The Chaos Weapon Read online

  “You realize we don’t support the aims and ambitions of the Federation?”

  “And I think you realize that were it not for the Federation forces on this edge of the galaxy, Mayo would long ago have fallen to the aliens. Like it or not, the Federation’s existence and your own are inseparable.”

  “A good point, Marshal. Please proceed.”

  “So far our only defense against the weapon is anticipation—immediate and on-the-spot interpretation of the patterns of Chaos. If we’re to find the weapon and neutralize it, this is vital.”

  “And for that you have your computing engines.”

  “Nothing smaller than a room or a shipful of electronics. Nothing as mobile as a man. But we’re given to understand the Sensitives have a Chaos Seer. We’d like to secure his cooperation in destroying the Chaos Weapon.”

  Pilon placed his hands together and looked at his long, slim fingers for many minutes before replying.

  “You’re a painful and terrifying man, Marshal. The more so because you don’t know what it is you seek. What you ask is barely possible. If it were possible, it wouldn’t be wise. And even if it were wise, the results would not be those you think.”

  “I asked for assistance, not for a book of riddles. It’s true that such a seer exists?”

  “It’s true there is one. But I doubt the rest of the galaxy’s ready for the contact.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Marshal, why do you think the Sensitives isolate themselves from the rest of mankind?”

  “It is said you breed selectively over many generations in order to develop special talents. You can’t tolerate the possibility of contamination by unexceptional bloodlines.”

  “That’s only a half-truth. The rest is that, having bred pure strains, we dare not release them on mankind. Their talents are too extreme, too powerful, too liable to be subjected to abuse or perverted to an unforeseen end. You’re a man of wisdom, so you’ll see my point. Would you deliver such an extraordinary power into the hands of an idiot child?”

  “Is that how you see us?” asked Wildheit.

  “That’s how we see the Federation. A marvelous child, but congenitally immature. Its collective psychology is at an emotional level barely above an instinctive reaction. It procreates mindlessly and multiplies because it must, and then it spreads like a cancer through the stars.”

  “Sophistry!”

  “Is it? We’ve many seers, each with different specialties. Any of them might distort your ideas on what you think you want your society to become. We want no responsibility for what you might do with them—or they with you.”

  “I think you overestimate the potential of your seers. In any case, you have given me forewarning. Thus the onus is on us, not on you. I repeat my request for a Chaos Seer.”

  The dim noises beyond the window were growing gradually more distinct. Suddenly he could hear a rhythmic rattle as of wooden sticks clicking together, then a subnote like a deep and resonant horn. Coul was crouched in anticipation, flickering vaguely, always returning to the same attentive pose. Even Wildheit could smell a strong and strange pervasive scent something like Terran violets.

  “Something’s going on out there,” he said suddenly to Pilon. “What?”

  “The Guardians have come. There are many factions among the Sensitives. Some would side with you; some strike you down. I said it was dangerous for you to be here. But the Guardians will maintain the peace until the Conclave decides what can be done for you—or with you. For a while you must be placed in isolation. I advise you not to resist.”

  The safety rings on Wildheit’s weapons’ pouch stripped open at the barest touch of his fingers. Smashing the ancient light to the floor, he moved swiftly to the window and scanned the strange-sounding darkness. Initially he could see nothing, but then began to discern in the roadway the movement of white sticks gripped by unseen hands.

  Clickety … Clickety … Clickety …

  A vast horn, whose resonance dropped slowly beyond the lower threshold of human perception, bounced his senses with a throbbing pulse that seemed to snatch the power of volition from his mind.

  Clickety … Clickety …

  The white sticks were a hypnotic focus, filling an unknown void in his brain with an expanding pattern of criss-crossed sounds.

  Clickety …

  … and with the deep perfume carrying strange messengers into his lungs and then into his bloodstream, Marshal Wildheit—weapons ready but untouched—spun silently at the window and fell unconscious to the floor.

  FIVE

  WILDHEIT awoke in a vault of white stone, pillared and arched in the manner of a cellar which has to support considerable weight from a building above. Outside it was day, and strong sunlight entering a line of holes each no larger than his fist, made bright pearls of reflection on the polished smoothness of the floor. His immediate concern was for his weapons, but they were gone together with his uniform suit. While he had been unconscious, hands must have stripped him. He was left now with but a simple garment of woven cloth which he endeavored to draw round himself in a manner reminiscent of a toga. Coul quivered uncertainly.

  “A fine mess you let me get into,” Wildheit said to the god.

  “You were in no danger,” Coul reproved mildly. “It’s no function of mine to preserve you from anything short of death. Who can choose between the strange things humans do to each other? You’re a race pathologically addicted to interfering with the bodies of others.”

  “A new moral philosophy is all I need to complete my morning,” said Wildheit morosely.

  Shortly he located a door—or rather, several doors. All were stout, smooth, and without obvious locks or other means of purchase. Following a futile attempt to open one with his fingers, he climbed up and managed to look out one of the holes through which the sunlight entered.

  He found he was no longer looking at the city, but at what appeared to be a scattered fortress. A long, broad, castellated wall surmounted by a footpath followed the contours of the landscape as far as he could see. Occasionally a frowning tower broke the continuing line of the wall, and in places a whole village or enclave seemed to be contained within a deviant loop and thus isolated from its surroundings. The notion of containment lent pointed support for Coul’s last critical comment. Coming so soon after Pilon’s jibe about the immaturity of the human race, Wildheit for the first time in his life had a momentary twinge of doubt about the validity of his actions.

  Moodily, he continued to explore the cellar, but found nothing of any interest or value. Finally he sat on the floor amid the shafts of sunlight and waited for something to happen. He was not left there long. One of the doors opened and a man dressed in a black loose-fitting tunic came into the cellar. His approach was almost apologetic.

  “Marshal Wildheit, I am Dabria, one of the senior Guardians of Mayo. Your apprehension was unfortunate but necessary. Had you consulted your star gazetteer, you’d have found that Mayo was a forbidden world. You should not have made planetfall.”

  “I doubt the legality of refusing landing to a space-marshal. Most tyrants would welcome the option. In any case, my mission overrides ordinary considerations. The Federation needs the assistance of your Chaos Seer. How else could I negotiate?”

  “We appreciate your needs and your problems. Even now the Conclave debates the issue. But your arrival was unfortunate. Internal tension among the Sensitives runs high. Your coming could be the catalyst which liberates a terrible reaction. You’re a danger to us all.”

  “Then I’ll strike a bargain. Return my clothes and equipment, and bring me the Chaos Seer. We’ll be off-planet within the hour.”

  “A one-sided bargain.” Dabria was unimpressed. “What do you offer in return?”

  “A chance to resolve your internal affairs without my catalytic presence—and freedom from the necessity of my having to call in units of the Federation Space Force to effect my rescue. That would surely throw your dissidents into a
turmoil.”

  “A potent threat, but one you’ve no chance of achieving.”

  “Indeed? I wouldn’t advise you to put me to the test.”

  The guardian moved back toward the door. “I’ve heard of your ability to communicate without equipment. It’s a chance I’ll not take. Perhaps the solution you suggest would be easiest for us both. There’ll be much opposition, but I’ll see what I can do.”

  Even as he spoke, the man leaped, his hand moving in one lightning swing to chop at the side of Wildheit’s throat. He reached the garment in which the marshal had been clothed only to find it already empty and still falling through the air. The full force of a blow on the nape of his neck brought Dabria down to his knees, and a wild foot pitched him forward on his face. His momentum carried him across the polished stone to where a pillar intercepted his headlong flight. Dazed, he found his attempted recovery blocked by the pressure of the marshal’s instep threatening to crush his windpipe.

  “That was a very stupid thing to try,” said Wildheit disgustedly. “Killing me wouldn’t have solved anything. Next time you’d have had six marshals and an armed cruiser to contend with. Now get out of here and go find me the seer.”

  In the Children’s Place, Roamer was watching her grazing animals. All morning she had carefully moved them up the long slope under the guard wall, leaving the grass a close-cropped picture of serenity. Now she directed her charges downward, dividing them equally between the little paths in order to neaten all the banks before she returned the herd to pasture.

  Hers was patient, tranquil work. The intelligent ruminants were appreciative of her calm and thoughtful direction, which assured them of full stomachs without stress or competition. In return, the Children’s Place was cropped and neatened. It was all part of the pattern of interdependence between humans and animals which made life in this part of Mayo such a rewarding experience.

  As they neared the completion of the task, Roamer looked back at their collective efforts and was pleased. This was not her place—she was a tenant of an Adolescent’s community—but everyone had to contribute to the welfare of the children. With fair weather, rich grass, and a calm herd, they had achieved today superb results—the milk would be rich and plentiful.

  Then as they reached the bottom of the slope, there came an unexpected change in the pattern.

  “Ho, Roamer!”

  She looked up to see old Pilon on the guard wall, beckoning. She ran toward him, laughing.

  “Have you come to play more games today? Did you know I can pick up entropy from right beyond the stars? I think soon I shall be able to reach all the way back to the Big Bang and the creation of the universe.” Then she stopped when she saw how grave was the look on his face.

  “Come up here, Roamer. We have to talk.”

  “I’m not allowed on the wall.”

  “Today you are allowed. The watchmen won’t stop you. I’ve serious news for you.”

  “It can’t be the end of the universe, else I’d have seen it coming.”

  Hastily she directed the herd into the low pasture and ran to the nearest tower. Unexpectedly the watchmen let her through, and she climbed the dusty, twisting steps and emerged almost breathless on top of the the wall. This was the first time she had ever been on it, and the novelty of the view from the wall’s top gave her a delicious shiver of vertigo.

  “What’s wrong, Pilon? You look so sad.”

  “You remember the other day when you read Chaos to me. You said the war has begun.”

  “I could see it. What of it?”

  “You were right, little one. The war has come.”

  “Come to Mayo?”

  “Not yet, but to the galaxy certainly. And of all our seers, you were the only one who knew. Now someone has come from the Federation asking for your aid. Your ability to read Chaos is unique. Perhaps you alone have the power to fight the growing darkness.

  “Then we should go and speak with him.”

  “It’s not just to speak. He wants to take you away from Mayo with him.”

  “To the stars?”

  “To the stars and beyond, perhaps.”

  “What nonsense you do speak.”

  “Already his request has divided the Conclave of Elders, and the guardians are at each other’s throats. A curious form of nonsense!”

  She turned away suddenly and looked across the green fields as if seeing them for the first time.

  “Do you want me to go?”

  “I want what’s best for you. Last night I was opposed to your going. Since then I’ve thought it through. There’s little enough future on Mayo for one possessing your talents. Outspace you’ll have the most powerful of protectors and a chance to develop as you should. Most seers would give their sight to have such an offer. But my final decision rests on the fact that if you don’t take this opportunity now, it may never be offered again.”

  “Can you explain that?”

  “The man reminds me that if they lose the war, the Federation will contract. Then the aliens will sweep this edge of the galaxy clear of humanity.”

  “You make such serious talk.”

  “Life is serious. The walls we build between the communities are serious. The gulf we put between ourselves and the rest of human kind is serious. The old Sensitives were dedicated to liberating the full potentials in man. We’ve released them from the individual, but confined them nonetheless. Perhaps in that we’ve betrayed the ancient trust.”

  “Isn’t it taught that the stars are not ready for the seers?”

  “Did anybody ask the stars? Perhaps they’re big enough to take care of themselves. If not, they must suffer the consequences.”

  “Then I shall go.”

  “It may not be easy. Many of the Conclave are opposed. But if there’s a way, we’ll find it. Come, I think Dabria has a plan. He won’t rest easily until this matter is settled.”

  When Dabria entered the cellar again he remained by the door and made no attempt to approach the prisoner.

  “Marshal, we had a disagreement earlier. It was nothing personal, but you do present considerable problems for me. But I take your point that killing you would multiply these problems rather than end them. Therefore I’ve a proposition to make.”

  “So have I. I want the Chaos Seer and I demand release from this place. I’ll give you two hours before I call for a Space-force cruiser.”

  “That won’t be necessary. I’ve been talking with Pilon. It’s seemingly in all our interests for the seer to go with you. Unfortunately it’s prohibited by law for any Sensitive to travel off-world. If I openly appear to allow the Chaos Seer to go, the pressure from other seers for like privilege could wreck our system of guardianship and destroy most of what we’ve established.”

  “Which means you have a problem.”

  “To which I have contrived a solution that should suit us both. Pilon has gone to fetch the Chaos Seer, who will be persuaded to accompany you. When the seer arrives, you’ll both be left here until the late watch goes on duty. At that time you’ll find the end door unlocked, and beyond it your clothes and equipment just as we removed them. I believe it well within your powers to force an escape and get the Chaos Seer off-world before the watch can prevent you. Thus you gain what you came for, and I do not have a revolution thrust upon me.”

  “Who else knows about this plot?” Wildheit asked dubiously.

  “None but Pilon and the seer.”

  “So if it comes to fighting, the blood will be real?”

  “Having examined your equipment, I doubt the blood will be yours. Let’s not be squeamish, Marshal. In the circumstances, there’s no alternative.”

  For the next hour Wildheit was left contemplating the tortuous nature of human duplicity. Then Pilon entered, bringing with him a wild-eyed girl who had barely reached maturity.

  “Marshal, I bring you the Chaos Seer. By a strange element of foresight, her name is Roamer. Take great care of her, because she’s one of the rarer flowers th
e Sensitives have yet produced.”

  Wildheit struggled to his feet. “I’d no idea the Chaos Seer was a girl. I’d imagined …”

  “I warned you your plan wouldn’t be wise.” Pilon was fighting with some buried emotion. “I also know the results won’t be those you anticipate. Nevertheless, you’ve forced the issue, and now there’s no turning back. Roamer, this is Space-Marshal Wildheit, a sort of Guardian of the galaxy. His weapons are terrible and his motivations sincere. Nonetheless he’s naive, and misinformed about the nature of the universe. He’ll need much instruction. Treat the stars gently, little one. Perhaps a few of them will survive.”

  As he turned to go, Wildheit caught his arm.

  “Hold a minute! Roamer, had I known you were so young I’d not have asked for you. The journey ahead is going to be difficult and dangerous—and the hunt for the Chaos Weapon even more so. Are you sure you’re prepared to come with me?”

  Pilon looked back, and there was a hint of distant mischief in his eyes. “Well, Roamer, what do you say?”

  “This moment already has its trace in the patterns of Chaos. It’s the casual origin of one of the greatest entropic shockpoints the galaxy has ever seen.”

  “Did you hear that, Marshal? Future history has already given its verdict. Let neither of you consider you’ve any option in the matter. What you have started is due to shake the universe. It is not implied whether for good or evil—merely that it will happen.”

  When Pilon left, Wildheit turned to Roamer. From the look of consternation on her face it was clear that she could actually see the god on his shoulder.

  “You seem surprised at my companion, Roamer,” he said kindly. “You must have great sensitivity. Most people can’t see him at all.”

  “What is it?” she asked. The tension in her vocal cords made her voice seem ragged.

  “It’s a god. His name is Coul.”

  “I don’t understand. God is infinite.”

  “Believe what you must, little frog. But what I tell you is true. There are many gods. All of them are terrifying in their power. None is omnipotent.”