The Grand Wheel

‘I am Shane’s guardian,’ Hakandra said. ‘No one answers for him but me.’

‘What’s wrong with him?’

Hakandra hesitated. ‘He is not well.’

Dom’s eyes strayed to the object of his visit: the alien device. The tent was crammed with modems, transformers and similar equipment, all of it wired up to the glistening drum.

‘I demand to know what the Grand Wheel is doing in the Cave of Caspar,’ Hakandra snapped. Then his eyes widened in alarm. ‘Has there been a coup?’

‘Be assured no such thing has happened,’ Dom smiled. ‘I am here on private business.’ He pointed to the drum. ‘I want to know all about that.’

‘Then this is treason. Attacking a Legitimacy installation, sabotaging the war effort –’

‘Do you know who I am?’ Dom asked caressingly.

‘No.’

‘I am Marguerite Dom, Chairman of the Grand Wheel.’

The Legitimacy people stiffened. The charisma of his name affected even them.

Dom stepped closer to the alien drum, peering at its glittering opaque surface. ‘I know you have a randomness machine of some kind here. There is no need for you to be silly or churlish about it. I might even be able to aid your investigations – wouldn’t that be nice for you? And besides, you are isolated here, unable to get any messages out. If you are obstinate I shall simply use any of a dozen perfectly effective interrogation devices, and that would spoil any spirit of accord between us.’

‘There was a civilization on this planet once,’ Wishom said. ‘This is a fermat of theirs that was found.’

‘Only a fermat?’

Shane gave a slack-mouthed giggle. ‘Liars!’ he exclaimed in a loud, cracked voice.

‘Quiet, Shane,’ Hakandra muttered.

Dom looked up from the alien machine. He came close to Shane, placing a hand on his brow. ‘He’s feverish,’ he observed. ‘He should be in the hospital tent.’ He looked gravely at the youth, as though at something of great beauty. ‘He has an interesting face – a rare quality, really striking. What is it about you that’s unusual, young man?’

With a suddenly savage gesture Hakandra knocked away Dom’s arm. ‘Leave him alone!’ he snarled. He placed both his hands on Shane’s shoulders and squeezed them hard. For a moment the two men confronted each other over the sick youth, their eyes meeting.

Shane gazed up at Dom. He began to ramble. ‘What are you doing here? You shouldn’t have come here. Nobody should come to the Cave. Lady never comes here. You’ll lose – lose – lose –’

Dom turned away as someone else entered the tent. It was Cheyne Scarne. Dom raised a questioning eyebrow.

‘I hitched a lift on one of the half-tracks,’ Scarne explained. ‘I wanted to see everything.’

‘Most commendable.’

Scarne stared at the tableau. He gestured to Shane. ‘What’s he talking about?’

‘We shall find out presently.’ Dom addressed Haskand. ‘I want to see this alien machine in operation. Judging by the set-up they’re obviously getting some kind of change out of it. Arrange it, will you?’

‘Shouldn’t we wait until I’ve studied their data notes?’

‘What for? Let’s see the show. If it is a fermat, maybe it will pay up.’

Haskand turned to Wishom. ‘Are you prepared to cooperate? I would appreciate it.’

Wishom looked dubious. He raised his eyebrows to Hakandra. After a moment’s deliberation the latter nodded.

‘I don’t know quite what your interest in this matter is, Chairman,’ he said, ‘but you plainly have the advantage over us, and I have no wish to be caught in any unpleasantness. Let me get Shane to his tent first.’

Dom had a sudden thought. ‘No. I want the lad to stay here until the experiment is over.’

He moved to the door, noting with satisfaction the look of guarded fury on Hakandra’s face.

‘Let me know if you need anything,’ he said finally to Haskand, and stepped past the two armed guards, beckoning Scarne to follow him.

They walked through the archaeologists’ camp. Just beyond its bounds were fresh mounds of earth and heaps of odd-looking artifacts. From the look of them, though, the digging and sifting machines had not been used for some time. A thick layer of dust had blown over them. Everything, Scarne guessed, had come to a stop because of the study of the randomness machine.

Dom spoke, his tone gloating. ‘They’re up to something,’ he said. ‘They are trying to hide whatever it is has to do with the boy. I have an instinct about him – see if I’m not right.’

A Wheel man climbed down from a parked half-track and spoke quietly to Dom, pointing to a small yellow tent that lay not far off. Dom instantly made for it.

‘That’s where their chief technician lives,’ he told Scarne. ‘All the data is there. Now we’ll really find out what they’ve been doing with that gadget.’

Inside the tent, one of Dom’s people was huddled over a reading machine to which was attached a transliteration modem. All around him were scattered tapes, papers and coils.

He looked up as Dom entered. ‘The Legits certainly lay some store by this device they’ve found, sir,’ he said. ‘They’ve been working all out on it.’

‘Well, what is it?’