The Garments of Caean

‘I don’t think it’s very common,’ Peder said slowly. ‘It’s too anomalous. The universe is a place of motion and conflict where passive sentience can’t easily get a hold. Perhaps it’s an evolutionary counterpart of anti-matter – equivalent to normal matter and just as probable in theory, but scarcely ever encountered in fact.’

They moved aside as the last man came aboard and the port was closed. Together they made their way up the ramp and into the belly corridor. As they were about to part, Estru paused reflectively.

‘By the way, we shall want to carry out some investigative psychoanalysis on you,’ he said. ‘You’ve been through a unique experience, you know. Don’t worry, though, it isn’t painful – well, a little stressful occasionally, perhaps. We should have finished by the time we get home.’

Peder felt the ship lifting off as he made his way alone to his cabin; which not altogether by chance happened to be the one so recently vacated by Alexei Verednyev. In a way it was decent of Estru to be so friendly. Very few on the Callan felt any sympathy for him at all, and it was by no means clear what his eventual fate would be. Still, he believed he had a fair chance of being given parole and of being allowed to live as a private citizen. Even in a Ziodean court of law one could justifiably plead alien mental interference as a mitigating circumstance, he would have thought. And if Mast was to get off, why shouldn’t he?

Perhaps he could even become a sartorial again.

He entered his tiny cabin, locked the door and sat down with a thankful sigh.

It was good to have all the pressure off.

He opened the buttoned pocket of his crumpled work jacket and took out its precious cargo.

His little memento: a tie, of a captivating magenta colour. He ran it through his fingers, feeling its gorgeous silky texture, caressing his cheek with it. Marvellous! It was like something alive!

Carefully he draped it under his collar and tied a loose knot in it, peering into the cabin mirror and admiring its effect even on the grubby shirt he was wearing. He was grateful now that they had let him out to poke among the ashes with the others, before the place had been given one final burning to eradicate all trace of the Frachonard crop. They had seemed glad to have someone to help them gather up all the bits and pieces – the fragments of cloth, even one or two whole garments. It had been easy to filch this one little item.

There was something else. He opened a handkerchief in which something soft and fleecy was carefully wrapped: a spore pod. Like the tie he had found near it, it had escaped the searing heat of the flamethrower – or almost. It was a little singed round the edges, as indeed was the tie. It was hard to say whether it would still be viable.

Peder would never really be able to forget his Frachonard suit, despite all the hard times it had put him through. His reasoning was that the spores in the burned patch of Prossim might already have been imprinted with the genetic information to grow Frachonard suits. If he let a spore germinate, it might grow him one. Just one – that was all he would allow. With the main mass destroyed by the Ziodean Navy, it wouldn’t be able to control him as the first one had.

He couldn’t see any risk. He would be the plant’s gardener. It would be cultured. He would be able to restrict its growth.

He would only allow it to grow one suit. To begin with, anyway. It would be wonderful to have such a suit that was his helpmate, not his master.

Only one suit.

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Also by Barrington J. Bayley

Age of Adventure

Annihilation Factor

Collision with Chronos

Empire of Two Worlds

Sinners of Erspia

Star Winds

The Fall of Chronopolis

The Forest of Peldain

The Garments of Caean

The Grand Wheel

The Great Hydration

The Pillars of Eternity

The Rod of Light

The Soul of the Robot

The Star Virus

The Zen Gun

The Knights of the Limits

The Seed of Evil

Barrington J. Bayley (1937–2008) was born in Birmingham and began writing science fiction in his early teens. After serving in the RAF, he took up freelance writing on features, serials and picture strips, mostly in the juvenile field, before returning to straight SF. He was a regular contributor to the influential New Worlds magazine and an early voice in the New Wave movement.

Copyright

A Gollancz eBook

Copyright © Barrington J. Bayley 1976

All rights reserved.