Star Ship on Saddle Mountain (14 page)
"If you are given your life, you may spend it in
caged display, like the savage you are, Primitive."
Charlie had tried to say something, but they had
already gone.
There was no way he could tell how long he was kept
in the small room in solitary confinement. He had been brought food
several times, and from the dimness and brightness he noticed when
the door was opened each time, he figured that he had been there at
least a couple of days, since he had slept twice also. At last he
was told the Council was convening in the Rotunda, and that he
would be taken before them to stand trial. In spite of his worry
about the situation he faced, Charlie made an attempt to look his
best. He carefully combed his black curly hair with the broken
piece of comb he always carried in the pocket of his levis. With
his handkerchief he gathered some fine dust from a corner of the
room and polished the silver star-wheel spurs and his boots.
"I guess I'm ready," Charlie told them, when the
alien guards came at last for him. "Is my horse—"
"Your animal is being cared for," replied the
guard's impulse to his half-asked question. "You need not concern
yourself about it."
Resenting the last remark, Charlie, however, did
not speak his thoughts. Silently he followed the guards out, and
after a long walk, was surprised to find they were taking him on an
airlift to the surface.
"It is a rule of this Barrier World, Primitive,"
the other guard spoke this time, "that no hearing on justice may be
conducted in darkness, beneath the land. It must be, by ancient
law, held in the open countryside."
"Thanks," Charlie said.
Some time later, after reaching again the cool,
silver- flecked mists of the surface, Charlie was glad to see it
looked so clear that it seemed the Sun might come out at any
minute. A guard informed him then that the trials to be heard were
always held at noon, the nearest time to clear, pure light. It took
them some fifteen or more minutes to traverse the long tunnel and
finally, Charlie found himself entering a great outdoor arena,
larger than any football stadium he had ever seen on Earth. Only,
this had a roof, a great domed canopy that seemed at least a
thousand feet high to him. The great bowl of the roof was supported
by a surrounding circle of giant columns that held it up. It was
such a great space that small wispy clouds could be seen drifting
across under its great ceiling.
Charlie looked about at the sea of colors, the
packed circle upon circle of seats in the Rotunda, beginning with
the center circle that surrounded a large platform in the pit and
spreading out, one after the other from there, to the foot of the
giant stone columns that looked like white marble. Like the ripple
of a sea, Charlie could tell now that the great throng of aliens
gathered here had noticed his arrival, for all were looking his way
as far as he could see. For a moment he wanted to turn and run back
down the long tunnel aisle, back through the corridor and out,
anywhere, just to get away. But the closeness of the guards on
either side of him told him it would be useless to try.
Momentarily, Charlie glanced up as a beautiful pink
bird flew low, across the broad flat steps before him that led down
to the center. Then it was gone. The broad, spacious steps reminded
him of library steps back on Earth, the easiest steps in the world
to climb. But as he was nudged again by the guards, Charlie went
on. As he walked down the steps, Charlie could see the one great
half-moon shaped white bench, marble like the columns, and with its
high back. And as he looked at it, seven tall men walked slowly
from the aisle just behind the bench, and came around and stood in
front of it, watching him as the guards hurried him more now.
Charlie realized in that moment that the tall alien men standing
there were the Council, the supreme governing body of the Barrier
World.
There was a sense of awed wonder coming over him as
the two guards left him standing alone on a small dais before the
bench. Charlie looked now at the seven members of the Council. The
robes they wore were all the same, flowing togas of the blueness of
the Sun, as it looked from above the Barrier World's atmosphere. It
was a brilliant cobalt blue, that shone with its own natural pure
light, so that the seven Council members stood out clearly above
all other persons present. As he watched, a growing fear was
welling up within him, and Charlie heard a small but unmistakable
thought impulse, the familiar one that had come to him when he was
escaping with Navajo. It was an impulse he would know
anywhere.
"Charles," said the mild, restrained impulse, "they
are the Council that will judge you. Don't be afraid, Charles. They
will judge you fairly, and know whether the charges of savagery
against you are right or wrong."
almost in front of you, but in the middle of the crowd. I'm with my
duplicate, Biri, and Elstara, my mother. Biri said to tell you she
hopes you win. Oh Charles—my father, Darda Bin, is the one in the
center, the judge in the Primate's seat of the bench."
down over the great gathering as the Primate rose now. Charlie
realized that every last trace of the background maze of impulses
had ceased. Primate Bin stepped forward a little, then stopped and
looked down to the dais where Charlie was standing. But in spite of
the gravity of his situation, Charlie's eyes kept admiring the
clear and vivid brightness of the cobalt blue, shimmering before
his eyes.
Charlie felt his knees getting a little wobbly, as
the Chief of Council, the First Primate of the Planet, looked at
him. He realized, as he stood there, that this was like standing
before the President, back on his own world. And with the Primate
holding the trial, Charlie was more sure than ever now that the
charge and punishment was the most serious possible.
"You are the Primitive?" asked the tall alien in a
mild voice.
Startled by the sound of the words, spoken in clear
and perfect English, Charlie was unable to speak for a moment.
"I—yes sir," he stammered finally. "But I’m—I’m not
a primitive, sir."
The tall Primate looked at him, as the other six
judges behind him leaned forward, as though to see Charlie
better.
"To answer the thought of your mind, I am one of
the few linguists of our world, young man. In spite of progress in
the philosophies, I have learned to speak the ancient physical
tongue once used by us, and also, a prime language of your planet.
I shall continue its use, for the duration of this trial, for your
better understanding."
"Thank you, sir," Charlie said. "Thank you very
much, sir."
"I may inform you, Charles Holt, that this is not a
criminal court. The Prime Council of the Planet does not conduct
such hearings. However, there remains a great preponderant against
your person, in the nature of your attempted escape."
"Yes sir," Charlie acknowledged. "I guess I know
it."
"The duty of this Council, then, Charles Holt, is
to determine now, the charges pressed, regarding savagery. We shall
simply determine whether or not you are civilized, and worthy of
the status that goes with such civilization."
Feeling somewhat better now that the charges were a
little clearer to him, and glad to hear that he had not broken any
special law of their world, Charlie was also grateful that the
Primate spoke words that he could hear and understand, instead of
the impulses.
"It is generally regrettable, Charles Holt, but the
circumstance must be faced by us. For the public safety, this
Council must prove or disprove your right to civilized status. This
is important. The very homeland you have come from, all your world,
has not yet passed through the seven thousand
years of cultural progress deemed appropriate to
the level of civilization as recognized currently on this Barrier
World. Little Star remains a savage world."
wanted.
"Add to the standing charge," the Primate
continued, when Charlie did not go on, "the suspicion, however
understandable, concerning the Star Project, and your distrust of
us, and you see we have cause to doubt your being civilized. The
recorded history of your world, Charles Holt, is a terrifying one,
and one in whose shadow we must judge you now. It is difficult
because of all this, to accept you as a civilized equal."
"But—sir," Charlie said, "I only wanted to go
home—to be back in my own world. I'm not asking for anything more,
sir."
"Unfortunately, Charles Holt, that is a request
that cannot be granted now, possibly never. Your discovery of us
was unfortunate, and our only recourse was the action taken in your
capture. You must remain, perhaps for all your life—"
The Primate paused in his words directed to
Charlie, and glanced up, too, just as the other judges and the
audience were doing. Charlie followed his gaze, and for the first
time, saw the chase that was taking place, high up above them in
the domed space of the Rotunda.
Open-mouthed, Charlie watched the flight of the
fleeing pink bird, like those he had seen earlier, darting,
turning, dashing frantically—seeking a place to escape the black
hawklike pursuing bird. Then the big hawk raced closer,
gaining on the small, shrieking pink bird. They
swooped down low over the heads of the Council, then the pink bird
raced off— zooming high as it circled the pit of the trial chamber.
As Charlie watched them, the pink bird made one last desperate
effort to escape—plunging down straight in his direction!
Coming close, it swerved—then plummeted swiftly,
right against his chest! Its spread wings fluttering for balance,
Charlie stood very still in that split second as the pink bird,
burrowing, dug into the folds of his open-collar shirt. Shivering
against his bare skin, Charlie could feel the nervous trembling of
the frightened bird and the hammering of its little heart against
him.
Then he saw the pursuing hawk coming down—directly
at him. It was diving, not afraid—hooked beak wide-open and talons
pushed forward—right at his chest! In a fast motion Charlie lashed
out, his balled fist crashing hard against the broad black breast
of the hawk. The slashing swing bowled the hawk back, tumbling it
over and stunning it. Flopping around, it finally took wing again,
and with a loud screeching headed for open space out through the
tall colonnades.
While the raucous screeches of the injured hawk
still echoed back through the great Rotunda, the Council members
looked silently at Charlie. He seemed not aware of them, as he took
out the frightened bird and gently stroked its bright
pink-feathered back. Then looking up, Charlie carefully put the
bird back into his opened shirt front. It still didn't want to take
chances, preferring not to fly off when offered its freedom by
Charlie.
As Charlie looked at the seven judges, he realized
a great silence had come over the crowd throughout the chamber. No
one moved. Then, the Primate turned and, with the other six Council
members, held a short conference. Charlie began to wonder what rule
of the land he had broken by these actions. He shifted from one
foot to the other, aware that every move he made was being watched
intently by the crowd. Even the two guards off to the side stared
at him in a strangely different way now.
Unable to understand the swiftly-passed impulses of
the conferring Council, other than to realize those impulses
concerned his future, Charlie felt a certain relief as all nodded
to the Primate. He turned again, facing Charlie. But he did not
speak to him. Instead, he looked about the great Rotunda,
addressing the people.
"In the clear light of reason," he said,
"intelligence must prevail. This Council, representing you, now
wishes to change its first verdict, in regard to the alien, the
Primitive Charles Holt, who stands before you. We were
incorrect."
Charlie swallowed hard as the Primate spoke, trying
to figure out just what their first verdict might have been, and if
it was for or against him. He would soon find out.
"Standing before us, is the young alien whose
status, by the authority granted us, we must now clarify—his
fitness or lack of fitness—for civilized equality among us."
Charlie braced himself, for he could feel the
tension throughout the crowded assembly. Whatever it was, the vast
audience was apparently fully aware of the swift thoughts that had
been exchanged, and the decision reached, by the
caged display, like the savage you are, Primitive."
Charlie had tried to say something, but they had
already gone.
There was no way he could tell how long he was kept
in the small room in solitary confinement. He had been brought food
several times, and from the dimness and brightness he noticed when
the door was opened each time, he figured that he had been there at
least a couple of days, since he had slept twice also. At last he
was told the Council was convening in the Rotunda, and that he
would be taken before them to stand trial. In spite of his worry
about the situation he faced, Charlie made an attempt to look his
best. He carefully combed his black curly hair with the broken
piece of comb he always carried in the pocket of his levis. With
his handkerchief he gathered some fine dust from a corner of the
room and polished the silver star-wheel spurs and his boots.
"I guess I'm ready," Charlie told them, when the
alien guards came at last for him. "Is my horse—"
"Your animal is being cared for," replied the
guard's impulse to his half-asked question. "You need not concern
yourself about it."
Resenting the last remark, Charlie, however, did
not speak his thoughts. Silently he followed the guards out, and
after a long walk, was surprised to find they were taking him on an
airlift to the surface.
"It is a rule of this Barrier World, Primitive,"
the other guard spoke this time, "that no hearing on justice may be
conducted in darkness, beneath the land. It must be, by ancient
law, held in the open countryside."
"Thanks," Charlie said.
Some time later, after reaching again the cool,
silver- flecked mists of the surface, Charlie was glad to see it
looked so clear that it seemed the Sun might come out at any
minute. A guard informed him then that the trials to be heard were
always held at noon, the nearest time to clear, pure light. It took
them some fifteen or more minutes to traverse the long tunnel and
finally, Charlie found himself entering a great outdoor arena,
larger than any football stadium he had ever seen on Earth. Only,
this had a roof, a great domed canopy that seemed at least a
thousand feet high to him. The great bowl of the roof was supported
by a surrounding circle of giant columns that held it up. It was
such a great space that small wispy clouds could be seen drifting
across under its great ceiling.
Charlie held his breath a moment
as he stood there with the guards at the entrance, staring up at
the vastness of the open air court.
Mighty
was the only word that came
into his mind to describe the vastness of the trial
chamber.
Charlie looked about at the sea of colors, the
packed circle upon circle of seats in the Rotunda, beginning with
the center circle that surrounded a large platform in the pit and
spreading out, one after the other from there, to the foot of the
giant stone columns that looked like white marble. Like the ripple
of a sea, Charlie could tell now that the great throng of aliens
gathered here had noticed his arrival, for all were looking his way
as far as he could see. For a moment he wanted to turn and run back
down the long tunnel aisle, back through the corridor and out,
anywhere, just to get away. But the closeness of the guards on
either side of him told him it would be useless to try.
Momentarily, Charlie glanced up as a beautiful pink
bird flew low, across the broad flat steps before him that led down
to the center. Then it was gone. The broad, spacious steps reminded
him of library steps back on Earth, the easiest steps in the world
to climb. But as he was nudged again by the guards, Charlie went
on. As he walked down the steps, Charlie could see the one great
half-moon shaped white bench, marble like the columns, and with its
high back. And as he looked at it, seven tall men walked slowly
from the aisle just behind the bench, and came around and stood in
front of it, watching him as the guards hurried him more now.
Charlie realized in that moment that the tall alien men standing
there were the Council, the supreme governing body of the Barrier
World.
There was a sense of awed wonder coming over him as
the two guards left him standing alone on a small dais before the
bench. Charlie looked now at the seven members of the Council. The
robes they wore were all the same, flowing togas of the blueness of
the Sun, as it looked from above the Barrier World's atmosphere. It
was a brilliant cobalt blue, that shone with its own natural pure
light, so that the seven Council members stood out clearly above
all other persons present. As he watched, a growing fear was
welling up within him, and Charlie heard a small but unmistakable
thought impulse, the familiar one that had come to him when he was
escaping with Navajo. It was an impulse he would know
anywhere.
"Charles," said the mild, restrained impulse, "they
are the Council that will judge you. Don't be afraid, Charles. They
will judge you fairly, and know whether the charges of savagery
against you are right or wrong."
"Wh—
where
are you, Dondee?" Charlie sent
the desperate impulse in his mind. And as he did, he glanced about
quickly at the great sea of faces, far out to the towering
columns.
almost in front of you, but in the middle of the crowd. I'm with my
duplicate, Biri, and Elstara, my mother. Biri said to tell you she
hopes you win. Oh Charles—my father, Darda Bin, is the one in the
center, the judge in the Primate's seat of the bench."
Charlie felt better, knowing that
both Dondee and his sister were hoping he'd win. He looked at
Dondee's father, realizing that he must have received the thoughts
from Dondee, but then, possibly not. Dondee had repeated
privacy, privacy, privacy
, every few words or so, and according to their world's
custom, no one would listen in on that conversation. Besides, it
was impossible to "tune" in to the impulses of someone you did not
know and who, in turn, did not know you.
down over the great gathering as the Primate rose now. Charlie
realized that every last trace of the background maze of impulses
had ceased. Primate Bin stepped forward a little, then stopped and
looked down to the dais where Charlie was standing. But in spite of
the gravity of his situation, Charlie's eyes kept admiring the
clear and vivid brightness of the cobalt blue, shimmering before
his eyes.
Charlie felt his knees getting a little wobbly, as
the Chief of Council, the First Primate of the Planet, looked at
him. He realized, as he stood there, that this was like standing
before the President, back on his own world. And with the Primate
holding the trial, Charlie was more sure than ever now that the
charge and punishment was the most serious possible.
"You are the Primitive?" asked the tall alien in a
mild voice.
Startled by the sound of the words, spoken in clear
and perfect English, Charlie was unable to speak for a moment.
"I—yes sir," he stammered finally. "But I’m—I’m not
a primitive, sir."
The tall Primate looked at him, as the other six
judges behind him leaned forward, as though to see Charlie
better.
"To answer the thought of your mind, I am one of
the few linguists of our world, young man. In spite of progress in
the philosophies, I have learned to speak the ancient physical
tongue once used by us, and also, a prime language of your planet.
I shall continue its use, for the duration of this trial, for your
better understanding."
"Thank you, sir," Charlie said. "Thank you very
much, sir."
"I may inform you, Charles Holt, that this is not a
criminal court. The Prime Council of the Planet does not conduct
such hearings. However, there remains a great preponderant against
your person, in the nature of your attempted escape."
"Yes sir," Charlie acknowledged. "I guess I know
it."
"The duty of this Council, then, Charles Holt, is
to determine now, the charges pressed, regarding savagery. We shall
simply determine whether or not you are civilized, and worthy of
the status that goes with such civilization."
Feeling somewhat better now that the charges were a
little clearer to him, and glad to hear that he had not broken any
special law of their world, Charlie was also grateful that the
Primate spoke words that he could hear and understand, instead of
the impulses.
"It is generally regrettable, Charles Holt, but the
circumstance must be faced by us. For the public safety, this
Council must prove or disprove your right to civilized status. This
is important. The very homeland you have come from, all your world,
has not yet passed through the seven thousand
years of cultural progress deemed appropriate to
the level of civilization as recognized currently on this Barrier
World. Little Star remains a savage world."
"Sir," Charlie said, "my
world
is
civilized, it's—"
wanted.
"Add to the standing charge," the Primate
continued, when Charlie did not go on, "the suspicion, however
understandable, concerning the Star Project, and your distrust of
us, and you see we have cause to doubt your being civilized. The
recorded history of your world, Charles Holt, is a terrifying one,
and one in whose shadow we must judge you now. It is difficult
because of all this, to accept you as a civilized equal."
"But—sir," Charlie said, "I only wanted to go
home—to be back in my own world. I'm not asking for anything more,
sir."
"Unfortunately, Charles Holt, that is a request
that cannot be granted now, possibly never. Your discovery of us
was unfortunate, and our only recourse was the action taken in your
capture. You must remain, perhaps for all your life—"
The Primate paused in his words directed to
Charlie, and glanced up, too, just as the other judges and the
audience were doing. Charlie followed his gaze, and for the first
time, saw the chase that was taking place, high up above them in
the domed space of the Rotunda.
Open-mouthed, Charlie watched the flight of the
fleeing pink bird, like those he had seen earlier, darting,
turning, dashing frantically—seeking a place to escape the black
hawklike pursuing bird. Then the big hawk raced closer,
gaining on the small, shrieking pink bird. They
swooped down low over the heads of the Council, then the pink bird
raced off— zooming high as it circled the pit of the trial chamber.
As Charlie watched them, the pink bird made one last desperate
effort to escape—plunging down straight in his direction!
Coming close, it swerved—then plummeted swiftly,
right against his chest! Its spread wings fluttering for balance,
Charlie stood very still in that split second as the pink bird,
burrowing, dug into the folds of his open-collar shirt. Shivering
against his bare skin, Charlie could feel the nervous trembling of
the frightened bird and the hammering of its little heart against
him.
Then he saw the pursuing hawk coming down—directly
at him. It was diving, not afraid—hooked beak wide-open and talons
pushed forward—right at his chest! In a fast motion Charlie lashed
out, his balled fist crashing hard against the broad black breast
of the hawk. The slashing swing bowled the hawk back, tumbling it
over and stunning it. Flopping around, it finally took wing again,
and with a loud screeching headed for open space out through the
tall colonnades.
While the raucous screeches of the injured hawk
still echoed back through the great Rotunda, the Council members
looked silently at Charlie. He seemed not aware of them, as he took
out the frightened bird and gently stroked its bright
pink-feathered back. Then looking up, Charlie carefully put the
bird back into his opened shirt front. It still didn't want to take
chances, preferring not to fly off when offered its freedom by
Charlie.
As Charlie looked at the seven judges, he realized
a great silence had come over the crowd throughout the chamber. No
one moved. Then, the Primate turned and, with the other six Council
members, held a short conference. Charlie began to wonder what rule
of the land he had broken by these actions. He shifted from one
foot to the other, aware that every move he made was being watched
intently by the crowd. Even the two guards off to the side stared
at him in a strangely different way now.
Unable to understand the swiftly-passed impulses of
the conferring Council, other than to realize those impulses
concerned his future, Charlie felt a certain relief as all nodded
to the Primate. He turned again, facing Charlie. But he did not
speak to him. Instead, he looked about the great Rotunda,
addressing the people.
"In the clear light of reason," he said,
"intelligence must prevail. This Council, representing you, now
wishes to change its first verdict, in regard to the alien, the
Primitive Charles Holt, who stands before you. We were
incorrect."
Charlie swallowed hard as the Primate spoke, trying
to figure out just what their first verdict might have been, and if
it was for or against him. He would soon find out.
"Standing before us, is the young alien whose
status, by the authority granted us, we must now clarify—his
fitness or lack of fitness—for civilized equality among us."
Charlie braced himself, for he could feel the
tension throughout the crowded assembly. Whatever it was, the vast
audience was apparently fully aware of the swift thoughts that had
been exchanged, and the decision reached, by the
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