The ones who had failed to escape lay on the ground; some would die, and some were already dead. These, he realized, were people, too, not apes or armored wolves, although their breath was foul, their touch dirty, and their thoughts repulsive and predatory .He felt a certain regret, sensed that he had lost something, something fine and pure, a part of his soul, and he realized that the old Maxim had disappeared forever. In spite of this loss, he felt a kind of strange pride stirring within him.
“Let’s go, Maxim,” Rada said quietly.
He followed her submissively.
“In short, you let him slip through your fingers.”
“What could I do, Strannik? You know how it is.”
“Damn it, Fank’. You didn’t have to do a damned thing. All you had to do was take a driver with you.”
“All right, it was my fault. But who could have expected... ?”
“OK. Enough. What measures have you taken?”
“As soon as I was released, I phoned Megu. Megu didn’t know anything about it. If he returns, Megu will let me know immediately. Next, I put all insane asylums under surveillance. He can’t go far. He sticks out like a sore thumb.”
“And?”
“I alerted our people in the police department. I ordered them to follow up every case, even petty traffic violations. He doesn’t have documents. I’ll be informed if anyone arrested doesn’t have identification papers. He can’t hide, even if he wants to. It’s just a matter of two or three days. A simple matter.”
“Simple, you say? What could be simpler than getting into a car, driving to the telecenter, and transporting a man here? But you couldn’t even handle that.”
“OK, it’s my fault. But such a coincidence—”
“Enough about coincidences. Do you really think he’s crazy?”
“It’s hard to say. He’s more like a savage. Like a well-washed, well-groomed savage from the mountains. But I can easily imagine a situation in which he’d act like a lunatic. Then there’s that idiotic smile, the imbecilic speech. And he’s a complete fool.”
“Of course. You’ve taken the proper steps. But there’s something else, Fank. Contact the underground.”
“What?”
“If you don’t find him in the next few days, he’ll undoubtedly turn up in the underground.”
“I do not understand what a savage would be doing in the underground.”
“There’s lots of them in the underground. Don’t ask stupid questions—just do what I tell you. If you lose him again, you’re fired.”
“It won’t happen again.”
“Good. What else do you have for me?”
PART TWO: LEGIONNAIRE
5.
Captain Chachu completed the briefing and barked: “Corporal Gaal, remain. The rest are dismissed.”
After the other platoon leaders had filed out, the captain, swiveling in his chair and whistling the old soldier’s song “Cool It, Mama,” studied Guy for some time. Captain Chachu bore no resemblance to Captain Tolot. He was stocky and swarthy, with a large bald spot, much older than Tolot and, not long ago, had fought in eight coastal actions. He had received the Fiery Cross and three other medals for bravery under fire. People still talked about his fantastic duel with a white submarine: his tank had received a direct hit and caught fire, but he continued firing until he lost consciousness from severe bums. It was said that his entire body was covered by skin transplants. Three fingers were missing from his left hand. He was blunt and coarse, a real fighter. Unlike the reserved Captain Tolot, he never thought it necessary to conceal his emotions from his subordinates or superiors. When he was in a good mood, the entire brigade knew it, but when he was out of sorts and whistled “Cool It, Mama,” well, watch out.
Looking him straight in the eye, Guy was dismayed by the thought that he had somehow disappointed and angered this remarkable man. He quickly reviewed in his mind all his own minor offenses and those of his platoon but could recall nothing that hadn’t been dismissed with a careless wave of the captain’s crippled hand and a throaty, grumpy response: “OK, that’s what the Legion’s all about. The hell with it!”
The captain stopped swiveling and whistling.
“I don’t like a lot of talk and scribbling,” he said. “Either you recommend Candidate Sim or you don’t. Which is it?”
“Yes, sir, I recommend him,” said Guy quickly. “But...”
“No ‘buts,’ corporal! Do you or don’t you?”
“I do, sir.”
“Then what’s the meaning of these two pieces of paper?”
The captain pulled some papers from his pocket and unfolded them on the desk, holding them down with his crippled hand. “Here it says: ‘I recommend the aforementioned Mac Sim, a loyal and capable person’—well, that’s clear—‘for appointment to the noble calling of candidate in the ranks of the Fighting Legion.’ And here’s your second note: ‘In connection with the aforementioned, I feel it is my duty to call the attention of the command to the need for a thorough check of the designated candidate for the Fighting Legion, Mac Sim.’ Massaraksh! What the hell do you really mean, corporal?”
“Captain!” Guy was very agitated. “I really don’t know what to say. I know Candidate Sim is a loyal citizen, devoted to the Legion’s ideals. I’m sure that he will have much to contribute. But since only men of impeccable integrity belong in the Legion, I thought—”
“You thought!” the captain snapped. “Corporal, here’s what you’ll do. You’ll take one of these two notes right now and tear it up. You must understand that I cannot go to the brigadier with two statements. It’s got to be either yes or no. This is the Legion, corporal, not a philosophy department! You have two minutes to think it over.”
The captain took a thick folder from a drawer and disgustedly tossed it on the desk. Guy looked at his watch despondently. It was a difficult decision to make. It was dishonest and unworthy of a legionnaire to conceal from the authorities his incomplete knowledge of the man he was recommending, even if it was Mac. On the other hand, it was dishonest and unworthy of a legionnaire to avoid responsibility by shifting the decision onto the captain, who had seen Maxim only twice, and then only in formation. “Well, all right, I’ll go over it again. Points in favor: He has accepted the Legion’s ideals heart and soul; he passed the physical without a hitch; he was sent by Captain Tolot and Doctor Zogu to some top-secret institution, evidently for a thorough investigation, which he passed. True, I’m taking Maxim’s own word for this last statement—he claims he lost all his documents. And last, he’s a brave, natural-born fighter. He made short work of Ratso’s gang, single handed. He’s open in his dealings with others, good-natured, and absolutely unselfish. And extraordinarily gifted. Points against: We’ve absolutely no idea who he is and where he came from; either he remembers nothing of his past or he refuses to tell us. And he doesn’t have any documents. But why should that bother us? After all, the government now controls only the borders and the central region. Two-thirds of our country is still torn by anarchy and plagued by starvation and epidemics. People are fleeing those areas and none of them have documents—the younger ones don’t even know what documents are. And how many of them have lost their memory! And how many degens! But we know one thing for sure, the most important—Maxim is not a degen.”
“Well, corporal?” asked the captain.
“Yes, sir!” said Guy rather recklessly. “May I?”
He picked up the note containing his suggestion that Maxim be checked and tore it up slowly.
“Cor-rect decision! Well done, legionnaire! Notes, reports, checks—rubbish! Combat will be the proving ground! When we get into our tanks and head for the atomic trap zone, we’ll find out damn quick who is with us and who isn’t.”
“Yes, sir,” said Guy without particular conviction. He understood the old soldier, but he felt that the hero of the coastal actions was mistaken. Combat, of course, was important, but one’s integrity was something else. Anyway, the question had nothing to do with Maxim’s case. Maxim was honest to the core.