Non-Stop - Brian W. Aldiss [52]
‘I have some questions to ask you,’ Scoyt said. ‘It is advisable to answer them properly, for various reasons. First, where were you born?’
‘In Quarters.’
‘That is what you call your village? Have you any brothers and sisters?’
‘In Quarters we obeyed the Teaching,’ said Complain defiantly. ‘We do not recognize brothers and sisters after we are waist high to our mothers.’
‘To the hull with the T—’ Scoyt stopped himself abruptly, smoothing his brow as one who keeps himself in control only by effort. Without looking up, he said tiredly, ‘How many brothers and sisters would you have to recognize now if you did recognize them?’
‘Only three sisters.’
‘No brothers?’
‘There was one. He ran amok long ago.’
‘What proof have you you were born in Quarters?’
‘Proof!’ Complain echoed. ‘If you want proof, go and catch my mother. She still lives. She’d love to tell you all about it.’
Scoyt stood up.
‘Understand this,’ he said. ‘I haven’t time to coddle civil answers out of you. Everyone on shipboard is in a damn beastly situation. It’s a ship, you see, and it’s headed nobody-knows-where, and it’s old and creaking, and it’s thick with phantoms and mysteries and riddles and pain – and some poor bastard has got to sort it all out soon before it’s too late, if it’s not already too late!’ He paused. He was giving himself away: in his mind, he was the poor bastard, shouldering the burden alone. More calmly, he continued. ‘What you’ve got to get into your head is that we’re all expendable, and if you can’t make yourself out to be any use, you’re for the Long Journey.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Complain said. ‘I might be more co-operative if I knew which side I was on.’
‘You’re on your own side. Didn’t the Teaching teach you that much? “The proper study of mankind is self”; you’ll be serving yourself best by answering my questions.’
Earlier, Complain might have submitted; now, more conscious of himself, he asked one more question: ‘Didn’t Henry Marapper answer all you wanted to know?’
‘The priest misled us,’ Scoyt said. ‘He has made the Journey. It’s the usual penalty for trying my patience too far.’
When his first stunned reaction to this news was over, Complain began to wonder about its truth; he did not doubt the ruthlessness of Scoyt – the man who kills for a cause kills almost unthinkingly – but he could hardly bring himself to believe he would see the garrulous priest no more. His mind preoccupied, he answered Scoyt’s questions. These mainly concerned their epic trek through Deadways; directly Complain began to explain about his capture by the Giants, the investigator, non-committal bill now, pounced.
‘The Giants do not exist!’ he said. ‘They were extinct long ago. We inherited the ship from them.’
Although openly sceptical, he then pressed as hard for details as Marapper once had, and it was obvious he slowly began to accept Complain’s narrative for truth. His face clouded in thought, he tapped his long fingers on the desk.
‘The Outsiders we have known for enemies,’ he said, ‘but the Giants we always regarded as our old allies, whose kingdom we took over with their approval. If they do shill live somewhere in Deadways, why do they not show themselves – unless for a sinister reason? We already have quite enough trouble piled up against us.’
As Complain pointed out, the Giants had not killed him when they might conveniently have done so; nor had they killed Ern Roffery, although what had become of the valuer remained a mystery. In all, their role in affairs was ambiguous.
‘I’m inclined to believe your tale, Complain,’ Scoyt said finally, ‘because from time to time we receive rumours – people swear they’ve seen Giants. Rumours! Rumours! We get our hands on nothing tangible. But at least the Giants seem to be no threat to Forwards – and best of all, they don’t seem to be in alliance with the Outsiders. If we can tackle them separately, that’ll be something.’
He lapsed into silence, then asked, ‘How far is it to this sea where the Giants caught you?’
‘Many decks away