End of Exile e-3 Read online

  End of Exile

  ( Exiles - 3 )

  Ben Bova

  Born and brought up on a space ship that is slowly deteriorating, Linc discovers its secrets and the way to get the remaining occupants to their ultimate destination.

  End of Exile

  by Ben Bova

  To Regina, with love and hope for a better tomorrow.

  Book One

  1

  The glass was cold.

  Linc rubbed at it with the heel of his hand and felt the coldness of death sucking at his skin. His whole body trembled. It was chill here in the darkness outside the Ghost Place, but it wasn’t the cold that made him shake.

  Still he had to decide. Peta’s life hung in the balance. And before he could decide, Linc had to know.

  Wiping his freezing hand against the thin leg of his ragged coverall, Linc peered through the misty glass into the Ghost Place.

  They were there, just as they’d always been.

  More of them than Linc could count. More than the fingers of both hands. Ghosts.

  They looked almost like real men and women. But of course no one that old still lived in the Wheel. The adults were all dead—all except Jerlet, who lived far up above the Wheel.

  The ghosts were frozen in place, just as they had always been. Most of them were seated at the strange machines that stretched along one long wall of the place. Some of them were on the floor; one was kneeling with its back against the other wall, eyes closed as if in meditation. Most of them had their backs to Linc, but the few faces he could see were twisted in agony and terror. He shuddered as he thought of the first time he had seen them, when he had been barely big enough to scramble atop an old dead servomech’s shoulder and peek through the mist-shrouded window at the horrifying sight beyond.

  It doesn’t scare me now, Linc told himself.

  But still he could feel cold sweat trickling down his thin ribs; the smell of fear was real and pungent.

  The ghosts stayed at their posts, staring blankly at the long curving wall full of strange machines. The strange buttons and lights; the wall screens above them were just as blank as’ the ghosts’ eyes—most of them. Linc’s heart leaped inside him as he saw a few of the screens still flickering, showing strange shadowy pictures that changed constantly.

  Some of the machines still work! he realized.

  The ghosts had been people once. Real people, just like Magda or Jerlet or any of the others. But they never moved, never breathed, never relaxed from their agonized frozen stares at the dead and dying machines.

  They were real people once. And someday… someday I’ll become a ghost. Like them. Frozen. Dead.

  But some of the ancient machines were still working; some of the wall screens still lived. Does that mean that the machines are meant to keep on working? Does it mean that I should try to fix the machine that Peta broke?

  His whole body was shaking badly now. It was cold here in the darkness. Linc had to get back to the living section, where there was light and warmth and people. Living people. Maybe it was true that the ghosts walked through the Wheel’s passageways when everyone was asleep. Maybe all the frightening stories that Magda told were true.

  It was a long and painful trek back to the living area. Many passageways were blocked off, sealed by heavy metal hatches. Other long sections were too dangerous for a lone traveler. Rats prowled there hungrily.

  Linc had to take a tube-tunnel up to the next level, where he felt so much lighter that he could almost glide like one of the bright-colored birds down in the farming section of the Living Wheel. He stretched his legs and covered more paces in one leap than he had fingers on a hand.

  Here in the second level it was fun. The corridors were empty and dark. The doors along them closed tight. There were strange markings on each door; Linc couldn’t understand them, but Jerlet had promised long ago to someday show him what they meant.

  He was alone and free here, soaring down the corridor, letting his muscles lift his suddenly lightened body for long jumps down the shadowy passageway. He forgot the ghosts, forgot Peta’s trouble, forgot even Jerlet and Magda. There was nothing in his mind except the thrill of almost-flying, and the words of an ancient song. His voice had deepened not long ago, and no longer cracked and squeaked when he tried to sing. He was happily impressed with it as he heard it echoing off the bare corridor walls:

  “Weeruffa seethu wizzer Swunnerfool wizzeruv oz—”

  Then he sailed past a big observation window and skidded to a stop, nearly falling as he braked his momentum, and turned to look through the broad expanse of plastiglass.

  The stars were circling slowly outside, quiet and solemn and unblinking. So many stars! More stars than there were people down in the Living Wheel. More than the birds and insects and pigs and all the other animals down in the farms. More even than the rats. So many.

  Was he right about Jerlet’s teachings? It seemed to Linc that some of Jerlet’s words meant that the Living Wheel—and all the other wheels up at the higher levels—were actually part of a huge machine that was whirling around and carrying them from one star to another. Linc shook his head. Jerlet’s words were hard to figure out; and besides, that was Magda’s job, not his.

  Then the yellow star swung into view. It was brighter than all the rest, so bright that it hurt Linc’s eyes to look at it. He squinted and turned his face away, but still saw the brilliant spot of yellow before his eyes, wherever he looked.

  After a few moments it faded away. And Linc’s blood froze in his veins.

  For he saw stretched across the scuffed, worn floor plates of the passageway a vague dark shadow stretching out, reaching up the far wall across the passageway from the window.

  His own shadow, Linc realized quickly. But that brought no relief from fear. For the light casting the shadow came from the yellow star.

  It really is getting closer to us, Linc told himself. The old legends are true!

  Keeping his back to the window and the yellow star, staring at his slowly shifting shadow, Linc felt panic clutching at him.

  The yellow star is coming to get us. It’s going to make ghosts of us all!

  2

  Linc had no idea how long he stayed, nearly paralyzed with fear, at the observation window. His shadow crept across the floor and up the far wall of the passageway, faded into darkness, then reappeared again. And again, And again.

  Finally he pulled himself away, muttering, “If I tell the others about this, they’ll go crazy. But Magda… I’ve got to tell Magda.”

  His voice sounded odd, even to himself. Shaky, high, and unsure. “I wish Jerlet was still with us.”

  He stalked down the passageway purposefully, no more playful lightweighted leaps. Into the next open hatch he ducked, then stopped at the platform that opened onto the longspiraling metal stairs of the tube-tunnel. Jerlet was upward, in the far domain where legends said there was no weight at all and everything floated in midair. Downward were the others, his own people, in the Living Wheel, where there was warmth and food and life.

  And fear.

  “Jerlet. I’ve got to find Jerlet,” Linc told himself sternly, even though he had no idea of how far the journey would be, or how difficult.

  Linc placed his slippered foot on the first cold metal step leading upward. But he heard a scuffling sound—faint as a breath, but enough to make him freeze in his steps.

  Again. A faint rustling sound in the darkness. Something soft padding on the metal steps in the shadows below.

  Rats? Linc wondered.

  There hadn’t been any rats in this tube-tunnel for a long time. although it had taken the death of four of Linc’s friends to clear the tunnel of them. The little monsters fought fiercely when they couldn’t run or hide.
/>   Linc gripped the hilt of his only weapon, a slim blade that had once been a screwdriver. He had ground the working end down until it was a sharp dagger. Holding the plastic hilt in a suddenly sweaty palm, Linc peered into the darkness of the tunnel, looking down the spiraling steps for the glint of red, beady eyes.

  If there’s too many of them —

  The shadows seemed to bunch up and take shape. A person.

  “Petal!” Linc shouted; and his voice echoed off the tube’s cold metal walls.

  The kid jumped as if sparks from a machine had seared him.

  “Peta, it’s me, Linc. Don’t be afraid.”

  “Linc! Oh, Linc—” Peta scrambled up the steps and grabbed at Linc’s outstretched hand. He was breathless, sweaty, wide-eyed.

  “What are you doing up here?” Linc asked. “I thought you were waiting for Magda to…”

  “I’ve got to get away! Monel and his guards… they’re after me!”

  Linc thought of Peta as just a kid, although all the people in the Living Wheel were exactly the same age, of course. But Peta was small, his skin pink and soft, his hair as yellow as the star that was coming toward them. He looked more like a child than a young man. Linc, whose face was bony and dark with the beginnings of a beard, towered over him.

  Linc held the slim youth by both shoulders. “Listen. You’re supposed to be waiting for judgment by Magda. You can’t run away.”

  Peta’s hands were fluttering wildly. “But Monel and his guards… he said I’d broken the pump on purpose. He said they were going to cast me into outer darkness!”

  “He can’t do that—”

  “But Magda can. He said Magda told him that’s what she was going to judge.”

  Linc shook his head. “No, Magda wouldn’t make up her mind before hearing your side of it.”

  Peta glanced back over his shoulder. “I was hungry. And tired. I’d been working in the tanks for a long time… everybody else had a chance to eat, but Slav said I couldn’t stop until I finished weeding my whole tank.”

  “Slav knows what’s right,” Linc said. “He’s fair.”

  Even in the shadowy light of the tube-tunnel, Linc could see Peta’s normally pink face had gone completely white with fright. “I know… but I stuffed the weeds I had pulled into the water trough.”

  “Oh no—” Linc could feel the back of his neck tensing. “And they clogged the pump…?”

  Peta nodded dumbly.

  “And that’s why the pump broke, and now half the farm tanks can’t get water,” Linc finished. “Half our food supply is ruined.”

  Peta’s voice was a miserable whine. “Monel came to my compartment with his guards. They took me out… said they were taking me to the deadlock to… to cast me out.”

  “He can’t do that!”

  “I ran away from them,” Peta babbled on. “I grabbed the stick that Monel carries and hit the guard that was holding my arm and ran away.”

  “You what?”

  “I… hit… the guard.” It was a tortured whisper.

  “You hit him? You really struck him?” Linc sank down onto the metal step and let his head droop into his hands. Peta stood fidgeting in front of him, his mouth opening but nothing coming out except a barely audible squeak.

  Looking up at him again, Linc asked, “How could you do it? If you had deliberately tried to break every rule Jerlet’s given us you couldn’t have done worse.”

  “They were going to push me into the deadlock,” Peta cried.

  Linc shook his head.

  “Help me!”

  “Help you?” Linc spread his hands helplessly. “How? Half the people will starve because you were lazy. Maybe I can fix the pump, but you know Jerlet’s laws about touching the machines. And you hit a guard. Violence! All the tales about the wars and the killings… didn’t they mean anything to you?”

  “They were going to cast me out!”

  “Not even Monel would do that without Magda’s judgment,” Linc snapped. “I’m no friend of his, Jerlet knows. There’s a lot about him I can’t stand. But he’d never hurt you with anything except his tongue. He and his guards were playing with you, and you were stupid enough to believe they meant what they were saying. Only Magda can give punishment, you know that.”

  Peta dropped to his knees and clutched at Linc. “Help me, please! They’ll take me back for judgment—”

  “That’s just what you deserve.”

  “No! Please! Hide me… help me get away from them.”

  Linc shook his head. “You can’t hide away, all by yourself. You’d either starve or have to steal food; Monel’s guards would catch you sooner or later. Or the rats would.”

  “Please Linc! Do something. Don’t let them get me. They’ll…”

  Linc pushed him away and stood up. “Come on, I’m taking you to Magda.”

  “Noooo,” Peta cried.

  “The best thing is to give yourself up. Maybe she’ll make your punishment easier then. I’ll ask her to go easy on you.”

  “Very well spoken!”

  Linc wheeled around. From out of the darkness above him, Monel and three guards came down the metal stairs. Two of the guards held Monel’s chair, grunting with each step they took. Another three guards appeared out of the shadows on the steps below them.

  Monel was smiling. Once he had been as tall as Linc, but since the fall that ruined his legs and forced him to stay forever in his chair, his body had seemed to shrivel and dry out. Now he was a twisted, frail knot of anger and pain. His eyes burned in the darkness. His voice was as brittle-thin and hurtful as a bare high-voltage wire.

  “Don’t look so surprised, little Peta,” he said in his thin, acid-bitter voice. “Once we saw you scramble into this tunnel it was a simple matter to set a trap for you.”

  Linc bent down and, as gently as he could, lifted the wordless Peta to his feet.

  “I thought for a moment,” Monel said to Linc, “that we would catch you in the trap, too. But you turned out to be a loyal friend of Magda.”

  Linc said nothing. He could see in the dimness a dark welt along the cheek of one of the guards. Must be where Peta hit him.

  Monel’s smile was blood-chilling. “Let’s go see Magda now. She’s waiting for her little Peta.”

  3

  The meeting room was filled. All the people were there; many more than the fingers of both Linc’s hands. More even than the knuckle joints on each finger.

  Magda sat in the center of the meeting room, as she should. She sat on the old desk with its tiny, dead viewing screen and the pretty colored buttons alongside it. Everyone sat on the floor tiles around her, as they should. All eyes were on Magda. Even the empty shelves that lined the walls of the big room seemed to be staring at her. There were only a few ancient books left on the shelves, dusty and crumbling. They were being saved for an emergency, for a time when the cold seeped so deeply into the Living Wheel that even this last precious bit of fuel would be needed. All the other books had been used for warmth long ago, before Linc could remember.

  Magda sat on the desk, her back straight, her chin high, her eyes closed. Her slim legs were folded under her in the correct manner for her duty as priestess. Her dark hair was carefully combed and glistened in the shadowless light from the ceiling panels.

  She wore her priestess’s robe, and although it was threadbare and patched in places, the strange signs and lettering on it still stood out boldly: ELCTRC BLNKT, II0 v, AC ONLY. In her right hand was the wand of power and authority, which the ancients called a sliderule; in her left was the symbol of justice and compassion, an infant’s skull. Around her waist was the golden chain of the zodiac, with its twelve mysterious signs.

  Linc sat at Magda’s feet, close enough to the desk to reach out and touch it. Which no one in his right mind would dare to do. The desk was sacred to the priestess, and not to be touched by ordinary hands.

  He looked up at Madga’s face, framed by the huge silver-gray wall screen behind her. When she was se
rving in her office as priestess and meditating, as she was now, Magda seemed to be unable to see anyone, so fiercely did she concentrate on her duty.

  Still she was beautiful. Her eyes were darker than the eternal night outside the Wheel. Her face as finely cast as the most delicate tracings of the golden zodiac signs. Yet there was strength and authority in those high-arched cheekbones and firm jawline. And wisdom came from her lips.

  She stirred and opened her eyes. The crowd sighed and shifted uneasily. Her meditation was ended.

  Magda’s deep black eyes focused on the people. She swept her gaze across the room and smiled.

  “I’m ready,” she said simply.

  Monel started to push his wheeled chair forward, but Linc was faster and got to his feet. Peta, sitting flanked by two of Monel’s guards, didn’t move at all. He seemed petrified, too terrified even to tremble.

  “We have a problem,” Linc said in the time-honored words of custom. “Peta messed up his work at the farm tanks and one of the main pumps is broken because of his carelessness—”

  A gasp went through the crowd. Most of them already knew about the pump’s breakdown, but still the thought of losing half their food shocked them.

  Magda glanced at Peta but said nothing.

  “And then when Monel and his guards threatened him,” Linc went on, “Peta hit one of the guards and ran away.”

  The crowd sighed again, louder this time. Whispers buzzed through them.

  The priestess’s face went cold. “Is this true, Monel?” she asked.

  Monel wheeled his chair up to where Linc was standing and motioned his bruised guard to step forward. “The evidence is clear to see,” he said. The guard turned slowly so that the whole crowd could gape at his bruised face.

  “Peta was frightened,” Linc said. “Monel told him they were taking him to the deadlock.”

  “A lie!” Monel snapped. “Peta was running away and we tried to stop him.”