Oblivious to all but her brother's need of aid she sobbed, "Keeven!
Keeven, open your eyes!"
Grimly the Senior advanced upon her, gun-butt raised. He brought it
smashing down.
Allyn sprang. He caught the Senior's lowering hand, and twisted it
sharply back. The gun dropped while a scream of pain filled the cabin.
Allyn stopped the cry with a chopping fist that felled the Gard.
The pilot came out of his seat to his superior's assistance. Allyn
caught the movement through the corner of his eyes. Whirling he met the
charge, and they thrashed to the floor.
The pilot was wiry and gripped Allyn's throat, cutting off air. He
pounded the face above him with clenched fists but, inexorably, the
fingers tightened. Allyn's sight dimmed, and sound became distorted.
The pilot felt him weaken, and shifted for a harder grip. In that
respite Allyn drew his knees up, lashed out with his feet, sending
the other floundering back. Before he could recover Allyn leaped
forward, bringing his hands down in a rabbit punch that knocked the man
unconscious.
Groggily Allyn rose. His wavering sights caught the red flutter
of a cloak in the open door. He charged, head lowered, across the
intervening space, caught an incoming Gard flush in mid-section,
knocking him into his companions. Catching himself against the door,
Allyn pulled back, snapping it shut.
Breathing hard he made unsteadily for the pilot seat. His long fingers
moved over the dials of the control panel, and the craft rose smoothly
into the air. He looked out the window, and saw the recovered Gard
raising weapons against them. A spurt of flame missed the motor. The
second was true to its target, but short. They were too high to be
reached now. He saw the scarlet clad figures make for their gyros and
he jabbed the dials for maximum speed and height.
"Bring the Senior's keys from his pouch," he told Marva over his
shoulder, "and take their guns."
He heard her chains rattle as she moved, and his lips set.
* * * * *
In a moment she was beside him with the keys and guns. He set the dials
to automatic, laid the guns on the co-pilot seat and turned to free her.
The irons fell from her wrists and throat. Where they had been the
silken skin was angry red. Hard eyed he took the chains and snapped
them on the unconscious Senior. He similarly released Keeven, who was
beginning to stir, and fettered the pilot with his irons.
Back to the controls he went. From the view-plate he saw the Forbidden
Area black and pock-marked below. Ahead, at the horizon, sky and earth
pulsed gold-orange. The Barrier!
Nothing living had been so close before. Long it stretched, from
horizon to horizon, a thin stream of living light.
They winged closer. Allyn felt his hands grow clammy on the controls.
Inherent terror sat leaden in his stomach. The whispered warnings of
the elders, thought lost in childhood, came to weird life in his mind,
making him want to turn, even back to the knives of the medics rather
than face the strange glow ahead.
He half-turned the ship, and saw, like birds in the distance, the
formations of Gyro-Gard.
"Allyn," Marva whispered, her voice a plea.
He turned his head. Her dark eyes begged him, and he moved the
controls--straight ahead--to the light....
His communication board glowed. Quickly he answered to see the black
and scarlet robed Junior Gard on the visiscreen.
"Surrender!" was the cold command, "or you die in the flame!"
He glanced to the rear view-plate. Their pursuers hung in space, not to
follow, but to bar retreat. There was no turning....
He smiled grimly and snapped the switch to cut contact.
They were close now, close enough for Allyn to see the truth. There
were no fires, as legend told. Perhaps once there had been a holocaust
that pulsed toward the sky and ate of the earth, but now, in the canal,
was only the residue, a radiation that reflected upward like heat
shimmers.
He felt Marva's hand tremble on his, like a frightened butterfly. He
caught that hand, pressed it convulsively to his lips, and then they
were directly over the radiance.
The gyro bucked, and plunged. As a moth it fell toward the light. The
shock flung them forward. He sensed Marva's fall, but had no time
for thought, other than an involuntary reaching for the controls.
He strained to right the possessed ship, working against the siren
radiations that pulled it down.
Brightness was about them. Skins shown golden, eyes were dazzled.
The gyro resisted Allyn's manual commands. Fingers numb with the
pull, he fought. Slowly the nose eased up, giving them a precious
moment's gain. The gyro shuddered--a doomed thing. He coaxed it
further, but again the nose dipped. And again he brought it up! And
then--abruptly--the pull was gone. The brilliance faded.
They were past the Barrier!
Astounded they looked at one another. Bereft of speech or comprehension
they could only stare. Save for the swiftly fading light they were as
before--unchanged, unscathed. And behind them the Barrier pulsed, with
no sign of transgression.
"Am I different?" Marva whispered.
He shook his head mutely.
A hoarse exclamation turned them to the others in the cabin. They too
were fully conscious and aware of the unbelievable thing that had
happened. They too stared at themselves and at each other, and then
they rose, the Numen unsteady in their chains, and scrambled for a look
at what lay below.
The land was devastated. A twin to the Forbidden Area! Allyn thought he
must be mad. Surely they had gone through! And there at the boundary
mark was a rotted fence to mark off the Area before the waste land
became mutilated forestry.
Everything was the same! Everything--but the Gyro-Gard were not
there....
* * * * *
Then they saw the forest. It was not the same, not the one they had
left. It was smaller and terminated in the muddy bank of a twisted
river. On the opposite bank were scattered signs of habitation. But
such habitation! The style was squat, the material was red oblong
blocks set in rows upon each other.
There were grain fields. People working in the fields looked up at
their passing, and evidenced excitement. People working in the open!
Unsheltered by hills or caves!
Habitations became more frequent, and soon they flew over the square of
a town. A town unprotected by a Nyloplast screen!
Allyn brought the aircraft lower. People were congregating in the
square, gesticulating.
Allyn felt a stirring in his mind and, as plain as spoken words: "Come
down. Land."
Hesitantly his fingers touched the controls. The thoughts in his brain
were gentle, encouraging. He glanced at Marva. Her eyes were on the
scene below, dreamy, lips half parted. Behind her Keeven watched.
There was eagerness in his face.
"It's safe," he said to Allyn's questioning glance. "I sense it. They
are friendly."
Allyn felt it too. There was reassurance in the sight of people
gathering, without fear, in an unprotected area. He brought the gyro to
a landing in the cleared space of the square.
Nevertheless he took gun in hand when he came to the door. Cautiously
he opened it.
And saw a sight beyond believing.
These people were an impossibility! Dark haired people with silver
eyes--silver eyed people with vari-colored hair! A cross-breeding of
Olmen and Numen! It was absurd! Inconceivable!
A path opened in the throng for a man who was obviously the leader.
Like the others, he was an impossibility. He was tallest of all, with
silver eyes and his hair was long and incredibly red. There was a red
growth of hair on his chin where no Numan could grow hair.
"Welcome, strangers from beyond the Radiation. Welcome to York. I am
Jon, Elder of York."
A thrill pierced Allyn. He stared at the smiling man, the smiling
people behind him. No word had been spoken. Yet the words had been
clear in his brain.
Telepaths!
Marva gasped as she realized this too. "Why they aren't even surprised
to see us."
Jon's answer was benign. "We know why you are here. You have not
closed your minds to us. We knew that someday the Radiation would be
conquered. It was predicted that generations would become acclimated to
radioactivity and eventually find it no different to their systems than
air or water."
The thought was startling. But it gave the voyagers new hope. Perhaps
they would here find a weapon to shatter the dome! Perhaps find new
life for Nuwomen! Eagerly they came out of the gyro.
That was their error. The Senior-Gard hurled to the door, catching
the handle with his chained hands. Keeven turned. Too late! The door
slammed shut. The Olman struck at the door with fists like battering
rams. To no avail. The gyro hummed, lifted straight up, and went
winging back toward the Barrier.
"They're going for reinforcements!" Agitated Allyn turned to Jon.
"They'll return and attack your town."
The Elder's eyes twinkled. "There is no fear in York. Come to my
dwelling. You will eat, and perhaps we can help you find what you seek."
He led the way to one of the strange red colored houses. Inside were
fabric hangings over the windows, and fabric covering the floor and
furniture. Allyn found it colorful, but too barbaric for his own
austere taste. The Elder's mate, a silver haired woman with friendly
blue eyes came to serve them.
Over the dishes of unfamiliar, but steamingly good food, Jon told of
the ancient records preserved in the archives. The records told of
the Originals of the Earth, a mighty but warlike race. Their terrible
weapons had laced the earth with Bands of Radiation whose rays had
changed the genes of mankind. The Numen were evolved from this. But
many Originals had gone underground, in lead-impregnated shelters,
staying there for countless generations. These were the Olmen,
untouched by the first and strongest radiations.
In York, when the Olmen came again to the surface, they found the
Numen decreasing as their women died in childbirth. At first there
was antagonism between the groups but, on several occasions younger
and more lustful Numen seized Olwomen, and from that mating it was
discovered that only in cross-breeding was there survival.
"Our medics," the Elder explained, "have found that pure breeding of
Numen created a negative factor in the blood of the unborn child.
These negative antibodies erupted into the positive bloodstream of
the mother, causing a jaundiced condition that affects the brain,
leading to death in labor. Yet that same X-condition goes through
transformation in the baby's system after the birth eruption so
that, by the age of one year, the child is of positive blood. The
weird X-factor holds true only in pure Numan breeding, seldom in
cross-breeding."
But Keeven said moodily, "The Numen will not believe this. They will
come with their gyros to destroy York for heresey." He leaned across
the table. "But there are weapons," he told the Elder. "Our legends say
there are weapons to blast the Nyloplast dome. If we are the victors,
Numen will have to listen."
Jon shook his head. "There are no weapons. They were destroyed by the
Originals when they saw how they had destroyed themselves. But there
is a way." He looked at Allyn. "It is a hard way--and dangerous, but
perhaps you can do it."
And he told them.
* * * * *
Hours later the three went back alone. Back to the lip of the radiant
crater. In quietness they waited.
Toward dawn, like dark glistening moths out of the radiance, came a
squadron of gyros. The leading craft spotted the figures below, dipped
and came down. The others hovered in space, watchful. When the lead
gyro landed, its door swung open and the red-cloaked Senior sprang out,
flame gun ready.
The trio raised their arms in surrender. In a moment they were disarmed
and hustled into the gyro. Their craft took the lead, rising high so
the pull above the Barrier would be lessened. Even so it took master
maneuvering to keep the ship steady till they were through.
Within the hour the Nyloplast dome came shimmering into view. At a
signal over the communication system, the top-right section leading to
the hangars slid open, and the gyros droned through. When they landed,
the captives were prodded out of the hangar into the dazzling morning
light reflected more brilliantly from the Nyloplast screen.
The hygienic whiteness of the city struck Allyn forcefully, as though
he viewed it for the first time. They were led to a large, gleaming
white building, into a high vaulted audience room. Straight ahead was
the dais of marbleized seats where the Logicians met in Council. They
sat there now, in full knowledge that Allyn would be in judgment before
them. Metas, in skull cap and robes of judgment, sat in the center,
regarding them with cold eyes.
Allyn lifted a hand in salute of respect.
The Council was silent.
Drawing a deep breath Allyn glanced once at Keeven and Marva who were
flanked by watchful Gards. "I bring hope for our people," he began and
quickly recounted his adventures past the Barrier.
The council listened dispassionately. With sinking heart Allyn realized
his words were in vain. Numan belief in the animalism of Olman was too
deep set. Mate with the beast! He saw the distaste in their expressions.
"You go beyond the bounds of taste," Metas warned. "There is only one
reason you are still alive, Allyn. You must consent to the mating as
decreed."
"I cannot. It would mean Aleena's death. Besides, I love Marva of the
Olmen."
Horror rippled through the Council.
"Take them to the Syko Room!" Metas thundered. "I will administer Hypno
myself."
They were dragged to a side door, down a narrow corridor, into the
thick doored syko room. Allyn knew it well--those white walls cunningly
concealing lights and mirrors to stun the mind. The padded tables with
bands of iron. He was pushed to a table, strapped down, flat on his
back. Marva started toward him, but was flung back by a Gard and forced
to stand against the wall beside her brother, while their captors stood
with flame guns ready.
The stony faced Chief Logician adjusted switches. Lights dimmed.
Mirrors of various colors danced light spots before Allyn's eyes. He
felt his senses swimming. He clenched his fists. Sweat stood out on his
brow.
Metas leaned over him, soft voiced, soothing. Allyn's mind strained
against the lure. There was something he had to remember--a lesson,
important as life itself.
Oh, how the lights spun! If he could sleep! Sleep! The voice
lured--sleep!
"Allyn! RESIST!" Marva's voice! Then a Gard's fist silenced her.
RESIST! The key. Jon's words: "They can't hypno you unless you already
believe. Don't believe! Resist!"
Then he fought back. Against the soothing sibilance. Against the
dancing lights. He turned his thoughts inward, to things of his
childhood, to sights he had seen; gray rats chasing a man; an empty
cradle in an empty hut; Marva sweet in his arms, perfume in her
hair.... And his teeth were clenched over his lips. The pain was cruel,
relentless. His nails in his palms. Pain and memory to fight sleep!
And he won!
The full white light flashed on. The siren voices died. The promising
lights were defeated. He blinked his tired, weighted eyes. And Metas
stood there.
"You have not succumbed," the Logician whispered. His face was haggard
with strain. "No one has ever resisted hypno."
He turned to one of the Gard: "Bring Aleena." Bitter-eyed he said to
Allyn, "Perhaps your consent will come quicker if the medics work on
your sister."
"Metas," Allyn strained against his bonds, "if you harm her I will
bring the Dome crashing about us."
The Logician leaned forward: "Ah, then you found the weapons of the
Originals."
"No, only the power of the York folk...."
"If they are so mighty, why did they not cross the Barrier?"
"They need a vessel." Allyn tried to explain: "It is like transmitting
and receiving waves. They will transmit, and through me you will
receive super-sonics that will shatter the dome."
Metas laughed.
* * * * *
It was hopeless. Talk would never convince him. The door opened. They
brought Aleena in. She started at sight of her brother, and her face
went pale. But they pushed her roughly to a table and began to strap
her down.
Allyn shut his eyes against the room, shut his ears against sound. He
flung open his mind, cancelling all imagery, so the York folk could
come through.
"Jon! Jon of York!" Out against the miles he hurled his voiceless plea.
Over and over he called.
Gentle tendrils touched his brain. At first it was like a whisper.
There were no words. But the whisper grew--grew to crescendo. It pulled
at every nerve in his body, used every particle that composed him. He
shook with vibrations. His body was a stringed weapon out of which
poured wares pitched too high for hearing. He was blind and deaf and
mute--an empty vessel from which poured destruction.
He did not know how long he was gone out of the shell of his body.
Slowly, gradually, his trembling stilled. Identity settled back inside
him. Sound came back. Over and over, the soft sobbing of his name:
"Allyn! Allyn!"
Hazily the room came to focus. Vague outlines of a face above him.
Featureless, at first. Dark hair, all atumble, dark eyes aglisten with
tears. His cheek was wet with her tears.
"Marva," his voice came hardly out of him.
Behind her the Logicians were grouped, white and sick of face.
"You cracked the dome!" Metas' words were hoarse ill past believing.
_Cracked the dome!_
He could have shouted. Had he been free he might have danced. He sent a
voiceless thanks to the Redbearded Elder. "We've done it."
His eyes shone. "Now do you believe," he cried aloud, "now will you
admit that York folk who could achieve such power could achieve
survival. Give us a year," he asked, "a year of grace--a chance to
prove they were right."
The room was still.
The answer he asked was past all teachings, past ingrained traditions.
Would they consent?
The whispered amongst themselves. Allyn's eyes went to Marva, to
Keeven, and to the newly freed Aleena. Their glances on him were wide,
troubled and hopeful, anxious and eager. They barely breathed as Metas
came away from his group.
"Allyn," he said, "you are a throwback so you would be willing to mate
with an Olman. But who amongst us would do likewise?"
"I will!"
The answer, proud and unhesitating, came from Aleena. And her eyes were
on Keeven. "I do not find Olmen as bestial as our tales have warned."
Keeven's breath caught. He leaned forward drinking sight of the filmy
clad beauty as a wanderer at sight of his home.
Metas made a sign and Allyn smiled.
They had won. He could sleep now, and be well content. For, within the
year, a twofold experiment would come to fruition. And a new era of
brotherhood would come to earth, bringing the furthest star within the
reach of Man.