Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from _The Counterfeit Man More Science Fiction Stories by Alan E. Nourse_ published in 1963. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.
The Link
It was nearly sundown when Ravdin eased the ship down into the last slowarc toward the Earth's surface. Stretching his arms and legs, he triedto relax and ease the tension in his tired muscles. Carefully, hetightened the seat belt for landing; below him he could see the vast,tangled expanse of Jungle-land spreading out to the horizon. Miles aheadwas the bright circle of the landing field and the sparkling glow of thecity beyond. Ravdin peered to the north of the city, hoping to catch aglimpse of the concert before his ship was swallowed by the brilliantlanding lights.
A bell chimed softly in his ear. Ravdin forced his attention back to thelanding operation. He was still numb and shaken from the Warp-passage,his mind still muddled by the abrupt and incredible change. Momentsbefore, the sky had been a vast, starry blanket of black velvet; then,abruptly, he had been hovering over the city, sliding down toward warmfriendly lights and music. He checked the proper switches, and felt thethrobbing purr of the anti-grav motors as the ship slid in toward thelanding slot. Tall spires of other ships rose to meet him, circle uponcircle of silver needles pointing skyward. A little later they wereblotted out as the ship was grappled into the berth from which it hadrisen days before.
With a sigh, Ravdin eased himself out of the seat, his heart poundingwith excitement. Perhaps, he thought, he was too excited, too eager tobe home, for his mind was still reeling from the fearful discovery ofhis journey.
The station was completely empty as Ravdin walked down the ramp to theshuttles. At the desk he checked in with the shiny punch-card robot, andwalked swiftly across the polished floor. The wall panels pulsed asomber blue-green, broken sharply by brilliant flashes and overtones ofscarlet, reflecting with subtle accuracy the tumult in his own mind. Nota sound was in the air, not a whisper nor sign of human habitation.Vaguely, uneasiness grew in his mind as he entered the shuttle station.Suddenly, the music caught him, a long, low chord of indescribablebeauty, rising and falling in the wind, a distant whisper of life....
The concert, of course. Everyone would be at the concert tonight, andeven from two miles away, the beauty of four hundred perfectlyharmonized voices was carried on the breeze. Ravdin's uneasinessdisappeared; he was eager to discharge his horrible news, get it off hismind and join the others in the great amphitheater set deep in thehillside outside the city. But he knew instinctively that Lord Nehmon,anticipating his return, would not be at the concert.
Riding the shuttle over the edges of Jungle-land toward the shiningbright beauty of the city, Ravdin settled back, trying to clear his mindof the shock and horror he had encountered on his journey. The curvesand spires of glowing plastic passed him, lighted with a million hues.He realized that his whole life was entangled in the very beauty of thiswonderful city. Everything he had ever hoped or dreamed lay shelteredhere in the ever-changing rhythm of colors and shapes and sounds. Andnow, he knew, he would soon see his beloved city burning once again,turning to flames and ashes in a heart-breaking memorial to the age-oldfear of his people.
The little shuttle-car settled down softly on the green terrace nearthe center of the city. The building was a masterpiece of smoothlycurving walls and tasteful lines, opening a full side to the south tocatch the soft sunlight and warm breezes. Ravdin strode across the deepcarpeting of the terrace. There was other music here, different music, awilder, more intimate fantasy of whirling sound. An oval door opened forhim, and he stopped short, staggered for a moment by the overpoweringbeauty in the vaulted room.
A girl with red hair the color of new flame was dancing with enthrallingbeauty and abandon, her body moving like ripples of wind to the musicwhich filled the room with its throbbing cry. Her beauty was exquisite,every motion, every flowing turn a symphony of flawless perfection asshe danced to the wild music.
"Lord Nehmon!"
The dancer threw back her head sharply, eyes wide, her body frozen inmid-air, and then, abruptly, she was gone, leaving only the barestflickering image of her fiery hair. The music slowed, singing softly,and Ravdin could see the old man waiting in the room. Nehmon rose, hisgaunt face and graying hair belying the youthful movement of his body.Smiling, he came forward, clapped Ravdin on the shoulder, and took hishand warmly. "You're too late for the concert--it's a shame. Mischana isthe master tonight, and the whole city is there."
Ravdin's throat tightened as he tried to smile. "I had to let you know,"he said. "_They're coming_, Nehmon! I saw them, hours ago."
The last overtones of the music broke abruptly, like a glass shatteredon stone. The room was deathly still. Lord Nehmon searched the youngman's face. Then he turned away, not quite concealing the sadness andpain in his eyes. "You're certain? You couldn't be mistaken?"
"No chance. I found signs of their passing in a dozen places. Then Isaw _them_, their whole fleet. There were hundreds. They're coming, Isaw them."
"Did they see you?" Nehmon's voice was sharp.
"No, no. The Warp is a wonderful thing. With it I could come and go inthe twinkling of an eye. But I could see them in the twinkling of aneye."
"And it couldn't have been anyone else?"
"Could anyone else build ships like the Hunters?"
Nehmon sighed wearily. "No one that we know." He glanced up at the youngman. "Sit down, son, sit down. I--I'll just have to rearrange mythinking a little. Where were they? How far?"
"Seven light years," Ravdin said. "Can you imagine it? Just seven, andmoving straight this way. _They know where we are_, and they are comingquickly." His eyes filled with fear. "They _couldn't_ have found us sosoon, unless they too have discovered the Warp and how to use it totravel."
The older man's breath cut off sharply, and there was real alarm in hiseyes. "You're right," he said softly. "Six months ago it was eighthundred light years away, in an area completely remote from us. Now just_seven_. In six months they have come so close."
The scout looked up at Nehmon in desperation. "But what can we do? Wehave only weeks, maybe days, before they're here. We have no time toplan, no time to prepare for them. What can we do?"
The room was silent. Finally the aged leader stood up, wearily, somefraction of his six hundred years of life showing in his face for thefirst time in centuries. "We can do once again what we always have donebefore when the Hunters came," he said sadly. "We can run away."
* * * * *
The bright street below the oval window was empty and quiet. Not abreath of air stirred in the city. Ravdin stared out in bitter silence."Yes, we can run away. Just as we always have before. After we haveworked so hard, accomplished so much here, we must burn the city andflee again." His voice trailed off to silence. He stared at Nehmon,seeking in the old man's face some answer, some reassurance. But hefound no answer there, only sadness. "Think of the concerts. It's takenso long, but at last we've come so close to the ultimate goal." Hegestured toward the thought-sensitive sounding boards lining the walls,the panels which had made the dancer-illusion possible. "Think of thebeauty and peace we've found here."
"I know. How well I know."
"Yet now the Hunters come again, and again we must run away." Ravdinstared at the old man, his eyes suddenly bright. "Nehmon, when I sawthose ships I began thinking."
"I've spent many years thinking, my son."
"Not what I've been thinking." Ravdin sat down, clasping his hands inexcitement
. "The Hunters come and we run away, Nehmon. Think about thatfor a moment. We run, and we run, and we run. From what? We run from theHunters. They're hunting _us_, these Hunters. They've never quite foundus, because we've always already run. We're clever, we're fortunate, andwe have a way of life that they do not, so whenever they have come closeto finding us, we have run."
Nehmon nodded slowly. "For thousands of years."
Ravdin's eyes were bright. "Yes, we flee, we cringe, we hide understones, we break up our lives and uproot our families, running likefrightened animals in the shadows of night and secrecy." He gulped abreath, and his eyes sought Nehmon's angrily. "_Why do we run, mylord?_"
Nehmon's eyes widened. "Because we have no choice," he said. "We mustrun or be killed. You know that. You've seen the records, you've beentaught."
"Oh, yes, I know what I've been taught. I've been taught that eons agoour remote ancestors fought the Hunters, and lost, and fled, and werepursued. But why do we keep running? Time after time we've beencornered, and we've turned and fled. _Why?_ Even animals know that whenthey're cornered they must turn and fight."
"We are not animals." Nehmon's voice cut the air like a whiplash.
"But we could fight."
"Animals fight. We do not. We fought once, like animals, and now we mustrun from the Hunters who continue to fight like animals. So be it. Letthe Hunters fight."
Ravdin shook his head. "Do you mean that the Hunters are not men likeus?" he said. "That's what you're saying, that they are animals. Allright. We kill animals for our food, isn't that true? We kill thetiger-beasts in the Jungle to protect ourselves, why not kill theHunters to protect ourselves?"
Nehmon sighed, and reached out a hand to the young man. "I'm sorry," hesaid gently. "It seems logical, but it's false logic. The Hunters aremen just like you and me. Their lives are different, their culture isdifferent, but they are men. And human life is sacred, to us, above allelse. This is the fundamental basis of our very existence. Without it wewould be Hunters, too. If we fight, we are dead even if we live. That'swhy we must run away now, and always. Because we know that we must notkill men."
* * * * *
On the street below, the night air was suddenly full of voices,chattering, intermingled with whispers of song and occasional briefharmonic flutterings. The footfalls were muted on the polished pavementas the people passed slowly, their voices carrying a hint of puzzleduneasiness.
"The concert's over!" Ravdin walked to the window, feeling a chill passthrough him. "So soon, I wonder why?" Eagerly he searched the facespassing in the street for Dana's face, sensing the lurking discord inthe quiet talk of the crowd. Suddenly the sound-boards in the roomtinkled a carillon of ruby tones in his ear, and she was in the room,rushing into his arms with a happy cry, pressing her soft cheek to hisrough chin. "You're back! Oh, I'm so glad, so very glad!" She turned tothe old man. "Nehmon, what has happened? The concert was ruined tonight.There was something in the air, everybody felt it. For some reason thepeople seemed _afraid_."
Ravdin turned away from his bride. "Tell her," he said to the old man.
Dana looked at them, her gray eyes widening in horror. "The Hunters!They've found us?"
Ravdin nodded wordlessly.
Her hands trembled as she sat down, and there were tears in her eyes."We came so close tonight, so very close. I _felt_ the music before itwas sung, do you realize that? I _felt_ the fear around me, even thoughno one said a word. It wasn't vague or fuzzy, it was _clear_! Thetransference was perfect." She turned to face the old man. "It's takenso long to come this far, Nehmon. So much work, so much training toreach a perfect communal concert. We've had only two hundred years here,only _two hundred_! I was just a little girl when we came, I can't evenremember before that. Before we came here we were undisturbed for athousand years, and before that, four thousand. But _two hundred_--we_can't_ leave now. Not when we've come so far."
Ravdin nodded. "That's the trouble. They come closer every time. Thistime they will catch us. Or the next time, or the next. And that will bethe end of everything for us, unless we fight them." He paused, watchingthe last groups dispersing on the street below. "If we only knew, forcertain, what we were running from."
There was a startled silence. The girl's breath came in a gasp and hereyes widened as his words sank home. "Ravdin," she said softly, "_haveyou ever seen a Hunter_?"
Ravdin stared at her, and felt a chill of excitement. Music burst fromthe sounding-board, odd, wild music, suddenly hopeful. "No," he said,"no, of course not. You know that."
The girl rose from her seat. "Nor have I. Never, not once." She turnedto Lord Nehmon. "Have _you_?"
"Never." The old man's voice was harsh.
"Has _anyone_ ever seen a Hunter?"
Ravdin's hand trembled. "I--I don't know. None of us living now, no.It's been too long since they last actually found us. I've read--oh, Ican't remember. I think my grandfather saw them, or my great-grandfather,somewhere back there. It's been thousands of years."
"Yet we've been tearing ourselves up by the roots, fleeing from planetto planet, running and dying and still running. But suppose we don'tneed to run anymore?"
He stared at her. "They keep coming. They keep searching for us. Whatmore proof do you need?"
Dana's face glowed with excitement, alive with new vitality, new hope."Ravdin, can't you see? _They might have changed._ They might not be thesame. Things can happen. Look at us, how we've grown since the wars withthe Hunters. Think how our philosophy and culture have matured! Oh,Ravdin, you were to be master at a concert next month. Think how theconcerts have changed! Even my grandmother can remember when theconcerts were just a few performers playing, and everyone else justsitting and _listening_! Can you imagine anything more silly? Theyhadn't even thought of transference then, they never dreamed what a_real_ concert could be! Why, those people had never begun to understandmusic until they themselves became a part of it. Even we can see thesechanges, why couldn't the Hunters have grown and changed just as wehave?"
Nehmon's voice broke in, almost harshly, as he faced the excited pair."The Hunters don't have concerts," he said grimly. "You're deludingyourself, Dana. They laugh at our music, they scoff at our arts andtwist them into obscene mockeries. They have no concept of beauty intheir language. The Hunters are incapable of change."
"And you can be certain of that when _nobody has seen them for thousandsof years_?"
Nehmon met her steady eyes, read the strength and determination there.He knew, despairingly, what she was thinking--that he was old, that hecouldn't understand, that his mind was channeled now beyond the approachof wisdom. "You mustn't think what you're thinking," he said weakly."You'd be blind. You wouldn't know, you couldn't have any idea what youwould find. If you tried to contact them, you could be lost completely,tortured, killed. If they haven't changed, you wouldn't stand a chance.You'd never come back, Dana."
"But she's right all the same," Ravdin said softly. "You're wrong, mylord. We can't continue this way if we're to survive. Sometime ourpeople must contact them, find the link that was once between us, andforge it strong again. We could do it, Dana and I."
"I could forbid you to go."
Dana looked at her husband, and her eyes were proud. "You could forbidus," she said, facing the old man. "But you could never stop us."
* * * * *
At the edge of the Jungle-land a great beast stood with green-gleamingeyes, licking his fanged jaws as he watched the glowing city, sensingsomehow that the mystifying circle of light and motion was soon tobecome his Jungle-land again. In the city the turmoil bubbled over, aswave after wave of the people made the short safari across theintervening jungle to the circles of their ships. Husbands, wives,fathers, mothers--all carried their small, frail remembrances out to theships. There was music among them still, but it was a different sort ofmusic, now, an eerie, hopeless music that drifted out of the city in thewind. It caused all but the bravest of the beasts,
their hair pricklingon their backs, to run in panic through the jungle darkness. It was amelancholy music, carried from thought to thought, from voice to voiceas the people of the city wearily prepared themselves once again for thelong journey.
To run away. In the darkness of secrecy, to be gone, without a trace,without symbol or vestige of their presence, leaving only the scorchedcircle of land for the jungle to reclaim, so that no eyes, not even thesharpest, would ever know how long they had stayed, nor where they mighthave gone.
In the rounded room of his house, Lord Nehmon dispatched the last of hisbelongings, a few remembrances, nothing more, because the space on theships must take people, not remembrances, and he knew that theremembrances would bring only pain. All day Nehmon had supervised theloading, the intricate preparation, following plans laid down millenniabefore. He saw the libraries and records transported, mile upon endlessmile of microfilm, carted to the ships prepared to carry them, storeduntil a new resting place was found. The history of a people wasrecorded on that film, a people once proud and strong, now equallyproud, but dwindling in numbers as toll for