Galaxies Like Grains of Sand (11 page)

“Quite so,” said Uatt said quietly, inspecting his fingers as if for the first time. “Believe me, we do realize what a fascinating and gaudy specimen Ishrail must have seemed in Bergharra, but here on the
Cyberqueen
we may be rather more inured to odd fish, alas.”

“We aren’t all simpletons in Bergharra,” Davi exclaimed, nettled by what he interpreted as a slur on his native country.

Uatt inclined his head sadly, acknowledging the truth of the remark.

Realizing he was again on the verge of making a fool of himself, Davi tugged at his tunic and said in explanatory fashion, “In fact, I’m sorry to have to come all this way to bother you, sir, but I felt I had to see what you were doing about Ishrail. I mean, if you were doing anything.”

“We have been doing quite a lot,” Uatt said lightly. “It is good of you to come. All of us here will be delighted to assure you that Ishrail has occupied much of our attention in the past weeks.”

He shook his head and smiled; the other men also smiled. They had had a long, trying meeting — and now this! Uatt attempted to give Davi a chance, but Davi caught the note of reproach in the director’s voice and flushed heavily, feeling like a small boy brought before a teacher.

“How should I know what you were doing here?” he muttered. “I felt it was my duty to come and see.”

A gleam of irritation showed in Uatt’s eye and disappeared. Brother Shansfor, knowing his superior, feared for the worst; the director was not a forgiving man once he conceived a dislike for someone. From then on, Davi was at a disadvantage; instead of becoming a discussion, their meeting crystallized into a muted clash of personalities, its outcome already predictable. Sensing something of this, Davi tried to wrench the conversation back into another channel.

“I believe Ishrail to be sane!” he exclaimed. He could see immediately that his bluntness made them more withdrawn. For them, he was now the stupid layman, unable to evaluate evidence.

“I am just going to run through a few notes for your benefit,” Uatt said, rustling the papers. “They will explain our findings on the — er — patient and, I sincerely hope, clear your mind of any anxieties or uncertainties you may have.”

“Tell him about the specialists, Inald,” Shansfor said in an aside.

“Yes, yes,” the Arch-Brother said. “These notes are extracts from the reports of specialists from this and other health ships who have examined — er — Ishrail, as he calls himself, during the course of the last month. Sit down, Mr Dael, sit down and unbutton.”

Davi hesitated, then sat, formally unbuttoning his tunic. The three members of the council who had not spoken seemed to take this as a cue to disappear.

“Now,” Uatt said, clearing his throat. He peered at the papers before him. “First let’s get our facts straight, may we? Ishrail was discovered sheltering in a barn on the evening of Fi Month 31st last by one George Fanzi, a bondman on Brundell’s farm in the province of Bergharra. He was naked and dazed and seemed at that time unable to speak at all. Fanzi wrapped sacks around him and took him to his own caravan. By morning Ishrail was better, although his memory seemed clouded. He then spoke our tongue perfectly — an important point, Mr Dael, which alone throws grave doubt on his — hm — galactic origins.”

“But he explained — ” Davi began.

“Oh, yes, he
explained
everything, Mr Dael. But let us continue the summary. Ishrail stayed in Fanzi’s caravan till the next morning, the 33rd of Fi, when Fanzi decided to take him to Brundell. Brundell kept him for three days, in which time he got you and Ostrachan, the local tributary doctor, to question him. The province police were also brought in to try and trace Ishrail’s whereabouts before Fanzi had found him, but so far nothing has come to light.”

“A point for Ishrail,” Davi said.

“A small point for Ishrail,” Uatt conceded. “And that’s about it; you alone seem to have placed much credence in the man’s tale, Dael, and knowing of my friend Shansfor here through mutual acquaintances you decided to bring Ishrail up to us. A wise step, if I may be permitted to say so.”

“I did it for Ishrail’s sake,” Davi said. “He was deeply disturbed to find that nobody believed him. I could see he would soon begin to question his own sanity; he had just gone through a period of great strain, as you know. When I heard that the
Cyberqueen
was off the coast, naturally I got in touch. I wanted you to prove to him he was sane. You would have been powerful allies for him!”

With a little dry crumb of sound, Inald Uatt cleared his throat, continuing his account as if he had not heard Davi.

“For the past thirty-two days,” he said, “Ishrail has been here on shipboard; he has been thoroughly examined from every possible viewpoint. The first thing was naturally a physiological check. It revealed nothing at all abnormal in the patient’s makeup. No bones out of place, not a spare ounce of cartilage, no extra lungs, not even” — he allowed himself a modicum of amusement — “a concealed tentacle. In every respect, Ishrail is a physically normal man, born here on Earth, destined to die here on Earth. I think we might have indeed expected some trifling irregularity if he had been, as he claims to be, a — hm — specimen of galactic life.”

“Why?” Davi asked hotly. “Can’t evolution run the same course on two planets?”

“He has a point there, Inald, you know,” Shansfor murmured.

“A point we did not overlook,” the Arch-Brother agreed. “Which brings me to the next step in our investigation. We were, you see, impressed enough with the lack of logical flaws in Ishrail’s arguments to take a good deal of trouble in checking them. I personally called up the Astronomer Extraordinary and asked him about life on other planets.”

He paused impressively. Davi just waited.

“The Astronomer Extraordinary,” Uatt said, “told me that the possibility of life on other worlds — apart perhaps from a few lowly fungi on Mars — is entirely unproved. Furthermore, he cautioned me that direct evidence of the existence of planetary systems other than our own is not yet forthcoming. He said that according to various ancient records, spaceships have been launched from Earth for other systems from time to time; there is no record of any of them having returned. And he finished by assuring me that space travel has no future.”

Davi could restrain himself no longer. He jumped up.

“You call that taking trouble?” he exclaimed. “Heavens above, who am I to argue with the Astronomer Extraordinary, but what does he know about it? He’s no expert on space travel!”

“Agreed,” said Uatt, his voice a few degrees cooler. “There are no experts on space travel, just a few speculative companies who have set their paltry igloos on the moon, hoping to find minerals or such. Speculation! There, I suggest, you have the whole business in one word. Do please sit down again, Mr Dael.

Sitting was the last thing Davi felt like doing. He tried to appeal silently for help to Shansfor, but the latter was gazing into the fire. With bad grace, Davi plunked himself down onto the chair.

“Go on,” he said testily. “What’s your next point?”

Before speaking again, Uatt clearly speculated upon whether the effort would be worthwhile. “We now came to Ishrail with the next tests,” he said at last. “I refer to the psychological ones; and that is a field in which I give you my word there are experts. We — if I may say so without transgressing the bounds of modesty —
we
are the experts, in this ship.

“For our consideration, we had an unlikely document, the statement of Ishrail, elicited from him in numerous interviews. In brief, it relates the facts of Ishrail’s life, how he grew up, became what we would call an admiral in the interpenetrator fleets — to use his own extraordinary phrase — was defeated in some sort of battle, and finally landed on Earth stark naked and without a goatra to bless himself with.

“I’m not going to waste your time, Mr Dael, or my own, in embarking on a detailed description of that fantastic farrago of autobiography. Transcribed from jell and divided into subjects, it fills five fat volumes; you will see we have been thorough. It contains, however, one or two cardinal points on which our diagnosis of Ishrail rests, and these I will bring to your attention. You may find their perfervid inventiveness more attractive than I do.”

“Just a minute,” Davi said. “You’re telling me this, and I can see from every word you say your mind’s shut tighter than a Horby oyster. Was it like that before Ishrail came to you? Because, if so, the poor devil didn’t stand a candle’s chance in hell of proving his case.”

“You’re talking with your tunic buttoned,” Shansfor protested sharply. “That sort of stuff will get you nowhere. Try and — ”

“We’re getting nowhere as it is,” Davi snapped. “I’m a countryman, and I like plain speaking.”

“Shansfor,” Uatt said, folding his hands and turning wearily to his colleague. “I suspect I may be unable to talk plainly enough for our country friend. Perhaps you will take over the explanations for a little while?”

“Certainly,” Shansfor said. “Perhaps you’d like me to pour us all some drinks first?”

“Capital idea,” the director said, softening. “I believe they are concealed in that rather ornate cupboard over there.”

As Shansfor crossed the room, Inald Uatt said to Davi more humanly, “You know, Dael, we believe ourselves to be in effect doing you a favour in explaining all this to you; we are by no means obliged to explain. By the law, Ishrail is now a subject of Medical Hierarchy. You are not in any way related to Ishrail; we merely were somewhat touched by your loyalty to a very unfortunate case.”

“I’ll endeavour to feel obliged to you when I’ve heard the rest of what you have to say,” Davi said grimly. “What are these cardinal points you mentioned?”

A distilled vintage was handed around, and scented sweets. Shansfor sat down by the fire, putting his thin hands out to the flames.

“You’ll probably know,” he began quietly, “that however elaborate and circumstantial the imaginings of a neurotic person are, they reveal certain basic emotions, such as fear, love, lust for power. Looking beyond the symbols that a disordered mind uses to camouflage these emotions from itself, we can generally see the emotive impulses quite clearly. In this respect, Ishrail differs not at all from any case we have ever handled, except that his imaginings reach the peak of inventiveness.

“Note several points. This impressive civilization to which Ishrail claims to belong spreads across ten thousand planets and five times as many light years — or it may be fifteen thousand planets and ten times as many light years: Ishrail doesn’t remember.”

“Would you remember?” Davi asked. “Tell me how many towns there are on Earth!”

“That is not the point I’m making,” Shansfor said. “I’m trying to show you how Ishrail strove to build up a pattern of complexity in his make-believe world. The war that he claims is being waged is also amazingly complicated, like enlarged 3-D chess with obscure motivations and strict rules of chivalry. Ishrail seeks refuge behind this confusion, endeavouring to lose himself.”

“But a galactic civilization would be complicated!” Davi wailed. “Why can’t you just take it that he’s telling the truth? He’s got no motive for lying.”

“His motive is the usual one in such cases,” Shansfor said. “That is, as complete an escape from reality as possible. He cannot be telling the truth because what he says is too fantastic for a sane man to believe; and also you will notice that he has cleverly picked on a story which does not involve him in the awkward necessity of producing one shred of tangible proof!”

Davi sunk his head into his hands.

“You go round in circles,” he said. “He told you why he arrived naked, without any possessions.”

“That’s just what I’m complaining about,” Shansfor said. “Ishrail can explain everything! The interpenetrators that brought him here came silently and left silently, and were invisible. We’ve not got a thing: no sight of ships, no telltale landing marks in a field, no scraps of cloth of an alien weave, no rings made of strange alloys, not even an Aldebaran corn plaster on his foot. Nothing. Only his wild and unsupported story. Not a shred of external evidence anywhere.”

“And if you had anything, you’d explain it away,” Davi said.

“We’ll continue with the next point,” Shansfor said, raising an aggrieved eyebrow at the Arch-Brother, who nodded sympathetically. “Notice that Ishrail joined the interpenetration fleets and worked his way up to the rank of admiral.”

“Well?”

“Megalomania — and we shall find it recurs over and over again. Here it masquerades under the flaring suns of an admiral’s insigne. Yes, he even drew the insigne for us. He couldn’t be a ranker, could he, or a bondman, or whatever they have? He had to be an
admiral
, an admiral in a mighty space fleet. Such self-aggrandizement is a common feature of insanity.”

Davi was silent, avoiding the challenge in the other’s voice. He felt his assurance fading and longed to speak to Ishrail again, to feel reinvigorated by that unquenchable nature. If these devils would only see it, a man like Ishrail could be nothing less than admiral.

“The next point,” Shansfor continued, “is even more damning. You will remember that Ishrail claims to have been captured during this preposterous war by the enemy. They vanquished him. And did Ishrail happen to tell you the name of the race that vanquished him? It was Ishrail! Ishrail was conquered by Ishrail!”