“You know how readily I act in such matters. At all times I will keep myself prepared to lop your head from your shoulders, and may be so keyed up to do so that any sudden disturbance—even as little as a sneeze from you—could precipitate your demise. I know how great the odds are against me. As far as I am concerned I am practically dead already, so do not delude yourself that you can exert leverage on me in any circumstance. If you want to remain alive you must make yourself an unquestioning instrument of my will.
“Have I made myself clear?”
Very clear, Divivvidiv replied. Your tendency to belabor the point shows no sign of fading.
Toller frowned at the alien, wondering if such a craven creature could summon up the nerve to be insolent while in a position of extreme danger. He finished tying all the thongs on his own skysuit, then took the pistol from Steenameert to allow him to do likewise. Divivvidiv had already encased himself in his silver garment, making his general appearance more acceptable to human eyes, and now there was nothing to prevent the small group setting out on the journey to the alien’s home planet. Toller tried not to think about what lay ahead. The future he had engineered for himself was filled with inconceivable menace, but he dared not try to anticipate the dangers in case he should become prey to self-doubts which might weaken his hold over Divivvidiv.
“A question before we leave, and before you reply think of the warnings I gave you,” he said to the alien, glancing around the strange and inhospitable room. “Will the very fact of your quitting this place alert or in any way give advantage to those who will oppose us?”
II is most unlikely, the alien replied. The entire facility is operating automatically. It is most unlikely, at this stage, that anybody on Dussarra will try to communicate with me in person.
“Most unlikely? Is that all the assurance you can give?”
You demanded the truth.
“Fair enough.” Toller nodded to Steenameert and the trio moved towards the door by which they had entered the room. The alien progressed confidently, sliding his feet on the perforated floor, while Toller and Steenameert walked with a top-heavy roll as though balancing on narrow beams. When they reached the pressure lock Divivvidiv unclipped the grey metallic box of his personal propulsion unit from the wall. He began to fasten it to his waist with gleaming clamps.
“Leave that,” Toller ordered.
But you have seen it before. Divivvidiv spread his hands in an oddly human gesture. It is only my transporter.
“A device which gives you the speed of an arrow—I seem to remember that you approached with uncanny speed when Baten and I were trapped in your glass cage.” Toller prodded the box with his sword, sending it drifting away from the alien. “It would be quite pointless for you to burden yourself with the temptation to try escaping—especially as I intend to escort you to my ship in regal style.”
Toller unfastened a coil of thin rope from his belt, passed the free end around Divivvidiv’s body and tied it with a hard-drawn knot. He pulled Divivvidiv into the pressure lock with him and Steenameert, and signaled the alien to operate the controls, which resembled blue tablets set in the seamless grey wall. The inner door slid shut in magical silence, and a few seconds later the outer hatch opened to give a view of the metallic grey plain and glittering crystal sea beyond it. Icy air billowed inwards. Toller drew his scarf up over his mouth and nose, glad to be escaping from the oppressive architecture of the station’s interior, and went forward into the familiar skyscapes of the weightless zone.
The sun had moved closer to Overland, and in doing so had crossed the datum plane, rising above the artificial horizon created by the vast disk which Toller now knew to be an incomprehensible machine. Rays of sunlight, striking billions of crystals at a shallow angle, created barricades of prismatic fire which dazzled the eye. So great was the brilliance that even Overland, a hemicircle of luminance which spanned the sky directly above, was dim and ghostly in comparison.
Toller paid out his line a short distance, activated his propulsion unit and set off for the Inner Defense Group with Divivvidiv being dragged in an undignified slow spin in his wake. The trio flew out over the rim of the alien station, the sound of their exhausts greedily absorbed by the surrounding void. Toller kept silent during the flight and concentrated on remembering all the steps involved in taking a spaceship outside the air bridge. During his two obligatory training sessions everything had seemed very simple and obvious, but that had been years in the past and now the complexities appeared enormous.
The group of wooden vessels eventually showed up in the brilliance ahead as small yellow, orange and tan silhouettes which did not assume any proper coloration until Toller had swung in a curve past them and got the sun behind him. Close by was the skyship in which he had made the ascent, its balloon beginning to look puffy and wrinkled as the gas inside it contracted through loss of heat. At the planetary surface the weight of the collapsing envelope would have expelled the gas, but in the absence of gravity the balloon simply puckered like the skin of some moribund creature of the deeps.
Toller shut down his microjet and coasted to rest, twitching the line to bring his silent prisoner into place beside him. Steenameert expertly drifted himself to a halt nearby, a few yards above the fantastic conglomeration of huge crystals. Two miles away across the burning sea the alien station was outlined like a castle against the darkest part of the sky, where occasional meteors made furtive dashes to oblivion.
“A rare sight, Baten,” Toller said. “One that not many can claim to have seen. One that you will no doubt remember.”
“I expect I will, sir,” Baten replied, a puzzled expression appearing in his eyes.
“I want you to take two messages back with you—one for my father and one for Queen Daseene. I have no time to write them out, so I want you to listen carefully and—” Toller broke off as Steenameert violently crossed and uncrossed his arms in a gesture of disagreement.
“What are you saying to me?” the younger man cried out. “Have I not served you well?”
It was Toller’s turn to be puzzled. “Nobody could have done better. I intend to include a citation in my message to the Queen so that you…”
“Then why are you dismissing me at this most crucial moment in the venture?”
Toller pulled down his scarf and smiled. “I am moved by your loyalty, Baten, but things have reached a pass at which I have no right to expect anything further from you. The voyage to the intruders’ home world will almost certainly result in my death—I am not deluding myself on that score—but that is an acceptable prospect to me because it is a matter of my personal honor. Having set out with the avowed intention of rescuing the Countess Vantara, I could never return to Prad and admit that I had abandoned the attempt simply because—”
“And what about my personal honor?” Steenameert demanded, his voice trembling with emotion. “Do you think that honor is a prerogative of the aristocracy? Do you imagine that I could ever hold my head up again, knowing that I had cravenly forsaken my duty at the first whiff of danger?”
“Baten, this goes beyond duty.”
“Not for me.” Steenameert’s voice had a new edge of hardness which made it almost unrecognizable. “Not for me!”
Toller paused for a few seconds, his eyes prickling painfully. “You may accompany me to Dussarra on one condition.”
“You have but to name it, sir!”
“The condition is that you cease addressing me as ‘sir’. We will go into this thing as private citizens, leaving the Sky Service and all its ways behind us. We will undertake the venture as friends and equals—is that understood?”