Land and Overland Omnibus - By Bob Shaw Page 0,2

if to hurl Toller aside with his free arm and his eyes widened as he made the discovery that he was not dealing with a typical science technician. He turned his head to summon help from other airmen, but Toller diverted him by jerking the rope tighter.

“This is between you and me,” Toller said quietly, using the power of his upper arms to increase the strain on the line. “Are you going to apologise, or would you like your thumb to wear on a necklet?”

“You’re going to be sorry for… “The airman’s voice faded and he sagged, white-faced and gasping, as a joint in his thumb made a clearly audible popping sound. “I apologise. Let me go! I apologise.”

“That’s better,” Toller said, releasing the rope. “Now we can all be friends together.”

He smiled in mock geniality, giving no hint of the dismay he could feel gathering inside him. It had happened yet again! The sensible response to a ritual insult was to ignore it or reply in kind, but his temper had taken control of his body on the instant, reducing him to the level of a primitive creature governed by reflex. He had made no conscious decision to clash with the airman, and yet would have been prepared to maim him had the apology not been forthcoming. And what made matters worse was the knowledge that he was unable to back down, that the trivial incident might still escalate into something very dangerous for all concerned.

“Friends,” the airman breathed, clutching his injured hand to his stomach, his face contorted with pain and hatred. “As soon as I can hold a sword again I’ll…”

He left the threat unfinished as a bearded man in the heavily embroidered jupon of an aircaptain strode towards him. The captain, who was about forty, was breathing noisily and the saffron material of his jupon had damp brown stains below his armpits.

“What’s the matter with you, Kaprin?” he said, staring angrily at the airman.

Kaprin’s eyes gave one baleful flicker in Toller’s direction, then he lowered his head. “I snared my hand in a line, sir. Dislocated my thumb, sir.”

“Work twice as hard with the other hand,” the captain said, dismissing the airman with a wave and turning to face Toller. “I’m Aircaptain Hlawnvert. You’re not Sisstt. Where is Sisstt?”

“There.” Toller pointed at the station chief, who was uncertainly advancing down the slope of the shore, the hem of his grey robe gathered clear of the rock pools.

“So that’s the maniac who’s responsible.”

“Responsible for what?” Toller said, frowning.

“For blinding me with smoke from those accursed stewpots.” Hlawnvert’s voice was charged with anger and contempt as he swung his gaze to encompass the array of pikon pans and the columns of vapour they were releasing into the sky. “I’ve been told they’re actually trying to make power crystals here. Is that true, or is it just a joke?”

Toller, barely clear of one potentially disastrous scrape, was nonetheless affronted by Hlawnvert’s tone. It was the principal regret of his life that he had been born into a philosophy family instead of the military caste, and he spent much of his time reviling his lot, but he disliked outsiders doing the same. He eyed the captain coolly for a few seconds, extending the pause until it was just short of open disrespect, then spoke as though addressing a child.

“Nobody can make crystals,” he said. “They can only be grown—if the solution is pure enough.”

“Then what’s the point of all this?”

“There are good pikon deposits in this area. We are extracting it from the soil and trying to find a way to refine it until it’s pure enough to produce a reaction.”

“A waste of time,” Hlawnvert said with casual assurance, dismissing the subject as he turned away to confront Vorndal Sisstt.

“Good foreday, Captain,” Sisstt said. “I’m so glad you have landed safely. I’ve given orders for our ptertha screens to be run out immediately.”

Hlawnvert shook his head. “There’s no need for them. Besides, you have already done the damage.”

“I…” Sisstt’s blue eyes shuttled anxiously. “I don’t understand you, Captain.”

“The stinking fumes and fog you’re spewing into the sky disguised the natural cloud. There are going to be deaths among my crew—and I deem you to be personally responsible.”

“But…” Sisstt glanced in indignation at the receding line of cliffs from which, for a distance of many miles, streamer after streamer of cloud could be seen snaking out towards the sea. “But that kind of cloud is a general feature of this coast.