The Complete Short Stories: The 1960s

‘Crow!’ Someone else called, throwing the word forward like a stone.

In a rage, Anderson aimed Menderstone’s rifle over the low roof tops and squeezed the trigger. The weapon recoiled with a loud explosion. Visible humanity upped on to its flat feet and disappeared into hovels or back streets.

Anderson went over to Menderstone’s door, banged on it, and walked in. Menderstone was eating a peeled apple and did not cease to do so when his guest entered.

‘My sister has been kidnapped,’ Anderson said. ‘Where are the police?’

‘The nearest police are on Earth,’ Menderstone said, between bites. ‘There you have robot-controlled police states stretching from pole to pole. “Police on Earth, goodwill towards men.” Here on Nehru we have only anarchy. It’s horrible, but better than your robotocracy. My advice to you, Anderson, which I proffer in all seriousness, is to beat it back to your little rocket ship and head for home without bothering too much about your sister.’

‘Look, Menderstone, I’m in no mood for your sort of nonsense! I don’t brush off that easy. Who’s in charge round here? Where is the egghead camp? Who has some effectual say in local affairs, because I want to speak to him?’

‘‘Who’s in charge round here?’ You really miss the iron hand of your robot bosses, don’t you?’

Menderstone put his apple down and advanced, still chewing. His big face was as hard and cold as an undersea rock.

‘Give me that rifle,’ he said, laying a hand on the barrel and tugging. He flung it on to the table. ‘Don’t talk big to me, K. D. Anderson! I happen to loathe the régime on Earth and all the pipsqueaks like you it spawns. If you need help, see you ask politely.’

‘I’m not asking you for help – it’s plain you can’t even help yourself!’

‘You’d better not give Stanley too much lip,’ Alice said. She had come in and stood behind Menderstone, her parrot’s-beak nose on one side as she regarded Anderson. ‘You may not find him very lovable, but I’m sad to say that he is the egghead camp nowadays. This dump was its old HQ. But all the other bright boys have gone to join your pal Arlblaster up in the hills, across the river.’

‘It must be pleasanter and healthier there. I can quite see why they didn’t want you two with them,’ Anderson said sourly.

Menderstone burst into laughter.

‘In actuality, you don’t see at all.’

‘Go ahead and explain then. I’m listening.’

Menderstone resumed his apple, his free hand thrust into a trouser pocket.

‘Do we explain to him, Alice? Can you tell yet which side he’ll be on? A high N-factor in his make-up, wouldn’t you say?’

‘He could be a Crow. More likely an Ape, though, I agree. Hell, whichever he is, he’s a relief after your undiluted company, Stanley.’

‘Don’t start making eyes at him, you crow! He could be your son!’

‘What was good enough for Jocasta is good enough for me,’ Alice cackled. Turning to Anderson, she said. ‘Don’t get involved in our squabbles! You’d best put up here for the night. At least they aren’t cannibals outside – they won’t eat your sister, whatever else they do. There must be a reason for kidnapping her, so if you sit tight they’ll get in touch with you. Besides, it’s half-past nineteen, and your hunt for Arlblaster would be better taking place tomorrow morning.’

After further argument, Anderson agreed with what she suggested. Menderstone thrust out his lower, lip and said nothing. It was impossible to determine how he felt about having a guest.

The rest of the daylight soon faded. After he had unloaded some kit from his vehicle and stacked it indoors, Anderson had nothing to do. He tried to make Alice talk about the situation on Nehru II, but she was not informative; though she was a garrulous type, something seemed to hold her back. Only after supper, taken as the sun sank, did she cast some light on what was happening by discussing her arrival on the planet.

‘I used to be switchboard operator and assistant radiop on a patrol ship,’ she said. ‘That was five years ago. Our ship touched down in a valley two miles south of here. The ship’s still there, though they do say a landslide buried it last winter. None of the crew returned to it once they had visited Swettenham.’

‘Keith doesn’t want to hear your past history,’ Menderstone said, using Anderson’s first name contemptuously.

‘What happened to the crew?’ Anderson asked.

She laughed harshly.

‘They got wrapped up in your friend Arlblaster’s way of life, shall we say. They became converted. … All except me. And since I couldn’t manage the ship by myself, I also had to stay here.’

‘How lucky for me, dear,’ said Menderstone with heavy mock-tenderness. ‘You’re just my match, aren’t you?’ Alice jumped up, sudden tears in her eyes.

‘Shut up, you – toad! You’re a pain in the neck to me and yourself and everyone! You needn’t remind me what a bitch you’ve turned me into!’ Flinging down her fork, she turned and ran from the room.

‘The divine eternal female! Shall we divide what she has left of her supper between us?’ Menderstone asked, reaching out for Alice’s plate.

Anderson stood up.

‘What she said was an understatement, judging by the little I’ve seen here.’

‘Do you imagine I enjoy this life? Or her? Or you, for that matter? Sit down, Anderson – existence is something to be got through the best way possible, isn’t it? You weary me with your trite and predictable responses.’

This stormy personal atmosphere prevailed till bedtime. A bitter three-cornered silence was maintained until Menderstone had locked Anderson into a distant part of the long building.

He had blankets with him, which he spread over the mouldy camp bed provided. He did not investigate the rooms adjoining his; several of their doors bore names vaguely familiar to him; they had been used when the intellectual group was flourishing, but were now deserted.

Tired though Anderson was, directly his head was down he began to worry about Kay and the general situation. Could his sister possibly have had any reason for returning on foot to the ship? Tomorrow, he must go and see. He turned over restlessly.

Something was watching him through the window.

In a flash, Anderson was out of bed, gripping the revolver, his heart hammering. The darkness outside was almost total. He glimpsed only a brutal silhouette in which eyes gleamed, and then it was gone.

He saw his foolishness in accepting Alice’s laissez-faire advice to wait until Kay’s captors got in touch with him. He must have been crazy to agree: or else the general lassitude of Nehru II had overcome him. Whatever was happening here, it was nasty enough to endanger Kay’s life, without any messenger boys arriving first to parley about it.

Alice had said that Arlblaster lived across the river. If he were as much the key to the mystery as he seemed to be, then Arlblaster should be confronted as soon as possible. Thoroughly roused, angry, vexed with himself, Anderson went over to the window and opened it.

He peered into the scruffy night.

He could see nobody. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, Anderson discerned nearby features well enough. A bright star in the sky which he took to be Bose, Nehru II’s little moon, lent some light. Swinging his leg over the sill, Anderson dropped to the ground and stood tensely outside.

Nothing moved. A dog howled. Making his way between the outer circle of houses, gun in hand, Anderson came to the river’s edge. A sense of the recklessness of what he was doing assailed him, but he pressed on.

Pausing now and again to ensure he was not being followed, he moved along the river bank, avoiding the obstacles with which it was littered. He reached a bridge of a sort. A tall tree had been felled so that it lay across the stretch of water. Its underside was lapped by the river.

Anderson tucked his gun away and crossed the crude bridge with his arms outstretched for balance.

On the far side, crude attempts to cultivate the ground had been made. The untidy patchwork stopped as the upward slope of the land became more pronounced. No dwellings were visible. He stopped again and listened.

He could hear a faint and indescribable choric noise ahead. As he went forward, the noise became more distinct, less a part of the ill-defined background of furtive earth and river sounds. On the higher ground, a patch of light was now vaguely distinguishable.

This light increased as did the sound. Circumnavigating a thorny mass of brush, Anderson could see that there was a depression ahead of him in the rising valley slope. Something – a ceremony? – was going on in the depression. He ran the last few yards, doubled up, his revolver ready again, scowling in his excitement.

On the lip of the depression, he flung himself flat and peered down into the dip.

A fire was burning in the middle of the circular hollow. Round it some three dozen figures paraded, ringing two men. One of the two was a menial, throwing powder into the blaze, so that green and crimson flames spurted up; the other filled some sort of priestly role. All the others were naked. He wore a cloak and pointed hat.