Non-Stop - Brian W. Aldiss [77]
Pagwam rapidly cleared a space round Marapper.
‘Show me this hole you say the Giants disappeared down,’ he ordered. ‘Point to it.’
‘This would have terrified a less brave man than I,’ Marapper said, still shaking. He pointed: a rectangular line in the deck outlined the Giants’ exit. It was a hair-fine crack, hardly noticeable. Inside the rectangle at one end was a curious octagonal indentation, not half an inch across; apart from that, there was nothing to distinguish the trap-door from the rest of the deck.
At Pagwam’s orders, two men tried to lever open the trapdoor, but the crack was so fine they could do no more than poke their fingernails down it.
‘It won’t come up, sir,’ one of the men said.
‘Thank hem for that!’ Marapper exclaimed, visualizing a stream of Giants emerging upon them.
By this time, somebody had fetched Scoyt. The Master’s face was harder set than ever; his long fingers restlessly caressed the runners of his cheeks as he listened to Pagwam and Marapper. Though he looked tired, when he spoke he revealed that his brain was the widest awake of those present.
‘You see what this means,’ he said. ‘These traps are set in the floor about a hundred paces apart throughout the ship; we’ve never recognized them as such because we could never open them, but the Giants can open them easily enough. We no longer need doubt, whatever we once thought to the contrary, that the Giants still exist. For reasons of their own, they have laid low for a long while: now they’re coming back – and for what other purpose than to take over the ship again?’
‘But this trap –’ Marapper said.
‘This trap,’ Scoyt interrupted, ‘is the key to the whole matter. Do you remember when your friend Complain was captured by Giants he said he was spirited into a hole and travelled in a low, confined space that sounded like no part of the ship we knew? Obviously, it was a space between decks, and he was taken down a trap just like this one. All traps must inter-communicate – and if the Giants can open one, they can open the lot!’
An uneasy babble of comment rose from the crowd in the corridor. Their eyes were bright, their torches dim; they seemed to press more closely together, as if for comfort. Marapper cleared his throat, inserting the tip of his little finger helplessly into his ear, as if that were the only thing in the world he could get clear.
‘This means – jezers nose, this means our world is entirely surrounded by a sort of thin world where the Giants can get and we can’t,’ he said. ‘Is that so?’
Scoyt nodded curtly.
‘Not a nice thought, Priest, eh?’ he said.
When Pagwam touched his arm, Scoyt turned impatiently to find that three of the Council of Five, Billyoe, Dupont and Ruskin, had arrived behind him. They looked both unhappy and annoyed.
‘Please say no more, Master Scoyt,’ Billyoe said. ‘We’ve heard most of this, and it hardly sounds the sort of thing which should be discussed in public. You’d better bring this – er, this priest along with you to the council room; we’ll talk there.’
Scoyt hardly hesitated.
‘On the contrary, Councillor Billyoe,’ he said distinctly. ‘This matter affects every man jack on board. Everyone must know about it as quickly as possible. I’m afraid we are being swept to a time of crisis.’
Although he was contradicting the Council, Scoyt’s face bore such a heavy look of pain that Billyoe wisely avoided making an issue of the matter. Instead, he asked, ‘Why do you say a crisis?’
Scoyt spread his hands.
‘Look at it this way,’ he said. ‘A Giant suddenly appears on Deck 14 and ties up the first girl he finds in such a way that she escapes in no time. Why? So that an alarm could be given. Later he appears again down on the Drive Floors – at little risk to himself, let me add, because