Non-Stop - Brian W. Aldiss [47]
Fermour spoke.
‘We beg you, as you are a kind woman, to spare us from torture!’
‘It is neither my business nor my intention to be kind,’ she replied. ‘As for my sex – that, I think, lies outside the scope of your concerns. My name is Inspector Vyann; I investigate all captives brought into Forwards, and those who are coy about talking go on the presses. You ruffians in particular deserve nothing better. We need to know how to get to the leader of your band himself.’
Marapper spread his hands wide.
‘You may take it from me we know nothing of this leader,’ he said, ‘nor of the ruffians who serve him. We three are completely independent; our tribe lies many decks away. As I am a humble priest, I would not lie to you.’
‘Humble, are you?’ she asked, thrusting the little chin out. ‘What were you doing so near Forwards? Do you not know our perimeters are dangerous?’
‘We did not realize we were so near Forwards,’ said the priest. ‘The ponics were thick. We have come a long way.’
‘Where exactly have you come from?’
This was the first question of a series that Inspector Vyann thrust at them. Marapper answered them greasily and unhappily; he was not permitted to deviate. Whether she spoke or listened, the girl in grey looked slightly away from them. They might have been three performing dogs hustled before her, so detachedly did she ignore them as people; the two silent figures and the third, Marapper, standing slightly ahead of his companions, gesticulating, protesting, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, were for her mere random elements in a problem awaiting solution.
The direction of her interrogation soon made it obvious that she began by believing them to be members of a marauding gang, and ended by doubting it. The gang, it became apparent, had been carrying out raids on Forwards from a nearby base at a time when other – as yet unspecified – problems pressed.
Vyann’s natural disappointment at finding the trio less exciting than hoped for chilled her manner still further. The thicker grew the ice, the more voluble grew Marapper. His violent imagination, easily stimulated, pictured for him the ease with which this impervious young woman might snap her fingers and launch him on his Long Journey. At last he stepped forward, placing one hand gently on her desk.
‘What you have failed to realize, madam,’ he said impressively, ‘is this: that we are no ordinary captives. When your skirmishers waylaid us, we were on our way to Forwards with important news.’
‘Is that so?’ Her raised eyebrows were a triumph. ‘You were telling me a moment ago you were only a humble priest from an obscure village. These contradictions bore us.’
‘Knowledge!’ Marapper said. ‘Why question where it comes from? I warn you seriously, I am valuable.’
Vyann permitted herself a small, frosty smile.
‘So your lives should be spared because you hold some vital information between you. Is that it, priest?’
‘I said I had the knowledge,’ Marapper pointed out craftily, puffing up his cheeks. ‘If you also deign to spare the breath of my poor, ignorant friends here, I should, of course, be everlastingly delighted.’
‘So?’ For the first time, she sat down behind the desk, a hint of humour lurking round her mouth, softening it. She pointed to Complain.
‘You,’ she said. ‘If you have no knowledge to pour into our ears, what can you offer?’
‘I am a hunter,’ Complain said. ‘My friend Fermour here is a farmer. If we have no knowledge, we can serve you with our strength.’
Vyann folded her quiet hands on the desk, not really bothering to look at him. ‘Your priest has the right idea, I think: intelligence could bribe us, muscle could not. There is plenty of muscle in Forwards already.’
She turned her eyes to Fermour, saying, ‘And you, big fellow, you’ve hardly had a word to say for yourself. What gift do you offer?’
Fermour looked steadily at her before dropping his gaze.
‘My silence only covered my disturbed thoughts, madam,’ he said gently. ‘In our small tribe we had no