Part 28 (1/2)

”Take it,” I said. ”Take it all! It has done me no d.a.m.n good.”

Jim Dark smirked and stroked his chin.

It seemed to me then that this ridiculous man was the agent of retribution for all the things I had done wrong in my life and all the good I had meant to do but I had not done.

From outside there was a thump and the light from the one high window s.h.i.+fted, illuminating a stack of rusty old tools. Now you know that I am not a religious man but I felt that that little shed was full of something bigger than both of us and that what ever it was it had worked out my fate. It was as if there was a plan to the world and it had nothing to do with my dreams and ambitions or the pride of men like Mr. Baxter or the machinations of Gun and Line or what ever the Folk might have in mind. Gentleman Jim Dark was a preposterous fraud and a bully and a crook and a small and mean man but perhaps he was what I deserved.

”Take it,” I said. ”Take it and be done with it.”

He nodded, and stuffed it into his pockets. Then he stood.

”Now will you come with me quietly, Professor? Otherwise I'll have to shoot you too- I had a h.e.l.l of a time getting in here and I'll have a h.e.l.l of a time getting you out if you won't come quietly.”

”No,” I said.

”No, you will not come quietly?”

I nodded.

He shrugged, and drew. I closed my eyes.

The next I knew he pushed past me, laughing and slapping me on the back.

”You're a good sport, Ransom. It would be a waste to shoot you- I want to know what you'll do next. See you again, I'll bet.”

He stepped lightly over the adjutant and Adela, and out through the door, leaving it swinging open behind him.

I had been mistaken. He was not the agent of my punishment. He was the agent of my deliverance. He had given me my freedom. I did not know what to do with it and I did not especially want it.

I was wrong about the money, too. I could have done a lot of good with it, certainly more than Gentleman Jim Dark would have done. I do not believe what he said about the widows and orphans for a moment. That is what comes of doing business when you are not thinking straight.

On the other hand the device he stole from me was just seventy-five pounds of junk. That is not because I had the foresight to expect that it would fall into the hands of the Gun- I won't lie to you. It was junk because I did not trust the Republic with the Apparatus either. I did not trust anyone with the Apparatus, and I still do not. Sometimes I am not sure I trust myself with it. Anyhow I had planned to trick the soldiers of the Republic with junk, then try to escape. What Mr. Dark walked away with whistling was just a suitcase full of junk, and though it looked clever it did nothing at all and there was nothing that anyone could learn from it except that you should not count your chickens before they hatch, and you should keep an eye out for pigs in pokes. Those are good rules in science, business, and life.

Since he has never come after me again I guess that some bad luck befell Mr. Dark in the fighting after Harrow Cross fell, and now he has pa.s.sed into the history-books. Like he said, there are not a lot of his kind left anymore.

I stayed with Adela and the poor adjutant for a while and I said my farewells until I could stand it no longer. Then I gathered up the letters and walked out into the streets of the Station. The light was gone. Some time during my conversation with Gentleman Jim Dark it had stopped growing, and fallen in on itself. I was not pleased. I had thought that I might sit on the sidewalk and wait for it to wash over me, or walk into it and be consumed. Its expansion had been unstable, and had collapsed. That seemed to me to be just one more of my many failures. Even my disasters were unstable.

In the darkening sky up above Arch Six Heavier-Than-Air Vessels circled each other and I guess they were fighting. I could not tell which belonged to which side.

There were no more phantoms. The door had closed. Now there were just people running in every direction.

I headed east, sticking with crowds. When all else fails you you can always follow a crowd and at least it will keep you moving. We were looking to get as far away from the fighting as possible. Eventually something exploded- masonry fell- I was not injured but someone behind me was and then people started running in a panic and I was knocked off my feet and hit my head on the concrete.

CHAPTER 33.

LAST WORDS.

I recall waking to bustle and screaming and stink and swaying lamps, then sleeping again. I recall that this happened a number of times- I cannot say how many- before I woke really and truly.

I lay on a hard camp-bed. I was in a tent.

I raised my hand to my head to feel my bruises and then I lay with my head in my hands for some time. I did not feel that I had escaped. I felt that I had lost everything.

After a while I stood. I saw that the tent was full of beds, and the beds were full of injured men and women and children, and many more of them lay on the floor. Some of them looked like citizens of Harrow Cross and some of them did not. It was hard to tell them apart. A woman screamed and a man shouted at her to be silent.

It did not seem that anyone was doing anything for any of us. My first instinct was to protest. I stood, unsteadily, and said, ”I will- I'll see- don't worry.” I took a few steps to the tent's door then fell.

When I woke again I was lying on the ground looking up at the stars. A woman stood over me. It was Dr. Lysvet Alverhuysen, or Miss Elizabeth Harper as I cannot help thinking of her, what ever the history-books may call her. She wore white and she carried a candle.

”Harry,” she said, in a whisper.

”Miss Harper!”

”It is you, then.” She did not look entirely pleased to see me. ”I wasn't sure. You've changed.”

”Well, it's been a long time since White Rock, and I haven't been out on the road in a while. I guess I may have put on weight. You've changed, too.”

She had. She was a little older. She was not so thin any more, in fact she was becoming somewhat comfortably heavy-set. She looked well, and she did not look so uncertain of herself or so driven and hunted as she had been out on the Rim..

”Last I heard you were First Speaker of the Republic,” I said. ”I was proud of you. A great role in history. I guess you're doctoring again now? Also a n.o.ble profession.”

”It was ceremonial,” she said. ”I made speeches about the necessity for struggle until I could stand it no more.”

She sat on the gra.s.s beside me.

”In the stories from back in- back in the old country- there was a spirit called the Mother of Battles. I began to feel- well, it hardly matters. Yes, I quit. Now I follow the army.”

Later in our conversation she had some sharp-tongued things to say about the government of the reborn Red Republic, and about the administration of President Hobart IV. I guess she would prefer that I not repeat them.

”How is John Creedmoor?”

”I don't know what he's up to these days. We haven't spoken since Chatillon.”

I guess she was talking about the fighting there. I never heard any stories about John Creedmoor at Chatillon, but that does not mean he did not do anything terrible there.

”Well,” I said. ”I'm happy you're happy.”

”I know a thing or two about head injuries, Harry. You'll be all right.”

”All right?” I touched my bruises again.

Something in my expression made her say, ”You lost someone.”

”Yes.”