Hyperion (2nd Edition) by Jackson J. Radley

8/11/2019 Hyperion (2nd Edition) by Jackson J. Radley

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About the Author

Jackson J. Radley was born in London in 1951. He was educated inSouth London at Kingston Polytechnic and now lives in East Sussex.


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H Y P E R I O N


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To my parents


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J ackson J R adl ey

H Y P E R I O N


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Copyright Jackson J. Radley.

The right of Jackson J. Radley. to be identified as author of this workhas been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the

Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by anymeans, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise,without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this

publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims fordamages.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the BritishLibrary.

ISBN 978 184963 687 2

2nd

Editionwww.austinmacauley.com

First Published (2014)Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd.25 Canada SquareCanary Wharf

LondonE14 5LB

Printed and bound in Great Britain


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Acknowledgments

My thanks to Susan Woolcott.


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HYPERION

The Father of the Dawn, the Sun and the Moon.

Fanatics have their dreams wherewith they weave A Paradise for a sect

John Keats


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BOOK ONE


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PART ONE

THE CONSTITUTION OF ATHENS


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Christs bollocks! Leila Kumar broke away from what she was doing and walked across the

observation room towards the source of the profanity. Lenny West commanded aliberal variety of expletives and the conservative quality of his latest one was indeference to her known dislike of such language.

What is it? she enquired of her junior officer. Look at these readings, Captain. She stood behind the seated West and peered over his shoulder at the

illuminated figures emerging from the machine. The wall of graphs and charts in

front of them indicated a sudden increase in temperature and pressure of themagma chamber. She turned and looked at the large image that occupied theentire end of the observation room. The massive volcano two hundred kilometres

below the ship showed no outward sign of unusual activity; just a series of smalleruptions at regular intervals. At that moment another ejection peppered theslopes with glowing bombs of magma, just as it had done for the last six days. A

pyroclastic flow cascaded down the steep slope in an avalanche of sulphurousdust that choked the thin atmosphere of Vega Delta. It all looked normal. Sheturned back to the figures; temperature and pressure were still increasing at an

alarming rate; some warning lights started flashing red.What do you want to do, Captain? She passed her hands through her spikey, black hair as she thought. The

landing party still had two days work to do down there; it would be expensive to bring them back prematurely. Whats causing that? There shouldnt be any pressure increase like that. The volcanic plug was breached with the firsteruption.

West shook his head. I dont know. It shouldnt be happening. Its a soddingmystery, thats for sure. Maybe theres another volcano; I mean one inside theother.

Captain Kumar rolled her eyes; the question had been rhetorical and she hadnot expected to receive an uneducated opinion from her junior officer. She hadlittle time for West although she was always careful to maintain her professionalinscrutability in his presence. Mr West, you are not a volcanologist, thereforeyour opinion is of little value in this situation.

West detected another put-down and wondered, not for the first time, why thecaptain didnt like him. He pressed his lips together glumly while she contactedthe landing party where First Officer Johansen, the ships volcanologist, wasconducting a survey and collecting samples for mineralogical analysis.

The face of Alex Johansen appeared. Yes, Captain. Alex, have you seen the current readings of the magma chamber? No, were sort of busy down here. Take a look at them, will you?


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Johansen glanced down; she saw his eyes widen in surprise. That doesnt lookright. He commanded some more data to appear, frowning deeply as he read thefigures. The composition of the magma c hamber appears to have suddenlychanged.

What does that mean?

I cant be certain but the most likely cause is an upwelling of fresh magmafrom the mantle; its what we call a plume.

What does that mean? repeated Leila Kumar with studied patience. Johansen scratched his head. Im not sure; Ive never seen anything like it; at

least not this rapid and on this scale. Well, youre the volcanologist, what do you think it means? Johansen considered. It could be dangerous; its difficult to predict. Th e

pressure from below could force the magma chamber to the surface. A large eruption?

You could say that; perhaps more of a cataclysm really. What sort of time -frame would you estimate? Johansen shrugged. Could be a day; maybe as little as a few hours. Its hard

to say. As he spoke a violent shudder passed through the vehicle and his image

shook for a few seconds.What was that? said Kumar. A quake; weve had a few in the last couple of hours. Its normal. The captain bit her lip; a decision had to be made and she was in no doubt

that the safety of the landing party trumped any commercial considerations. Iwant you out of there now. Were over two hundred kilometres away from the thing, protested

Johansen. We havent finished. I dont care. Leave immediately. Her first officer seemed strangely reluctant. Are you sure? Its probably just

a local spike in pressure. What if its not? Im not gambling the lives of six of my crew members; Im

commanding you to leave. Johansen seemed to be deliberating upon further argument, but he knew the

force of his captains will. She was a decisive commander who they all respected but she would have no truck with dissent. Very well, Ill pick up the survivalgear from the safety chamber and then head back.

You will not; you will take off immediately, she returned in a voice that betrayed rising impatience.

Its valuable; we cant leave it; it might be destroyed. First Officer Johansen, Im telling you to leave now. THIS MOMENT. Johansen passed her a look that she fancied resembled resentful defiance. He

nodded and cut the communication.

Alex Johansen was not happy. The captain was panicking and making awrong decision. The life support in the survival chamber excavated at the

beginning of their mission to the surface of Vega Delta was not something thatcould be just left behind as if it had no value. He had to retrieve it and she would


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thank him for it later when she had calmed down and applied rational thought tothe matter. The loss of equipment meant docked pay and he was not a fan ofdocked pay; in fact, the very thought of it made him feel quite queasy. But,unpalatable as it may be, the loss of money was not the primary source of concernon Johansens mind for hidden in the chamber was some thing of which he was

deeply ashamed but now realised that he could not bury and leave behind as hehad intended.

Ever since he could remember Alex Johansens father had imbued him with alove for ancient Greece. He was an archaeologist famed for the discovery of aceremonial sword attributed to Alexander the Great; a jewel-encrusted weaponunearthed in the lands to the north of the Tigris River. He named his son after theconqueror of Persia and, when he was old enough, took him on many digs to theMiddle East, the Levant and Greece. Alex was a keen student and had read theentire works of Sophocles and Plato before he was eight years old. But of all the

ancient writers it was the work of Aristotle that he revered the most. Aristotle wasthe teacher of Alexander the Great, who was himself taught by Plato and Plato bySocrates. What a line! A ribbon of genius running through the thread of history.And it was Aristotle that had brought him to his present predicament.

Well, you heard her. Johansen recovered himself with a start. Sara Clark was sitting next to him,

her gentle face filled with anxiety.Arent you going to take off? Shes wrong, he replied. The volcanos still quite stable. Theres time to

pick up the gear from the chamber. Wake the others u p while I go and get it. Second Officer Clark stared at him in disbelief. She had a soft spot forJohansen; he wasnt a bad looking chap. Late thirties in appearance, pureScandinavian stock, blond hair, blue eyes; unusual in an age of racial impurity.

She gave you a direct order, she protested. I heard her. Johansen rose. I know. Do as I say, go and wake the others up and then

prepare for take- off. Shes not going to be happy; not at all. Shell get over it, he said as he passed her and went dir ectly down to the

air-lock anti-chamber. There he stripped down to his underpants and climbed intothe E.V.A. suit reserved for him. He checked all the functions on the heads-updisplay before stepping into the compartment itself. It closed behind him and heheard the hiss of the escaping air as it began to match the exterior pressure. Agreen light appeared and he touched it with his gauntlet. He began to descend theshort distance to the surface of the planet. Between the two rear legs of the landerhe could see the broad, flat horizon of Vega Delta, the fourth planet from the star.There was no colour to speak of, just endless shades of dusty grey which blurredinto the heavy blackness of the starry sky. The distant, fragile light of Vega itselfwas not visible. In a world of perpetual dusk it was night. He moved forward,

planting his feet carefully in the fine dust of the surface. The survival chamberwas just a few metres beyond the ship; an excavation three metres below thesurface formed by the melting and then compacting of the basalt crust. A standard

procedure carried out by every landing party entering hostile environments. As heapproached a trapdoor sprung open and light shone like the beam of a torch into


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the blackness above the chamber. He glanced behind him at the insect-likesilhouette of the lander. They would all be watching, intruding on this private

business. Damn them.

Why havent they taken off?

Not in the thirty-two years of the expedition had Lenny West ever seen hiscaptain so agita ted. Get me that lander.

Theyre not replying to my signal, Maam. Im the captain of this ship, stated Leila Kumar imperiously. Override the

normal channel, use emergency protocol. Okay. The sheepish face of Second Officer Clark appeared. Captain? What the devil is going on? Why havent you left the surface? The number one is outside, replied Clark hesitantly.

The captains face visibly drained; she glanced down at the readings of themagma chamber and struggled for equilibrium. There had been a sudden andstartling increase in both pressure and temperature. Tell him to get back insideimmediately.

He said we had plenty of time. Did he? Well, hes wrong. The readings are off the chart, youre about to run

out of time. Hes in the chamber. BUGGER HIM! she exploded making West jump out of his skin. He had

never heard the captain swear before. Not one word in thirty-two years.BUGGER, BUGGER BUGGER! she continued. BUGGER HIMTO, she searched for a suitable destination, BUGGERY.

Captain! shouted West pointing at the display. Get out of there now! screamed the captain. But the number one. Leave him, youve run out of time. Clarks face twisted in agony. She engaged the landers motors just as the

mountain blew itself to pieces with the power of a million atomic bombs.The captain and West turned to the monitor display and watched the entire

mountain and its surroundings collapse in on itself before blasting into the thinatmosphere of Vega Delta. The whole planet shook triggering quakes across itsentire surface.

Are you clear? enquired the captain. The crackle of electrical interference filled the observation room as they

waited anxiously. A minute passed and then a faint voice struggled through.Clear.

The blast front shook the lander and they heard the ominous sound of debris peppering its outer shell as it reached the upper atmosphere. Suddenly all hell broke loose inside the craft; a klaxon began to wail; lights flashed and emergency breathing apparatus burst from above. The crew grabbed them and strapped themon to their faces. Instinctively they began to pray as the lander continued to rise inthe buffeting storm. And then nothing beyond the whisper of escaping air; the

buffeting ceased and they were surrounded with the velvet blackness of space.


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Sara Clark sat in the pilot seat stunned at the closeness of their escape. Neverin the entire mission had they ever been exposed to danger; the captain was verycautious and they all had reason to be thankful for it. She calmed herself, tried to

breath normally and glanced around at the four faces of the landing party; theywere grim and drained. No one spoke. In thirty-two years they had never lost a

crewmember, now they had lost the first officer. It was a bitter blow but at leastthey had escaped.

In the tomb of the survival chamber Alex Johansen felt the rocks shudder andthen violently convulse, throwing him to the ground. It seemed to him thatminutes passed as he was tossed like a boat in stormy waves as the blast front

passed through the surrounding rocks. The temperature inside the chambersoared. Desperately he lunged for the survival unit and activated it. Cold airflooded the chamber as the sickening rocking motion began to subside. When he

was able, he stood and inspected the walls. They were intact and might remain so providing there were no more major events. He turned on his communicator. Juststatic, exactly what he would have expected. He hoped to God that the others hadgot away in time; they would certainly all be dead by now if they hadnt. Damnhis luck! If the mountain had just held for a few more minutes they would have allgot away safely. Now he was stranded and they would have no way of knowing ifhe had survived, at least not until the atmospheric disturbances had subsided andthat could take many days.

He wondered what the captain would do and various scenarios entered his

head. If the lander had been destroyed would she risk the remaining one?Probably not, he thought. But what if theyd got away? He tried to put himself inher position but hope clouded rationality. He had to have some prospect of rescueotherwise why wait? Why not just turn off the machine, remove his helmet andgive himself over to the heat and poison. He wondered, ghoulishly, which wouldkill him first. It would be a close run thing.

After about an hour the temperature in the chamber had stabilized and poisonous, irradiated atmosphere had been replaced by breathable air. To makehimself comfortable Johansen removed his E.V.A. suit and began to turn histhoughts to mundane matters of survival. The unit would function for about threehundred days. It would provide him with nutrition in the form of tablets takenonce every twelve hours and water mainly extracted from his recycled urine. Along time, three hundred days, stuck in a hole on your own. He smiled grimly; ofcourse, he would probably go mad with solitude long before the unit gave outand, if eventually rescued, would emerge like some long-bearded, lank-haired

prisoner from an oubliette, blinking at the unaccustomed light. Except there wasno light above, just an enormous, impenetrable dust-cloud of violent, swirling gasand poison. He knew that. There would be no communication, no landing, forsome time.

The chamber walls were still too hot to touch so he spread his E.V.A. suit onthe floor of the chamber and up the wall so that his skin would not come intocontact with it. For some time he brooded further on the nature of his predicamentuntil it occurred to him that, until that moment, he had not given a thought to thecause of it. He looked up and could just make out the faint outline of the cover to


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the small niche he had fashioned to accommodate the treasure; virtually invisibleunless someone knew it was there. The casket would still be inside; it couldsurvive practically anything, protecting its precious contents from harm. He hadintended to leave it here, as if somehow the act of concealment would assuage theguilt of its unethical and illegal acquisition, but when it had come down to it, he

had realised that he could not be parted from it. He had to retrieve it, even in theface of mortal danger. Now, here he was and Fate had decided; they would be

buried together, Alex Johansen and his guilty treasure in everlasting communion.

Captain Leila Kumar had exceedingly beady, dark eyes and a large hookednose that, from certain angles, gave her the aspect of a witch. Had she also beenfurnished with a pointed, protruding chin and a hairy wart the image would have

been complete and she could have frightened naughty children for a living. Shehad neither wart nor oversized chin, but for Second Officer Sara Clark the beady

eyes were more than enough to produce a childish anxiety, especially when theywere turned on her, as they now were.So, Officer Clark, you are proposing to take a lander into the Maelstrom

beneath us, effect an extremely hazardous landing, undertake an even morehazardous expedition in order to extract a crewman who is unlikely to havesurvived. Have I got that correct?

Clark slumped. They were alone together in the observation room; themuffled sound of conversation filtered from the crew lounge down the corridorand filled the pregnant silence between the two women. Thats about it,

Captain., replied Clark q uietly, hopelessly.May I ask does anyone else share your suicidal enthusiasm? Clark slumped further. No, Captain. Then listen to me. In the entire history of humanity no manned spacecraft

has ever been as far into deep space as we now are. Should anything go wrong weare way beyond any reasonable expectation of rescue and I will not, I repeat not,ever sanction any action that jeopardises the safety of this ship, its crew or thismission. Am I clear?

Clark nodded resignedly.With the absence of Joha nsen, you are now acting first officer and I expect

total professionalism. Of course, Captain. And rationality, added Kumar with some emphasis. Besides, the fate of

Johansen is not my principal source of concern right now. What do you mean? Liela Kumar sat back in her chair and drew her fingers into a steeple at her

chin; an act that usually preceded a difficult announcement. We seem to havelost contact with base.

Clark looked puzzled. You mean we have no reception? No, there is nothing wrong with our equipment, I had the Obi check it

thoroughly. What did it say? That there was nothing wrong at our end. The quarterly communication had

not been sent.


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Have they ever missed before? Theyre not allowed to. How overdue is it? Two days. Perhaps theyve had equipment failure at their end.

Kumar shook her head. They have massive back -up on Argentu Station.She dropped her voice to a whisper. Do not speak of this to the crew, but the lastcom., ninety-two days ago, was very strange. Much of it was garbled; full of non-sequiturs, as if the sender was drunk. It mentioned that they had received nocommunication from Earth for almost three months. That much was clear atleast.

Three months! Yes. That is why I was so keen to receive thi s next one. I was hoping for an

explanation.

That com. would have been over five years old. Were five point six two light years from Argentu Station actually. Clark puffed her cheeks and blew. Makes you wonder, doesnt it? The captain nodded slowly . Thats why Ive decided to abort the mission.

Were going home. Clark blinked in surprise. Have you consulted the Obi? Its my decision; the ships on board intelligence system has nothing to do

with it. Are you sure?

The Obi is designed to protect us and act in our interests. It is not its placeto second guess a captains decision. Clark passed her a sceptical look; she wasnt so sure. The Company wont

like it, she ventured. The Company isnt here, we are. When are we leaving? In four hours. I thought wed have a brief commemoration for Johansen and

then head for Argentu Station. At the mention of his name, Clark glanced at the image behind her captain.

The dust cloud had wrapped itself around the planet like a shroud, but the thermalimage showed what was going on beneath it. Fiery quakes had rent the crust intoa mosaic, magma poured from the enormous caldera that had once been a volcanosome twenty-five kilometres high. Huge tongues of molten rock slurped towardsthe site of the chamber and would soon bury it under their heavy flow. If he wasdown there and still alive there would soon he no hope for him at all.

Well, what is there to say? We all knew Alex Johansen, a steady andlikeable person and a proficient first officer. He certainly had his faults, but whoamong us can make any claim to perfection. Captain Kumar smiled reflectivelyat the assembled crew in the muster room. Most of the faces were appropriatelyglum, a few looked as if they would rather be somewhere else. W e live in close

proximity when we are not in stasis and, although I know this is not a fashionableview in these times of individuality, but I think of our company as family andAlex Johansen was part of our family. I propose we take a few moments of


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silen ce to remember him as he passes into the hands of God. To offer anexample the captain shut her eyes and bowed her head in prayer; most of the crewfollowed her lead; some more awkwardly than others. A minute later she spokeagain. As you know I have dec ided to return to Argentu Station. This willshorten our mission by approximately seven years with inevitable consequences

to your salaries. I havent made this decision lightly. You were all aware of thedeteriorating situation on Earth before we left, I have not hidden from you thedisturbing despatches from Argentu Station, but now it would appear that wehave lost contact with Argentu itself.

A buzz of disquiet ran through the crew. Edwards, a junior researcher, stoodup and spoke first. What do you mean? How can we loose contact?

The last despatch is two days overdue, replied the captain. Edwards sat down heavily; he had an uncle on Argentu.Are there any other questions or observations? asked the captain.

The room fell silent.Very well, we will depart immediately.

One hour later Leila Kumar and Acting First Officer Clark were, once again,closeted in the observation room. This time the door was shut so that they couldnot be overheard.

It must be Johansen, it wont let us leave without him. The captain brooded while Clark let the statement hang in the silence. She

had never seen Kumar at such a loss; she had always known what to do in any

situation. Eventually the captain shook her head. I cant accept that. The Obicant possibly know if Johansen is still alive and it wouldnt sanction risking crewto retrieve him even if it did know. It must be something else.

And youve had absolutely nothing from it? Nothing. It has simply stopped responding. Clarks face assumed a look of puzzlement. It must be malfunctioning. Look around you; everything is normal; it is functioning perfectly. But it doesnt make any sense. It has to act in the best interests of all the

crew; it cannot function in any other way. Can it? She added with a ques tioninglook.

Thats what we have always understood; now Im no so sure. Cant we disable it? Bypass it somehow? There must be a way. None that I know of. The Obi controls every aspect of the ship; the

environment; the propulsion units; the communication system; everything rightdown to the last microcircuit.

Even us, added Clark. We all signed up to it. Thats true. She glanced over the head of her captain at the projected image

of the planet below. The dust cloud still obscured the surface but the imageshowed that, below it, the wall of magma had advanced to within ten kilometresof the chamber. It had slowed down significantly as the rock cooled and solidifiedin the freezing atmosphere forming vast cliffs over which the fresh outpouringstumbled glutinously. Itll soon cover the chamber, she said.

Captain Kumar turned towards the image. Yes, she replied wistfully.


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You know the atmospheric conditions down there have eased. Wind velocityis less than one- twenty.

I see that. Are you suggesting a landing? Its feasible; you know it, I know it and the Obi knows it. Kumar noticed the particular emphasis on the last five words. You persist in

thinking that we are being detained here because of Johansen? Because he mightstill be alive down there.

That is what I hope; the alternative is too awful to contemplate. Kumar sat back in her chair and formed steeple with her fingers beneath her

chin as she contemplated. Both knew what the other was thinking; that thecontamination afflicting Earth had reached Argentu Station and they were being

protected from themselves by the on board intelligence. Its extremely risky,she said at length.

Agreed, but we dont have much time; the magma wall is advancing. She

observed her captain deliberating and detected a chink in the wall of heropposition to a rescue. Clark knew that Johansen was still alive, at least she felt itstrongly and the thought of leaving him down there to die alone disturbed hergreatly. Theres no reason why we shouldnt try, she added.

There are many reasons, returned the captain brusquely. I suppose youvecanvassed for volunteers already.

Clark nodded.Very well, Ill sanction it. We dont seem to be going anywhere and you

may be right. If he has not survived you will still need to bring him back. Do you

understand? Yes. Youll need a crew of two; thats all Im prepared to risk.

During his enforced entombment time oppressed on Alex Johansen for therewas little to do other than monitor the conditions of his cell and sit and ruminateon the forlorn situation in which he found himself. Ironically he had not even

been able to enjoy the sight of the treasure that had cost him his life; the rockcovering the cavity in which it lay had fused shut with the heat and movement ofthe cataclysm and he had no instrument to hand that was capable of breaking itopen. A punishment for his wickedness; tortured by the unobtainable proximity ofthat which he most treasured.

It had dawned on him some time ago that Captain Kumar would be unlikelyto risk a lander in the conditions that prevailed outside and so he would be forcedto bide his time. And then it occurred to him that the magma field surrounding thecataclysm might spread as far as the chamber, in which case it would be all overfor he would surely burn to death as it stripped the hatch from the entrance andencroached into the survival chamber itself. The machine would be uselessagainst that kind of force. Alex Johansen did not want to die like that and so herested his thoughts on the hope that the captain would wait for a respite in theatmospheric conditions and the restriction of the magma field.

He turned out the light and slept; a troubled sleep that lasted no more thanfour hours. When he awoke he checked the readings on the equipment. Thesurrounding rock temperature had begun to decrease and now he could touch the


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walls with his bare hand. He looked up at the entrance hatch but could see nothingthrough the small transparency at its centre. He sat back on his E.V.A. suit andlooked up at the fused cover of the niche. It had not budged and showed no signof weakness. The treasure was well and truly trapped. Perhaps, he speculated, itwas as well; it would be safe there, no one could ever destroy it, it would exist for

all time. He took comfort in the thought and in the notion that he, of all men,would be the last to have seen it.

Another shudder passed through the chamber as the crust split again athousand kilometres away. It reminded him of the deadly conditions outside andon the scales of hope and doubt, another weight fell on the side of doubt. He

placed himself in the captains chair and speculated; would he risk a rescue? Hehoped he would but knew he wouldnt.

On the fourth day of his confinement Alex Johansen awoke. He was back on

Earth in his parents house; he was unwrapping a gift; faces looked down at himexpectantly; it was his ninth birthday and the family had gathered in the sittingroom of the house near Stockholm. Outside the large window the snow wasfalling; he had never seen such a thing; it had not snowed in Stockholm for ageneration. He wanted to go out and play in it but he could not escape the smilingfaces. Sara Clark said, come in Alex, and offered her hand to take him away.Where were they going? Out into the snow?

He opened his eyes with a start. What was Sara Clark doing at his ninth birthday? He had no special connection with her, or indeed, with any other

person. The Company had seen to that during sterilization when they had also been rendered impotent and stripped of libido. The Company did not tolerateemotional complications between male and female crewmembers. So why hadSara Clark invaded his waking dream?

The communicator on the survival unit cracked into life and through theheavy static he heard her voice. But this time he was awake.

Come in Alex. Yes, he practically shouted for joy, forgetting the correct response. Are you injured? No, repeat no. Good. Were going to blow the hatch; its fused shut. Are you wearing yo ur

suit? No, repeat no. Put it on: we dont have much time. Understood. Johansen hurriedly climbed into his suit, checked that all the seals and life

supports were functioning correctly and, taking cover, indicated that he wasready. The shaped charge blew the entire hatch mechanism away from the rock; itflew high and landed some distance away. A cloud of hot dust swirled into thechamber obliterating his vision; he switched on his view filter, picked up thesurvival unit and headed for the space below the entrance where the faces of SaraClark and Chin Sen, the microbiologist, peered down at him.


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Leave the unit, we havent time, shouted Clark; she had just received awarning that another magma flow was on its way. They had three minutes to getout of there.

Johansen pushed it up the ladder towards them. Take it, take it, he insisted. They didnt have time to argue. She and Chin Sen reached down and pulled it

up to the surface. Johansen climbed out into the swirling eddies of dust. The heathit him like a club; the huge wall of solidifying magma was less than fifty metresaway. He activated the ladder and it folded into itself making a small, light

portable package. Clark and Chin Sen had already started back to the lander withthe survival unit; their bodies now no more than shadows in the swirling dust. Afaint light blinked on the survival unit they carried between them; he took aheading from it ran as fast as the suit would allow.

As the lander took off they saw how close they had come to destruction. Themagma plain was a sea of molten rock flowing like water towards the cliff edge.

As they rose through the dust they saw the first wave tumble over the precipiceand splash into the dust where they had so recently stood. A moment later thechamber was swallowed up.

Alex Johansen had not expected his conversation with his captain tocharacterised by any joy at his survival and in this his expectations were soundly

justified. Her tone was stony, admonishing.You disobeyed a direct order and placed the lander, its crew and yourself in

serious and unnecessary danger. Your actions caused endangerment not only once

but twice and I have to tell you I have found them inexplicable. I understand, but. I havent finished. It is in my power to demote yo u and to recommend that

fifty per cent of your remuneration be withdrawn and I am minded to do bothunless you can furnish me with a credible cause for mitigation. What do yousay?

Alex Johansen stared at the deck of the observation room where they werealone, as if expecting some revelation to emerge from beneath his feet. But nosuch revelation came to him and he was reduced to his rather incredibleexplanation. I just thought we had more time; I didnt want to leave theequipment; I was responsible for it.

You were responsible for making sure that your crew and the lander weresafe. You failed.

I know, Im sorry. Sorry! Sorry! You cant be sorry out here; out here we deal with certainties.

We are not cavaliers; things only work when orders are fol lowed. I understand, I truly do. Well I dont. Since the beginning of this mission you have been an

exemplary officer; I had no reason to doubt you; you have carried out all yourduties with calm professionalism at all times. But down there, on that planet,something changed and I would like to know what that was.

It was a misjudgement. Rubbish!


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The room fell into an expectant silence as Johansen debated the merit oftelling her the truth. Had the circumstances been different he would never havedone so, but now what was there to lose?

Have you heard of the philosopher, Aristotle? You and your Greeks, she replied contemptuously. The entire crew were

well acquainted with his obsession. Of course Ive heard of Aristotle. In the fourth century B . C. Aristotle composed a treatise on the constitution

of Athens; a masterpiece of historical importance. A copy of it crossed theMediterranean to the library in Alexandria in Egypt where further copies weremade. At one time the Library was very extensive, containing practically all theknowledge of the western world; its importance to humanity could not be denied,

but much of it was destroyed by fire during the invasion of the city by JuliusCaesar in 47 B.C. Further destruction took place in 391 A.D. during the reign ofTheodoseus the Great when the Library was sacked by a mob of fanatical

Christians. This is all ancient history, interrupted Kumar impatiently. Johansen held up his hand to stay her impatience. No, Im telling you this so

that you migh t correctly understand the magnitude of my crime. Her eyes bulged in incomprehension at the mention of the word crime, as if

an alien monster had suddenly appeared in his place. Johansen ignored her andcontinued.

The contents of the Library were thoug ht lost and indeed they were until analmost complete papyrus containing the Constitution of Athens was unearthed in

Egypt at the end of the nineteenth century. It was brought to the British Museumin London where it stayed for over two centuries until it was lent out to anexhibition of antiquities in Kinshasa, Central Africa where it was destroyed in adisastrous fire. But it was not entirely destroyed; one small fragment survived andwas sold at auction. It passed through many hands over the next decades until itcame into the possession of a very good friend of mine. When he showed it to meI knew I had to possess it. I would have paid anything he asked but he would notsell it to me. So I stole it.

Captain Kumars jaw dropped. You stole it! Yes. To my everlasting shame, I stole it and because of what I did my friend

killed himself. You stole it! repeated Kumar as if unsure that she had heard him correctly. Johansen nodded gravely. I could not live with the shame and so I sought to

bury it in the survival chamber. I intended to leave it there but when it came to the point I realised I could not be without it. It was that which I was trying to retrieve,not the equipment.

You endangered yourself, your crewmates and the lander for a piece of paper?

Papyrus, corrected Johansen. Whatever. Where is it? Still down there. Kumar let out an ironic snort. I am several leagues beyond mystified. I thought you wouldnt understand.


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You are quite correct. Under normal circumstances I would bust you d ownto nothing and place you in immediate stasis; your contract would be terminatedand no remuneration given, but these arent normal circumstances are they?

No, they are not. I had hoped that rescuing you would be the answer, but it seems that that i s

not the case. The Obi still does not respond to any command I give it; we arestranded.

I wondered why you risked the rescue. Be under no illusion, I would not have sanctioned it had it not been a

possible solution to our situation. I would not have blamed you in any way had you left me down there. I would hope not. However, we are where we are and there appears to be no

solution. Perhaps there shouldnt be a solution.

What do you mean? Johansen scratched his head. The Obi must act for t he preservation of thecrew.

Yes, that is its overriding directive. Communication has ceased from Earth and now Argentu Station. Perhaps it

is preserving us by keeping us here. He saw by the expression on her face that this had already occurred to her.I hope to the very core of my heart that that is not the reason, she replied

almost inaudibly.

He looked up reflectively at the image of the spreading magma field far below. It had long since swallowed up the survival chamber but the outpouringshad decreased and the advance of the magma field had almost halted.

Do not imagine that your shame is buried with that object, said Kumar,following his gaze.

I dont. She became suddenly reflective; her mood softened. I do not propose to

inform the crew of your crime; I see nothing to be gained by it. Thank you. It is something that must weigh heavily on you and you alone. It does. Then that is some small justice, I suppose. Johansen smiled weakly and took comfort in the thought that the fragment

would be preserved forever or rather preserved until Vega exploded andconsumed its own system of planets billions of years from now. He, AlexJohansen was the last to see it and that was how it would be until the end of time.

But Alex Johansen was wrong for he was not the last human being to see thesurviving fragment of Aristotles Constitution of Athens. He could not haveforeseen that the arc of human history would eventually bring men back to thatvery place on Vega Delta where he had placed the precious object. For over one-hundred-and-twenty-thousand years the fragment rested in its tomb waiting to

play its part; waiting until a man would reach into its protecting casket and bringit into the light of a different sun. Waiting for a man from a world so distant in


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PART TWO

AGON


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I

Twenty five million years ago, the molten currents and eddies that churned beneath the equatorial crust of Agon caused a small fissure to appear on thesurface of the planet. At first, this geological event was of small significance, but,as time passed, the pressures below began to exploit the weakness and the fragileskin of Agon opened and a vast gash appeared in the parched, primevallandscape. Volcanoes burst forth at its margin, forming towering peaks of ash andmagma which were then rent asunder as the fissured land collapsed into themantel to be consumed in the boiling heart of the planet. And then, as though itsanger had been sated, the world began to cool, the volcanoes ceased their

poisonous belching and the land became still. The turmoil that had gripped Agonfor over two million years was ended, but it had left an indelible scar on thelandscape in the form of a great rift valley that extended for over two thousandkilometres.

As time passed, a more forgiving season embraced Agon. The climate cooledand rain poured into the valley, flooding it with life-giving water and creating avast sea that lapped against the towering walls of solidified magma. Primitive

plants colonized the shoreline and clung to the cliff ledges and the valleygradually turned green and temperate.

It was in this green and temperate valley, over three thousand years ago, thatmen first walked on Agon. It was here that they first built their primitive villagesand cultivated the fertile ledges that had formed at the base of the cliffs. Thesewere simple men with few demands beyond survival. In their ignorance, theyworshipped the sun, the water and the land, for it was these elements that gavethem life and prosperity. The population grew and eventually a city was foundedand in that city men began to turn away from the old gods and look for new ideas.

And so, in time, a prophet, who was born of the sea itself, came among them.His name was Minnar and he taught them that he was the essence of the Spirit of

Creation and that they should worship him. He taught them that they were createdfrom the waters of the sea; he taught them of life after death and the judgement oftheir sins that was to come to all men. He taught of the sin of polyphony andcomplex rhythm, decreeing that only devotional plainchant was to be heard fromthe mouths of men and that dancing was the surest path to damnation. He spokeof abstinence in all matters of the flesh, saying that only those who followed himin purity, eschewing the contamination of female company could achieve thehighest plain of ecstasy in the Afterworld. These laws with many others, he wrotedown in a document that became the known as The Book of Minnar. This book

was taken up by a small but devout faction of adherents who evangelised itamong the superstitious population with promises of life beyond corporeal death.

But the city elders grew frightened of his power and fearful of his messageand so they took him to a high cliff, bound him and weighed him down with rocksand threw him into the sea from whence he came. At that very moment, accordingto scripture, there was a terrible shaking of the ground and the mountains began to


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fall into the sea. The city was destroyed and the life-sustaining waters of the seadrained away until all that remained was a lake, trapped in the deepest recesses ofthe valley.

The Elders, in fear and contrition, commanded the building of a great templeon a pinnacle of rock called Imbar that had once been an island in the sea. They

ordered the smashing of all the primitive instruments for the making of music and banned their manufacture on pain of death. They banned dancing!

But all their prayers to the spirit of Minnar were unanswered, for the watersgradually turned foul and famine visited the cursed people. The region wasabandoned except for the temple, which grew into a shrine, enticing pilgrims and,eventually, the construction of a new city to serve them.

Over two thousand years after the death of Minnar, Solon Bru gazed across theglassy surface of the lake. The long day of Agon was closing and the vivid sun

touched the parched valley walls with a sanguineous hue that appeared to makethem bleed into the dark, putrid waters. The lake was now known as the Sea ofCreation and from the apron of his high, cliff dwelling Bru had an unparalleledview across its sterile waters to the distant shore and the City of Imbar with itscrumbling towers shining like bloody fangs in the declining sun.

It was the very place that Minnar had lived and died and had taught of thecreation of Mankind. It was here that men had first emerged from the waters andwalked upon the land. The irony of his situation was not lost on Bru. He was anexile from his home world and known to be a heretic. The Elders of Agon had

chosen this revered location for him so he that could look upon it every day andeventually come to realize his error. They believed he would recant his heresy andembrace the One True Faith.

He took a large swig of the bitter distillation that passed for wine on Agonand tossed the rest over the wall of the apron. The droplets glinted like red jewelsin the sun and tumbled two hundred metres to the dusty floor of the valley below.Then, as an afterthought, he tossed the goblet over after them, turned and wearilywalked past his vehicle and into the cool interior of his home.

Inside he entered his sleeping quarters and pulled off the grimy tunic he had been wearing for three days. He noticed, with distaste, the odour of his own bodyand caught sight of his image in the reflector. At seventy-six years of age he wasin the prime of his life; at an age when the rash vigour of youth had matured intoa deeper physical strength. But the image that stared back at him belied theseattributes and for the first time, he saw what he would become in old age. Theskin around his sharp, grey eyes had begun to wrinkle and sag and the furrows ofhis brow had deepened into sun-starved crevasses that extended almost to histemples where grey variegated his dark brown hair. He scowled at the image andambled towards his ablution area.

The particle bombardment cleaned his skin and made it tingle pleasantly.Revived a little, he dressed himself in a fresh tunic and swallowed a stimulant. Hecould not think of sleep; not yet anyway.

He returned to his living quarters to discover his wife Rhell. She was seated,as usual, on the floor, cross-legged and straight-backed, patiently waiting for him.


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He had been expecting her arrival, but not this soon. This was most inconvenient.He spoke first, as was the custom on Agon.

I greet you , but I was not expecting your presence here. My father brought me, Sir. Why? He noticed her eyes did not meet his; she fixed her gaze on his naked

feet.My father thought you would ne ed nourishment, you have been away. He

thought you would require me. This did not surprise Bru, the old man would have instructed her to find out

where he had been. He would have to report his son-in- laws movements to theappropriate authority. I do not require you, he said shortly.

But your meal Husband, I must prepare it. The simulant will do it. No Sir, it is my duty.

I release you from it. You will return to your fathers home by my vehicle . She looked up at him imploringly. No Sir, please, I may not go home. Bru frowned in surprise; she had never defied him before. She looked

terrified as her dark eyes began to moisten while she pulled at her long, blackhair, as was her habit when she was nervous. She was not handsome, even by themodest standards of Agon, and at thirty-six had been well past the acceptable ageof marriage when their union had been arranged. But she was tolerable companyand in the nine years of their marriage had proved biddable and willing to acceptthe inevitable limitations of their relationship. He had even developed a manner

of affection for her which had caused him to take the trouble to give her arudimentary education, a practice against both law and custom on Agon wherewomen were not permitted to read or write. The fiercely misogynistic culture ofhis adopted world had always discomforted and mystified him and he had neverfully come to terms with it. The social and economic exclusion of over half the

population seemed to him a tragic waste of human potential that must inevitablycompromise the economic viability of Agon. But he was a guest here and therewas nothing he could do about it beyond flouting the law privately and teachinghis wife. She had accepted the lessons with reluctant grace and prosperedmodestly. It had been their secret and it had been her pleasure to accede to hiswishes. She had never questioned or defied him before, but something wasmaking her practically shake with fear.

Very well, he said at length, you may stay for a while. Thank you, Sir, she whispered as she rose and left without meeting his eye. Deep in thought he watched her leave. What did they suspect? Had he made

any mistakes? Anything at all that would arouse suspicion? He paced the roomand reflected, trying to recall any action that might have betrayed him. He couldthink of none.

Presently she returned with his meal and placed it on a low table near thethreshold to the terrace where she knew he liked to sit. The vermillion rays of thesetting sun shimmered on the walls of the sparse, elegant dwelling like the flamesof a campfire. Only her soft footsteps broke the intense silence. He sat cross-legged on a floor cushion and began to eat while she observed him from adistance. At length he started the conversation.


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How is your family? My father and brothers are well, Sir. The omission of any mention of the female members of the family was quite

normal and Bru knew better than to ask. I am glad to hear it, he replied. There was a silence before she continued in a somewhat tentative manner.

My father was concerned by your absence; he wondered what had become ofyou.

I thank your father for his concern but my absence was quite normal. There was a pause before she probed further. My father said you had failed

to deliver four lectures at the Institute. This is not usual for you. He glanced up from his meal. She was staring out at the evolving sky and

would not look at him. I arranged an adequate substitute to deliver the lectures. This was not normal. She was getting reckless, on the very edge of permitted intercourse. He

resumed eating. What of it? he thought. They will eventually find out where hehad been; why not let her bear the news?I was with my researcher Engin Par, in the north, at a retreat he keeps. We

were engaged in some difficult astro-geological theory that required a completelack of distraction. I am sure your father will understand and I hope this willrelieve his concern.

He did not look at her but could feel her relief from across the room. Thetension in the atmosphere eased and he heard her whisper, Thank you, Sir.

She had done her duty to her father by honouring his command to find out

where her husband had been. He had done her the kindness of telling her and asshe sat in the pregnant silence and gazed out beyond the terrace, she reflected onthe first time she had set eyes on this strange being, her husband.

At thirty-six she had resigned herself to spinsterhood. Although high born,she knew she was not desirable and could not expect to receive offers of marriagefrom the most eligible quarters. Her father had already refused three offers fromindividuals deemed to be unsuitable, describing them as low rank fortunehunters. She despaired at his reticence, but his judgement was vindicated whenhe solicited an offer from Solon Bru.

It was the duty of all the men of rank on Agon to marry and, although an alienand naturally unsympathetic to the institution of marriage, Bru had finally been

prevailed upon to accept a union. Bru was Suran, an exile from a world quiteunlike her own. She discovered that Surans were a slight, pale-skinned,androgynous people who had a pathological aversion to hair and were thusuniversally bald. They were disgusted by any form of physical contact and reliedon technology to perpetuate their race. Her brothers had laughed at her, telling herthat she was betrothed to a dickless, hairless freak, but when, at the marriageceremony, she saw him for the first time, she was surprised to discover that herfuture husband was neither slight nor hairless. Solon Bru was just under twometres tall, well-built and had a fine head of cropped, dark brown hair. Indeed, hemight have been taken for a native except for his beard, which was neatlytrimmed instead of the full growth traditional on Agon and his intense, grey eyesthat had glanced disinterestedly in her direction as she had entered the marriagechamber.


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Solon Bru looked so masculine, so normal, that despite her fathers warnings,she entertained thoughts of conjugal bliss. But in this, she was deceived, fordespite his appearance, Bru was essentially a Suran. In the nine years of theirmarriage he had never touched her, nor shown the slightest inclination to do soand she had never seen him in any other state than fully clothed. She had the good

sense and grace to accept this, for there were other compensations. Though distanthe was kind, considerate and patient. He was liberal and did not require of her thestrict confinement of a normal spouse. He was superior in virtue to her brothersand yes, even to her father and treated her as a person not as a chattel. In short, hewas the best man she knew. Had Bru been less emotionally obtuse, he might havediscerned that she had come to love him very much.

Her husband finished his meal and, for while sat in contemplative silence. Aslight breeze wafted across the terrace and curled down the valley towards thecity, carrying away the last of the days breathless heat. Bru was never garrulous,

but this evening he seemed more taciturn than usual, as if he was contemplatingsome intractable problem. At last he spoke again.And your father, I trust he is well? For a moment she did not know how to respond; he had asked her about her

family earlier.He is well, Sir, she replied, not w ishing to draw his attention to a mistake.He realized his error and turned towards her. I believe I have already

enquired after your fathers health. Forgive me. There is nothing to forgive, she uttered demurely.

He was about to speak again but was forestalled by an incomingcommunication. It was from his assistant, Engin Par. What does he want now? thought Bru, as he rose to receive the communication in his study. He had only

just left him in his squalid, little retreat in the north.Rhell watched him leave and close the door to his study behind him. There

was an uneasy quality about him that she could not quite measure. She wonderedat her fathers particular insistence that she obtain news of Brus whereabouts, butit was not a womans place to quest ion the ways of men. She stood and went tothe low table to clear away the remains of her husbands meal.

Inside his study Bru accepted the communication and a three-dimensionallife- sized image of Engin Par appeared before him. Pars normally alarmedexpression had developed new heights of distress. His bony frame, shrivelled withyears of worry, buckled before his employer. He gestured imploringly. DocDoc, have you seen it?

Seen what exactly? replied Bru with forced patience. He found hisassistant s constant state of angst wearing. These past three days alone with himhad been something of a trial.

The newscast , of course The newscast. Have you seen it? They knowthey know. Oh Lord! What are we going to do? What are we going to do? Tearswelled in his eyes, he grabbed nervously at his thinning, gingery hair.

To which newscast do you refer? Par shot him a look of surprise through his tears. You mean you havent seen

it yet? Its the main item on Inter -World; its everywhere.


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Remain connected, said Bru, deleting the squirming image of his assistantand commanding Inter-World to appear. He slumped in his chair and waited

patiently for the nugget of news to escape the deluge of publicity.We now return to sector ninety -three for the latest report on the destruction

of Station Two Eleven.

He sat up sharply whilst the commentary continued over the image of a fieldof debris glinting in the stark light of a nearby star.

The Station was destroyed by a catastrophic explosion timed at zero, zero,el even two five

Bru calculated the time; it was two days ago.There are thought to be no survivors from the three hundred and twenty six

registered on board. We have, as yet, no explanation of what happened here. Aninspection team from Barta Magnus is expected shortly. Station Two Eleven wasowned by The Odin Recovery Company of Barta Magnus. It was primarily

engaged in the resale, and salvage of interplanetary craft. A spokesperson forThe Company said Bru cut the transmission and stared, grim faced, into the void where it had

been. Could there possibly be a connection between this disaster and hisactivities? It was impossible to be sure but the coincidence was alarming. Thestation had been destroyed just four days after Par had left it. He composedhimself and returned to his assistant.

Have you seen what they did? Have you? Oh shit! They know Doc theyknow. It must have been Evangelists; who else could it have been? They must

have followed me. Oh Lord! I cant bear it. Par dissolved into fresh par oxysms, biting his hand while tears and snot ran down his face and into his wispy excusefor a beard.

Pull yourself together, said Bru sharply. There is nothing to suggest thatthis is the work of Evangelists or that it has any connection to us. You followedmy instructions regarding your departure and return to Agon?

Par nodded dejectedly. Yes, I did, absolutely. Good, in that case we have nothing to fear. You could not have been

detected; I assure you nobody knows anything about what we have found,especially not the Evangelists.

Par let out a final sob. You know what they would do to us if they foundout?

Bru knew well enough what happened to apostates. Their executions weredegrading, public and long drawn out. They were designed to maintain loyalty tothe Faith through fear. As a Suran and a diplomat he would not suffer such a

public fate, but he had no doubt that he would suffer privately. The Elders ofAgon would be forced to render him to the Evangelists and he would simplydisappear.

They will not find out, he said with quiet authority. Are you still workingon the casket ?

Par nodded.Meet me at the Institute and bring it with you. We will decide what is to be

done when you arrive. Shall I come straight away?


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Yes, straight away. Alright. Pars image faded and left Bru alone in his study. For the first time in his life

he wasnt sure what to do. Had he made a mistake? Had Par been detected andfollowed? Could someone have found out what they had obtained on Station Two

Eleven? It just seemed impossible to him that after forty-seven years he could still be worthy of such scrutiny. If they were still watching him it might follow thatthey would also be watching his assistant. He considered contacting Par to warnhim of his thoughts, but concluded that it would only make him even moreneurotic and irrational. Best to leave it until he saw him in person, then theywould decide what to do.

He walked distractedly back into his living area. Rhell was seated,crosslegged on a floor cushion, waiting for him. Is everything well Sir ? sheasked.

He almost started at the sound of her voice; he had forgotten she was there.Everything is well, he replied hastily. Im afraid we must forgo ourconversation this evening, I am required at the Insti tute.

She made a poor attempt at concealing her disappointment. May I stay here,Sir?

He looked down at her and their eyes met briefly; he knew how much shetreasured her time away from her fathers house. If you wish, although I do notknow when I wil l return.

I will wait, she replied as he walked past her and out on to the terrace. She

watched his vehicle rise gracefully into the air and head away from her towardsthe city. She kept her eyes on it until it became just another light in the emergingstar field of the sky.

II

Engin Par was, by no means, assured by Brus apparent lack of concern. Hisnatural disposition had brought him to a state of near hysteria and his vividimagination entertained all sorts of macabre punishments and tortures that hisfrail body would have to endure before the blessed release of death. He reflected

bitterly on his own stupidity and naivety for enthusiastically embracing Bru s passion for ancient mysteries. Why had he not seen that it would lead him toquestion and eventually abandon his faith and to expose himself as an apostate?What, a matter of hours ago had been an adventure, an excitement in his dull life,had now become a nightmare and the fruit of his sacrilege was now about to fallon his own head. He had convinced himself (and it was an easy job) that he was

about die in the most appalling way.He picked up the small casket from the makeshift analysis table they had set

up in his retreat and contemplated destroying it. But what good would that do? Itwas already too late for that and if he were wrong Bru would be furious. Heturned it over in his hands, caressing its smooth, featureless surface with his


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fingers and acquainting himself anew with the perfection of its engineering. Evennow, when he knew exactly where it was, he could not see the join where the

body and the lid came together. Only the analytical power of the finestinstruments Bru had brought with him from Suran had revealed how to open it; acombination of pressures applied in a certain sequence to each of its corners. And

yet there were no obvious working parts; the mechanism was in the structureitself, a hydrocarbon construct completely unknown to science. They could noteven accurately date the object, its matrix was so alien; but, by its provenance,they knew was that it was very, very old.

And when, at last, they had solved the puzzle that kept it secure, it hadsmoothly opened to reveal something quite extraordinary, a thin fragment ofmaterial with strange markings on its surface. Bru had carefully lifted the objectfrom the casket with a pair of tweezers and placed it between two steriletransparencies that he had sealed. He had then placed it on the analysis table for a

better look.What is it? Par had asked. The destroyer of lies; its the destroyer of lies, came the reply and his friend

and mentor had looked at him and smiled.

Par had been surprised by Bru s request that he should take the casket straight tohis retreat where he would join him. Knowing Brus natural Suran fastidiou sness,it worried him, somewhat, that his basic accommodation would not meet with his

bosss approval. He was right, even though he had tidied it up as best he could

Bru still declared it to be squalid and depressing. Never mind, he said, it isremote a nd we will not be disturbed here. They had worked on the casket for three days before discovering its secret.

When, at last, they had opened it, Bru declared that he had better return to allayany suspicions. He took the fragment and left the casket for Par to continue work.

It was soon after the departure of his mentor that Par saw what had happenedto Station Two Eleven and everything changed.

He stuffed the casket into his grubby tunic and took one last look about therudimentary cabin. He knew that he would never see it again for he had decidednot to meet Bru at the Institute but to throw himself on the mercy of the priests ofImbar. They might just be able to protect him from the Brothers of Mercy, theEvangelists. He would never be allowed to leave the Temple and would have tospend the rest of his life making devotions, but at least he would be alive and the

priests werent such a bad lot. It gave him pause that he would have to denouncehis friend, the man who had trusted him and given him so much, but it was alsoBru who had led him down this dangerous path and by that logic he justified the

betrayal.With a beating heart, he opened the cabin door a fraction and peeked out. A

zephyr winding its way up the valley sang through the needles of the trees. It wasa beautiful sound that Par loved, but now it only served to mask the movementsof his enemies. He waited awhile and detected nothing moving in the darknessand then he stepped out and hurried down the winding path that led to his waitingvehicle.


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III

The Institute of Science occupied the one hundred and first level of the GreatTower in the City of Imbar. There were six other towers of lesser stature in close

proximity, each being surrounded by a tangled network of crude, squalid,mudstone buildings and heaving markets in which all manner of commoditiescould be obtained for the right price. The towers were an expression of a bygone,more prosperous age, an age of hope in which Imbar attempted to capitalize on its

position and kudos as the cradle of mankind. But the economics of the depletedequatorial region had defeated the dreams of the city elders and the small wealthof Agon had drifted to more temperate climes.

The seven towers themselves had seen better days. One had been entirelyabandoned and left to crumble, whilst two others had been declared unsafe withseveral unsuccessful attempts having been made to clear them of squatters andcriminals. Large, ugly cracks in their fabric were evidence of frequent quakes thatsplit the thin crust of the planet below Imbar. Only the temple remainedimpervious to geological assault. Its gaudy, overblown edifice stayed intact on avolcanic plug that had once been an island in the sea.

It had been something of a coup for the governing body of the Institute toentice Bru to their backwater of learning. His acceptance of their offer of a

position as the head of astro-geology had greatly surprised them for they were notaware that he had been given very little choice in the matter. Bru was unique, forno other Surans had left that academic paradise for as long as anyone couldremember. To make him comfortable they funded, at considerable expense, theconstruction of a dwelling located at a suitably remote distance from the city.They knew he would require solitude, at least until he acclimatized himself to the

populous conditions on Agon.He repaid their faith and expense with diligence, publishing numerous,

influential treatises with the Institutes name on them and attracting to the facultya cohort of distinguished professors. Apart from the Temple, the Institute was the

only organ of distinction in Imbar and the governors of it were very pleased withtheir Suran exile.

Bru landed his vehicle at the high port, in a place reserved for him andwalked the short distance to his research rooms at the Institute. A couple ofstudents noticed him and nodded deferentially. It was late and the place wasalmost deserted. Once inside, he secured the door and went to his safe. He openedit and took out the fragment and gazed at it, as though it had some mesmeric spellover him. It was no more than six centimetres by four with two straight and tworagged edges where the material had been torn. The markings on its surface,

which were truncated at the torn edges, were obviously a form of writing, but itwas alien script and of insufficient quantity to attempt an interpretation. Itintrigued him but he would never know what the words said.

H f ll l d th bj t hi kb h All hi i t t

Documents

Hyperion (2nd Edition) by Jackson J. Radley