. +Where I sat, I could raise my +head and study the panorama of +blackish-green foothills which +lay beyond Carthon, and search +out the stone roadways, like a +tiny white ribbon, which we +could follow for the first stage +of the trip. Forth evidently did +not share my enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"You know, Jason, there is one +real danger—"</p> + +<p>"Do you think I care about +danger? Or are you afraid I'll +turn—foolhardy?"</p> + +<p>"Not exactly. It's not a physical +danger, Jason. It's an emotional—or +rather an intellectual +danger."</p> + +<p>"Hell, don't you know any language +but that psycho double-talk?"</p> + +<p>"Let me finish, Jason. Jay +Allison may have been repressed, +overcontrolled, but you are seriously +impulsive. You lack a +balance-wheel, if I could put it +that way. And if you run too +many risks, your buried alter-ego +may come to the surface and +take over in sheer self-preservation."</p> + +<p>"In other words," I said, +laughing loudly, "if I scare that +Allison stuffed-shirt he may +start stirring in his grave?"</p> + +<p>Forth coughed and smothered +a laugh and said that was one +way of putting it. I clapped him +reassuringly on the shoulder and +said, "Forget it, sir. I promise +to be godly, sober and industrious—but +is there any law +against enjoying what I'm doing?"</p> + +<p>Somebody burst out of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> +warehouse-palace place, and +shouted at me. "Jason? The +guide is here," and I stood up, +giving Forth a final grin. "Don't +you worry. Jay Allison's good +riddance," I said, and went back +to meet the other guide they had +chosen.</p> + +<p>And I almost backed out when +I saw the guide. For the guide +was a woman.</p> + +<p>She was small for a Darkovan +girl, and narrowly built, the sort +of body that could have been +called boyish or coltish but certainly +not, at first glance, feminine. +Close-cut curls, blue-black +and wispy, cast the faintest of +shadows over a squarish sunburnt +face, and her eyes were so +thickly rimmed with heavy dark +lashes that I could not guess +their color. Her nose was snubbed +and might have looked +whimsical and was instead oddly +arrogant. Her mouth was wide, +and her chin round, and altogether +I dismissed her as not at +all a pretty woman.</p> + +<p>She held up her palm and said +rather sullenly, "Kyla-Raineach, +free Amazon, licensed guide."</p> + +<p>I acknowledged the gesture +with a nod, scowling. The guild +of free Amazons entered virtually +every masculine field, but that +of mountain guide seemed somewhat +bizarre even for an Amazon. +She seemed wiry and agile +enough, her body, under the +heavy blanket-like clothing, almost +as lean of hip and flat of +breast as my own; only the slender +long legs were unequivocally +feminine.</p> + +<p>The other men were checking +and loading supplies; I noted +from the corner of my eye that +Regis Hastur was taking his +turn heaving bundles with the +rest. I sat down on some still-undisturbed +sacks, and motioned +her to sit.</p> + +<p>"You've had trail experience? +We're going into the Hellers +through Dammerung, and that's +rough going even for professionals."</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>She said in a flat expressionless +voice, "I was with the Terran +Mapping expedition to the +South Polar ridge last year."</p> + +<p>"Ever been in the Hellers? If +anything happened to me, could +you lead the expedition safely +back to Carthon?"</p> + +<p>She looked down at her stubby +fingers. "I'm sure I could," +she said finally, and started to +rise. "Is that all?"</p> + +<p>"One thing more—" I gestured +to her to stay put. "Kyla, +you'll be one woman among +eight men—"</p> + +<p>The snubbed nose wrinkled +up; "I don't expect you to crawl +into my blankets, if that's what +you mean. It's not in my contract—I +hope!"</p> + +<p>I felt my face burning. Damn +the girl! "It's not in mine, anyway," +I snapped, "but I can't +answer for seven other men, +most of them mountain roughnecks!" +Even as I said it I wondered +why I bothered; certainly +a free Amazon could defend her +own virtue, or not, if she wanted +to, without any help from me. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> +had to excuse myself by adding, +"In either case you'll be a disturbing +element—I don't want +fights, either!"</p> + +<p>She made a little low-pitched +sound of amusement. "There's +safety in numbers, and—are you +familiar with the physiological +effect of high altitudes on men +acclimated to low ones?" Suddenly +she threw back her head +and the hidden sound became +free and merry laughter. "Jason, +I'm a free Amazon, and that +means—no, I'm not neutered, +though some of us are. But you +have my word, I won't create +any trouble of any recognizably +female variety." She stood up. +"Now, if you don't mind, I'd like +to check the mountain equipment."</p> + +<p>Her eyes were still laughing +at me, but curiously I didn't +mind at all. There was a refreshing +element in her manner.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>We started that night, a +curiously lopsided little caravan. +The pack animals were loaded +into one truck and didn't like it. +We had another stripped-down +truck which carried supplies. +The ancient stone roads, rutted +and gullied here and there with +the flood-waters and silt of +decades, had not been planned +for any travel other than the +feet of men or beasts. We passed +tiny villages and isolated country +estates, and a few of the +solitary towers where the matrix +mechanics worked alone with the +secret sciences of Darkover, towers +of glareless stone which +sometimes shone like blue beacons +in the dark.</p> + +<p>Kendricks drove the truck +which carried the animals, and +was amused by it. Rafe and I +took turns driving the other +truck, sharing the wide front +seat with Regis Hastur and the +girl Kyla, while the other men +found seats between crates and +sacks in the back. Once while +Rafe was at the wheel and the +girl dozing with her coat over +her face to shut out the fierce +sun, Regis asked me, "What are +the trailcities like?"</p> + +<p>I tried to tell him, but I've +never been good at boiling things +down into descriptions, and +when he found I was not disposed +to talk, he fell silent and +I was free to drowse over what +I knew of the trailmen and their +world.</p> + +<p>Nature seems to have a sameness +on all inhabited worlds, +tending toward the economy and +simplicity of the human form. +The upright carriage, freeing +the hands, the opposable thumb, +the color-sensitivity of retinal +rods and cones, the development +of language and of lengthy parental +nurture—these things +seem to be indispensable to the +growth of civilization, and in the +end they spell <i>human</i>. Except for +minor variations depending on +climate or foodstuff, the inhabitant +of Megaera or Darkover is +indistinguishable from the Terran +or Sirian; differences are +mainly cultural, and sometimes +an isolated culture will mutate +in a strange direction or remain,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +atavists, somewhere halfway to +the summit of the ladder of evolution—which, +at least on the +known planets, still reckons +homo sapiens as the most complex +of nature's forms.</p> + +<p>The trailmen were a pausing-place +which had proved tenacious. +When the mainstream of +evolution on Darkover left the +trees to struggle for existence +on the ground, a few remained +behind. Evolution did not cease +for them, but evolved <i>homo arborens</i>; +nocturnal, nystalopic +humanoids who lived out their +lives in the extensive forests.</p> + +<p>The truck bumped over the +bad, rutted roads. The wind was +chilly—the truck, a mere conveyance +for hauling, had no such +refinements of luxury as windows. +I jolted awake—what nonsense +had I been thinking? +Vague ideas about evolution +swirled in my brain like burst +bubbles—the trailmen? They +were just the trailmen, who +could explain them? Jay Allison, +maybe? Rafe turned his head +and asked, "Where do we pull +up for the night? It's getting +dark, and we have all this gear +to sort!" I roused myself, and +took over the business of the expedition +again.</p> + +<p>But when the trucks had been +parked and a tent pitched and +the pack animals unloaded and +hobbled, and a start made at getting +the gear together—when all +this had been done I lay awake, +listening to Kendricks' heavy +snoring, but myself afraid to +sleep. Dozing in the truck, an +odd lapse of consciousness had +come over me ... myself yet not +myself, drowsing over thoughts +I did not recognize as my own. +If I slept, who would I be when +I woke?</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>We had made our camp in the +bend of an enormous river, wide +and shallow and unbridged; the +river Kadarin, traditionally a +point of no return for humans +on Darkover. The river is fed by +ocean tides and we would have +to wait for low water to cross. +Beyond the river lay thick forests, +and beyond the forests the +slopes of the Hellers, rising upward +and upward; and their +every fold and every valley was +filled to the brim with forest, +and in the forests lived the trailmen.</p> + +<p>But though all this country +was thickly populated with outlying +colonies and nests, it +would be no use to bargain with +any of them; we must deal with +the Old One of the North Nest, +where I had spent so many of +my boyhood years.</p> + +<p>From time immemorial, the +trailmen—usually inoffensive—had +kept strict boundaries marked +between their lands and the +lands of ground-dwelling men. +They never came beyond the +Kadarin. On the other hand, almost +any human who ventured +into their territory became, by +that act, fair game for attack.</p> + +<p>A few of the Darkovan mountain +people had trade treaties +with the trailmen; they traded +clothing, forged metals, small<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> +implements, in return for nuts, +bark for dyestuffs and certain +leaves and mosses for drugs. In +return, the trailmen permitted +them to hunt in the forest lands +without being molested. But +other humans, venturing into +trailman territory, ran the risk +of merciless raiding; the trailmen +were not bloodthirsty, and +did not kill for the sake of killing, +but they attacked in packs +of two or three dozen, and their +prey would be stripped and plundered +of everything portable.</p> + +<p>Travelling through their country +would be dangerous....</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>The sun was high before we +struck the camp. While the others +were packing up the last +oddments, ready for the saddle, +I gave the girl Kyla the task of +readying the rucksacks we'd +carry after the trails got too bad +even for the pack animals, and +went to stand at the water's +edge, checking the depth of the +ford and glancing up at the +smoke-hazed rifts between peak +and peak.</p> + +<p>The men were packing up the +small tent we'd use in the forests, +moving around with a good +deal of horseplay and a certain +brisk bustle. They were a good +crew, I'd already discovered. +Rafe and Lerrys and the three +Darkovan brothers were tireless, +cheerful and mountain-hardened. +Kendricks, obviously out of his +element, could be implicitly relied +on to follow orders, and I +felt that I could fall back on +him. Strange as it seemed, the +very fact that he was a Terran +was vaguely comforting, where +I'd anticipated it would be a +nuisance.</p> + +<p>The girl Kyla was still something +of an unknown quantity. +She was too taut and quiet, +working her share but seldom +contributing a word—we were +not yet in mountain country. So +far she was quiet and touchy +with me, although she seemed +natural enough with the Darkovans, +and I let her alone.</p> + +<p>"Hi, Jason, get a move on," +someone shouted, and I walked +back toward the clearing squinting +in the sun. It hurt, and I +touched my face gingerly, suddenly +realizing what had happened. +Yesterday, riding in the +uncovered truck, and this morning, +un-used to the fierce sun of +these latitudes, I had neglected +to take the proper precautions +against exposure and my face +was reddening with sunburn. I +walked toward Kyla, who was +cinching a final load on one of +the pack-animals, which she did +efficiently enough.</p> + +<p>She didn't wait for me to ask, +but sized up the situation with +one amused glance at my face. +"Sunburn? Put some of this on +it." She produced a tube of +white stuff; I twisted at the top +inexpertly, and she took it from +me, squeezed the stuff out in her +palm and said, "Stand still and +bend down your head."</p> + +<p>She smeared the mixture efficiently +across my forehead and +cheeks. It felt cold and good. I +started to thank her, then broke<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> +off as she burst out laughing. +"What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>"You should see yourself!" +she gurgled.</p> + +<p>I wasn't amused. No doubt I +presented a grotesque appearance, +and no doubt she had the +right to laugh at it, but I scowled. +It hurt. Intending to put +things back on the proper footing, +I demanded, "Did you make +up the climbing loads?"</p> + +<p>"All except bedding. I wasn't +sure how much to allow," she +said. "Jason, have you eyeshades +for when you get on snow?" I +nodded, and she instructed me +severely, "Don't forget them. +Snowblindness—I give you my +word—is even more unpleasant +than sunburn—and <i>very</i> painful!"</p> + +<p>"Damn it, girl, I'm not stupid!" +I exploded.</p> + +<p>She said, in her expressionless +monotone again, "Then you +<i>ought</i> to have known better than +to get sunburnt. Here, put this +in your pocket," she handed me +the tube of sunburn cream, +"maybe I'd better check up on +some of the others and make +sure they haven't forgotten." +She went off without another +word, leaving me with an unpleasant +feeling that she'd come +off best, that she considered me +an irresponsible scamp.</p> + +<p>Forth had said almost the +same thing....</p> + +<p>I told off the Darkovan brothers +to urge the pack animals +across the narrowest part of the +ford, and gestured to Corus and +Kyla to ride one on either side +of Kendricks, who might not be +aware of the swirling, treacherous +currents of a mountain river. +Rafe could not urge his edgy +horse into the water; he finally +dismounted, took off his boots, +and led the creature across the +slippery rocks. I crossed last, riding +close to Regis Hastur, alert +for dangers and thinking resentfully +that anyone so important +to Darkover's policies should not +be risked on such a mission. +Why, if the Terran Legate had +(unthinkably!) come with us, he +would be surrounded by bodyguards, +secret service men and +dozens of precautions against +accident, assassination or misadventure.</p> + +<p>All that day we rode upward, +encamping at the furthest point +we could travel with pack animals +or mounted. The next day's +climb would enter the dangerous +trails we must travel afoot. We +pitched a comfortable camp, but +I admit I slept badly. Kendricks +and Lerrys and Rafe had blinding +headaches from the sun and +the thinness of the air; I was +more used to these conditions, +but I felt a sense of unpleasant +pressure, and my ears rang. +Regis arrogantly denied any discomfort, +but he moaned and +cried out continuously in his +sleep until Lerrys kicked him, +after which he was silent and, +I feared, sleepless. Kyla seemed +the least affected of any; probably +she had been at higher altitudes +more continuously than +any of us. But there were dark +circles beneath her eyes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span></p> + +<p>However, no one complained as +we readied ourselves for the final +last long climb upward. If +we were fortunate, we could +cross Dammerung before nightfall; +at the very least, we +should bivouac tonight very +near the pass. Our camp had +been made at the last level spot; +we partially hobbled the pack +animals so they would not stray +too far, and left ample food for +them, and cached all but the most +necessary of light trail gear. As +we prepared to start upward on +the steep, narrow track—hardly +more than a rabbit-run—I +glanced at Kyla and stated, +"We'll work on rope from the +first stretch. Starting now."</p> + +<p>One of the Darkovan brothers +stared at me with contempt. +"Call yourself a mountain man, +Jason? Why, my little daughter +could scramble up <i>that</i> track +without so much as a push on +her behind!"</p> + +<p>I set my chin and glared at +him. "The rocks aren't easy, and +some of these men aren't used +to working on rope at all. We +might as well get used to it, because +when we start working +along the ledges, I don't want +anybody who doesn't know +how."</p> + +<p>They still didn't like it, but +nobody protested further until I +directed the huge Kendricks to +the center of the second rope. He +glared viciously at the light nylon +line and demanded in some +apprehension, "Hadn't I better go +last until I know what I'm doing? +Hemmed in between the +two of you, I'm apt to do something +damned dumb!"</p> + +<p>Hjalmar roared with laughter +and informed him that the center +place on a 3-man rope was +always reserved for weaklings, +novices and amateurs. I expected +Kendricks' temper to flare up: +the burly Spaceforce man and +the Darkovan giant glared at +one another, then Kendricks only +shrugged and knotted the line +through his belt. Kyla warned +Kendricks and Lerrys about +looking down from ledges, and +we started.</p> + +<p>The first stretch was almost +too simple, a clear track winding +higher and higher for a couple +of miles. Pausing to rest for a +moment, we could turn and see +the entire valley outspread below +us. Gradually the trail grew +steeper, in spots pitched almost +at a 50-degree angle, and was +scattered with gravel, loose rock +and shale, so that we placed our +feet carefully, leaning forward +to catch at handholds and steady +ourselves against rocks. I tested +each boulder carefully, since any +weight placed against an unsteady +rock might dislodge it on +somebody below. One of the +Darkovan brothers—Vardo, I +thought—was behind me, separated +by ten or twelve feet of +slack rope, and twice when his +feet slipped on gravel he stumbled +and gave me an unpleasant +jerk. What he muttered was perfectly +true; on slopes like this, +where a fall wasn't dangerous +anyhow, it was better to work +unroped; then a slip bothered no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> +one but the slipper. But I was +finding out what I wanted to +know—what kind of climbers I +had to lead through the Hellers.</p> + +<p>Along a cliff face the trail narrowed +horizontally, leading +across a foot-wide ledge overhanging +a sheer drop of fifty +feet and covered with loose +shale and scrub plants. Nothing, +of course, to an experienced +climber—a foot-wide ledge +might as well be a four-lane superhighway. +Kendricks made a +nervous joke about a tightrope +walker, but when his turn came +he picked his way securely, without +losing balance. The amateurs—Lerrys +Ridenow, Regis, Rafe—came +across without hesitation, +but I wondered how well +they would have done at a less +secure altitude; to a real mountaineer, +a footpath is a footpath, +whether in a meadow, above a +two-foot drop, a thirty-foot +ledge, or a sheer mountain face +three miles above the first level +spot.</p> + +<p>After crossing the ledge the +going was harder. A steeper +trail, in places nearly imperceptible, +led between thick scrub +and overhanging trees, thickly +forested. In spots their twisted +roots obscured the trail; in others +the persistent growth had +thrust aside rocks and dirt. We +had to make our way through +tangles of underbrush which +would have been nothing to a +trailman, but which made our +ground-accustomed bodies ache +with the effort of getting over +or through them; and once the +track was totally blocked by a +barricade of tangled dead brushwood, +borne down on floodwater +after a sudden thaw or cloud-burst. +We had to work painfully +around it over a three-hundred-foot +rockslide, which we could +cross only one at a time, crab-fashion, +leaning double to balance +ourselves; and no one complained +now about the rope.</p> + +<p>Toward noon I had the first +intimation that we were not +alone on the slope.</p> + +<p>At first it was no more than +a glimpse of motion out of the +corner of my eyes, the shadow +of a shadow. The fourth time I +saw it, I called softly to Kyla: +"See anything?"</p> + +<p>"I was beginning to think it +was my eyes, or the altitude. I +saw, Jason."</p> + +<p>"Look for a spot where we +can take a break," I directed. We +climbed along a shallow ledge, +the faint imperceptible flutters +in the brushwood climbing with +us on either side. I muttered to +the girl, "I'll be glad when we +get clear of this. At least we'll +be able to see what's coming after +us!"</p> + +<p>"If it comes to a fight," she +said surprisingly, "I'd rather +fight on gravel than ice."</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>Over a rise, there was a roaring +sound; Kyla swung up and +balanced on a rock-wedged tree +root, cupped her mouth to her +hands and called, "Rapids!"</p> + +<p>I pulled myself up to the edge +of the drop and stood looking +down into the narrow gully. Here<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +the narrow track we had been +following was crossed and obscured +by the deep, roaring rapids +of a mountain stream.</p> + +<p>Less than twenty feet across, +it tumbled in an icy flood, almost +a waterfall, pitching over +the lip of a crag above us. It had +sliced a ravine five feet deep in +the mountainside, and came roaring +down with a rushing noise +that made my head vibrate. It +looked formidable; anyone stepping +into it would be knocked +off his feet in seconds, and swept +a thousand feet down the mountainside +by the force of the current.</p> + +<p>Rafe scrambled gingerly over +the gullied lip of the channel it +had cut, and bent carefully to +scoop up water in his palm and +drink. "Phew, it's colder than +Zandru's ninth hell. Must come +straight down from a glacier!"</p> + +<p>It did. I remembered the trail +and remembered the spot. Kendricks +joined me at the water's +edge, and asked, "How do we get +across?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not sure," I said, studying +the racing white torrent. +Overhead, about twenty feet +from where we clustered on the +slope, the thick branches of +enormous trees overhung the +rapids, their long roots partially +bared, gnarled and twisted by +recurrent floods; and between +these trees swayed one of the +queer swing-bridges of the trailmen, +hanging only about ten feet +above the water.</p> + +<p>Even I had never learned to +navigate one of these swing-bridges +without assistance; human +arms are no longer suited +to brachiation. I might have +managed it once; but at present, +except as a desperate final expedient, +it was out of the question. +Rafe or Lerrys, who were lightly +built and acrobatic, could probably +do it as a simple stunt on +the level, in a field; on a steep +and rocky mountainside, where +a fall might mean being dashed +a thousand feet down the torrent, +I doubted it. The trailmen's +bridge was out ... but what other +choice was there?</p> + +<p>I beckoned to Kendricks, he +being the man I was the most +inclined to trust with my life at +the moment, and said, "It looks +uncrossable, but I think two men +could get across, if they were +steady on their feet. The others +can hold us on ropes, in case we +do get knocked down. If we can +get to the opposite bank, we can +stretch a fixed rope from that +snub of rock—" I pointed, "and +the others can cross with that. +The first men over will be the +only ones to run any risk. Want +to try?"</p> + +<div class="image3"> +<img src="images/i113.jpg" width="270" height="699" alt="" title="" /><br /> +<span class="captionr">The rope swung perilously, threatening<br /> +to dash her on the rocks.</span></div> + +<p>I liked it better that he didn't +answer right away, but went to +the edge of the gully and peered +down the rocky chasm. Doubtless, +if we were knocked down, +all seven of the others could haul +us up again; but not before we'd +been badly smashed on the rocks. +And once again I caught that +elusive shadow of movement in +the brushwood; if the trailmen +chose a moment when we were +half-in, half-out of the rapids,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> +we'd be ridiculously vulnerable +to attack.</p> + +<p>"We ought to be able to get a +fixed rope easier than that," +Hjalmar said, and took one of +the spares from his rucksack. He +coiled it, making a running loop +on one end, and standing precariously +on the lip of the rapids, +sent it spinning toward the outcrop +of rock we had chosen as a +fixed point. "If I can get it +over...."</p> + +<p>The rope fell short, and Hjalmar +reeled it in and cast the +loop again. He made three more +unsuccessful tries before finally, +with held breath, we watched the +noose settle over the rocky snub. +Gently, pulling the line taut, we +watched it stretch above the +rapids. The knot tightened, fastened. +Hjalmar grinned and let +out his breath.</p> + +<p>"There," he said, and jerked +hard on the rope, testing it with +a long hard pull. The rocky outcrop +broke, with a sharp crack, +split, and toppled entirely into the +rapids, the sudden jerk almost +pulling Hjalmar off his feet. The +boulder rolled, with a great +bouncing splash, faster and faster +down the mountain, taking the +rope with it.</p> + +<p>We just stood and stared for +a minute. Hjalmar swore horribly, +in the unprintable filth of +the mountain tongue, and his +brothers joined in. "How the +devil was I to know the <i>rock</i> +would split off?"</p> + +<p>"Better for it to split now +than when we were depending +on it," Kyla said stolidly. "I +have a better idea." She was untying +herself from the rope as +she spoke, and knotting one of +the spares through her belt. She +handed the other end of the rope +to Lerrys. "Hold on to this," she +said, and slipped out of her +blankety windbreak, standing +shivering in a thin sweater. She +unstrapped her boots and tossed +them to me. "Now boost me on +your shoulders, Hjalmar."</p> + +<p>Too late, I guessed her intention +and shouted, "No, don't +try—!" But she had already +clambered to an unsteady perch +on the big Darkovan's shoulders +and made a flying grab for the +lowest loop of the trailmen's +bridge. She hung there, swaying +slightly and sickeningly, as the +loose lianas gave to her weight.</p> + +<p>"Hjalmar—Lerrys—haul her +down!"</p> + +<p>"I'm lighter than any of you," +Kyla called shrilly, "and not +hefty enough to be any use on +the ropes!" Her voice quavered +somewhat as she added, "—and +hang on to that rope, Lerrys! If +you lose it, I'll have done this +for nothing!"</p> + +<p>She gripped the loop of vine +and reached, with her free hand, +for the next loop. Now she was +swinging out over the edge of +the boiling rapids. Tight-mouthed, +I gestured to the others to +spread out slightly below—not +that anything would help her if +she fell.</p> + +<p>Hjalmar, watching as the +woman gained the third loop—which +joggled horribly to her +slight weight—shouted suddenly,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> +"Kyla, quick! The loop <i>beyond</i>—don't +touch the next one! It's +frayed—rotted through!"</p> + +<p>Kyla brought her left hand up +to her right on the third loop. +She made a long reach, missed +her grab, swung again, and +clung, breathing hard, to the +safe fifth loop. I watched, sick +with dread. The damned girl +should have told me what she intended.</p> + +<p>Kyla glanced down and we got +a glimpse of her face, glistening +with the mixture of sunburn +cream and sweat, drawn with effort. +Her tiny swaying figure +hung twelve feet above the +white tumbling water, and if she +lost her grip, only a miracle +could bring her out alive. She +hung there for a minute, jiggling +slightly, then started a long +back-and-forward swing. On the +third forward swing she made +a long leap and grabbed at the +final loop.</p> + +<p>It slipped through her fingers; +she made a wild grab with the +other hand, and the liana dipped +sharply under her weight, raced +through her fingers, and with a +sharp snap, broke in two. She +gave a wild shriek as it parted, +and twisted her body frantically +in mid-air, landing asprawl half-in, +half-out of the rapids, but on +the further bank. She hauled her +legs up on dry land and crouched +there, drenched to the waist but +safe.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>The Darkovans were yelling +in delight. I motioned to Lerrys +to make his end of the rope fast<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> +around a hefty tree-root, and +shouted, "Are you hurt?" She +indicated in pantomime that the +thundering of the water drowned +words, and bent to belay her +end of the rope. In sign-language +I gestured to her to make very +sure of the knots; if anyone slipped, +she hadn't the weight to +hold us.</p> + +<p>I hauled on the rope myself to +test it, and it held fast. I slung +her boots around my neck by +their cords, then, gripping the +fixed rope, Kendricks and I stepped +into the water.</p> + +<p>It was even icier than I expected, +and my first step was +nearly the last; the rush of the +white water knocked me to my +knees, and I floundered and +would have measured my length +except for my hands on the +fixed rope. Buck Kendricks grabbed +at me, letting go the rope +to do it, and I swore at him, raging, +while we got on our feet +again and braced ourselves +against the onrushing current. +While we struggled in the pounding +waters, I admitted to myself; +we could never have crossed +without the rope Kyla had risked +her life to fix.</p> + +<p>Shivering, we got across and +hauled ourselves out. I signalled +to the others to cross two at a +time, and Kyla seized my elbow. +"Jason—"</p> + +<p>"Later, dammit!" I had to +shout to make myself heard over +the roaring water, as I held out +a hand to help Rafe get his footing +on the ledge.</p> + +<p>"This—can't—wait," she yelled, +cupping her hands and +shouting into my ear. I turned +on her. "<i>What!</i>"</p> + +<p>"There are—<i>trailmen</i>—on the +top level—of that bridge! I saw +them! They cut the loop!"</p> + +<p>Regis and Hjalmar came +struggling across last; Regis, +lightly-built, was swept off his +feet and Hjalmar turned to grab +him, but I shouted to him to +keep clear—they were still roped +together and if the ropes fouled +we might drown someone. Lerrys +and I leaped down and hauled +Regis clear; he coughed, spitting +icy water, drenched to the skin.</p> + +<p>I motioned to Lerrys to leave +the fixed rope, though I had little +hope that it would be there when +we returned, and looked quickly +around, debating what to do. +Regis and Rafe and I were wet +clear through; the others to well +above the knee. At this altitude, +this was dangerous, although we +were not yet high enough to +worry about frostbite. Trailmen +or no trailmen, we must run the +lesser risk of finding a place +where we could kindle a fire and +dry out.</p> + +<p>"Up there—there's a clearing," +I said briefly, and hurried +them along.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>It was hard climbing now, on +rock, and there were places +where we had to scrabble for +handholds, and flatten ourselves +out against an almost sheer wall. +The keen wind rose as we climbed +higher, whining through the +thick forest, soughing in the +rocky outcrops, and biting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> +through our soaked clothing with +icy teeth. Kendricks was having +hard going now, and I helped +him as much as I could, but I +was aching with cold. We gained +the clearing, a small bare spot +on a lesser peak, and I directed +the two Darkovan brothers who +were the driest to gather dry +brushwood and get a fire going. +It was hardly near enough sunset +to camp; but by the time we +were dry enough to go on safely, +it would be, so I gave orders to +get the tent up, then rounded +angrily on Kyla.</p> + +<p>"See here, another time don't +try any dangerous tricks unless +you're ordered to!"</p> + +<p>"Go easy on her," Regis Hastur +interceded, "we'd never have +crossed without the fixed rope. +Good work, girl."</p> + +<p>"You keep out of this!" I snapped. +It was true, yet resentment +boiled in me as Kyla's plain sullen +face glowed under the praise +from the Hastur.</p> + +<p>The fact was—I admitted it +grudgingly—a lightweight like +Kyla ran less risk on an acrobat's +bridge than in that kind +of roaring current. That did not +lessen my annoyance; and Regis +Hastur's interference, and the +foolish grin on the girl's face, +made me boil over.</p> + +<p>I wanted to question her further +about the sight of trailmen +on the bridge, but decided +against it. We had been spared +attack on the rapids, so it wasn't +impossible that a group, not +hostile, was simply watching our +progress—maybe even aware +that we were on a peaceful mission.</p> + +<p>But I didn't believe it for a +minute. If I knew anything +about the trailmen, it was this—one +could not judge them by +human standards at all. I tried +to decide what I would have +done, as a trailman, but my +brain wouldn't run that way at +the moment.</p> + +<p>The Darkovan brothers had +built up the fire with a thoroughly +reckless disregard of watching +eyes. It seemed to me that +the morale and fitness of the +shivering crew was of more +value at the moment than caution; +and around the roaring +fire, feeling my soaked clothes +warming to the blaze and drinking +boiling hot tea from a mug, +it seemed that we were right. +Optimism reappeared; Kyla, letting +Hjalmar dress her hands +which had been rubbed raw by +the slipping lianas, made jokes +with the men about her feat of +acrobatics.</p> + +<p>We had made camp on the +summit of an outlying arm of +the main ridge of the Hellers, +and the whole massive range lay +before our eyes, turned to a million +colors in the declining sun. +Green and turquoise and rose, +the mountains were even more +beautiful than I remembered. +The shoulder of the high slope +we had just climbed had obscured +the real mountain massif +from our sight, and I saw Kendricks' +eyes widen as he realized +that this high summit we had +just mastered was only the first<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> +step of the task which lay before +us. The real ridge rose ahead, +thickly forested on the lower +slopes, then strewn with rock +and granite like the landscape of +an airless, deserted moon. And +above the rock, there were +straight walls capped with blinding +snow and ice. Down one peak +a glacier flowed, a waterfall, a +cascade shockingly arrested in +motion. I murmured the trailman's +name for the mountain, +aloud, and translated it for the +others:</p> + +<p>"The Wall Around the +World."</p> + +<p>"Good name for it," Lerrys +murmured, coming with his mug +in his hand to look at the mountain. +"Jason, the big peak there +has never been climbed, has it?"</p> + +<p>"I can't remember." My teeth +were chattering and I went back +toward the fire. Regis surveyed +the distant glacier and murmured, +"It doesn't look too bad. +There could be a route along that +western <i>arête</i>—Hjalmar, weren't +you with the expedition that +climbed and mapped High Kimbi?"</p> + +<p>The giant nodded, rather +proudly. "We got within a hundred +feet of the top, then a snowstorm +came up and we had to +turn back. Some day we'll tackle +the Wall Around the World—it's +been tried, but no one ever climbed +the peak."</p> + +<p>"No one ever will," Lerrys +stated positively, "There's two +hundred feet of sheer rock cliff, +Prince Regis, you'd need wings +to get up. And there's the avalanche +ledge they call Hell's +Alley—"</p> + +<p>Kendricks broke in irritably, +"I don't care whether it's ever +been climbed or ever will be +climbed, we're not going to climb +it now!" He stared at me and +added, "I hope!"</p> + +<p>"We're not." I was glad of the +interruption. If the youngsters +and amateurs wanted to amuse +themselves plotting hypothetical +attacks on unclimbable sierras, +that was all very well, but it +was, if nothing worse, a great +waste of time. I showed Kendricks +a notch in the ridge, thousands +of feet lower than the +peaks, and well-sheltered from +the icefalls on either side.</p> + +<p>"That's Dammerung; we're +going through there. We won't +be on the mountain at all, and +it's less than 22,000 feet high in +the pass—although there are +some bad ledges and washes. +We'll keep clear of the main +tree-roads if we can, and all the +mapped trailmen's villages, but +we may run into wandering +bands—" abruptly I made my +decision and gestured them +around me.</p> + +<p>"From this point," I broke the +news, "we're liable to be attacked. +Kyla, tell them what you +saw."</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>She put down her mug. Her +face was serious again, as she +related what she had seen on the +bridge. "We're on a peaceful mission, +but they don't know that +yet. The thing to remember is +that they do not wish to kill,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +only to wound and rob. If we +show fight—" she displayed a +short ugly knife, which she tucked +matter-of-factly into her +shirt-front, "they will run away +again."</p> + +<p>Lerrys loosened a narrow dagger +which until this moment I +had thought purely ornamental. +He said, "Mind if I say something +more, Jason? I remember +from the 'Narr campaign—the +trailmen fight at close quarters, +and by human standards they +fight dirty." He looked around +fiercely, his unshaven face glinting +as he grinned. "One more +thing. I like elbow room. Do we +have to stay roped together when +we start out again?"</p> + +<p>I thought it over. His enthusiasm +for a fight made me feel +both annoyed and curiously delighted. +"I won't make anyone +stay roped who thinks he'd be +safer without it," I said, "we'll +decide that when the time comes, +anyway. But personally—the +trailmen are used to running +along narrow ledges, and we're +not. Their first tactic would +probably be to push us off, one +by one. If we're roped, we can +fend them off better." I dismissed +the subject, adding, "Just +now, the important thing is to +dry out."</p> + +<p>Kendricks remained at my +side after the others had gathered +around the fire, looking into +the thick forest which sloped up +to our campsite. He said, "This +place looks as if it had been used +for a camp before. Aren't we +just as vulnerable to attack here +as we would be anywhere else?"</p> + +<p>He had hit on the one thing I +hadn't wanted to talk about. This +clearing was altogether too convenient. +I only said, "At least +there aren't so many ledges to +push us off."</p> + +<p>Kendricks muttered, "You've +got the only blaster!"</p> + +<p>"I left it at Carthon," I said +truthfully. Then I laid down the +law:</p> + +<p>"Listen, Buck. If we kill a +single trailman, except in hand-to-hand +fight in self-defense, we +might as well pack up and go +home. We're on a peaceful mission, +and we're begging a favor. +Even if we're attacked—we kill +only as a last resort, and in +hand-to-hand combat!"</p> + +<p>"Damned primitive frontier +planet—"</p> + +<p>"Would you rather die of the +trailmen's disease?"</p> + +<p>He said savagely, "We're apt +to catch it anyway—here. You're +immune, you don't care, you're +safe! The rest of us are on a +suicide mission—and damn it, +when I die I want to take a few +of those monkeys with me!"</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>I bent my head, bit my lip and +said nothing. Buck couldn't be +blamed for the way he felt. After +a moment I pointed to the +notch in the ridge again. "It's +not so far. Once we get through +Dammerung, it's easy going into +the trailmen's city. Beyond +there, it's all civilized."</p> + +<p>"Maybe <i>you</i> call it civilization," +Kendricks said, and +turned away.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Come on, let's finish drying +our feet."</p> + +<p>And at that moment they hit +us.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>Kendricks' yell was the only +warning I had before I was +fighting away something scrabbling +up my back. I whirled and +ripped the creature away, and +saw dimly that the clearing was +filled to the rim with an explosion +of furry white bodies. I +cupped my hands and yelled, in +the only trailman dialect I knew, +"Hold off! We come in peace!"</p> + +<p>One of them yelled something +unintelligible and plunged at me—another +tribe! I saw a white-furred, +chinless face, contorted +in rage, a small ugly knife—a +female! I ripped out my own +knife, fending away a savage +slash. Something tore white-hot +across the knuckles of my hand; +the fingers went limp and my +knife fell, and the trailman woman +snatched it up and made off +with her prize, swinging lithely +upward into the treetops.</p> + +<p>I searched quickly, gripped +with my good hand at the bleeding +knuckles, and found Regis +Hastur struggling at the edge +of a ledge with a pair of the +creatures. The crazy thought ran +through my mind that if they +killed him all Darkover would +rise and exterminate the trailmen +and it would all be my fault. +Then Regis tore one hand free, +and made a curious motion with +his fingers.</p> + +<p>It looked like an immense +green spark a foot long, or like +a fireball. It exploded in one +creature's white face and she +gave a wild howl of terror and +anguish, scrabbled blindly at her +eyes, and with a despairing +shriek, ran for the shelter of the +trees. The pack of trailmen gave +a long formless wail, and then +they were gathering, flying, retreating +into the shadows. Rafe +yelled something obscene and +then a bolt of bluish flame lanced +toward the retreating pack. One +of the humanoids fell without a +cry, pitching senseless over the +ledge.</p> + +<p>I ran toward Rafe, struggling +with him for the shocker he had +drawn from its hiding-place inside +his shirt. "You blind +damned fool!" I cursed him, +"you may have ruined everything—"</p> + +<p>"They'd have killed him without +it," he retorted wrathfully. +He had evidently failed to see +how efficiently Regis defended +himself. Rafe motioned toward +the fleeing pack and sneered, +"Why don't you go with your +friends?"</p> + +<p>With a grip I thought I had +forgotten, I got my hand around +Rafe's knuckles and squeezed. +His hand went limp and I +snatched the shocker and pitched +it over the ledge.</p> + +<p>"One word and I'll pitch you +after it," I warned. "Who's +hurt?"</p> + +<p>Garin was blinking senselessly, +half-dazed by a blow; Regis' +forehead had been gashed and +dripped blood, and Hjalmar's +thigh sliced in a clean cut. My<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> +own knuckles were laid bare and +the hand was getting numb. It +was a little while before anybody +noticed Kyla, crouched over +speechless with pain. She reeled +and turned deathly white when +we touched her; we stretched +her out where she was, and got +her shirt off, and Kendricks +crowded up beside us to examine +the wound.</p> + +<p>"A clean cut," he said, but I +didn't hear. Something had +turned over inside me, like a +hand stirring up my brain, +and....</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>Jay Allison looked around with +a gasp of sudden vertigo. He +was not in Forth's office, but +standing precariously near the +edge of a cliff. He shut his eyes +briefly, wondering if he were +having one of his worst nightmares, +and opened them on a +familiar face.</p> + +<p>Buck Kendricks was bone-white, +his mouth widening as he +said hoarsely, "Jay! Doctor Allison—for +God's sake—"</p> + +<p>A doctor's training creates reactions +that are almost reflexes; +Jay Allison recovered some degree +of sanity as he became +aware that someone was stretched +out in front of him, half-naked, +and bleeding profusely. +He motioned away the crowding +strangers and said in his bad +Darkovan, "Let her alone, this +is my work." He didn't know +enough words to curse them +away, so he switched to Terran, +speaking to Kendricks:</p> + +<p>"Buck, get these people away, +give the patient some air. +Where's my surgical case?" He +bent and probed briefly, realizing +only now that the injured +was a woman, and young.</p> + +<p>The wound was only a superficial +laceration; whatever sharp +instrument had inflicted it, had +turned on the costal bone without +penetrating lung tissue. It +could have been sutured, but +Kendricks handed him only a +badly-filled first-aid kit; so Dr. +Allison covered it tightly with +a plastic clip-shield which would +seal it from further bleeding, +and let it alone. By the time he +had finished, the strange girl had +begun to stir. She said haltingly, +"Jason—?"</p> + +<p>"Dr. Allison," he corrected +tersely, surprised in a minor +way—the major surprise had +blurred lesser ones—that she +knew his name. Kendricks spoke +swiftly to the girl, in one of the +Darkovan languages Jay didn't +understand, and then drew Jay +aside, out of earshot. He said +in a shaken voice, "Jay, I didn't +know—I wouldn't have believed—you're +<i>Doctor Allison</i>? Good +Lord—Jason!"</p> + +<p>And then he moved fast. +"What's the matter? Oh, hell, +Jay, don't faint on me!"</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>Jay was aware that he didn't +come out of it too bravely, but +anyone who blamed him (he +thought resentfully) should try +it on for size; going to sleep in +a comfortably closed-in office and +waking up on a cliff at the outer +edges of nowhere. His hand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> +hurt; he saw that it was bleeding +and flexed it experimentally, +trying to determine that no +tendons had been injured. He +rapped, "How did this happen?"</p> + +<p>"Sir, keep your voice down—or +speak Darkovan!"</p> + +<p>Jay blinked again. Kendricks +was still the only familiar thing +in a strangely vertiginous universe. +The Spaceforce man said +huskily. "Before heaven, Jay, I +hadn't any idea—and I've known +you how long? Eight, nine +years?"</p> + +<p>Jay said, "That idiot Forth!" +and swore, the colorless profanity +of an indoor man.</p> + +<p>Somebody shouted, "Jason!" +in an imperative voice, and Kendricks +said shakily, "Jay, if they +see you—you literally are not +the same man!"</p> + +<p>"Obviously not." Jay looked at +the tent, one pole still unpitched. +"Anyone in there?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet." Kendricks almost +shoved him inside. "I'll tell them—I'll +tell them something." He +took a radiant from his pocket, +set it down and stared at Allison +in the flickering light, and +said something profane. "You'll—you'll +be all right here?"</p> + +<p>Jay nodded. It was all he +could manage. He was keeping a +tight hold on his nerve; if it +went, he'd start to rave like a +madman. A little time passed, +there were strange noises outside, +and then there was a polite +cough and a man walked into the +tent.</p> + +<p>He was obviously a Darkovan +aristocrat and looked vaguely +familiar, though Jay had no +conscious memory of seeing him +before. Tall and slender, he possessed +that perfect and exquisite +masculine beauty sometimes +seen among Darkovans, and he +spoke to Jay familiarly but with +surprising courtesy:</p> + +<p>"I have told them you are not +to be disturbed for a moment, +that your hand is worse than we +believed. A surgeon's hands are +delicate things, Doctor Allison, +and I hope that yours are not +badly injured. Will you let me +look?"</p> + +<p>Jay Allison drew back his +hand automatically, then, conscious +of the churlishness of the +gesture, let the stranger take it +in his and look at the fingers. +The man said, "It does not seem +serious. I was sure it was something +more than that." He raised +grave eyes. "You don't even remember +my name, do you, Dr. +Allison?"</p> + +<p>"You know who I am?"</p> + +<p>"Dr. Forth didn't tell me. But +we Hasturs are partly telepathic, +Jason—forgive me—Doctor Allison. +I have known from the first +that you were possessed by a god +or daemon."</p> + +<p>"Superstitious rubbish," Jay +snapped. "Typical of a Darkovan!"</p> + +<p>"It is a convenient manner of +speaking, no more," said the +young Hastur, overlooking the +rudeness. "I suppose I could +learn your terminology, if I considered +it worth the effort. I +have had psi training, and I can +tell the difference when half of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> +a man's soul has driven out the +other half. Perhaps I can restore +you to yourself—"</p> + +<p>"If you think I'd have some +Darkovan freak meddling with +my mind—" Jay began hotly, +then stopped. Under Regis' grave +eyes, he felt a surge of unfamiliar +humility. This crew of men +needed their leader, and obviously +he, Jay Allison, wasn't the +leader they needed. He covered +his eyes with one hand.</p> + +<p>Regis bent and put a hand on +his shoulder, compassionately, +but Jay twitched it off, and his +voice, when he found it, was bitter +and defensive and cold.</p> + +<p>"All right. The work's the +thing. I can't do it, Jason can. +You're a parapsych. If you can +switch me off—go right ahead!"</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>I stared at Regis, passing a +hand across my forehead. "What +happened?" I demanded, and +in even swifter apprehension, +"Where's Kyla? She was hurt—"</p> + +<p>"Kyla's all right," Regis said, +but I got up quickly to make +sure. Kyla was outside, lying +quite comfortably on a roll of +blankets. She was propped on her +elbow drinking something hot, +and there was a good smell of +hot food in the air. I stared at +Regis and demanded, "I didn't +conk out, did I, from a little +scratch like this?" I looked carelessly +at my gashed hand.</p> + +<p>"Wait—" Regis held me back, +"don't go out just yet. Do you +remember what happened, Doctor +Allison?"</p> + +<p>I stared in growing horror, +my worst fear confirmed. Regis +said quietly, "You—changed. +Probably from the shock of seeing—" +he stopped in mid-sentence, +and I said, "The last thing +I remember is seeing that Kyla +was bleeding, when we got her +clothes off. But—good Gods, a +little blood wouldn't scare <i>me</i>, +and Jay Allison's a surgeon, +would it bring him roaring up +like that?"</p> + +<p>"I couldn't say." Regis looked +as if he knew more than he was +telling. "I don't believe that Dr. +Allison—he's not much like you—was +very concerned with Kyla. +Are you?"</p> + +<p>"Damn right I am. I want to +make sure she's all right—" I +stopped abruptly. "Regis—did +they all see it?"</p> + +<p>"Only Kendricks and I," Regis +said, "and we will not speak of +it."</p> + +<p>I said, "Thanks," and felt his +reassuring hand-clasp. Damn it, +demigod or prince, I <i>liked</i> Regis.</p> + +<p>I went out and accepted some +food from the kettle and sat +down between Kyla and Kendricks +to eat. I was shaken, weak +with reaction. Furthermore, I +realized that we couldn't stay +here. It was too vulnerable to attack. +So, in our present condition, +were we. If we could push +on hard enough to get near Dammerung +pass tonight, then tomorrow +we could cross it early, +before the sun warmed the snow +and we had snowslides and slush +to deal with. Beyond Dammerung, +I knew the tribesmen and +could speak their language.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p> + +<p>I mentioned this, and Kendricks +looked doubtfully at Kyla. +"Can she climb?"</p> + +<p>"Can she stay here?" I countered. +But I went and sat beside +her anyhow.</p> + +<p>"How badly are you hurt? Do +you think you can travel?"</p> + +<p>She said fiercely, "Of course +I can climb! I tell you, I'm no +weak girl, I'm a free Amazon!" +She flung off the blanket somebody +had tucked around her +legs. Her lips looked a little +pinched, but the long stride was +steady as she walked to the fire +and demanded more soup.</p> + +<p>We struck the camp in minutes. +The trailmen band of raiding +females had snatched up almost +everything portable, and +there was no sense in striking +and caching the tent; they'd return +and hunt it out. If we came +back with a trailmen escort, we +wouldn't need it anyway. I ordered +them to leave everything +but the lightest gear, and examined +each remaining rucksack. +Rations for the night we would +spend in the pass, our few remaining +blankets, ropes, sunglasses. +Everything else I ruthlessly +ordered left behind.</p> + +<p>It was harder going now. For +one thing, the sun was lowering, +and the evening wind was icy. +Nearly everyone of us had some +hurt, slight in itself, which hindered +us in climbing. Kyla was +white and rigid, but did not +spare herself; Kendricks was +suffering severely from mountain +sickness at this altitude, +and I gave him all the help I +could, but with my stiffening +slashed hand I wasn't having too +easy a time myself.</p> + +<p>There was one expanse that +was sheer rock-climbing, flattened +like bugs against a wall, +scrabbling for hand-holds and +footholds. I felt it a point of +pride to lead, and I led; but by +the time we had climbed the +thirty-foot wall, and scrambled +along a ledge to where we could +pick up the trail again, I was +ready to give over. Crowding together +on the ledge, I changed +places with the veteran Lerrys, +who was better than most professional +climbers.</p> + +<p>He muttered, "I thought you +said this was a <i>trail</i>!"</p> + +<p>I stretched my mouth in what +was supposed to be a grin and +didn't quite make it. "For the +trailmen, this is a superhighway. +And no one else ever comes this +way."</p> + +<p>Now we climbed slowly over +snow; once or twice we had to +flounder through drifts, and +once a brief bitter snowstorm +blotted out sight for twenty +minutes, while we hugged each +other on the ledge, clinging +wildly against wind and icy +sleet.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>We bivouacked that night in +a crevasse blown almost clean +of snow, well above the tree-line, +where only scrubby unkillable +thornbushes clustered. We tore +down some of them and piled +them up as a windbreak, and +bedded beneath it; but we all +thought with aching regret of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> +the comfort of the camp gear +we'd abandoned. The going had +gotten good and rough.</p> + +<p>That night remains in my +mind as one of the most miserable +in memory. Except for the +slight ringing in my ears, the +height alone did not bother me, +but the others did not fare so +well. Most of the men had blinding +headaches, Kyla's slashed +side must have given her considerable +pain, and Kendricks had +succumbed to mountain-sickness +in its most agonizing form: severe +cramps and vomiting. I was +desperately uneasy about all of +them, but there was nothing I +could do; the only cure for +mountain-sickness is oxygen or +a lower altitude, neither of +which was practical.</p> + +<p>In the windbreak we doubled +up, sharing blankets and body +warmth: I took a last look +around the close space before +crawling in beside Kendricks, +and saw the girl bedding down +slightly apart from the others. +I started to say something, but +Kendricks spoke, first. Voicing +my thoughts.</p> + +<p>"Better crawl in with us, girl." +He added, coldly but not unkindly, +"you needn't worry about any +funny stuff."</p> + +<p>Kyla gave me just the flicker +of a grin, and I realized she was +including me on the Darkovan +side of a joke against this big +man who was so unaware of +Darkovan etiquette. But her +voice was cool and curt as she +said, "I'm not worrying," and +loosened her heavy coat slightly +before creeping into the nest of +blankets between us.</p> + +<p>It was painfully cramped, and +chilly in spite of the self-heating +blankets; we crowded close together +and Kyla's head rested on +my shoulder. I felt her snuggle +closely to me, half asleep, hunting +for a warm place; and I +found myself very much aware +of her closeness, curiously grateful +to her. An ordinary woman +would have protested, if only as +a matter of form, sharing blankets +with two strange men. I +realized that if Kyla had refused +to crawl in with us, she would +have called attention to her sex +much <i>more</i> than she did by matter-of-factly +behaving as if she +were, in fact, male.</p> + +<p>She shivered convulsively, and +I whispered, "Side hurting? Are +you cold?"</p> + +<p>"A little. It's been a long time +since I've been at these altitudes, +too. What it really is—I can't +get those women out of my +head."</p> + +<p>Kendricks coughed, moving +uncomfortably. "I don't understand—those +creatures who attacked +us—all women—?"</p> + +<p>I explained briefly. "Among +the people of the Sky, as everywhere, +more females are born +than males. But the trailmen's +lives are so balanced that they +have no room for extra females +within the Nests—the cities. So +when a girl child of the Sky People +reaches womanhood, the +other women drive her out of +the city with kicks and blows, +and she has to wander in the for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span>est +until some male comes after +her and claims her and brings +her back as his own. Then she +can never be driven forth again, +although if she bears no children +she can be forced to be a servant +to his other wives."</p> + +<p>Kendricks made a little sound +of disgust.</p> + +<p>"You think it cruel," Kyla said +with sudden passion, "but in the +forest they can live and find +their own food; they will not +starve or die. Many of them prefer +the forest life to living in +the Nests, and they will fight +away any male who comes near +them. We who call ourselves human +often make less provision +for our spare women."</p> + +<p>She was silent, sighing as if +with pain. Kendricks made no +reply except a non-committal +grunt. I held myself back by +main force from touching Kyla, +remembering what she was, and +finally said, "We'd better quit +talking. The others want to +sleep, if we don't."</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>After a time I heard Kendricks +snoring, and Kyla's quiet +even breaths. I wondered drowsily +how Jay would have felt +about this situation—he who +hated Darkover and avoided contact +with every other human being, +crowded between a Darkovan +free-Amazon and half a +dozen assorted roughnecks. I +turned the thought off, fearing +it might somehow re-arouse him +in his brain.</p> + +<p>But I had to think of something, +anything to turn aside +this consciousness of the woman's +head against my chest, her +warm breath coming and going +against my bare neck. Only by +the severest possible act of will +did I keep myself from slipping +my hand over her breasts, warm +and palpable through the thin +sweater, I wondered why Forth +had called me undisciplined. I +couldn't risk my leadership by +making advances to our contracted +guide—woman, Amazon or +whatever!</p> + +<p>Somehow the girl seemed to be +the pivot point of all my +thoughts. She was not part of +the Terran HQ, she was not part +of any world Jay Allison might +have known. She belonged wholly +to Jason, to my world. Between +sleep and waking, I lost +myself in a dream of skimming +flight-wise along the tree roads, +chasing the distant form of a +girl driven from the Nest that +day with blows and curses. +Somewhere in the leaves I would +find her ... and we would return +to the city, her head garlanded +with the red leaves of a +chosen-one, and the same women +who had stoned her forth would +crowd about and welcome her +when she returned. The fleeing +woman looked over her shoulder +with Kyla's eyes; and then the +woman's form muted and Dr. +Forth was standing between us +in the tree-road, with the caduceus +emblem on his coat stretched +like a red staff between us. +Kendricks in his Spaceforce uniform +was threatening us with a +blaster, and Regis Hastur was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> +suddenly wearing Space Service +uniform too and saying, "Jay +Allison, Jay Allison," as the tree-road +splintered and cracked beneath +our feet and we were tumbling +down the waterfall and +down and down and down....</p> + +<p>"Wake up!" Kyla whispered, +and dug an elbow into my side. +I opened my eyes on crowded +blackness, grasping at the vanishing +nightmare. "What's the +matter?"</p> + +<p>"You were moaning. Touch of +altitude sickness?"</p> + +<p>I grunted, realized my arm +was around her shoulder, and +pulled it quickly away. After +awhile I slept again, fitfully.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>Before light we crawled wearily +out of the bivouac, cramped +and stiff and not rested, but +ready to get out of this and go +on. The snow was hard, in the +dim light, and the trail not difficult +here. After all the trouble +on the lower slopes, I think even +the amateurs had lost their desire +for adventurous climbing; +we were all just as well pleased +that the actual crossing of Dammerung +should be an anticlimax +and uneventful.</p> + +<p>The sun was just rising when +we reached the pass, and we +stood for a moment, gathered +close together, in the narrow defile +between the great summits +to either side.</p> + +<p>Hjalmar gave the peaks a wistful +look.</p> + +<p>"Wish we could climb them."</p> + +<p>Regis grinned at him companionably. +"Sometime—and +you have the word of a Hastur, +you'll be along on that expedition." +The big fellows' eyes glowed. +Regis turned to me, and said +warmly, "What about it, Jason? +A bargain? Shall we all climb it +together, next year?"</p> + +<p>I started to grin back and +then some bleak black devil surged +up in me, raging. When this +was over, I'd suddenly realized, +I wouldn't be there. I wouldn't +be anywhere. I was a surrogate, +a substitute, a splinter of Jay +Allison, and when it was over, +Forth and his tactics would put +me back into what they considered +my rightful place—which +was nowhere. I'd never climb a +mountain except now, when we +were racing against time and +necessity. I set my mouth in an +unaccustomed narrow line and +said, "We'll talk about that +when we get back—if we ever +do. Now I suggest we get going. +Some of us would like to get +down to lower altitudes."</p> + +<p>The trail down from Dammerung +inside the ridge, unlike the +outside trail, was clear and well-marked, +and we wound down the +slope, walking in easy single file. +As the mist thinned and we left +the snow-line behind, we saw +what looked like a great green +carpet, interspersed with shining +colors which were mere flickers +below us. I pointed them out.</p> + +<p>"The treetops of the North +Forest—and the colors you see +are in the streets of the Trailcity."</p> + +<p>An hour's walking brought us +to the edge of the forest. We<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> +travelled swiftly now, forgetting +our weariness, eager to reach the +city before nightfall. It was +quiet in the forest, almost ominously +still. Over our head +somewhere, in the thick branches +which in places shut out the sunlight +completely, I knew that the +tree-roads ran crisscross, and +now and again I heard some +rustle, a fragment of sound, a +voice, a snatch of song.</p> + +<p>"It's so dark down here," Rafe +muttered, "anyone living in this +forest would <i>have</i> to live in the +treetops, or go totally blind!"</p> + +<p>Kendricks whispered to me, +"Are we being followed? Are +they going to jump us?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think so. What you +hear are just the inhabitants of +the city—going about their daily +business up there."</p> + +<p>"Queer business it must be," +Regis said curiously, and as we +walked along the mossy, needly +forest floor, I told him something +of the trailmen's lives. I had lost +my fear. If anyone came at us +now, I could speak their language, +I could identify myself, +tell my business, name my foster-parents. +Some of my confidence +evidently spread to the +others.</p> + +<p>But as we came into more and +more familiar territory, I stopped +abruptly and struck my +hand against my forehead.</p> + +<p>"I knew we had forgotten +something!" I said roughly, +"I've been away from here too +long, that's all. Kyla."</p> + +<p>"What about Kyla?"</p> + +<p>The girl explained it herself, +in her expressionless monotone. +"I am an unattached female. +Such women are not permitted +in the Nests."</p> + +<p>"That's easy, then," Lerrys +said. "She must belong to one +of us." He didn't add a syllable. +No one could have expected it; +Darkovan aristocrats don't bring +their women on trips like this, +and their women are not like +Kyla.</p> + +<p>The three brothers broke into +a spate of volunteering, and +Rafe made an obscene suggestion. +Kyla scowled obstinately, +her mouth tight with what could +have been embarrassment or +rage. "If you believe I need your +protection—!"</p> + +<p>"Kyla," I said tersely, "is under +<i>my</i> protection. She will be +introduced as my woman—and +treated as such."</p> + +<p>Rafe twisted his mouth in an +un-funny smile. "I see the leader +keeps all the best for himself?"</p> + +<p>My face must have done +something I didn't know about, +for Rafe backed slowly away. I +forced myself to speak slowly: +"Kyla is a guide, and indispensable. +If anything happens to me, +she is the only one who can lead +you back. Therefore her safety +is my personal affair. Understand?"</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>As we went along the trail, +the vague green light disappeared. +"We're right below the Trailcity," +I whispered, and pointed +upward. All around us the Hundred +Trees rose, branchless<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> +pillars so immense that four +men, hands joined, could not +have encircled one with their +arms. They stretched upward for +some three hundred feet, before +stretching out their interweaving +branches; above that, nothing +was visible but blackness.</p> + +<p>Yet the grove was not dark, +but lighted with the startlingly +brilliant phosphorescence of the +fungi growing on the trunks, +and trimmed into bizarre ornamental +shapes. In cages of transparent +fibre, glowing insects as +large as a hand hummed softly +and continuously.</p> + +<p>As I watched, a trailman—quite +naked except for an ornate +hat and a narrow binding around +the loins—descended the trunk. +He went from cage to cage, feeding +the glow-worms with bits of +shining fungus from a basket on +his arm.</p> + +<p>I called to him in his own language, +and he dropped the basket, +with an exclamation, his +spidery thin body braced to flee +or to raise an alarm.</p> + +<p>"But I belong to the Nest," I +called to him, and gave him the +names of my foster-parents. He +came toward me, gripping my +forearm with warm long fingers +in a gesture of greeting.</p> + +<p>"Jason? Yes, I hear them +speak of you," he said in his +gentle twittering voice, "you are +at home. But those others—?" +He gestured nervously at the +strange faces.</p> + +<p>"My friends," I assured him, +"and we come to beg the Old +One for an audience. For tonight +I seek shelter with my parents, +if they will receive us."</p> + +<p>He raised his head and called +softly, and a slim child bounded +down the trunk and took the basket. +The trailman said, "I am +Carrho. Perhaps it would be better +if I guided you to your foster-parents, +so you will not be +challenged."</p> + +<p>I breathed more freely. I did +not personally recognize Carrho, +but he looked pleasantly familiar. +Guided by him, we climbed +one by one up the dark stairway +inside the trunk, and emerged +into the bright square, shaded +by the topmost leaves into a +delicate green twilight. I felt +weary and successful.</p> + +<p>Kendricks stepped gingerly on +the swaying, jiggling floor of +the square. It gave slightly at +every step, and Kendricks swore +morosely in a language that fortunately +only Rafe and I understood. +Curious trailmen flocked +to the street and twittered welcome +and surprise.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>Rafe and Kendricks betrayed +considerable contempt when I +greeted my foster-parents affectionately. +They were already old, +and I was saddened to see it; +their fur graying, their prehensile +toes and fingers crooked +with a rheumatic complaint of +some sort, their reddish eyes +bleared and rheumy. They welcomed +me, and made arrangements +for the others in my party +to be housed in an abandoned +house nearby ... they had insisted +that I, of course, must re<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>turn +to their roof, and Kyla, of +course, had to stay with me.</p> + +<p>"Couldn't we camp on the +ground instead?" Kendricks asked, +eying the flimsy shelter with +distaste.</p> + +<p>"It would offend our hosts," I +said firmly. I saw nothing wrong +with it. Roofed with woven bark, +carpeted with moss which was +planted on the floor, the place +was abandoned, somewhat a bit +musty, but weathertight and +seemed comfortable to me.</p> + +<p>The first thing to be done was +to despatch a messenger to the +Old One, begging the favor of +an audience with him. That +done, (by one of my foster-brothers), +we settled down to a +meal of buds, honey, insects and +birds eggs! It tasted good to me, +with the familiarity of food eaten +in childhood, but among the +others, only Kyla ate with appetite +and Regis Hastur with interested +curiosity.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>After the demands of hospitality +had been satisfied, my +foster-parents asked the names +of my party, and I introduced +them one by one. When I named +Regis Hastur, it reduced them +to brief silence, and then to an +outcry; gently but firmly, they +insisted that their home was unworthy +to shelter the son of a +Hastur, and that he must be fittingly +entertained at the Royal +Nest of the Old One.</p> + +<p>There was no gracious way +for Regis to protest, and when +the messenger returned, he prepared +to accompany him. But before +leaving, he drew me aside:</p> + +<p>"I don't much like leaving the +rest of you—"</p> + +<p>"You'll be safe enough."</p> + +<p>"It's not that I'm worried +about, Dr. Allison."</p> + +<p>"Call me Jason," I corrected +angrily. Regis said, with a little +tightening of his mouth, "That's +it. You'll have to be Dr. Allison +tomorrow when you tell the Old +One about your mission. But you +have to be the Jason he knows, +too."</p> + +<p>"So—?"</p> + +<p>"I wish I needn't leave here. +I wish you were—going to stay +with the men who know you only +as Jason, instead of being alone—or +only with Kyla."</p> + +<p>There was something odd in +his face, and I wondered at it. +Could he—a Hastur—be jealous +of Kyla? Jealous of <i>me</i>? It had +never occurred to me that he +might be somehow attracted to +Kyla. I tried to pass it off +lightly:</p> + +<p>"Kyla might divert me."</p> + +<p>Regis said without emphasis, +"Yet she brought Dr. Allison +back once before." Then, surprisingly, +he laughed. "Or maybe +you're right. Maybe Kyla will—scare +away Dr. Allison if he +shows up."</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>The coals of the dying fire laid +strange tints of color on Kyla's +face and shoulders and the wispy +waves of her dark hair. Now that +we were alone, I felt constrained.</p> + +<p>"Can't you sleep, Jason?"</p> + +<p>I shook my head. "Better sleep +while you can." I felt that this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> +night of all nights I dared not +close my eyes or when I woke I +would have vanished into the +Jay Allison I hated. For a moment +I saw the room with his +eyes; to him it would not seem +cosy and clean, but—habituated +to white sterile tile, Terran +rooms and corridors—dirty and +unsanitary as any beast's den.</p> + +<p>Kyla said broodingly, "You're +a strange man, Jason. What sort +of man are you—in Terra's +world?"</p> + +<p>I laughed, but there was no +mirth in it. Suddenly I had to +tell her the whole truth:</p> + +<p>"Kyla, the man you know as +me doesn't exist. I was created +for this one specific task. Once +it's finished, so am I."</p> + +<p>She started, her eyes widening. +"I've heard tales of—of the +Terrans and their sciences—that +they make men who aren't real, +men of metal—not bone and +flesh—"</p> + +<p>Before the dawning of that +naive horror I quickly held out +my bandaged hand, took her fingers +in mine and ran them over +it. "Is this metal? No, no, Kyla. +But the man you know as Jason—I +won't be him, I'll be someone +different—" How could I explain +a subsidiary personality to +Kyla, when I didn't understand +it myself?</p> + +<p>She kept my fingers in hers +softly and said, "I saw—someone +else—looking from your +eyes at me once. A ghost."</p> + +<p>I shook my head savagely. "To +the Terrans, I'm the ghost!"</p> + +<p>"Poor ghost," she whispered.</p> + +<p>Her pity stung. I didn't want +it.</p> + +<p>"What I don't remember I +can't regret. Probably I won't +even remember you." But I lied. +I knew that although I forgot +everything else, unregretting because +unremembered, I could +not bear to lose this girl, that +my ghost would walk restless +forever if I forgot her. I looked +across the fire at Kyla, cross-legged +in the faint light—only +a few coals in the brazier. She +had removed her sexless outer +clothing, and wore some clinging +garment, as simple as a child's +smock and curiously appealing. +There was still a little ridge of +bandage visible beneath it and +a random memory, not mine, remarked +in the back corners of +my brain that with the cut improperly +sutured there would be +a visible scar. <i>Visible to whom?</i></p> + +<p>She reached out an appealing +hand. "Jason! Jason—?"</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>My self-possession deserted +me. I felt as if I stood, small and +reeling, under a great empty +echoing chamber which was Jay +Allison's mind, and that the roof +was about to fall in on me. Kyla's +image flickered in and out of focus, +first infinitely gentle and +appealing, then—as if seen at +the wrong end of a telescope—far +away and sharply incised +and as remote and undesirable +as any bug underneath a lens.</p> + +<p>Her hands closed on my shoulders. +I put out a groping hand +to push her away.</p> + +<p>"Jason," she implored, "don't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span>—go +away from me like that! +Talk to me, tell me!"</p> + +<p>But her words reached me +through emptiness.... I knew +important things might hang on +tomorrow's meeting, Jason alone +could come through that meeting, +where the Terrans for some +reason put him through this hell +and damnation and torture ... +oh, yes ... the trailmen's fever.</p> + +<p>Jay Allison pushed the girl's +hand away and scowled savagely, +trying to collect his thoughts and +concentrate them on what he +must say and do, to convince the +trailmen of their duty toward +the rest of the planet. As if they—not +even human—could have a +sense of duty!</p> + +<p>With an unaccustomed surge +of emotion, he wished he were +with the others. Kendricks, now. +Jay knew, precisely, why Forth +had sent the big, reliable spaceman +at his back. And that handsome, +arrogant Darkovan—where +was he? Jay looked at the +girl in puzzlement; he didn't +want to reveal that he wasn't +quite sure of what he was saying +or doing, or that he had little +memory of what Jason had been +up to.</p> + +<p>He started to ask, "Where did +the Hastur kid go?" before a +vagrant logical thought told him +that such an important guest +would have been lodged with the +Old One. Then a wave of despair +hit him; Jay realized he did not +even speak the trailmen's language, +that it had slipped from +his thoughts completely.</p> + +<div class="microspace"> </div> +<div class="image"> +<img src="images/i130.jpg" width="490" height="359" alt="" title="" /></div> +<div class="caption">She felt a touch of panic. He was leaving her again.</div> +<div class="microspace"> </div> + +<p>"You—" he fished desperately<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> +for the girl's name, "Kyla. You +don't speak the trailmen's language, +do you?"</p> + +<p>"A few words. No more. +Why?" She had withdrawn into +a corner of the tiny room—still +not far from him—and he wondered +remotely what his damned +alter ego had been up to. With +Jason, there was no telling. Jay +raised his eyes with a melancholy +smile.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, child. You needn't +be frightened."</p> + +<p>"I'm—I'm trying to understand—" +the girl touched him +again, evidently trying to conquer +her terror. "It isn't easy—when +you turn into someone else +under my eyes—" Jay saw that +she was shaking in real fright.</p> + +<p>He said wearily, "I'm not going +to—to turn into a bat and +fly away. I'm just a poor devil +of a doctor who's gotten himself +into one unholy mess." There +was no reason, he was thinking, +to take out his own misery and +despair by shouting at this poor +kid. God knew what she'd been +through with his irresponsible +other self—Forth had admitted +that that damned "Jason" personality +was a blend of all the +undesirable traits he'd fought to +smother all his life. By an effort +of will he kept himself from +pulling away from her hand on +his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Jason, don't—slip away like +that! <i>Think!</i> Try to keep hold +on <i>yourself</i>!"</p> + +<p>Jay propped his head in his +hands, trying to make sense of +that. Certainly in the dim light +she could not be too conscious of +subtle changes of expression. +She evidently thought she was +talking to Jason. She didn't +seem to be overly intelligent.</p> + +<p>"Think about tomorrow, Jason. +What are you going to say +to him? Think about your parents—"</p> + +<p>Jay Allison wondered what +they would think when they +found a stranger here. He felt +like a stranger. Yet he must +have come, tonight, into this +house and spoken—he rummaged +desperately in his mind for +some fragments of the trailmen's +language. He had spoken it as a +child. He must recall enough to +speak to the woman who had +been a kind foster-mother to her +alien son. He tried to form his +lips to the unfamiliar shapes of +words ...</p> + +<p>Jay covered his face with his +hands again. Jason was the part +of himself that remembered the +trailmen. <i>That</i> was what he had +to remember—Jason was not a +hostile stranger, not an alien intruder +in his body. Jason was a +lost part of himself and at the +moment a damn necessary part. +If there were only some way to +get back the Jason memories, +skills, without losing <i>himself</i> ... +he said to the girl, "Let me +think. Let me—" to his surprise +and horror his voice broke into +an alien tongue, "Let me alone, +will you?"</p> + +<p>Maybe, Jay thought, I could +stay myself if I could remember +the rest. Dr. Forth said: Jason<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> +would remember the trailmen +with kindness, not dislike.</p> + +<p>Jay searched his memory and +found nothing but familiar frustration; +years spent in an alien +land, apart from a human +heritage, stranded and abandoned. +<i>My father left me. He +crashed the plane and I never +saw him again and I hate him +for leaving me ...</i></p> + +<p>But his father had not abandoned +him. He had crashed the +plane trying to save them both. +It was no one's fault—</p> + +<p><i>Except my father's. For trying +to fly over the Hellers into a +country where no man belongs ...</i></p> + +<p>He hadn't belonged. And yet +the trailmen, whom he considered +little better than roaming +beasts, had taken the alien child +into their city, their homes, +their hearts. They had loved +him. And he ...</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>"And I loved them," I found +myself saying half aloud, then +realized that Kyla was gripping +my arm, looking up imploringly +into my face. I shook my head +rather groggily. "What's the +matter?"</p> + +<p>"You frightened me," she +said in a shaky little voice, and +I suddenly knew what had happened. +I tensed with savage rage +against Jay Allison. He couldn't +even give me the splinter of life +I'd won for myself, but had to +come sneaking out of my mind, +how he must hate me! Not half +as much as I hated him, damn +him! Along with everything else, +he'd scared Kyla half to death!</p> + +<p>She was kneeling very close to +me, and I realized that there was +one way to fight that cold austere +fish of a Jay Allison, send him +shrieking down into hell again. +He was a man who hated everything +except the cold world he'd +made his life. Kyla's face was +lifted, soft and intent and pleading, +and suddenly I reached out +and pulled her to me and kissed +her, hard.</p> + +<p>"Could a ghost do this?" I demanded, +"or this?"</p> + +<p>She whispered, "No—oh, no," +and her arms went up to lock +around my neck. As I pulled her +down on the sweet-smelling moss +that carpeted the chamber, I felt +the dark ghost of my other self +thin out, vanish and disappear.</p> + +<p>Regis had been right. It had +been the only way ...</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>The Old One was not old at +all; the title was purely ceremonial. +This one was young—not +much older than I—but he +had poise and dignity and the +same strange indefinable quality +I had recognized in Regis Hastur. +It was something, I supposed, +that the Terran Empire +had lost in spreading from star +to star. A feeling of knowing +one's own place, a dignity that +didn't demand recognition because +it had never lacked for it.</p> + +<p>Like all trailmen he had the +chinless face and lobeless ears, +the heavy-haired body which +looked slightly less than human. +He spoke very low—the trailmen +have very acute hearing—and I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +had to strain my ears to listen, +and remember to keep my own +voice down.</p> + +<p>He stretched his hand to me, +and I lowered my head over it +and murmured, "I take submission, +Old One."</p> + +<p>"Never mind that," he said in +his gentle twittering voice, "sit +down, my son. You are welcome +here, but I feel you have abused +our trust in you. We dismissed +you to your own kind because we +felt you would be happier so. +Did we show you anything but +kindness, that after so many +years you return with armed +men?"</p> + +<p>The reproof in his red eyes +was hardly an auspicious beginning. +I said helplessly, "Old One, +the men with me are not armed. +A band of those-who-may-not-enter-cities +attacked us, and we +defended ourselves. I travelled +with so many men only because +I feared to travel the passes +alone."</p> + +<p>"But does that explain why +you have returned at all?" The +reason and reproach in his voice +made sense.</p> + +<p>Finally I said, "Old One, we +come as suppliants. My people +appeal to your people in the hope +that you will be—" I started to +say, <i>as human</i>, stopped and +amended "—that you will deal as +kindly with them as with me."</p> + +<p>His face betrayed nothing. +"What do you ask?"</p> + +<p>I explained. I told it badly, +stumbling, not knowing the technical +terms, knowing they had +no equivalents anyway in the +trailmen's language. He listened, +asking a penetrating question +now and again. When I mentioned +the Terran Legate's offer to +recognize the trailmen as a separate +and independent government, +he frowned and rebuked +me:</p> + +<p>"We of the Sky People have +no dealings with the Terrans, +and care nothing for their recognition—or +its lack."</p> + +<p>For that I had no answer, and +the Old One continued, kindly +but indifferently, "We do not like +to think that the fever which is +a children's little sickness with +us shall kill so many of your +kind. But you cannot in all honesty +blame us. You cannot say +that we spread the disease; we +never go beyond the mountains. +Are we to blame that the winds +change or the moons come together +in the sky? When the +time has come for men to die, +they die." He stretched his hand +in dismissal. "I will give your +men safe-conduct to the river, +Jason. Do not return."</p> + +<p>Regis Hastur rose suddenly +and faced him. "Will you hear +me, Father?" He used the ceremonial +title without hesitation, +and the Old One said in distress, +"The son of Hastur need never +speak as a suppliant to the Sky +People!"</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless, hear me as a +suppliant, Father," Regis said +quietly. "It is not the strangers +and aliens of Terra who are +pleading. We have learned one +thing from the strangers of +Terra, which you have not yet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> +learned. I am young and it is +not fitting that I should teach +you, but you have said; are we +to blame that the moons come +together in the sky? No. But we +have learned from the Terrans +not to blame the moons in the +sky for our own ignorance of the +ways of the Gods—by which I +mean the ways of sickness or +poverty or misery."</p> + +<p>"These are strange words for +a Hastur," said the Old One, displeased.</p> + +<p>"These are strange times for +a Hastur," said Regis loudly. +The Old One winced, and Regis +moderated his tone, but continued +vehemently, "You blame +the moons in the sky. <i>I</i> say the +moons are not to blame—nor the +winds—nor the Gods. The Gods +send these things to men to test +their wits and to find if they +have the will to master them!"</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>The Old One's forehead ridged +vertically and he said with stinging +contempt, "Is this the breed +of king which men call Hastur +now?"</p> + +<p>"Man or God or Hastur, I am +not too proud to plead for my +people," retorted Regis, flushing +with anger. "Never in all the history +of Darkover has a Hastur +stood before one of you and +begged—"</p> + +<p>"—for the men from another +world."</p> + +<p>"—for all men on our world! +Old One, I could sit and keep +state in the House of the Hasturs, +and even death could not +touch me until I grew weary of +living! But I preferred to learn +new lives from new men. The +Terrans have something to teach +even the Hasturs, and they can +learn a remedy against the trailmen's +fever." He looked round at +me, turning the discussion over +to me again, and I said:</p> + +<p>"I am no alien from another +world, Old One. I have been a +son in your house. Perhaps I was +sent to teach you to fight destiny. +I cannot believe you are +indifferent to death."</p> + +<p>Suddenly, hardly knowing +what I was going to do until I +found myself on my knees, I +knelt and looked up into the +quiet stern remote face of the +nonhuman:</p> + +<p>"My father," I said, "you +took a dying man and a dying +child from a burning plane. +Even those of their own kind +might have stripped their +corpses and left them to die. +You saved the child, fostered +him and treated him as a son. +When he reached an age to be +unhappy with you, you let a dozen +of your people risk their lives +to take him to his own. You cannot +ask me to believe that you +are indifferent to the death of +a million of my people, when the +fate of one could stir your pity!"</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>There was a moment's silence. +Finally the Old One said, "Indifferent—no. +But helpless. My +people die when they leave the +mountains. The air is too rich +for them. The food is wrong. +The light blinds and tortures +them. Can I send them to suffer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +and die, those people who call me +father?"</p> + +<p>And a memory, buried all my +life, suddenly surfaced. I said +urgently, "Father, listen. In the +world I live in now, I am called +a wise man. You need not believe +me, but listen; I know your +people, they are my people. I remember +when I left you, more +than a dozen of my foster-parents' +friends offered, knowing +they risked death, to go with me. +I was a child; I did not realize +the sacrifice they made. But I +watched them suffer, as we went +lower in the mountains, and I +resolved ... I resolved ..." +I spoke with difficulty, forcing +the words through a reluctant +barricade, "... that since others +had suffered so for me ... I +would spend my life in curing +the sufferings of others. Father, +the Terrans call me a wise doctor, +a man of healing. Among +the Terrans I can see that my +people, if they will come to us +and help us, have air they can +breathe and food which will suit +them and that they are guarded +from the light. I don't ask you +to send anyone, father. I ask +only—tell your sons what I have +told you. If I know your people—who +are my people forever—hundreds +of them will offer to +return with me. And you may +witness what your foster-son has +sworn here; if one of your sons +dies, your alien son will answer +for it with his own life."</p> + +<p>The words had poured from +me in a flood. They were not all +mine; some unconscious thing +had recalled in me that Jay Allison +had power to make these +promises. For the first time I began +to see what force, what +guilt, what dedication working +in Jay Allison had turned him +aside from me. I remained at +the Old One's feet, kneeling, +overcome, ashamed of the thing +I had become. Jay Allison was +worth ten of me. Irresponsible, +Forth had said. Lacking purpose, +lacking balance. What right +had I to despise my soberer +self?</p> + +<p>At last I felt the Old One +touch my head lightly.</p> + +<p>"Get up, my son," he said, "I +will answer for my people. And +forgive me for my doubts and +my delays."</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>Neither Regis nor I spoke for +a minute after we left the audience +room; then, almost as one, +we turned to each other. Regis +spoke first, soberly.</p> + +<p>"It was a fine thing you did, +Jason. I didn't believe he'd agree +to it."</p> + +<p>"It was your speech that did +it," I denied. The sober mood, +the unaccustomed surge of emotion, +was still on me, but it was +giving way to a sudden upswing +of exaltation. Damn it, I'd <i>done</i> +it! Let Jay Allison try to match +<i>that</i> ...</p> + +<p>Regis still looked grave. "He'd +have refused, but you appealed +to him as one of themselves. +And yet it wasn't quite that ... +it was something more ..." +Regis put a quick embarrassed +arm around my shoulders and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> +suddenly blurted out, "I think +the Terran Medical played hell +with your life, Jason! And even +if it saves a million lives—it's +hard to forgive them for that!"</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>Late the next day the Old One +called us in again, and told us +that a hundred men had volunteered +to return with us and act +as blood donors and experimental +subjects for research into the +trailmen's disease.</p> + +<p>The trip over the mountains, +so painfully accomplished was +easier in return. Our escort of +a hundred trailmen guaranteed +us against attack, and they could +choose the easiest paths.</p> + +<p>Only as we undertook the long +climb downward through the +foothills did the trailmen, un-used +to ground travel at any +time, and suffering from the unaccustomed +low altitude, begin +to weaken. As we grew stronger, +more and more of them faltered, +and we travelled more and more +slowly. Not even Kendricks could +be callous about "inhuman animals" +by the time we reached the +point where we had left the pack +animals. And it was Rafe Scott +who came to me and said desperately, +"Jason, these poor fellows +will never make it to Carthon. +Lerrys and I know this country. +Let us go ahead, as fast as we +can travel alone, and arrange at +Carthon for transit—maybe we +can get pressurized aircraft to +fly them from here. We can send +a message from Carthon, too, +about accommodations for them +at the Terran HQ."</p> + +<p>I was surprised and a little +guilty that I had not thought of +this myself. I covered it with a +mocking, "I thought you didn't +give a damn about 'any of my +friends.'"</p> + +<p>Rafe said doggedly, "I guess I +was wrong about that. They're +going through this out of a sense +of duty, so they must be pretty +different than I thought they +were."</p> + +<p>Regis, who had overheard +Rafe's plan, now broke in quietly, +"There's no need for you to +travel ahead, Rafe. I can send a +quicker message."</p> + +<p>I had forgotten that Regis +was a trained telepath. He +added, "There are some space +and distance limitations to such +messages, but there is a regular +relay net all over Darkover, and +one of the relays is a girl who +lives at the very edge of the Terran +Zone. <i>If</i> you'll tell me what +will give her access to the Terran +HQ—" he flushed slightly +and explained, "from what I +know of the Terrans, she would +not be very fortunate relaying +the message if she merely walked +to the gate and said she had +a relayed telepathic message for +someone, would she?"</p> + +<p>I had to smile at the picture +that conjured up in my mind. +"I'm afraid not," I admitted. +"Tell her to go to Dr. Forth, and +give the message from Dr. Jason +Allison."</p> + +<p>Regis looked at me curiously—it +was the first time I had +spoken my own name in the hearing +of the others. But he nodded,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> +without comment. For the next +hour or two he seemed somewhat +more pre-occupied than usual, +but after a time he came to me +and told me that the message +had gone through. Sometime +later he relayed an answer; that +airlift would be waiting for us, +not at Carthon, but a small village +near the ford of the Kadarin +where we had left our +trucks.</p> + +<p>When we camped that night +there were a dozen practical +problems needing attention; the +time and exact place of crossing +the ford, the reassurance to be +given to terrified trailmen who +could face leaving their forests +but not crossing the final barricade +of the river, the small help +in our power to be given the sick +ones. But after everything had +been done that I could do, and +after the whole camp had quieted +down, I sat before the low-burning +fire and stared into it, +deep in painful lassitude. Tomorrow +we would cross the river +and a few hours later we would +be back in the Terran HQ. And +then....</p> + +<p>And then ... and then nothing. +I would vanish, I would utterly +cease to exist anywhere, +except as a vagrant ghost troubling +Jay Allison's unquiet +dreams. As he moved through +the cold round of his days I +would be no more than a spent +wind, a burst bubble, a thinned +cloud.</p> + +<p>The rose and saffron of the +dying fire-colors gave shape to +my dreams. Once more, as in the +trailcity that night, Kyla slipped +through firelight to my side, and +I looked up at her and suddenly +I knew I could not bear it. I +pulled her to me and muttered, +"Oh, Kyla—Kyla, I won't even +remember you!"</p> + +<p>She pushed my hands away, +kneeling upright, and said +urgently, "Jason, listen. We are +close to Carthon, the others can +lead them the rest of the way. +Why go back to them at all? +Slip away now and never go +back! We can—" she stopped, +coloring fiercely, that sudden +and terrifying shyness overcoming +her again, and at last she +said in a whisper, "Darkover is +a wide world, Jason. Big enough +for us to hide in. I don't believe +they would search very far."</p> + +<p>They wouldn't. I could leave +word with Kendricks—not with +Regis, the telepath would see +through me immediately—that +I had ridden ahead to Carthon, +with Kyla. By the time they +realized that I had fled, they +would be too concerned with getting +the trailmen safely to the +Terran Zone to spend much time +looking for a runaway. As Kyla +said, the world was wide. And it +was my world. And I would not +be alone in it.</p> + +<p>"Kyla, Kyla," I said helplessly, +and crushed her against me, +kissing her. She closed her eyes +and I took a long, long look at +her face. Not beautiful, no. But +womanly and brave and all the +other beautiful things. It was a +farewell look, and I knew it, if +she didn't.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p> + +<p>After the briefest time, she +pulled a little away, and her flat +voice was gentler and more +breathless than usual. "We'd +better leave before the others +waken." She saw that I did not +move. "Jason—?"</p> + +<p>I could not look at her. Muffled +behind my hands, I said, +"No, Kyla. I—I promised the +Old One to look after my people +in the Terran world. I must go +back—"</p> + +<p>"You won't be <i>there</i> to look +after them! You won't be <i>you</i>!"</p> + +<p>I said bleakly, "I'll write a letter +to remind myself. Jay Allison +has a very strong sense of duty. +He'll look after them for me. He +won't like it, but he'll do it, with +his last breath. He's a better +man than I am, Kyla. You'd better +forget about me." I said, +wearily, "I never existed."</p> + +<p>That wasn't the end. Not nearly. +She—begged, and I don't +know why I put myself through +the hell of stubbornness. But in +the end she ran away, crying, +and I threw myself down by the +fire, cursing Forth, cursing my +own folly, but most of all cursing +Jay Allison, hating my other +self with a blistering, sickening +rage.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>Coming through the outskirts +of the small village the next afternoon, +the village where the +airlift would meet us, we noted +that the poorer quarter was almost +abandoned. Regis said +bleakly, "It's begun," and dropped +out of line to stand in the +doorway of a silent dwelling. +After a minute he beckoned to +me, and I looked inside.</p> + +<p>I wished I hadn't. The sight +would haunt me while I lived. +An old man, two young women +and half a dozen children between +four and fifteen years old +lay inside. The old man, one of +the children, and one of the +young women were laid out neatly +in clean death, shrouded, their +faces covered with green +branches after the Darkovan custom +for the dead. The other +young woman lay huddled near +the fireplace, her coarse dress +splattered with the filthy stuff +she had vomited, dying. The +children—but even now I can't +think of the children without +retching. One, very small, had +been in the woman's arms when +she collapsed; it had squirmed +free—for a little while. The others +were in an indescribable +condition and the worst of it was +that one of them was still moving, +feebly, long past help. Regis +turned blindly from the door and +leaned against the wall, his +shoulders heaving. Not, as I first +thought, in disgust, but in grief. +Tears ran over his hands and +spilled down, and when I took +him by the arm to lead him +away, he reeled and fell against +me.</p> + +<p>He said in a broken, blurred, +choking voice, "Oh, Lord, Jason, +those children, those children—if +you ever had any doubts about +what you're doing, any doubts +about what you've done, think +about that, think that you've +saved a whole world from that,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> +think that you've done something +even the Hasturs couldn't do!"</p> + +<p>My own throat tightened with +something more than embarrassment. +"Better wait till we know +for sure whether the Terrans +can carry through with it, and +you'd better get to hell away +from this doorway. I'm immune, +but damn it, you're not." But I +had to take him and lead him +away, like a child, from that +house. He looked up into my face +and said with burning sincerity, +"I wonder if you believe I'd give +my life, a dozen times over, to +have done that?"</p> + +<p>It was a curious, austere reward. +But vaguely it comforted +me. And then, as we rode into +the village itself, I lost myself, +or tried to lose myself, in reassuring +the frightened trailmen +who had never seen a city on the +ground, never seen or heard of +an airplane. I avoided Kyla. I +didn't want a final word, a farewell. +We had had our farewells +already.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>Forth had done a marvelous +job of having quarters ready for +the trailmen, and after they were +comfortably installed and reassured, +I went down wearily and +dressed in Jay Allison's clothing. +I looked out the window at the +distant mountains and a line +from the book on mountaineering, +which I had bought as a +youngster in an alien world, and +Jay had kept as a stray fragment +of personality, ran in violent +conflict through my mind:</p> + +<p><i>Something hidden—go and +find it</i> ...</p> + +<p><i>Something lost beyond the +ranges</i> ...</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>I had just begun to live. Surely +I deserved better than this, to +vanish when I had just discovered +life. Did the man who did +not know how to live, deserve to +live at all? Jay Allison—that +cold man who had never looked +beyond any ranges—why should +I be lost in him?</p> + +<p>Something lost beyond the +ranges ... nothing would be +lost but myself. I was beginning +to loathe the overflown sense of +duty which had brought me back +here. Now, when it was too late, +I was bitterly regretting ... +Kyla had offered me life. Surely +I would never see Kyla again.</p> + +<p>Could I regret what I would +never remember? I walked into +Forth's office as if I were going +to my doom. I <i>was</i> ...</p> + +<p>Forth greeted me warmly.</p> + +<p>"Sit down and tell me all about +it ..." he insisted. I would +rather not speak. Instead, compulsively, +I made it a full report +... and curious flickers came in +and out of my consciousness as +I spoke. By the time I realized +I was reacting to a post-hypnotic +suggestion, that in fact I was +going under hypnosis again, it +was too late and I could only +think that this was worse than +death because in a way I would +be alive ...</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>Jay Allison sat up and meticulously +straightened his cuff be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>fore +tightening his mouth in +what was meant for a smile. "I +assume, then, that the experiment +was a success?"</p> + +<p>"A complete success." Forth's +voice was somewhat harsh and +annoyed, but Jay was untroubled; +he had known for years +that most of his subordinates +and superiors disliked him, and +had long ago stopped worrying +about it.</p> + +<p>"The trailmen agreed?"</p> + +<p>"They agreed," Forth said, +surprised. "You don't remember +anything at all?"</p> + +<p>"Scraps. Like a nightmare." +Jay Allison looked down at the +back of his hand, flexing the fingers +cautiously against pain, +touching the partially healed red +slash. Forth followed the direction +of his eyes and said, not +unsympathetically, "Don't worry +about your hand. I looked at it +pretty carefully. You'll have the +total use of it."</p> + +<p>Jay said rigidly, "It seems to +have been a pretty severe risk +to take. Did you ever stop to +think what it would have meant +to me, to lose the use of my +hand?"</p> + +<p>"It seemed a justifiable risk, +even if you had," Forth said dryly. +"Jay, I've got the whole +story on tape, just as you told it +to me. You might not like having +a blank spot in your memory. +Want to hear what your +alter ego did?"</p> + +<p>Jay hesitated. Then he unfolded +his long legs and stood up. +"No, I don't think I care to +know." He waited, arrested by a +twinge of a sore muscle, and +frowned.</p> + +<p>What had happened, what +would he never know, why did +the random ache bring a pain +deeper than the pain of a torn +nerve? Forth was watching him, +and Jay asked irritably, "What +is it?"</p> + +<p>"You're one hell of a cold fish, +Jay."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand you, sir."</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't," Forth muttered. +"Funny. I <i>liked</i> your subsidiary +personality."</p> + +<p>Jay's mouth contracted in a +mirthless grin.</p> + +<p>"You would," he said, and +swung quickly round.</p> + +<p>"Come on. If I'm going to +work on that serum project I'd +better inspect the volunteers and +line up the blood donors and +look over old whatshisname's +papers."</p> + +<p>But beyond the window the +snowy ridges of the mountain, +inscrutable, caught and held his +eye; a riddle and a puzzle—</p> + +<p>"Ridiculous," he said, and +went to his work.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>Four months later, Jay Allison +and Randall Forth stood together, +watching the last of the disappearing +planes, carrying the +volunteers back toward Carthon +and their mountains.</p> + +<p>"I should have flown back to +Carthon with them," Jay said +moodily. Forth watched the tall +man stare at the mountain; wondered +what lay behind the contained +gestures and the brooding.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p> + +<p>He said, "You've done enough, +Jay. You've worked like the +devil. Thurmond—the Legate—sent +down to say you'd get an +official commendation and a promotion +for your part. That's not +even mentioning what you did +in the trailmen's city." He put +a hand on his colleague's shoulder, +but Jay shook it off impatiently.</p> + +<p>All through the work of isolating +and testing the blood +fraction, Jay had worked tirelessly +and unsparingly; scarcely +sleeping, but brooding; silent, +prone to fly into sudden savage +rages, but painstaking. He had +overseen the trailmen with an +almost fatherly solicitude—but +from a distance. He had left no +stone unturned for their comfort—but +refused to see them in +person except when it was unavoidable.</p> + +<p>Forth thought, we played a +dangerous game. Jay Allison +had made his own adjustment to +life, and we disturbed that balance. +Have we wrecked the man? +He's expendable, but damn it, +what a loss! He asked, "Well, +why <i>didn't</i> you fly back to Carthon +with them? Kendricks went +along, you know. He expected +you to go until the last minute."</p> + +<p>Jay did not answer. He had +avoided Kendricks, the only witness +to his duality. In all his +nightmare brooding, the avoidance +of anyone who had known +him as Jason became a mania. +Once, meeting Rafe Scott on the +lower floor of the HQ, he had +turned frantically and plunged +like a madman through halls and +corridors, to avoid coming face +to face with the man, finally running +up four flights of stairs and +taking shelter in his rooms, with +the pounding heart and bursting +veins of a hunted criminal. At +last he said, "If you've called me +down here to read me the riot +act about not wanting to make +another trip into the Hellers—!"</p> + +<p>"No, no," Forth said equably, +"there's a visitor coming. Regis +Hastur sent word he wants to +see you. In case you don't remember +him, he was on Project +Jason—"</p> + +<p>"I remember," Jay said grimly. +It was nearly his one clear +memory—the nightmare of the +ledge, his slashed hand, the +shameful naked body of the +Darkovan woman, and—blurring +these things, the too-handsome +Darkovan aristocrat who had +banished him for Jason again. +"He's a better psychiatrist than +you are, Forth. He changed me +into Jason in the flicker of an +eyelash, and it took you half a +dozen hypnotic sessions."</p> + +<p>"I've heard about the psi powers +of the Hasturs," Forth said, +"but I've never been lucky +enough to meet one in person. +Tell me about it. What did he +do?"</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>Jay made a tight movement +of exasperation, too controlled +for a shrug. "Ask him, why +don't you. Look, Forth, I don't +much care to see him. I didn't do +it for Darkover; I did it because +it was my job. I'd prefer to for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>get +the whole thing. Why don't +you talk to him?"</p> + +<p>"I rather had the idea that he +wanted to see you personally. +Jay, you did a tremendous thing, +man! Damn it, why don't you +strut a little? Be—be normal for +once! Why, I'd be damned near +bursting with pride if one of the +Hasturs insisted on congratulating +me personally!"</p> + +<p>Jay's lip twitched, and his +voice shook with controlled exasperation. +"Maybe you would. I +don't see it that way."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm afraid you'll have +to. On Darkover nobody refuses +when the Hasturs make a +request—and certainly not a request +as reasonable as this +one." Forth sat down beside the +desk. Jay struck the woodwork +with a violent clenched fist and +when he lowered his hand there +was a tiny smear of blood along +his knuckles. After a minute he +walked to the couch and sat +down, very straight and stiff, +saying nothing. Neither of the +men spoke again until Forth +started at the sound of a buzzer, +drew the mouthpiece toward +him, and said, "Tell him we are +honored—you know the routine +for dignitaries, and send him up +here."</p> + +<p>Jay twisted his fingers together +and ran his thumb, in a new +gesture, over the ridge of scar +tissue along the knuckles. Forth +was aware of an entirely new +quality in the silence, and started +to speak to break it, but before +he could do so, the office +door slid open on its silent beam, +and Regis Hastur stood there.</p> + +<p>Forth rose courteously and +Jay got to his feet like a mechanical +doll jerked on strings. +The young Darkovan ruler +smiled engagingly at him:</p> + +<p>"Don't bother, this visit is informal; +that's the reason I came +here rather than inviting you +both to the Tower. Dr. Forth? +It is a pleasure to meet you +again, sir. I hope that our gratitude +to you will soon take a +more tangible form. There has +not been a single death from the +trailmen's fever since you made +the serum available."</p> + +<p>Jay, motionless, saw bitterly +that the old man had succumbed +to the youngster's deliberate +charm. The chubby, wrinkled old +face seamed up in a pleased +smile as Forth said, "The gifts +sent to the trailmen in your +name, Lord Hastur, were greatly +welcomed."</p> + +<p>"Do you think that any of us +will ever forget what they have +done?" Regis replied. He turned +toward the window and smiled +rather tentatively at the man +who stood there; motionless +since his first conventional gesture +of politeness:</p> + +<p>"Dr. Allison, do you remember +me at all?"</p> + +<p>"I remember you," Jay Allison +said sullenly.</p> + +<p>His voice hung heavy in the +room, its sound a miasma in his +ears. All his sleepless, nightmare-charged +brooding, all his +bottled hate for Darkover and +the memories he had tried to +bury, erupted into overwrought<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> +bitterness against this too-ingratiating +youngster who was a +demigod on this world and who +had humiliated him, repudiated +him for the hated Jason ... for +Jay, Regis had suddenly become +the symbol of a world that hated +him, forced him into a false +mold.</p> + +<p>A black and rushing wind +seemed to blur the room. He +said hoarsely, "I remember you +all right," and took one savage, +hurtling step.</p> + +<p>The weight of the unexpected +blow spun Regis around, and the +next moment Jay Allison, who +had never touched another human +being except with the remote +hands of healing, closed +steely, murderous hands around +Regis' throat. The world thinned +out into a crimson rage. There +were shouting and sudden noises, +and a red-hot explosion in his +brain ...</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>"You'd better drink this," +Forth remarked, and I realized +I was turning a paper cup in my +hands. Forth sat down, a little +weakly, as I raised it to my lips +and sipped. Regis took his hand +away from his throat and said +huskily, "I could use some of +that, Doctor."</p> + +<p>I put the whiskey down. +"You'll do better with water until +your throat muscles are +healed," I said swiftly, and went +to fill a throwaway cup for him, +without thinking. Handing it to +him. I stopped in sudden dismay +and my hand shook, spilling a +few drops. I said hoarsely, swallowing, +"—but drink it, anyway—"</p> + +<p>Regis got a few drops down, +painfully, and said, "My own +fault. The moment I saw—Jay +Allison—I knew he was a madman. +I'd have stopped him sooner +only he took me by surprise."</p> + +<p>"But—you say <i>him</i>—I'm Jay +Allison," I said, and then my +knees went weak and I sat down. +"What in hell is this? I'm +not Jay—but I'm not Jason, +either—"</p> + +<p>I could remember my entire +life, but the focus had shifted. I +still felt the old love, the old nostalgia +for the trailmen; but I +also knew, with a sure sense of +identity, that I was Doctor Jason +Allison, Jr., who had abandoned +mountain climbing and +become a specialist in Darkovan +parasitology. Not Jay who had +rejected his world; not Jason +who had been rejected by it. But +then who?</p> + +<p>Regis said quietly, "I've seen +you before—once. When you +knelt to the Old One of the trailmen." +With a whimsical smile he +said, "As an ignorant superstitious +Darkovan, I'd say that you +were a man who'd balanced his +god and daemon for once."</p> + +<p>I looked helplessly at the +young Hastur. A few seconds +ago my hands had been at his +throat. Jay or Jason, maddened +by self-hate and jealousy, could +disclaim responsibility for the +other's acts.</p> + +<p>I couldn't.</p> + +<p>Regis said, "We could take the +easy way out, and arrange it so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> +we'd never have to see each other +again. Or we could do it the hard +way." He extended his hand, and +after a minute, I understood, and +we shook hands briefly, like +strangers who have just met. He +added, "Your work with the +trailmen is finished, but We Hasturs +committed ourselves to +teach some of the Terrans our +science—matrix mechanics. Dr. +Allison—Jason—you know Darkover, +and I think we could work +with you. Further, you know +something about slipping mental +gears. I meant to ask; would +you care to be one of them? +You'd be ideal."</p> + +<p>I looked out the window at the +distant mountains. This work—this +would be something which +would satisfy both halves of myself. +The irresistible force, the +immovable object—and no +ghosts wandering in my brain. +"I'll do it," I told Regis. And +then, deliberately, I turned my +back on him and went up to the +quarters, now deserted, which +we had readied for the trailmen. +With my new doubled—or complete—memories, +another ghost +had roused up in my brain, and +I remembered a woman who had +appeared vaguely in Jay Allison's +orbit, unnoticed, working +with the trailmen, tolerated because +she could speak their language. +I opened the door, searched +briefly through the rooms, +and shouted, "Kyla!" and she +came. Running. Disheveled. +Mine.</p> + +<p>At the last moment, she drew +back a little from my arms and +whispered, "You're Jason—but +you're something more. Different ..."</p> + +<p>"I don't know who I am," I +said quietly, "but I'm me. Maybe +for the first time. Want to help +me find out just who that is?"</p> + +<p>I put my arm around her, trying +to find a path between memory +and tomorrow. All my life, I +had walked a strange road toward +an unknown horizon. Now, +reaching my horizon, I found it +marked only the rim of an unknown +country.</p> + +<p>Kyla and I would explore it together.</p> + +<div class="microspace"> </div> +<h3>THE END</h3> +<div class="microspace"> </div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Planet Savers, by Marion Zimmer Bradley + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PLANET SAVERS *** + +***** This file should be named 31619-h.htm or 31619-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/6/1/31619/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Meredith Bach, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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