The Totems of Abydos (10 page)

“Presumably so,” smiled Rodriguez.

“With their own ship, or ships,” said Brenner.

“Ships which might have a considerable value, if obtained in a relatively undamaged condition.”

Brenner swallowed, hard.

A state-of-the-art starship, if taken in salvage, was a trove of equipment and fuel elements.

“But I do not think that we have to worry much about that,” said Rodriguez. “Besides, this is a company ship.” The great companies, of course, maintained their own police, their private armies, and such. Their ships, broadcasting their identificatory signals, commonly negotiated the silent seas of space with impunity. The annual budgets of some of these companies, it might be noted, in passing, exceeded the gross estimated wealth of many worlds.

“But we do have information on the Pons,” said Brenner.

“Certainly,” he said, “but from surveyors and traders, and, in the last century or so, largely from contacts at Company Station.”

“I do not like it,” said Brenner.

“In all likelihood,” said Rodriguez, “the expeditions returned in good order and, in time, filed their reports, their studies and such, and then these documents were later destroyed, or lost, perhaps in one politically mandated revision of knowledge or another.”

“You think then there might be something of interest on Abydos?”

“I think it is possible,” said Rodriguez.

Brenner looked out the port. Perhaps he imagined it, but it seemed to him that the star of Abydos, a yellow star, might appear to a bit larger now than it had earlier.

“We will conduct our researches at Company Station?” said Brenner.

“No,” said Rodriguez. “We are going back, into the forests.”

“That could be dangerous,” said Brenner.

“You won’t find out anything of interest at a trading point,” said Rodriguez. “Besides, we have been invited in, by the Pons themselves.”

“That seems surprising,” said Brenner.

“Yes,” said Rodriguez.

“Perhaps they want to open themselves to cultural contacts,” said Brenner.

“Undoubtedly,” said Rodriguez.

“If we discover anything uncongenial to the home world,” said Brenner, “presumably it, too, in its turn, would be suppressed.”

“Doubtless,” said Rodriguez. “But we will have known it, for a moment at least.”

Brenner shuddered, understanding then a little better the nature of his senior colleague.

“You think there may be something about the “beginning” on Abydos?” said Brenner.

“I think that is possible,” said Rodriguez.

“Totemic societies are unimportant,” said Brenner. “They are an anthropological dead end.”

“That is the official position,” said Rodriguez. “Indeed, if the Pons were thought to be of any serious interest, the sort which might improve a scholar’s credentials, earn him a promotion, secure future fellowships and grants, win prizes, bring recognition and honor to the consortium, and such, it is not we who would be here now, but others, the highly placed sycophants of the metaparty.”

“I am not eager to go back in the forests,” said Brenner.

“You can stay on board,” said Rodriguez. “I can punch enough credits for your return, on the back loop, to some port or another, from which your own credits should suffice for passage back to the home world. Indeed, I suspect that the captain, who seems a good fellow, would be willing to overlook your presence on board, at least to Chios.”

Brenner was silent.

“I’ll speak to the captain in the morning,” said Rodriguez.

“No,” said Brenner.

Rodriguez turned away from the port and stars, to look at Brenner, the adjunct’s face pale in the light from without the port.

“I’ll come with you,” said Brenner.

“Why?” asked Rodriguez.

“It is a voyage of months back to the home world,” said Brenner. “Besides, I accepted the assignment.”

Rodriguez did not free Brenner of his gaze.

“I, too, from what I have heard, am curious about Abydos,” said Brenner.

Rodriguez returned his attention to the vistas beyond the port.

“You were assigned?” asked Rodriguez.

“Yes,” said Brenner.

“I wonder why,” mused Rodriguez.

“I suppose I was suitably unimportant,” said Brenner.

“You are not politically suspect?” asked Rodriguez.

“No,” said Brenner.

“You have not expressed unapproved opinions, or been lax in your overt and frequently reiterated subscription to approved opinions, have you?” asked Rodriguez.

“Certainly not,” said Brenner.

“You have adequately guarded your expressions, and your behaviors, even subtle ones?”

“It is not necessary for me to be on my guard in such matters,” said Brenner.

“You have not betrayed atavistic tendencies?” asked Rodriguez.

“I would think not,” smiled Brenner.

“You have not alienated the directress, have you?”

“Not to my knowledge,” said Brenner.

“She may have sensed something in you that she feared,” said Rodriguez.

“Preposterous,” said Brenner.

“Something that makes her uneasy,” said Rodriguez, “something that even you yourself are unaware of.”

“That seems to me preposterous,” said Brenner.

“I did consult your records,” said Rodriguez, “your origins.”

Brenner stiffened.

“Then you realize that I am unimportant,” said Brenner. To be sure, Brenner was, in effect, without connections, relationships, and family. He was, at any rate, not integrated in one of the major matriarchally traced kinship networks.

“You never knew your father or mother?” asked Rodriguez.

“Of course not,” said Brenner.

Brenner was, in his way, rather the result of an experiment. He was what was known, somewhat disparagingly, even in a time which disparaged disparagements, as a “vat brat,” the result of a fertilization of stored gametes, the development of which was brought to term
in vitro
. The Brenners of Home World tended to be embarrassments, in their way, lingering holdovers from earlier times, from more benighted eras. Most of these materials had been disposed of.

“I am a modernist, and a lifest,” Brenner reminded Rodriguez.

Rodriguez nodded. “I understand,” he said. It would be particularly important to Brenner to fit in, he supposed, to repudiate a dubious, obsolescent genetic heritage which had, in effect, through an eccentric byway of science, found itself precipitated into a time not its own. Perhaps that is why he was given this assignment, Rodriguez speculated to himself, because his genes were feared. On various worlds Rodriguez’ own genetic heritage, and that of those like him, and of other sorts, as well, in the name of the good of the community, had been outlawed. His was a genotype the community was not eager to see perpetuated. No longer did it fit in. The time of the captains, the commanders, the explorers, on such worlds, was gone. There had been agitation on more than one world for Rodriguez to be “smoothed,” or anatomically perfected, that his energies, his passion, his drives, the cutting edge of his intellect, be dulled into conformity. It was not easy, however, to pick up Rodriguez, as it was a more inconspicuous victim and remand him for therapeutic surgery. He was known and, in some circles, seemed to have power. It was even speculated he had connections with various hypothesized underground organizations whose interests might not be identical with those of the community as a whole. Two police who had called for him had been found dead. No further police called for him. It would be enough then to deport him, and deny him future entrance visas to such worlds.

“I knew my father and mother,” said Rodriguez, “when I was little.”

“That is nice,” said Brenner.

“I was about ten,” said Rodriguez, “in Commonworld revolutions,” looking out absently into the stars, at the sun of Abydos, in the distance. “I caught my father abusing my mother. I killed him.”

Brenner was startled, and felt the hair rise on the back of his neck.

“I was her champion, you see,” he said.

“You didn’t know what you were doing,” said Brenner.

“No, I didn’t,” said Rodriguez, “but in a sense more profound than you realize.”

“What happened?” asked Brenner.

“My mother cast me out of the house,” he said. “I lived in the streets. I was alone. I survived.”

“What of your mother?” asked Brenner.

“Shortly after she had cast me out,” he said, “she committed suicide.”

Rodriguez then pressed the first of the recessed buttons at the side of the port, and then the second. The illumination in the lounge was restored, and the plating of the port closed. “Until tomorrow at ten,” said Rodriguez.

“What is wrong?” asked Rodriguez.

“Nothing,” said Brenner.

Rodriguez, with a small motion, pushing off, floated back to the webbing he had occupied. There, steadied by a hand on it, he turned back to regard Brenner.

“Are you afraid?” asked Rodriguez.

“Yes,” said Brenner.

“Of me?” asked Rodriguez.

“No,” said Brenner, after a moment.

“Of the Pons?” asked Rodriguez, skeptically.

“No,” said Brenner. “They are innocent, simple, and inoffensive.”

“Of the forest?” asked Rodriguez.

“From what I have heard of it, yes,” said Brenner.

Rodriguez hooked one arm in the webbing. “Don’t be,” he said. “Come here. Look.”

Brenner, with some skill, that which he had developed in the past weeks, joined Rodriguez at the webbing, and clung to the straps.

Rodriguez opened his small pack, which he seemed never without, that into which the emptied stein had been placed.

“What is it?” asked Brenner.

“It appears to be a telescope, collapsed, does it not?”

“Yes,” said Brenner.

Rodriguez then removed the object from the pack, rotated it 180 degrees and extended it. He also slid a panel back, revealing a breech. Following another adjustment, a trigger, housed in its guard, dropped into view below. “It is a Naxian rifle,” said Rodriguez.

“That is a forbidden weapon,” whispered Brenner, with an eye to the translating equipment, that by means of which they had communicated with the captain. “How did you get it through customs?”

“I picked it up on Chios,” he said. “Things are less tight out here. Too, I did punch out a bribe to a private number twice.”

“It is illegal to have it,” said Brenner.

“Not everywhere,” said Rodriguez.

“Certainly on a company ship, without authorization,” said Brenner.

“And at Company Station, without authorization,” said Rodriguez.

“I would suppose so,” said Brenner.

“Certainly,” said Rodriguez.

In order that this matter may be more clear I might mention that on many worlds weapons were not permitted to citizenries. The result of these ordinances, naturally, was that the citizenries of these worlds, for the most part, found themselves at the mercy of two groups which were somewhat diverse, but were in fact occasionally allied, to speak briefly, authorities and criminals. The means for their own protection was removed from them for their own protection. Interestingly enough, private transportation on various worlds was usually responsible for hundreds of times the deaths that had been wrought by the use of certain classes of weapons in the past, but such transportation was seldom removed from citizenries for their own protection. It might also be noted that private citizens who wished, for one reason or another, to do away with other private citizens, now denied the use of certain classes of weapons, did find themselves forced to new recourses, such as piercing with pointed tools, striking with heavy objects, and administering toxic substances.

“The Naxian rifle is a powerful weapon,” said Brenner.

“This model is,” said Rodriguez.

Brenner looked at the object, alarmed.

“With three charges from this,” said Rodriguez, confidingly, “I could open the side of the ship. One charge would be enough to cut a bull of Sybaris in two.”

“How many charges do you have?” asked Brenner. This was not a simple beam weapon, of the sort with which one might etch patient laceries in steel. The power of this weapon was discharged in concentrated bursts.

“Several,” said Rodriguez.

Brenner looked at him.

“Concealed in rolls of Bertinian leaf,” he said.

“Be careful what you smoke,” said Brenner.

“The charge is armed only in the breech,” grinned Rodriguez.

Brenner nodded. Heat, then, was not the precipitating agent. In that case, one could presumably hold a lighter to one of the cartridges, or charge casings, without getting more than a bad smell.

“What about impact?” asked Brenner.

“Hardly,” said Rodriguez.

“Of course,” said Brenner. Impact-activated charges, connected with firing pins, and such, were seldom found on civilized worlds. To be sure, they were still found here and there, in certain systems. But so, too, here and there, were pointed and edged weapons. Indeed, there were certain interesting worlds which had adopted sophisticated techniques, vehicles, and weapons for interplanetary aggression or planetary self-defense but which, on their own surfaces, had achieved carefully constructed neoprimitivisms, by means of which they sought to exercise ecological caution and liberate the processes of natural selection. On such worlds, by a sort of progress in reverse, were the rights, the ranks, and the glories of nature restored. Some of these worlds were of the sort which Rodriguez would presumably have characterized as “strong.” To be sure, there were features of such worlds which Brenner would doubtless have found deplorable. On them, for example, martial arts were practiced; and on them might be found warring camps, and not infrequently, it must be admitted, slave markets.