The Beyond, page 15
She brought up her eyes slowly, searching his face.
"What is it?" he urged.
"It's the others..."
"People waiting to escape?"
"The last of them, Alek." Her eyes moved back to the meadow. "They're there now, hiding at the far side. Johnny can't leave until, until..."
"Until he builds a bridge?" he asked gravely.
Her gaze came back. "You know?"
"I've surmised, but tell me anyway."
"It is a bridge, a mental bridge," she explained. "The people up there"
-- she glanced toward the sky -- "contacted Johnny telepathically. He's the only one who has the power."
"He sends them by psychokinesis?" he asked incredulously.
She shook her head. "It's more like reverse teleportation. They really build the bridge, but Johnny is necessary to anchor it," she explained. "It's like the end of a live wire; the power won't come through without a contact."
He regarded her quizzically, his mind assailed by wonder and doubt. "How would those people up there know about us? If they have that much power, why wouldn't they contact our populous worlds? How did they chance on such an isolated world as this?"
"Because of the concentration of telepathic power that was here," she explained. "They sensed it, knew that somehow this world was different."
"How about the other exile planets?" he demanded.
"Perhaps there are other contacts, I don't know. Or perhaps it's because we're at the very edge of the galaxy, stand alone."
He asked dubiously, "Why would they welcome us? We're probably an alien form of life to them."
"They're a very ancient race." Her voice was humble. "Incredibly ancient. Once they thought they'd achieved immortality and stopped breeding to stabilize the population. But it didn't turn out that way," she added wistfully.
"They're dying out?" he asked quietly.
"Slowly, yes, and one day they'll all be gone." Her eyes held his. "But they want their knowledge and lore to live, Alek. That's why they started searching the universe."
"Are they all telepaths?"
"Telepaths and far more," she asserted. "We can scarcely conceive of it.
That's why they searched us out. They've scanned the universe, but only we have the germ of the same greatness."
"How do you know all this?" he asked quietly. "How do you know what happens to the people who leave?"
"Johnny's talked with them, Alek. The bridge is like a transmission wire. There's a planet there -- Zamar, we call it -- that's been given over to them." She studied him. "Can't you believe it?"
He looked away without answering, trying to absorb what she had told him. Dimly he became aware that the wind had died, leaving in its wake a stillness broken only by the roar of the river.
He glanced up through the trees toward the sky. The clouds had broken and between the rapidly shifting gulfs he glimpsed the orange half-moon. He watched as the tumbling cloud masses Page 76
obscured its face, then opened great rifts to expose it again.
"It seems incredible," he murmured finally.
"To our minds, yes, but we've only lived in one small niche of the universe, Alek. There are countless civilizations at distances incalculable to us. We fit our concept of life into what we know -- our particular galactic environment."
"A limited perspective," he admitted ruefully.
"Very limited."
"Yet how else can we think of it?"
"As a phenomenon of infinity and eternity," she answered quietly. "If space is infinite, then the distribution of life within it must be infinite, and must have been so for all time. Can you imagine how many civilizations must have risen and fallen? It's incomprehensible."
"It is," he said in a subdued voice. "Does Olaf know of Zamar?"
"Yes." She nodded.
"And that Johnny's the key?"
"That's why he's so desperate to save him, Alek."
"He's learned all this from Simon?"
"Yes, of course." She looked quizzically at him. "Simon says you're an extremely strong transmitter, much stronger than I'd suspected. He believes you're as strong as Johnny."
"Definitely not." He shook his head.
"We'll see," she murmured.
He scarcely heard her, struck by the appalling thought he'd had earlier.
"If Simon knows, won't Wig know?"
"About Zamar, or you?"
"Both."
"You don't volunteer information under psychic probing, Alek. You only answer questions."
"I don't quite follow you," he admitted.
"Wig wouldn't think to ask those kinds of questions, nor would he believe the answers if he did.
He hasn't that kind of a mind. He'd think Simon was crazy."
"Fortunately," he answered drily.
Her hand tightened on his arm and she glanced up quickly, her face alert. She dug her fingers into his flesh to silence him. He looked around slowly, listening, conscious of her fright. The moon was out again, casting its eerie light on the meadow. He moved his eyes slowly over it, at the same time alert for sounds.
He jerked his head around as the shadows at the edge of the grass moved and the groat stepped into the clearing, straining at his leash. An instant later Sergeant Trukel followed, pausing to look around. The groat lifted its head, sniffing. Selby watched, fascinated. In the dim light the animal appeared monstrous. It tugged at the leash, attempting to move into the meadow.
"Easy, easy." Trukel's voice came softly in the still air. He pulled back on the leash, scrutinizing the night, his head pivoting slowly. Watching him, Selby had the impression of a human bloodhound. There was something deadly about him, almost terrifying.
Trukel's head stopped moving and he stared intently into the meadow. The groat's ears came up, followed by a low growl.
"They see something," Selby whispered uneasily.
She looked up, her face frightened. "The people waiting for Johnny are out there."
"In the open meadow?"
"By the river."
He didn't answer, watching the groat, afraid that any move would alert it. Sniffing audibly in the still air, the groat's nose moved like a tracking scan, always settling back on the same point. The tableau was broken as the sergeant's wrist radio crackled to life.
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"Daxon, squad one, now at cemetery."
Trukel lifted his wrist to his mouth. "Hold that position, Dax."
"Holding..."
Other voices broke in.
"Hammer, squad two. We're at clearing north of cemetery. No action."
"Stagg, with patrol unit. No action on trails leading toward Kay us."
"Hold your positions," the sergeant ordered.
"Trukel?" It took Selby an instant to recognize the new voice, high and querulous, as belonging to the executor.
"Yes, sir?"
"Have Stagg move his patrol back toward the meadow. We're more interested in the clearings tonight."
"Yes, sir."
"Keep a steady sky watch."
"Yes, sir, they know."
"And you'd better return to the ship."
"Yes, sir," Trukel echoed, "coming right in." He dropped his arm, scanning the sea of grass for a long moment before tugging on the leash and retreating toward the trees. He didn't trudge like the others but walked with a quick, quiet stealth that caused Selby to shudder. The agent was as much a man-hunter as the groat.
When Selby glanced back, Lora was holding her face in her palms and he caught a suppressed sob. She swayed and would have fallen had he not caught her. "What's wrong?" he demanded anxiously.
"Simon..." She gave a strangled sob.
"What about him?" He felt a quick unease, a premonition of disaster.
"He's dead, dead..." She wrung her hands.
"Dead?" he exclaimed.
"He called to me, and then I felt his mind slipping away. He's gone, gone, Alek."
"How did it happen?" he asked huskily.
"Jonman..." She looked bitterly at him. "Jonman strangled him."
Cromwell glanced up from a book as Selby entered the lounge. The captain's eyes, tired and drawn, rested speculatively on him.
"I've come for Johnny," Selby said.
"I suspected it was about time." Cromwell pushed the book aside and rose. "Is Olaf..."
"Coming down, that's all we know," he cut in impatiently. Cromwell gestured wordlessly and led him down a ladder toward the forward cargo hold.
His nostrils caught the pungent odor of catmel pelts. As they entered the hold, he was surprised to see a light, more surprised to see Johnny and the first mate under it, huddled over a chess board. Prim and the engineer Grimp, watching from the sidelines, scarcely bothered to glance around.
"Hello, Mr. Selby," Johnny said. Snorkel twisted his head around owlishly.
"Teaching Johnny to play chess?" asked Selby. He spoke lightly, not wanting to cause any alarm.
"Teaching him?" Grimp chortled. "You might call it that. Snorky's lost the first eight games."
"Better call it off," Cromwell broke in quietly. "Mr. Selby has some important business to discuss with Johnny."
Snorkel rose, staring at the board. "Just as I about had him," he complained.
Johnny glanced at the board and moved a piece. "Checkmate," he said.
"Checkmate?" Snorkel got a startled look. "I'll be danged."
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"Nine down," Grimp intoned.
When they were alone, Selby said, "I've come to take you to the meadow, Johnny."
"I know." The boy regarded him gravely. "It's going to be dangerous, isn't it, Mr. Selby?"
"For everyone," he responded quietly. "Are you afraid?"
"I don't think so. I'll do what you tell me."
"I'm afraid I won't be of much help." Selby smiled mirthlessly. In a battle involving telepaths, beyonds, mutant leaders, groats, and the power of
Philip Wig, his own role struck him as ridiculously ineffectual. He'd be scarcely more than a bystander. At the same time, he had the uneasy feeling that if Lora and Johnny were to be saved, it would be up to him. How? His mind reeled under the possibilities.
As if sensing his thoughts, Johnny said, "You're a real good transmitter, Mr. Selby."
"You told me that before." His disparaging laugh was cut short as he glimpsed the boy's eyes.
For an instant they no longer were young and blue, but were deep wells of knowledge, reflecting strange wisdom. They were like the eyes of Simon and -- yes! -- the director. As he watched, the eyes changed, becoming those of youth again. "How does that help me?" he finished.
"You can put things in people's minds, Mr. Selby."
"I suppose." He sighed, thinking the gift was not very great. He'd performed minor feats of telepathy since arriving on Engo, but Johnny -- and
Lora, too-attributed too much to him. Worse, he never really knew his messages were received; there was simply no feedback, or very little.
"I guess we'd better go," Johnny suggested.
"Yes..." He paused, detaining him with a gesture. "I know about the bridge, what you have to do."
Johnny cocked his head. "I told you that."
"I never really understood, couldn't believe it," he admitted. He eyed the boy sharply. "Can you build a bridge?"
"Not like that." Johnny shook his head. "They have to build it from up there."
"I wasn't talking about a bridge that long, Johnny. Not to another galaxy."
"Well, I'm learning."
"To build your own bridge? Is that what you do on the meadow, practice?"
Johnny looked suddenly shy. "They're teaching me, Mr. Selby. I've built bridges across the river, and sometimes to the moon."
"The moon?" he echoed.
"I've put sticks and rocks up there," Johnny explained.
"How do you do that?"
"I really don't know, Mr. Selby."
"Don't know?" He felt puzzled.
"I never know," Johnny explained. "I can only do it when..." He paused, seeking a word.
"When you're in a trance?" he ventured.
"Something like that," the boy admitted.
"Is that true when you send people to Zamar?"
"It's always true, Mr. Selby."
Selby had the bitter thought that the boy could solve all their problems, if he would. He could lift, smash, hurtle objects through space --
perhaps even bury people, if he wanted. But he wouldn't. He couldn't hurt anyone or anything --
Lora's words came back and he realized the truth of them; Johnny was gentle. Perhaps it was better, he reflected. If Johnny were brutal, or vindictive...He shuddered at the thought.
"We'd better go," he said abruptly. When he reached the hatch leading to the ladder, he turned, the question that had lain deep in his mind coming to the fore. Johnny halted, waiting.
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"You're David Gant, aren't you?" asked Selby.
The answer seemed a long time in coming, and the truth was revealed in Johnny's eyes before he said, "Yes, Mr. Selby."
Selby turned, stumbling into the dim passageway toward the ladder, his mind groping with the knowledge of something that reason and knowledge denied; the impossible had become possible! Yet he'd seen David, seen him in his grave! The picture reeled through his mind. David was Johnny! Or was Johnny David? In a flash of insight he knew what must have happened.
There was no other way.
Somehow he reached the hatch, where Cromwell was waiting. "There's someone on the field,"
the captain murmured.
Selby peered out. The wind had remained down and through the scattered clouds he saw the orange moon almost overhead. It gave a visibility to the field that bothered him. He glanced toward the SocAd ship. A rectangle of light showed through the hatch that opened onto the ramp. A vague warning prickled at his mind, insistently refusing to go away.
Johnny leaned toward him. "Three men," he whispered.
"Where?"
"Near the front of the ship."
Selby peered closer. All at once he detected movement near the base of the ship, and as suddenly it ceased. He calculated their path to the forest, realizing they'd have to chance it.
Leaning toward Johnny, he whispered, "Let's go."
The boy followed him down the ramp. As they reached the field and started toward the trees, a black shadow moved out of the grass and came toward them. Selby glimpsed it and skidded to a halt, starting to hiss a warning.
"It's Rok," Johnny whispered. Selby gave a sigh of relief as the big shaggy dog took form, running to the boy's side. He plunged ahead, all at once anxious to reach the shelter of the forest.
He was but a score of yards from the nearest trees when a dazzling beam of light shot out from the base of the SocAd ship. Sweeping the field, it caught them in its glare and stopped, pinning them against the night.
A voice shattered the darkness: "It's Selby! He's with the boy and that dog!"
"Don't shoot the boy!" someone shouted.
"Get Selby!"
"Run!" Selby shouted. Crouching, he waited for Johnny to pass him before racing in his wake, momentarily expecting to feel the rip of gunfire. Shouts and confusion arose from behind him.
"Get Selby!" The cry came again.
Two bolts of flame sizzled past his head and exploded with blinding flashes against the trees. He heard the branches rip and shred.
As Johnny and the dog vanished into the forest, he plunged in their wake, conscious of his labored breath. Reaching the trees, he cast a backward glance and froze. Between him and the ship lay a long silver corridor of
light.
And down the beam in great galloping leaps, its ears pinned flat against its hideous head, came the groat.
Twelve
"THE GROAT!" The warning escaped from Selby's lips with a strangled croak. He stood, petrified, watching it bear down on him before he whirled and burst into the shelter of the trees.
"Run! Run!" he shouted.
He raised an arm to ward off the branches lashing his face as he scrambled frantically after the slight figure of Johnny and the shaggy yellow dog. Behind him he fancied he heard the thud of Page 80
the groat's paws, its whistling breath as he fought to push the terror from his mind and keep pace with the fleeing boy. Johnny and the dog slipped through the forest with an ease he couldn't match, drawing farther ahead.
Then he heard it -- the snapping of small branches as the groat plunged through the forest. A hideous growling bay broke the night, bringing his terror anew. He pushed ahead more desperately, hearing shouts in the distance.
The scrambling behind him grew louder and all at once he realized the groat was almost at his heels. He had quick visions of being ripped to shreds within seconds before the groat thundered on, catching the boy.
"Johnny!" he screamed, "the trees! The trees! Climb a tree!" Even as he shouted he realized Johnny couldn't hear him; he was too far ahead -- a distance the groat could cover within scant moments.
"The groat, Johnny! Climb a tree!" This time he shouted with his mind.
"Climb a tree! Climb a tree!"
An angry snarl broke the night and twigs snapped from the swift passage of a body through the forest. Fear clutched his heart as he heard the great paws thundering behind him. Whirling, he saw the groat's baleful yellow eyes as it leaped for him, its fangs bared in a snarl.
"The tree!" Selby screamed the words in his mind and threw up his arms to ward off the attack, at the same time propelling his body to one side.
It was the last thing he remembered.
Consciousness came as through a fog. His first sensation was of swaying, of precarious balance, and he groped blindly, finding a limb and clinging to it. He shook his head to clear it, his mind in a haze. The groat! He snapped his eyes open at the recollection, at the same time aware of a small arm supporting him.
"Careful, Mr. Selby." The voice was Johnny's.
Selby's first impression was of height; it took him an instant to realize he was sitting on a branch high in an agora tree. The big shaggy dog floated in mid-air a few feet away.
"Don't be scared, Rok." Johnny reached out carefully and hauled him in, stroking the animal's head. The dog whimpered, nuzzling closer.
Selby cautiously leaned forward and gazed down at a splotch of moonlight on the forest floor; it seemed far away. "What happened?" he asked shakily.
