The Inheritors - A. Bertram Chandler [19]
I know what I'd like to give you, he thought. The close proximity of smooth, warm woman-flesh was putting ideas into his head. He said, trying to keep the conversation under control, "You have books?"
" 'Course we have books—but we can't make any new ones. Every town has a copy of The History; it was printed and printed and printed, years ago, when the machines were still working . . . ."
"The History?" asked Grimes.
"Yes. The History. All about Earth, and the first flights away from Earth, and the last voyage of the Lode Cougar . . ."
"The ship that brought you here?"
"Of course. You don't suppose we walked, do you?"
"Hardly. But tell me, how do you get about your world? Do you walk, or ride, or fly?"
"There were machines once, for riding and flying, but they wore out. We walk now. Everywhere. The Messengers are the long walkers."
"I suppose that you have to maintain a messenger service for the business of government."
"What business?" She pulled away from Grimes, stood tall and erect. It was a pity that she spoiled the effect by wavering lightly. "What government? I am the government."
"But surely," Grimes persisted, "you must have some planetary authority in overall charge. Or national authorities . . . ."
"But why?" she asked. "But why? I look after the affairs of my town, Sabrina looks after the affairs of her town, and so on. Who can tell me how much meat is to be dried or salted before the onset of winter? Who can tell me how the town's children are to be brought up? I am the government, of my own town. What else is needed?"
"It seems to work, this system of theirs . . ." commented Maggie Lazenby.
" 'Course it works. Too many people in one town—then start new town."
"But," persisted Grimes, "there's more to government than mayoral duties—or queenly duties. Public health, for example . . . ."
"Every town has its doctor, to give medicine, set broken bones and so on . . ."
Grimes looked appealingly at Maggie. She looked back at him, and shrugged. So he plodded on, unassisted. "But you must have a capital city . . ."
Maya said, "We have. But it does not rule us. We rule ourselves. It is built around the landing place of the Lode Cougar. The machines are there, although they have not worked for years. There are the records—but all we need to know is in The History . . . ."
"And the name of this city?"
"Ballarat."
So Morrow—presumably he had been master of Lode Cougar—was an Australian. There was a Ballarat, on Earth, not far from Port Woomera.
"And how do we get to Ballarat?" asked Grimes.
"It is many, many days' walk . . ."
"I wasn't thinking of walking."
"The exercise wouldn't do you any harm," Maggie told him.
"In my house there is a map . . ."
The telephone buzzed sharply. Grimes answered it. Saul's deep voice came from the speaker, "Captain, our orbital spy eyes have reported the arrival of another ship. Mr. Hayakawa says that it is Schnauzer."
So—Schnauzer had arrived, earlier than expected. Presumably Captain Danzellan's PCO had picked up indications that other vessels were bound for Morrowvia. And presumably he would make his landing in the same location that he had used before, in Corgi. Where was it again? Melbourne. Grimes tried to remember his Australian geography. The Ballarat on Earth wasn't far from Melbourne. He hoped that this would also be the case on this planet, so that he could kill two birds with one stone.
Lieutenant Saul could look after the shop in his, Grimes's, absence.
Somebody would have to keep an eye on Drongo Kane.
10
Grimes would have liked to have been able to fly at once to Melbourne, to be there and waiting when Schnauzer arrived. But there was so much to be done first—the delegation of authority, the pinnace to be readied and stocked for an absence from the mother ship of indefinite duration and, last but not least, to determine the location of Captain Danzellan's arrival point with accuracy. The orbiting spy eyes would do this, of course—provided that Schnauzer was not using some device to render their