Antagonist - Childe Cycle 11 (144 page)

"It's
you
who
are
wrong,"
he
said,
his
purpose
once
again
rising up
in
him,
to
overwhelm
and
kick
aside
the
confusion
and
uncertainty
that
had
impinged
on
his
for
a
little
while.
"But
you're
self-deluded,"
he
went
on,
firm
again,
and
sure.
"—besotted
with
love for
the
shiny
bauble
of
adventure
and
discovery.
Out
there—"
He pointed
over
his
shoulder,
into
the
gray
mist
from
which
he
had come,
but
meaning
much
farther
than
that
small
distance.
"—out
there
are
all
things
that
can
be.
How
can
it
be
otherwise?
And
among all
things
have
to
be
all
things
that
must
be
unconquerable
by
us. How
can
it
be
otherwise?
All
they
that
take
the
sword
shall
perish
by the
sword—and
this
is
a
sword
you
keep
reaching
for,
this
so-called spirit
of
exploration
and
adventure—this
leaping
out
into
the
physical
universe.
Is
the
spirit
of
mankind
nothing
more
than
a
questing hound
that
always
has
to
keep
finding
a
new
rabbit
to
run
after?
How many
other
races,
in
this
infinity,
in
this
eternity,
do
you
think haven't
already
followed
that
glittering
path?
And
how
many
of
those do
you
suppose
have
become
master
of
the
universe,
which
is
the only
alternate
ending
to
going
down?"

He
felt
energized
again,
powerful,
the
vision
of
his
mission
rising up
in
him
once
more.

"What
will
be—"
he
went
on,
"what
I'll
see
done
will
be
a
final reversal
to
that
process.
What
you'll
try
to
do
to
stop
it
is
going
to make
no
difference
in
that.
You've
made
a
fortress
out
of
Old
Earth. It
makes
no
difference.
What
human
minds
can
do
by
way
of
science
and
technology
other
human
minds
can
undo.
We'll
find
a
way eventually
through
that
shield-wall
of
yours.
We'll
retake
Earth, and
cleanse
it
of
all
those
who'd
continue
this
mad,
sick,
outward plunge
of
humankind.
Then
it'll
be
reseeded
with
those
who
see
our
race's
way
as
it
should
be."

"And
the
Younger
Worlds?"
Hal
said.
"What
about
all
the
other settled
planets?
Have
you
forgotten
them?"

"No,"
Bleys
said,
shaking
his
head
just
a
little.
"They'll
die.
No one
will
kill
them.
But,
little
by
little,
with
the
outward-seeking
sickness
cured,
and
the
attention
of
Earth,
of
real
Earth,
on
itself
as
it should
be—these
others
will
wither
and
their
populations
dwindle. In
the
long
run,
they'll
be
empty
worlds
again;
and
humanity'll
be back
where
it
began,
where
it
belongs
and
where
it'll
stay,
on
its
own world.
And
here—as
fate
wills
it—it'll
learn
how
to
love
properly
and exist
to
the
natural
end
of
its
days—or
die."

He
stopped,
suddenly
drained,
and
looked
across
at
Hal
Mayne, who
had
only
stood
there,
watching
him
quietly.

"Words
are
no
use
between
us
two,
are
they?"
Bleys
said,
finally, tiredly.
"I'm
sorry,
Hal.
Believe
what
you
want,
but
those
who
think the
way
you
do
can't
win.
Look
how
you
and
your
kind
have
done nothing
but
lose
to
me
and
mine,
so
far."

"You're
wrong,"
Hal
said.
"We
haven't
really
contested
you
until now;
and
now
that
we're
going
to,
we're
the
ones
who
can't
lose."

Bleys
found
that
he
had
nothing
more
to
say.
He
put
out
his hand,
and
Hal
grasped
it;
but
they
did
not
shake
those
hands,
or move
them,
but
only
held
each
other
for
a
moment.

Bleys
had
a
strange
feeling,
as
if
something
had
died.
But
he turned,
and
walked
off
through
the
mist,
the
way
he
had
come.
He did
not
look
back.

CHAPTER
46

"Dahno
Ahrens.
Dahno
Ahrens,
can
you
hear
me?"

The
voice
came
shouting
through
the
darkness,
and
it
hurt.
He clenched
his
muscles,
trying
to
deny
it.

"Dahno
Ahrens!
Wake
up!"
The
voice
was
louder,
and
he
was disappointed
it
would
not
go
away.
He
tried
to
roll
away
from
it,
but he
could
not
do
so;
something
was
keeping
his
arms—
he was tied up!

His
eyes
snapped
open,
and
he
threw
himself
upward,
jackknif
ing
at
the
waist
in
his
fury.
He
caught
a
glimpse
of
a
figure
going through
a
door
across
the
room,
before
the
door
slammed.

He
was
alone,
and
his
arms
were
tied
together....
He
looked down,
and
saw
that
he
was
bound
across
the
chest
with
rope,
and that
his
wrists
were
also
bound,
in
front
of
him.
The
rope
was
the old-fashioned
kind,
made
of
some
sort
of
plant
fiber.

He
lost
his
balance
and
fell
backward,
his
head
thumping
into
a pillow
that
was
still
warm.

He
was
exhausted.
The
muscles
of
his
abdomen
felt
weak,
as
if they
had
been
severely
overused,
and
he
was
panting.

He
rolled
to
one
side
and
looked
down
the
length
of
his
body,
to see
that
his
legs
were
tied
together
at
the
ankles,
with
what
appeared to
be
a
similar
rope.
The
rage
that
had
pulled
him
out
of
the
darkness rose
again,
and
he
strained
his
muscles,
both
arms
and
legs,
trying
to break
the
ropes—but
they
did
not
break.

He
was
out
of
breath
from
the
effort,
and
that
frightened
him. The
muscles
he
had
just
strained
felt
rubbery.
Had
he
been
sick? He
had
never
before
felt
weakness
like
this.

Still
puffing,
for
the
first
time
he
began
to
look
about.

He
was
in
what
appeared
to
be
a
cabin
made
of
wood.
Henry's
home,
which
he
had
lived
in
during
a
good
part
of
his
teen
years, had
also
been
made
of
wood,
but
this
place
was
not
so
spartan.

He
did
not
realize
that
it
was
very
quiet
in
the
cabin
until
the roaring
noise
started
outside.
He
could
see
nothing
from
his
position,
although
there
were
windows.

The
roaring
continued,
until
he
recognized
it
as
that
made
by some
sort
of
vehicle—and
even
as
he
came
to
that
realization,
it
began
to
die
back
down.

Silence
followed.
He
tried
to
yell
for
help,
but
his
voice
would not
work.
Panicked
again,
he
strained
against
the
ropes
again,
his effort
rolling
him
to
one
side,
until
he
almost
fell
off
the
bed.

—And
suddenly
there
came
a
tiny
noise,
a
click,
that
would
have been
unnoticeable
but
for
the
silence
all
about.

"Dahno,"
a
voice
said.
It
was
his
brother!
Where—?

"Relax
for
a
few
minutes,"
Bleys
said.
Dahno
rolled
onto
his
other side,
to
notice
for
the
first
time
that
there
was
a
plain
wooden
table against
the
wall,
and
that
a
small
entertainment
console
perched
atop it,
its
screen
visible
from
where
he
lay.
His
brother's
image
was
looking
out
of
it
at
him,
silent—as
if
waiting
for
his
attention.

"The
ropes
holding
you
will
fall
away
in
a
few
moments,"
Bleys said.
"They
were
treated
with
a
mild
acid
just
before
you
were awakened.
You'll
be
able
to
move
about
freely."

Hope
sprang
up,
and
Dahno
strained
at
the
ropes
about
his
wrists once
again—and
he
thought
there
was
some
small
release
in
them, but
his
weakness
made
him
stop
his
effort.

"You've
been
hurt,"
Bleys
was
saying.
"You're
weak
because
you were
unconscious
for
weeks.
But
I'm
assured
you're
as
much
recovered
as
you
can
be."

What happened? And where am I?

"Kaj
tells
me
he
can't
be
sure
how
good
your
memory
will
be when
you
wake
up,"
Bleys
was
saying.
"But
that
doesn't
really
matter
now.
What
matters
is
that
you're
safe—and
so
am
I."

He
paused.
His
face,
Dahno
thought,
looked
strange,
as
if
he
was both
angry
and
sad
at
once.

"You're
on
the
Dorsai,"
Bleys
said.

Dahno
gaped
at
that
news.

"More
specifically,
you're
on
a
small
island
in
an
ocean
on
the
Dorsai,"
Bleys
was
continuing.
"No
one
else
lives
there.
And
since most
of
the
Dorsai
have
left
their
planet,
you're
not
likely
to
be found
by
anyone.
I've
left
you
plenty
of
supplies,
medical
devices, and
entertainment
packages.
I
recommend
you
find
a
hobby
or
two, because
you're
going
to
be
there
for
a
long,
long
time."