Empire of Two Worlds

Reeth and I were already peering back towards Klittmann. The other sloops had started forward, but the fate of their brothers seemed to make them more cautious. They stopped, then reversed back towards the portal,

“They’re staying put,” I said.

“I thought so. Well, let’s get out of here.”

So he charged up the engines and we lit out towards the horizon. Gradually, ever so slowly. Klittmann began to sink in the distance behind us and we were alone in the wilderness. But it was a long time before it disappeared altogether.

The action had kept our minds off the horror of the situation. Now a silence descended on the sloop, broken only by the whine of the engines and the creak of the bodywork. The big balloon tyres rolled soundlessly over the dead rock. We all looked bleakly, frightened, at the deadness that surrounded us on all sides.

So we were thrown out of Klittmann City State for trying to be too big. But where to now? I had a sick feeling in my stomach, like you get when an elevator drops from the top to the bottom in ten seconds flat. Somebody switched on the lights inside the sloop, which only made the scene outside even more dismal.

Grey. Grey, flat landscape. Grey sky. Grey light. Even the air is grey on Killibol. Grey and dead. Nothing grows. Nothing moves. The only life is human life, the only food that which is grown in the tanks of human cities or in the vans of a handful of nomad tribes. How, in this world without charity, could we eat?

When we were well out of sight of the exit portal we stopped for repairs. The sloop had taken a beating in the battle in the city, but had stood up well. We also got rid of the bodies of Brogatham and Fleg, who had been laid out at the back of the main cabin but were bleeding all over the place.

“Bec,” I said, “we lost two. That gives us food for about two and a half months, if we half starve ourselves.”

There were seven of us left: Becmath, me, Grale, Reeth and Hassmann, and the two passengers — Tone the Taker, who like a fool had jumped aboard at the last moment, and Harmen, the alk, whom Becmath had put in the storage hold for reasons of his own.

“I’m thinking about it, Klein,” Bec said tonelessly, “I’m thinking pretty hard.”

I had to feel sorry for Bec. For him it must have been bitter, desperate, to see the shattering of all his dreams and ambitions. But hell, we were all desperate too.

“But, Bec,” I urged in a low voice, “what’re we gonna do? We can’t get back inside Klittmann. We can’t get in anywhere.”

While the repairs were in progress the boys seemed to develop a slightly hysterical hilarity. There’s always a kind of mobster comradeship after a close shave; now, though, I think the hopelessness of our position had brought it on. They wanted to show each other they weren’t afraid.

Grale opened some cans to celebrate our successful retreat into the wilderness. Becmath was silent throughout it all. As soon as the repairs were completed he set the sloop in motion again, even though the sun was now lower in the sky and it was getting darker. I thought ruefully of the comforts I was used to back in Klittmann.

I dropped into the seat next to Bec’s. “We’ve got to decide soon, while our supplies last. Maybe we could make it to some other city and take a chance on getting in there.”

“And what chance would we have in another city — or of getting in, for that matter?” Bec replied wryly. “Cease worrying, we’ll make it. We got us a practitioner of the Hermetic Art.”

I was bewildered. “What, that old fool in the back? Why did we bring him, Bec? We can’t afford to feed him, we ought to throw him off.”

“If anybody’s thrown off, I’ll tell you who.”

“But, Bec,” I said, staring at the endless, bare landscape into which we were plunging like a bullet, “where are we gonna go?”

Bec glanced at me with his hard black eyes.

“Earth.”

Earth? I shook my head, not understanding. If Bec doesn’t want to tell you, he won’t. But I knew we couldn’t get to Earth. There wasn’t any way of getting off Killibol.

Two

A Killibol city is a lot like one of those termite hills they have on Earth and Luna.

The inside is big enough to be a whole, totally enclosed world. It’s monotonous. On all sides there is grey: the cold grey of metal and the warmer grey of stone and concrete.

Our city, Klittmann, is a typical example. Some parts of it are bustling with life, in others there’s a deathly quiet. Wherever you go you’re surrounded by a maze of streets, ramps, alleys, rickety chasms, buttresses and girders. In the busier districts everything vibrates slightly and dust is always falling through the air.