“They didn’t get my message,” Brion said to Ulv. “The radio won’t work this far underground.”
“Then the bombs will fall?” Ulv asked, looking searchingly at Brion’s face in the dim reflected light from the cavern.
“Unless something happens that we know nothing about, the bombs will fall.”
They said nothing after that—they simply waited. The three technicians in the cavern were also aware of the time. They were calling to each other and trying to talk to the magter. The emotionless, parasite-ridden brains of the magter saw no reason to stop work, and they attempted to beat the men back to their tasks. In spite of the blows, they didn’t go; they only gaped in horror as the clock hands moved remorselessly towards twelve. Even the magter dimly felt some of the significance of the occasion. They stopped too and waited.
The hour hand touched twelve on Brion’s watch, then the minute hand. The second hand closed the gap and for a tenth of a second the three hands were one. Then the second hand moved on.
Brion’s immediate sensation of relief was washed away by the chilling realization that he was deep underground. Sound and seismic waves were slow, and the flare of atomic explosions couldn’t be seen here. If the bombs had been dropped at twelve they wouldn’t know it at once.
A distant rumble filled the air. A moment later the ground heaved under them and the lights in the cavern flickered. Fine dust drifted down from the roof above.
Ulv turned to him, but Brion looked away. He could not face the accusation in the Disan’s eyes.
XVIII
One of the technicians was running and screaming. The magter knocked him down and beat him into silence. Seeing this, the other two men returned to work with shaking hands. Even if all life on the surface of the planet was dead, this would have no effect on the magter. They would go ahead as planned, without emotion or imagination enough to alter their set course.
As the technicians worked, their attitude changed from shocked numbness to anger. Right and wrong were forgotten. They had been killed—the invisible death of radiation must already be penetrating into the caves—but they also had the chance for vengeance. Swiftly they brought their work to completion, with a speed and precision they had concealed before.
“What are those off-worlders doing?” Ulv asked.
Brion stirred from his lethargy of defeat and looked across the cavern floor. The men had a wheeled hand truck and were rolling one of the atomic warheads onto it. They pushed it over to the latticework of the jump-field.
“They are going to bomb Nyjord now, just as Ny-jord bombed Dis. That machine will hurl the bombs in a special way to the other planet.”
“Will you stop them?” Ulv asked. He had his deadly blowgun in his hand and his face was an expressionless mask.
Brion almost smiled at the irony of the situation. In spite of everything he had done to prevent it, Nyjord had dropped the bombs. And this act alone may have destroyed their own planet. Brion had it within his power now to stop the launching in the cavern. Should he? Should he save the lives of his killers? Or should he practice the ancient blood-oath that had echoed and destroyed down through the ages: An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. It would be so simple. He literally had to do nothing. The score would be even, and his and the Disans’ death avenged.
Did Ulv have his blowgun ready to toll Brion with, if he should try to stop the launchings? Or had he misread the Disan entirely?
“Will you stop them, Ulv?” he asked.
How large was mankind’s sense of obligation? The caveman first had this feeling for his mate, then for his family. It grew until men fought and died for the abstract ideas of cities and nations, then for whole planets. Would the time ever come when men might realize that the obligation should be to the largest and most encompassing reality of all—mankind? And beyond that to life of all kinds.
Brion saw this idea, not in words but as a reality. When he posed the question to himself in this way he found that it stated clearly its inherent answer. He pulled his gun out, and as he did he wondered what Ulv’s answer might be.
“Nyjord is medvirk” Ulv said, raising his blowgun and sending a dart across the cavern. It struck one of the technicians, who gasped and fell to the floor.
Brion’s shots crashed into the control board, shorting and destroying it, removing the menace to Nyjord for all time.
Medvirk, Ulv had said. A life form that cooperates and aids other life forms. It may kill in self-defence, but it is essentially not a killer or destroyer. Ulv had a lifetime of knowledge about the interdependency of life. He grasped the essence of the idea and ignored all the verbal complications and confusions. He had tolled the magter, who were his own people, because they were umedvirk—against life. And he had saved his enemies because they were medvirk.
With this realization came the painful knowledge that the planet and the people that had produced this understanding were dead.
In the cavern the magter saw the destruction of their plans, and the cave mouth from which the bullets had come. Silently they rushed to kill their enemy—a concerted wave of emotionless fury.
Brion and Ulv fought back. Even the knowledge that he was doomed no matter what happened could not resign Brion to death at the hands of the magter. To Ulv, the decision was much easier. He was simply killing umedvirk. A believer in life, he destroyed the anti-life.
They retreated into the darkness, still firing. The magter had lights and ion rifles, and were right behind them. Knowing the caverns better than the men they chased, the pursuers circled. Brion saw lights ahead and dragged Ulv to a stop.
“They know their way through these caves, and we don’t,” he said. “If we try to run they’ll just shoot us down. Let’s find a spot we can defend and settle into it.”
“Back here”—Ulv gave a tug in the right direction—“there is a cave with only one entrance, and that is very narrow.”
“Let’s go!”
Running as silently as they could in the darkness, they reached the dead-end cavern without being seen. What noise they made was lost in other footsteps that sounded and echoed through the connecting caves. Once inside, they found cover behind a ridge and waited. The end was certain.
The magter ran swiftly into their cave, flashing his light into all the places of concealment. The beam passed over the two hidden men, and at the same instant Brion fired. The shot boomed loudly as the magter fell—a shot that would surely have been heard by the others.
Before anyone else came into the cave, Brion ran over and grabbed the still functioning light. Propping it on the rocks so it shown on the entrance, he hurried back to shelter beside Ulv. They waited for the attack.
It was not long in coming. Two magter rushed in, and died. More were outside, Brion knew, and he wondered how long it would be before they remembered the grenades and rolled one into their shelter.
An indistinct murmur sounded outside, and sharp explosions. In their hiding place, Brion and Ulv crouched low and wondered why the attack didn’t come. Then one of the magter came in the entrance, but Brion hesitated before shooting.
The man had backed in, firing behind him as he came.
Ulv had no compunctions about killing, only his darts couldn’t penetrate the magter’s thick clothing. As the magter turned, Ulv’s breath pulsed once and death stung the back of the other man’s hand. He collapsed into a crumpled heap.
“Don’t shoot,” a voice called from outside the cave, and a man stepped through the swirling dust and smoke to stand in the beam from the light.