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diff --git a/59414-0.txt b/59414-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..27c096d --- /dev/null +++ b/59414-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,490 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 59414 *** + + + + + + + + + + + + + shango + + BY JOHN JAKES + + _Valaya was a primitive society, + yet the natives had a + way of communicating that + had the experts stumped...._ + + [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from + Worlds of If Science Fiction, February 1956. + Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that + the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] + + +"This," said chief Van Isaac, "is our new trouble spot." The older +man's rodlike finger probed decisively at a violet dot placed on a thin +yellow line of a circle, third out from a sun. Other dots peppered the +giant glazed star map, companions of which hung on the other three +walls of the chamber. "Valaya is the name of the place," Van Isaac +continued. "Perhaps you know something about it." + +"Not much," said the other, a thirtyish, lean man by the name of Arnold +Koven. "I mean, not a great deal besides what the telefilms have +screamed for the past two weeks. Revolution, slaughter, tribe against +tribe." Koven placed a cigarette between his lips, and his eyes smiled +with gentle cynicism. "Valaya has a Creole sound." + +"You'll have no vacation, believe me," Van Isaac responded. "During +the colonization, Valaya was peopled largely by residents of the +Caribbean. The inhabitants have intermarried over the past sixty years, +so there is a slight blue Martian strain. Valaya was seeded with sugar +and tin to provide for economy, but left rather backward--by choice of +the colonists." Koven moved his eyes from the star map to his superior. + +"Have you localized the trouble?" + +"Yes. These raids have moved from the small north continent--" Van +Isaac touched one of a row of studs on the desk. An immense rear +projection lantern view on the wall where the map had been, settled +into focus. + +"The raids are the combined effort of the people of the north +continent, which is small. The attacks are focused across the channel +to the larger south continent. Somehow, the people on North have +been inveigled into believing they have a right to South. Our only +bit of information is that a man named Bruschloss--" Koven suddenly +straightened in the theatrical gloom where his cigarette smoke floated +torpidly. "Bruschloss? The one you used to call The Hog?" + +"The Hog, yes. He is a citizen of the Betelgeuse Bloc with +right-of-entry to any of our planets. He claims to be solely interested +in setting up a trading company on Valaya, with headquarters at the +village of Maru. But the attacks date from two weeks after he arrived. +So," said Van Isaac, tone hardening, "I know he is undoubtedly behind +all this, and I want him stopped." + +"Any G. C. I. A. men around Maru?" Koven inquired. + +"The local agent for the continent, named Spotwood. He says Bruschloss +has conversed privately with the local ruler. Spotwood couldn't plant +cameras or sound equipment at the conferences--our own blasted code +forbids it. But the rub is that the ruler has in no way communicated +with any of the other tribes on North. _In no way_," Van Isaac +repeated, with a fist on the desk for emphasis. "They have drums. The +drums say nothing Spotwood can't understand. All perfectly innocent. +They have runners. No runners. No flare signals. No secret meetings. +Spotwood has hired three or four dozen breeds to do his spying, but he +has absolutely no idea of how the ruler manages to organize the other +tribes into these precise, well-timed, well-generaled raids across the +strait." + +"I'm to find out?" asked Koven. "And stop the proceedings?" + +"Exactly. Spotwood's good, but...." + + * * * * * + +At the spaceport, Koven pushed his way through the jabbering crowd, +checked his baggage onto the Valaya flight, had coffee, and got +something to read from a Vendobook. He chose a volume entitled _The +Twilight of Meaningism_, by Dr. Reywill of Memphis University. As the +long iron dagger of the rocket cut burning through the blue curtain of +the sky, he settled down in his compartment to read. + +Dr. Reywill's work turned out to be an historical analysis of the +forces which, toward the end of the twentieth century, catalyzed the +arts into pure sensation, utterly devoid of meaning or communication. +During the middle of that century, with poetry restricted to the hands +of the few who wailed that their mechanized age did not understand +them, poetry became exceedingly private in imagery and meaning. In a +natural evolution, it completely lost all meaning and became a charming +musical form several cuts above the primitive. When the masses found +they could merely accept verse as a pleasantry whose sound intrigued +them as a rattle intrigues a child, poetry, regained its audience. The +same condition held true for music, the dance, painting and sculpture. +To Koven, born when Meaningism was two hundred years dead, the notion +that a poem could say something seemed quaint and even a trifle +peculiar. + +Twenty-eight hours later Koven landed in Maru, knowing a good deal more +about the history of contemporary poetry, but knowing nothing which +would help him unravel the puzzle of the raids. + + * * * * * + +"No Van Isaac wasn't kidding," Jimmy Spotwood said. "The colonization +board worked Valaya over from one end to the other. This is genuine, +authentic and otherwise real tropicana." + +Koven stood at the window of Spotwood's shack, which looked down a long +street to the central clearing which formed the crossroads of Maru. +Bluish sky spread out overhead like sheets of hot metal, and the almost +poisonously colorful foliage stuttered gently in a hot breeze. The +nearly undressed inhabitants, skins belying only a touch of the bluish +blood from Mars, idled along from hut to hut, talking or playing with +the children. The only note of turmoil was sounded by the slapping skin +drums from the far side of the village. Koven turned around to his host. + +"Are they beating the drums for any purpose?" he wanted to know. + +Spotwood took a drink from a sanitary plastic bubble. "Once a month +everybody on North gets together for a shindig." He smirked with +good-natured lasciviousness. "The whole rigamarole is years old. +Guarantees that plenty of good strong babies will be born, and that +the crops won't fail, or some such rot. O'course," Spotwood said +laconically, "this monthly assembly would be the logical time to +suspect, if they ever did anything but put on a sexual exhibition in +that clearing down the road. Maybe," he added, "the head dancer's +pelvis--a female, by the way--is tattooed with a message in some sort +of invisible ink our poor old Earth eyes can't see. Her belly gyrations +would guarantee high readership, if nothing else." + +Koven smiled thinly, as a knock rattled on the slatted door. + +Spotwood's eyes slitted down and jumped briefly to Koven's, in a glance +which the latter interpreted to read, _News isn't slow in Maru. I'll +bet this is the prime mover._ Koven instinctively patted the flat +pistol beneath his coat, his back to the door as Spotwood opened it. + +"I understand we have a visitor in the village," came the sound of an +unpleasant, wet and wheezing voice. + +"You're right," said Spotwood. "Come on in, Bruschloss." + +Molding his face into a careful expression of relaxed disinterest, +Koven turned around to face The Hog. + +Bruschloss extended a pink gobby hand. "Koven, did you say? I'm always +delighted to see anyone here with Earth blood in his veins." He +laughed self-consciously, and the rolling folds of his belly quivered. +"Even though we are on opposite sides of the political fence we can +still be friends, I hope. You arrived at a good time. Tonight's the +celebration." He seemed to breathe more quickly at the thought; he +savored the words like a man aroused by a fetish. + +"Spotwood's been telling me," Koven said. + +"Has he, eh? He enjoys them too, I'll wager." No reply from Spotwood, +save the pop of another gin globe being opened. + +"Have a drink, Bruschloss?" Spotwood asked. + +"No, I don't think so. Liquor makes me very sleepy. I want to be alert +for the ceremony tonight. I love to watch Chemin dance." + +"Quite a woman," Spotwood agreed. + +"Er ... what is your line of business?" inquired Bruschloss of Koven, +elevating the wrinkles on his steaming forehead into an expression of +curiosity. + +"I came to help Jimmy finish up in a hurry." + +"Trying to discover whether you might seed Valaya for platinum?" asked +Bruschloss with perfect innocence. + +Spotwood snickered. "What's the matter with you, Bruschloss? Are you +sure you haven't had a drink? You know it's petro I'm after." + +"Of course! I am stupid, forgive me." A self-conscious pause ensued, +while no one spoke. Then Bruschloss, as if snatching at any clue that +might tell him more about the visitor to Maru, spied Koven's book, +slung carelessly along with his other gear on the deal table. "A book!" +exclaimed The Hog, rolling forward. "Mr. Koven, it delights me to find +a literate man in this wilderness." He turned a few pages, leaving +black sweaty thumb prints on the thin plastic leaves. + +"The disappearance of meaning from poetry, eh?" he said, snapping the +book closed. "I must read it some time, if you'll lend it." + +Koven said he would, and Bruschloss made a quick exit. He seemed to do +things in opposites. First he had been straining to remain and keep +conversation alive. Last, he had been straining to leave as rapidly as +possible. In spite of the man's slovenly appearance, Koven knew he had +a dangerous enemy. Bruschloss would have had to be an utter moron to +believe that Koven had come to Maru simply to aid Spotwood. Spotwood +himself, as if sensing Koven's appraisal of the man from the Betelgeuse +Bloc, spoke: + +"Watch him. He's got three uglies up at his place who do nothing all +day but drink and play cards. They're here in case of trouble." + +Koven smiled thinly. "I hope we can accommodate them." + + * * * * * + +Toward the end of the sixteen-hour-day, after Spotwood had prepared +dinner from food cubes, Koven decided to take a stroll around the +village. The citizens hardly gave him a glance, engrossed in eating +within their houses. From glimpses Koven caught, they hardly looked +like a warlike crew, and yet he had read the tales of atrocities +committed across the strait on South, and he felt a crawly sensation on +his spine. Tonight, perhaps, plans would be laid for the next attack, +while he knew nothing about the process which would probably go on +right around him. Certainly the people of Valaya weren't 'paths. He +knew that much. + +Koven crossed the central clearing and turned left toward the village +fringe. He passed the final few dwellings and turned left again, up a +slight wooded rise, back across which he could reach Spotwood's house. +As he crossed the spine of the ridge, he thought he noticed a movement +along to his right, and turned in that direction. He caught sight of an +arm arching forward, and a small circular object spiraling down toward +his head through the spicy air. Instinctively trained, Koven pumped +his legs and slid out forward along the ground, rolling, watching +the object go spinning crazily by against the darkening heavens. He +extended an arm, caught a tree and jerked himself around into the +protection of its thick trunk as a flat explosion tore the air and +smashed his eardrums. He closed his eyes tightly. The blazing white +flash lasted only a second. + +Struggling up, he had time only to see the scooped-out pit along the +spine's crest, smoking like a raw wound, where the bomb had struck. +Boots bit earth, coming in his direction at a dead run. Koven crouched +in tree shadow, hoping that his adversary had not seen him scramble to +safety in the illusive light on the hill. He snaked the flat pistol +free of its casing just as the attacker broke through a clump of brush. +Koven had a fleeting impression of massive size, a meaty face and short +spiky dark hair. Then he was on his feet, charging against his enemy, +who abruptly saw him and ground to a halt. + +The attacker's mouth made a red startled O, and one heavy hand labored +to bring up a heavy pistol. But Koven had already fired. The pale thin +beam lanced out in complete silence. The enemy dropped his weapon but +had no time to utter a sound. The skin of his head began to blacken +and fall away in charring strips. Koven always felt relieved when a +man shot like that fell, for he did not have to look at the bubbling +horror of burning flesh and gristle. + +Swinging around, Koven scrutinized the village. No clamor, no outcry +had been made. The central street overflowed now, for the short night +had nearly begun, and torches began to flare, throwing up great roiling +shadows on the trees as the crowd babbled and pressed down to the main +clearing. + +Why in the name of sense had the attack come now? at this precise +moment? Spotwood had been in Maru for months, and had said nothing +about any sort of attack on him. Certainly Bruschloss suspected +Spotwood. All men from Earth had to be suspect here, to a man from the +Betelgeuse Bloc. Therefore something about himself which, offhand, he +couldn't pinpoint, had driven The Hog far enough into fear to send this +attacker. + +This point Spotwood verified after Koven jogged back to the house at a +run. Spotwood scratched his chin and whistled. "Why the blazes is he +after you right away?" Spotwood asked. + +"I'm wondering the same." + +"He must think you've found out how he organizes the raids." + +"That's the hell of it. I haven't." + +From the central clearing came a staccato increase in the tempo of the +drumming. Spotwood swiveled around, listening, while Koven continued +to scowl dismally at the floor. Spotwood snagged a light coat from the +corner and slipped into it. "They'll be starting in a minute. Come on." +Once again he managed to grin. "You don't want to miss Chemin. They +call the dance a shango. I often wince when I think what a pastor would +call it." + +Koven followed Spotwood from the shanty, and they trudged down the +blue-lit street toward the swaying mob in the clearing. Koven quickly +outlined a few facts to his companion. They must pretend not to notice +the surprise on the face of Bruschloss, which would certainly be +present when Koven turned up alive. Moreover, Koven made it clear that +they should not even look the least suspiciously in The Hog's direction. + +"Tough order," Spotwood offered. "Bruschloss sees you alive, he knows +you probably saw, and killed, the man who tried to get you. He figures +you described the killer to me, and also figures I pegged him down for +you as one of his assistants." + +"Still, let's try to bluff it out." + +They pressed through the edges of the crowd, ignored, for the watchers +concentrated upon the figures diving and turning and stamping their +feet on the earth in the center of the ring, clad in feathers and +little else, skins shining and polished by sweat in the bubbling light +of the ghastly blue flares. Spotwood shouldered off to stand a fair +distance away, and Koven found a slight break in the crowd and crouched +down on his haunches, stabbing a cigarette into his mouth. From the +rear of the circle a young girl appeared, very beautiful, with a tuft +of feathers at her hip, and her breasts oiled and glowing like metal +cones. Koven gathered this was Chemin, for the name passed on many +tongues. A circle of male dancers closed around her. + +Koven kept his head straight front, but moved his eyes in their +sockets, so that he could see Bruschloss, backed up by two men with +thick shoulders standing directly behind. The trio blurred almost out +of sight at the edge of Koven's line of vision. Bruschloss sat bent +forward, his rolled belly heaving, and the sweaty, stubbled skin of his +face looking rotted in the blue light. He followed each movement of the +dancer Chemin with obscene concentration, but Koven, switching his eyes +front, had the unpleasant feeling that the two burly companions were +scrutinizing him. + +Chemin's dance became less sexual for a few moments, became the sort of +dance you might almost expect to see on a photovision variety hour; a +dance without specific meaning. + +Abruptly the palms of Koven's hands felt wet. + +He lurched to his feet and searched the crowd for Spotwood. The crowd +seemed intensely quiet during Chemin's performance. Each man had his +eyes riveted to the flying hands and undulating body of the girl in the +center. Koven inched his way free of the crowd, still keeping watch on +the dance. He just broke from the edges as Chemin disappeared into the +darkness from which she had come, and pairs of males and females, with +sharp, biting cries, began again the ritual. + +With a throbbing in his nerves that always came when he was very close +to something he worked for, Koven cut around a series of huts in time +to see the girl Chemin disappear into one of them. Looking left and +right, seeing no one except the crowd at the rear of the hut forming +this edge of the ring, he eased out the pistol and stepped through the +hangings. + +Chemin sat with her head resting wearily on her arms, as if the dancing +had drained her last reserve of energy. The light scuff of Koven's +shoes on dirt caused her to whip her head up, and he realized again how +attractive she was, in spite of the perspiration filming her body and +the tired haggardness of her features. + +"Don't make a single sound," he warned. "I'll fire." + +Gradually the spasmodic quivering in her throat subsided. "You are the +new man here with Spotwood," she said, frightened. + +Koven nodded. "I came to find out how Bruschloss organized the attacks +on South, through your ruler." The Hog's name washed the light of truth +for a moment into her eyes, and Koven pressed on, sure. "We didn't know +how the plans for attack were circulated on this continent. But you've +been giving the plans, out there in the ring. That solo dance had a +meaning." + +"Fertility ..." she began. + +"Oh, no. Before and after it, yes. But the women paid no attention to +your solo dance. The men did. They were attentive. They were waiting +for and receiving orders, weren't they? Orders your ruler had to give +through a dance, because Spotwood was here, and you couldn't dare give +them in a way he might understand." + +"You are wrong." + +Koven stepped forward and pressed the pistol against Chemin's breast. +In the badly-lit tent he could still see the flesh of that breast +harden. "Am I wrong?" + +A tiny tongue caressed her lips in anxiety. "What are you going to do +with me?" + +"Do you have more to tell them?" + +"No, I...." + +"Tell the truth." The pistol muzzle ground an ugly white pit in her +flesh. + +"Yes, I have more." + +"When you dance, tell the people to kill Bruschloss and his two men, +immediately. Orders from your ruler. Bruschloss is a traitor, tell +them." + +Aghast: "I could not...." + +"Would you rather die?" + +"The ruler will know...." + +"You show me where he is sitting. I'll take care of him. If you should +give the wrong message when you dance ... if they should turn on me, +I'll still manage to kill you before they get me. So it's entirely up +to you whether you live or die." He recognized acceptance in her bowed +neck. "I want you to show me how the dance works. Show me the motions, +the gestures you use to explain plans for the attack." + +Chemin gazed obliquely at him with tormented eyes. Then she crossed +her wrists and moved her fingers in a fluttering motion. "This is the +sign for a small peninsula south of here, on the strait. This ..." She +pantomimed again. "... is the sign which means meeting place. This...." +And so she rehearsed the various signals, and then the message Koven +had issued, while he kept his pistol trained on her. He knew now what +had alarmed Bruschloss, what had prompted the attack so suddenly. + + * * * * * + +Chemin danced, in the ring again. Koven stood almost directly behind +the ruler, fitting a tiny cylindrical attachment to the muzzle of his +pistol, to reduce the power for close range. Once more the men glued +their eyes on the dancing figure. Seconds after the dance had begun, +the ruler uttered a sharp gasp and lurched up from his woven chair +as he read the new message. Koven's hand touched him and he stepped +around the chair in the darkness. Koven slid the pistol forward and +triggered it. Only a faint white glow showed flush against the belly +of the ruler. With the smell of burned flesh eating in his nostrils, +Koven lowered the ruler's body to the ground. The crowd to either +side had surged forward slightly, beginning to talk curiously now, +paying no attention to Koven. Across the ring, Bruschloss blinked and +gestured sweatily, while his two assistants closed in tight against his +shoulders. The drums slapped in a frenzy. + +Koven saw a man break from the edge of the ring and lurch across toward +Bruschloss. Chemin stopped her dance, collapsing to her knees. One of +Bruschloss' men shot the first attacker, but by then the crowd had +broken, and men boiled forward, and Koven heard The Hog's scream as a +sea of writhing backs and arms and legs closed over him. The sounds +were gruesome. + +Koven turned and raced up the long street to Spotwood's house. The +seemingly careless agent reeled in moments later, to hear Koven +finishing at the communicator set: "... that's right, two Control +squads. And for God's sake make it within twenty minutes, before they +decide to massacre us." He threw down a switch and swung around on the +stool, grinning lopsidedly. Down the long avenue echoed screams, and an +angry mob shouting. + +"Bang! Like that!" Spotwood breathed. "What the hell happened?" + +Koven sketched it quickly. + +"You knew," Spotwood said in astonishment, pointing to the table, +"because of that book you happened to read?" + +Koven nodded. "The arts no longer convey meaning, but the ruler of Maru +managed to put it back in. Something you didn't look for. Something I +wouldn't have looked for ... if I hadn't stopped at a Vendobook." + +"You think they'll come after us?" Spotwood asked. + +Koven glanced out the window. At the street's end, pieces of something +meaty and red had been hoisted up by the crowd on long, sharp poles. +They glistened in the flaring light. + +"They may. They're in a wild mood. Once Control takes over, though, +the attacks will be a thing of the past. But until then...." + +"Holy God," Spotwood breathed. He went toward a cupboard, stopped +at the table and glanced down. Nearly in awe, he read aloud, "_The +Twilight of Meaningism_. Mph." An emphatic shake of the head. Then he +unlimbered a pistol from the cupboard, and they sat down to wait. + +Twenty-three minutes later 'copters were snarling across the night over +the village, and beams cut swathes back and forth over a sea of tossing +bluish faces. Spotwood stood up with a sigh, stretched and took down +two gin bubbles, saying to Koven, "Have a drink." + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Shango, by John Jakes + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 59414 *** |