Non-Stop - Brian W. Aldiss [65]
‘This is the Captain,’ Hawl announced. ‘I brought your brother and his fine lady to parley with you, Captain.’
Gregg moved over to them, eyes searching them as if his life depended on it. He had lost the old Quarters’ habit of not looking anyone in the eye. As he scanned them, his expression never changed. They might have been blocks of wood; he might have been a block of wood; the blood relationship meant nothing to him.
‘You’ve come officially from Forwards?’ he finally asked his younger brother.
‘Yes,’ Complain said.
‘You didn’t take long to get yourself into their favours, did you?’
‘What do you know of that?’ Complain challenged. The surly independence of his brother had, from all appearances, grown stronger since his violent withdrawal from Quarters long ago.
‘I know a lot of what goes on in Deadways,’ Gregg said. ‘I’m captain of Deadways, if nowhere else. I knew you were heading for Forwards. How I knew, never mind – let’s get down to business. What did you bring a woman with you for? To wipe your nose?’
‘As you said, let’s get down to business,’ Complain said sharply.
‘I suppose she’s come to keep an eye on you to see you behave yourself,’ Gregg muttered. ‘That seems a likely Forwards arrangement. You’d better follow me; there’s too much moaning going on in here . . . Hawl, you come too. Davies, you’re in charge here now – keep ’em quiet if you can.’
Following Gregg’s burly back, Complain and Vyann were led into a room of indescribable chaos. All over its scanty furnishings, bloody rags and clothes had been tossed; red-soaked bandages lay over the floor like so many broken jam rolls. A remnant of manners still lurked in Gregg, for seeing the look of distaste on Vyann’s face, he apologized for the muddle.
‘My woman was killed in the fight last night,’ he said. ‘She was torn to bits – ugh, you never heard such screams! I couldn’t get to her. I just couldn’t get to her. She’d have cleaned this muck up by now. Perhaps you’d like to do it for me?’
‘We will discuss your proposals and then leave as soon as possible,’ Vyann said tightly.
‘What was it about this fight that has scared you so, Gregg?’ Complain asked.
‘“Captain” to you,’ his brother said. ‘Nobody calls me Gregg to my face. And understand, I’m not scared: nothing’s ever scared me yet. I’m only thinking of my tribe. If we stay here we’ll be killed, sure as shame. We’ve got to move, and Forwards is as safe a place as any to move to. So –’ he sat wearily on the bed and waved to his brother to do the same – ‘It’s not safe here any more. Men we can fight, but not rats.’
‘Rats?’ Vyann echoed.
‘Rats, yes, my beauty,’ Gregg said, baring his fangs for emphasis. ‘Great big dirty rats, that can think and plan and organize like men. Do you know what I’m talking about, Roy?’
Complain was pale.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I’ve had them running over me. They signal to each other, and dress in rags, and capture other animals.’
‘Oh, you know them, do you? Surprising . . . You know more than I credited you with. They’re the menace, the rat packs, the biggest menace on the ship. They’ve learnt to co-operate and attack in formation – that’s what they did last sleep when they fought us – that’s why we’re getting out. We wouldn’t be able to beat them off again if they came in strength.’
‘This is extraordinary!’ Vyann exclaimed. ‘We’ve had no such attacks in Forwards.’
‘Maybe not. Forwards is not the world,’ Gregg said grimly. He told them his theory, that the rat packs kept to Deadways because there they found the solitary humans whom they could attack and destroy without interference. Their latest raid was partly evidence of increasing organization, partly an accident because they had not at the outset realized the strength of Gregg’s band. Deciding he had said enough, Gregg changed the subject abruptly.
His plans for coming into Forwards were simple, he said. He would retain his group, numbering about fifty, as an autonomous unit which would not mix