Non-Stop - Brian W. Aldiss [48]
‘That sort of thing is not acceptable as a bribe, either,’ Vyann said levelly. ‘Well, Priest, I hope your information is interesting. Suppose you tell me what it is?’
It was a small moment of triumph for Marapper. He stuck his hands beneath his tattered cloak and shook his head firmly.
‘I will keep it for someone in authority,’ he said. ‘I regret, madam, I cannot trust you with it.’
She seemed not to be offended. It was a measure, possibly, of her self-assurance that her hands never moved on the desk top.
‘I will have my superior brought here at once,’ she said. One of the guards was sent out; he was away only a short while, returning with a brisk middle-aged man.
The newcomer was instantly impressive. Deep lines ran down his face like water runners down a slope, and this eroded appearance was increased by the inroads of grey into his still yellow hair. His eyes were wide-awake, his mouth autocratic. He relaxed his aggressive expression to smile at Vyann, and conferred quietly with her in one corner, thrusting occasional glances at Marapper as he listened to what she was saying.
‘How about making a dash for it?’ Fermour whispered to Complain, in a choked voice.
‘Don’t be a fool,’ Complain whispered back. ‘We’d never get out of this room, never mind past the barrier guards.’
Fermour muttered something inaudible, looking almost as if he might attempt a break on his own. But at that moment the man conferring with Vyann stepped forward and spoke.
‘We have certain tests we wish to carry out on the three of you,’ he said mildly. ‘You will shortly be called back here, Priest. Meanwhile – guards, remove these prisoners to Cell Three, will you?’
The guards were prompt to obey. Despite protests from Fermour, he and Complain and Marapper were hustled out of the room and into another only a few yards down the corridor, where the door was shut on them. Marapper looked embarrassed, realizing that his recent attempt to extricate himself at their expense might have cost him a little goodwill; he began straightway to try to retain his position by cheering them up.
‘Well, well, my children,’ he said, extending his arms to them, ‘the Long Journey has always begun, as the scripture puts it. These people of Forwards are more civilized than we, and will certainly have a horrible fate awaiting us. Let me intone some last rite for you.’
Complain turned away and sat down in a far corner of the room. Fermour did likewise. The priest followed them, squatting on his massive haunches and resting his arms on his knees.
‘Keep away from me, Priest!’ Complain said. ‘Leave me in peace!’
‘Have you no guts, no reverence?’ the priest asked him. His voice became as thick as cool treacle. ‘Do you think the Teaching allows you peace in your last hours? You must be stirred into Consciousness for the final time. Why should you slump here, despairing? What is your wretched, sordid life to care a curse over? Where in your mind is anything so precious that it should not be carelessly extinguished? You are sick, Roy Complain, you need my ministrations.’
‘Just take it I’m not in your parish any more, will you?’ Complain said wearily. ‘I can look after myself.’
The priest made a face and turned to Fermour.
‘You, my friend, what have you to say?’ he asked.
Fermour smiled. He was in control of himself again.
‘I’d just like an hour alone with that luscious Inspector Vyann – then I’d travel happy,’ he said. ‘Can you arrange that for me, Marapper?’
Before Marapper had time to choose a suitably moral answer, the door opened and an ugly face peered in; a hand followed it, beckoning to the priest. Marapper rose, smoothing his clothes self-consciously.
‘I’ll put in a word for you, children,’ he said, and stalked with dignity into the passage behind the guard. A minute later, he was facing the inspector and her superior again. The latter, perched on a corner of the desk, began to speak at once.
‘Expansions to you. You are Henry Marapper, a priest, I believe? My name is Scoyt, Master Scoyt, and I am in charge of alien investigation.