‘I just hope none got away,’ he said. ‘I’ll swear those things act as scouts for the rats.’
The damage in this region was as bad as any Complain and Marapper had seen so far. Hardly a wall stood straight in any direction. Glass and debris lay thickly everywhere, except where it had been brushed away to make a narrow path. Down this path they walked, every sense alert.
‘What was this place?’ Complain asked curiously. ‘I mean, when it was a place.’
Zac Deight continued to walk forward without replying, his face bleak and absorbed.
‘What was this place, Deight?’ Complain repeated.
‘Oh… Most of the deck was Medical Research,’ Deight said, in a pre-occupied fashion. ‘In the end, I believe, a neglected computor blew itself to bits. You can’t reach this part by the ordinary lifts and corridors of the ship; it’s completely sealed off. A tomb within a tomb.’
Complain felt a thrill inside him. Medical Research! This was where, twenty-three generations ago, June Besti, the discoverer of bestine, had worked. He tried to visualize her bent over a bench, but could only think of Laur.
So they came to the personnel air lock. It looked much like a smaller edition of the cargo lock, with similar-looking wheels and danger notices. Zac Deight crossed to one of the wheels, still with his abstracted look.
‘Wait!’ Marapper said urgently. ‘Roy, as guile’s my guide, I swear this wretch has something tricky up his stinking sleeves for us. He’s leading us into danger.’
‘If there’s anyone waiting in here, Deight,’ Complain said, ‘they and you make the Journey without delay. I’m warning you.’
Deight turned to face them. The look of unbearable strain clenched over his countenance might have won him pity in a quieter moment, from other company.
‘There’s nobody there,’ he said, clearing his throat. ‘You need not be afraid.’
‘The… radio thing is in here?’ Complain asked.
‘Yes.’
Marapper seized Complain’s arm, keeping his torch burning in Deight’s face.
‘You’re not really going to let him talk to this Little Dog place, are you, and tell them to come up here armed?’
‘You needn’t think me a fool, priest,’ Complain said, ‘just because I happened to be born in your parish. Deight will give the message we tell him to. Open up, Councillor!’
The door swung open, and there was the lock, about five paces square, with six metal space suits standing like suits of armour against one wall. Except for the suits, there was only one other object in the room: the radio, a small, portable job with carrying straps and telescopic aerial.
Like the cargo lock, this lock had a window. The four personnel and two cargo locks distributed down the length of the ship carried, apart from the now shuttered blister of the Control Room, the only ports in the ship. Having a different co-efficient of expansion from the rest of the great outer envelope, they naturally represented a weakness, and as such had been constructed only where it might be strictly necessary to see out. For Marapper, it was the first time he had had such a view.
He was as overwhelmed with awe as the others had been. Breathlessly, he gazed out at the mighty void, for once completely robbed of words.
The planet now showed a wider crescent than the last time Complain had seen it. Mixed with the blinding blue of it were whites and greens, glistening under its casing of atmosphere as no colours had ever glistened before. Some distance from this compelling crescent, tiny by comparison, the sun burned brighter than life itself.
Marapper pointed at it in fascination.
‘What’s that? A sun?’ he asked.
Complain nodded.
‘Holy smother!’ Marapper exclaimed, staggered. ‘It’s round! Somehow I’d always expected it would be square — like a big pilot light!’
Zac Deight had gone over to the radio. As he picked it up, tremblingly, he turned to the others.
‘You may as well know now,’ he said. ‘Whatever happens, I may as well tell you. That planet — it’s Earth!’
‘What?’ Complain said. A rush of questions assailed him. ‘You’re lying, Deight! You must be. It can’t be Earth! We know it can’t be Earth!’
The old man was suddenly weeping, the long salt tears raining down his cheeks. He hardly tried to check them.
‘You ought to be told,’ he said. ‘You’ve all suffered so much… too much. That’s Earth out there — but you can’t go to it. The Long Journey… the Long Journey has got to go on forever. It’s just one of those cruel things.’
Complain grabbed him by his scrawny throat.
‘Listen to me, Deight,’ he snarled. ‘If that’s Earth, why aren’t we down there, and who are you — and the Outsiders — and the Giants? Who are you all, eh? Who are you?’
‘We’re — we’re from Earth,’ Zac Deight husked. He waved his hands fruitlessly before Complain’s contorted face; he was being shaken like an uprooted ponic stalk. Marapper was shouting in Complain’s ear and wrenching at his shoulder. They were all shouting together, Deight’s face growing crimson under Complain’s tightening grasp. They barged into the space suits and sent two crashing to the floor, sprawling on top of them. Then finally the priest managed to pry Complain’s fingers away from the councillor’s throat.
‘You’re crazy, Roy!’ he gasped. ‘You’ve gone crazy! You were throttling him to death.’
‘Didn’t you hear what he said?’ Complain shouted. ‘We’re victims of some dreadful conspiracy –’
‘Make him speak to Little Dog first — make him speak first — he’s the only one who can work this radio thing! Make him speak, Roy. You can kill him and ask questions after.’
Gradually the words filtered into Complain’s comprehension. The blinding anger and frustration ebbed like a crimson tide from his mind. Marapper, as always canny where his own safety was concerned, had spoken wisely. With an effort, Complain gained control of himself again. He stood up and dragged Deight roughly to his feet.
‘What is Little Dog?’ he asked.
‘It’s… it’s the code name for an institute on the planet, set up to study the inmates of this ship,’ Zac Deight said, rubbing his throat.
‘To study!… Well, get on to them right quick and say — say some of your men are ill and they’ve got to send a ship straight away to fetch them down to Earth. And don’t say anything else or we’ll tear you apart and feed you to the rats. Go on!’
‘Ah!’ Marapper rubbed his hands in appreciation and gave his cloak a tug down at the back. ‘That’s spoken like a true believer, Roy. You’re my favourite sinner. And when the ship gets here, we overpower the crew and go back to Earth in it. Everyone goes! Everyone! Every man, woman and mutant from here to Sternstairs!’
Zac Deight cradled the set in his arm, switching on power. Then, braving their anger, he mustered his courage and turned to face them.
‘Let me just say this to you both,’ he said, with dignity. ‘Whatever happens — and I greatly fear the outcome of all this terrible affair — I’d like you to remember what I am telling you. You feel cheated, rightly. Your lives are enclosed in suffering by the narrow walls of this ship. But wherever you lived, in whatsoever place or time, your lives would not be free of pain. For everyone in the universe, life is a long, hard journey. If you –’
‘That’ll do, Deight,’ Complain said. ‘We’re not asking for paradise: we’re demanding to choose where we suffer. Start talking to Little Dog.’