There had been a great flotilla of boats to follow the funeral barge down the Tyne; the capital, as a result, was comparatively deserted. Perhaps the only man of any public stature left in the city was Philip Rome, now Sir Philip. Both Rome and the People had heartily accepted the engineered meaning of Bloody Ford, and instead of returning to his original profession, he had become what is known as a Leader of the Masses. With subtle Government assistance, and quite without his consent, he found himself recruiting people to work at the Yards. For several years he had done this happily, his stature growing with the legends about the Ford Battle. But the Government, Trensing especially, had decided that he was becoming a trifle too legendary and had ordered him to the Yards to join his People. The day after the Government directive arrived, a silent messenger, dressed in military attire, delivered a handwritten note summoning him to Caltroon; at that moment, George and Limpkin were being buried more than a thousand miles away.
Rome had never really heard of General Tenn, who had invited him to that mysterious stone pile, but he seemed to vaguely recall someone of that name in the war news from Yuma. Anyway, the stationery was of the finest vellum and the coat of arms at its head, a mailed fist and pegasus, was most impressive.
At about eleven an open landau arrived at his house. As the elegant coach trotted through the warm night air, Rome leaned back and gazed at the welkin, trying to guess which star Home orbited about. The town walls were soon passed with little trouble, municipal security being much slackened in those days, then down along the River Road, and up to the northwest where Mount Royal hid half the night sky with its bulk. Rome looked up intently and soon he could make out the denser blackness that must be the Castle. They drew nearer and he could see that the only lights in the place were in the Great Keep.
The landau let Rome off at the main gate, and he walked through the opened gate unchallenged. Up on the deserted battlements the flags of the Caroline, of some military unit, and a personal ensign, probably the General's, hung limp in the tranquil night air.
He moved through the outer courtyards, through the inner wall and neglected gardens, his way guided by smoking torches. A liveried servant was waiting for him at the door of the Great Keep; Rome was most flattered by the treatment he was getting. Not only that, but it appeared that Caltroon had been opened up just for him; obviously, this General thought a great deal of him.
The servant led Rome through many rooms and halls until he was finally ushered into the General's study. Rome had heard of this vast, cathedral-like room from his friends in high places, and it was said that in this room George XXVIII had proposed the idea of the Ship to the Viscount Limpkin and some obscure general named Toriman. Great things had been transacted in front of its fireplace and Rome felt that he was about to be let in on one of them.
As he approached the roaring fire and the opulent desk that was placed before it, he noticed the empty shelves and map trays that lined both sides of the room; yes, here the Ship and all that she would become had been born.
General Tenn was seated in front of the fire and rose to greet Rome. The engineer was immediately struck by the intensely military bearing of the man, the aura of command and authority that surrounded him. His gaunt frame towered some five inches over Rome, the battered face patterned with a network of scars and wrinkles. There was a gray patch over his left eye, but it failed to cover a hideous scar that crept down the General's cheek. A shaved skull and bull neck completed the splendidly martial appearance of the man. Rome was properly awed.
The General introduced himself pleasantly, offered Rome some wine and then a chair; the General wasted little time on preliminaries, however, and soon broached the point of the audience.
"Sir Philip, I hope that you will forgive the appearance of Caltroon, but my duties seldom allow me to be home. I will only be here for another day or two, and that is why I found it necessary to call you here, even though you were scheduled to leave for the Yards. I hope you are not inconvenienced."
The idea of such a man asking him if he was inconvenienced took Rome by surprise, but he hid it as best he could. "No trouble, sir. Your summons sounded urgent, so I thought it best to come. The Yards will not move and I guess that our late Sovereign will still be there to receive my homage when I arrive."
Tenn smiled thinly and nodded. "Well put, Rome. Now it is quite evident, even to the most obtuse eye, that you have become something of a leader among the people."
"I hope that I'm not flattering myself if I say . . . "
"No, of course you're not. You are every bit the leader you think yourself to be; if not you would not be here." Tenn looked at Rome, the firelight glinting off a large signet ring. "Tell me, what do you think of the Government and the Technos?"
Rome mulled it around for a while. "The Government has been most kind to me, sir, and has followed a very wise and daring course in their building of the Ship. As for the Technos, I cannot say; they seem to be competent enough in their direction of the building. But never having been to the Yards, I would rather not pass judgment."
Tenn flicked open a folder that was sitting beside the decanter. "Did you know that the Technos come almost exclusively from the top social and economic tenth of the nation, with ability counting for almost nothing?"
Disturbed by this, Rome asked Tenn if he were sure of his figures. "They are correct," said the General. "They must be, for you, yourself are living proof; if ability and leadership meant more than family fortunes, then why have you not been absorbed into the Techno class?"
Confronted with such irrefutable evidence, Rome asked the General to continue. "You say that you have never been to the Yards, Rome. I have." Tenn looked as if he were somehow wrestling with himself over just what he should tell Rome; he spoke slowly, choosing his words with great care. "My duties in the Army have taken me to the farthest outposts of our civilization. I've visited the Yards several times, twice before George and the Viscount Limpkin even conceived of the Ship, and a few more times since. Frankly, Rome, what I have seen disturbs me."
"The Ship?"
"Oh no, hardly. The Ship is coming along beautifully. A trifle more beautifully than some would like." Tenn gestured earnestly to Rome. "You see, my loyalty is to the Army, not to the Government or the immortal masses or any synthetic class divisions that anyone has dreamed up. I am really at a loss to explain the purpose behind the Technos and the People being split apart for any reason other than that of dominion by the former.
"At any rate, my uncommitted status has allowed me access to information and freedom from restriction that . . . " Rome thought that the General looked like a man who was about to betray somebody. "Rome, it appears to me that the Technos, or whatever you care to call our new rulers, have taken over the idea of the Ship and perverted it. They mean never to complete the Ship."
Rome was astounded. "The Government would never permit such a thing!"
"I know. I said the same thing when the possibility first presented itself and was then confirmed by my studies."
"But what could they hope to accomplish with this trickery?"
"I can speak only from personal observation and conjecture, but it seems that the Technos are using the Ship as a part in a deception. They plan to use it like a carrot, dangling the prospect of escape from this godawful planet to stimulate the masses into productive action—give them a great Cause to work for and all that. But while all of us out there are breaking our collective backs just so our sons may see a better world, the Technos divert a portion of the products and rechannel it back into the country itself. The theory is that as this World grows finer and finer through the work we inadvertantly put into it, we will grow less interested in the Ship. Ultimately, we will forget her entirely, turn around, and find that we have built another Home without even knowing it."
Rome did not know how to evaluate the plan. Admittedly, it sounded fine at first. "But, I must say that if it works, it would be a good deal more practical than flying the Ship on a dangerous voyage to another world, no matter how grand," observed Rome, hoping his opinion would not be too far from Tenn's.
Tenn smiled in his spectral manner. "Yes, but don't you see that it wouldn't work? This plan would probably succeed wonderfully in a normal world, in a First World. But this isn't the First World, it is the World, the bastardized parody World, where logical rules seldom hold. Of course we are inspired by the Ship and are now engaged in new works of undreamed of magnitude. But it is only a matter of time until the World swallows them like it has every other effort that we have made in the last three thousand years.
"Another thing. Who or what is to guarantee that our respected Technos will adhere to their own magnanimous scheme? What is to keep them from channeling all this effort into their own houses, as indeed many are already doing, instead of into the country as a whole? They now control all our knowledge, and eventually, whether we get to Home or not, they will control all physical power and wealth.
"Thirdly, there is the fact that the Ship is awakening many of the old, sleeping terrors of the World. The Imperial Vale is a perfect case. We were living adequately and were reasonably happy, but then the Ship necessitated our stumbling into that cursed valley and awakening all the menaces that had lain there harmlessly for several centuries. I admit that this had to be done to reach the Yards and start the Ship. If we complete the Ship without disturbing the countryside any more than we have to, especially the western lands, and leave, then we run a minimal risk. But if we allow our power to be rooted to the substance and being of the World, the Technos will inevitably try to expand. And just as inevitably, their wielding of our power will eventually disturb a force which will wipe them, and in all probability, the rest of the World, out.
"The futility of it all is manifest. If you need any more proof, you need only refer to the Builders of the Yards themselves. Their technological abilities and industrial capacities were so great that now, even though we are actually using their relics, we still feel that we are moving in a myth-world. But even those creatures, with their unlimited power to conquer and pacify, bent all their will, not to tame the hostile land, but just to escape it!" Tenn drank some more wine and sighed heavily. "And the Technos presume to conquer what the Builders knew to be invincible."
Rome sat quietly, alternately staring at the General and the fire. Shocked and puzzled as he was, his primary concern was still that his words should not cause the General to lose some of the obvious respect he held for him. "Haven't the Technos thought of the dangers that you have just told me of?"
"I should think so; most of them are certainly not fools. But I think that they have been carried away by the magnitude of their undertaking—or by the magnitude of the profits they hope to reap from it. They are taking a calculated risk, but they have underestimated the odds; you and I and our future are the stakes they are gambling with."
"I'm overwhelmed by this, sir. I don't know what to say, if anything at all. However, I must admit that what you have told me does seem to—uh—coincide with some suspicions that I myself have long had." Rome immediately set about modifying any thoughts he might have had on the Ship or the Technos, and making them cast doubt on the intentions of the latter; it suddenly seemed to him that great minds do run on parallel tracks. "Yes, now that you mention it, and back it up with an amazingly obvious but previously ignored . . . "
"Or censored," added the General.
Rome smiled knowingly—the machinations of power were becoming very clear to him. "Or censored, it does look as if the Caroline might be cheated out of her liberty and her escape to Home. How does all this involve me?"
"You are involved as a leader of those whose lives and heritages are in danger. You have the ear of the People and, more importantly, you are one of them. They believe in the Government now, but certain unforeseen events may shake their confidence; then the inescapable fact of rigid class lines will come to the fore. When you speak and act at that time, it will be with their own voice and with their own hands."
"And what is it that I must say?" asked Rome, heady with the power that so great a man as Tenn had accredited him with.
"You will tell them nothing, now. You will wait and carry this secret inside of you, as I have done. For all I know, the whole affair might come off even better than planned. But watch! Watch for the Technos to become more authoritarian, to attempt to slow the construction of the Ship, to channel the fruits of our labor into their own treasuries. And when you start to see this, Rome, tell the People that the Ship has been betrayed. If this time does not come in our lifetimes, as it well might not, then we must also be prepared.
"Find men you can trust and share this knowledge with them; if anything it will ease the burden of carrying the suspicions alone. Organize, prepare and wait.
"I know of some men that would be of use to you. Here." Tenn handed the engineer a small piece of paper. "If I can get word to them in time, they will contact you as soon as they are able." Tenn relaxed a little; Rome noticed that the white burn-scar had become a brilliant red in the firelight. "And then, my good man, I have every confidence that the People, once they are in possession of all the facts and led by you or your successors, will act in the proper manner."
"What do you mean, 'in time?"' asked Rome unsurely.
"One of the reasons I've told you all this is because I fear that the Government is aware of my beliefs. As an officer I am powerless to do anything overt, but they must know that I can tell others; if they ever find out about this meeting, my military record and value to the nation will count for little. Of course, if they are as honest as they would have us believe and are working for the betterment of us all, then I have nothing to worry about; but if I have correctly guessed their evil intentions, then they will stop at nothing to silence me."
Rome was about to question Tenn further when the General abruptly stood up and thanked him for his presence. Rome was soon walking beside the General as a servant lighted the way to the main gate.
Rome spent the trip home trying to decide whether to be delighted that happenings of such vast import should pivot on his shoulders, or to be terrified at the consequences that would follow any failure. He assumed the sad look of Great Men who are both aware of their own limitless abilities and of the responsibilities that they incur; he thought it made him look much more dignified.
A week later, Rome finally left for the Yards, looking even more dignified than he would have liked. Every night since he had met Tenn, he had taken a ride out to the foot of Mount Royal to see if the lights of Caltroon were still burning. On the third night of his observations he got the distinct feeling that he was being followed. He quickly turned and headed for the city; but before he was within sight of the North Gate a pack of horsemen, dressed in the dull green uniforms of the Household Cavalry, galloped past him and took the River Road to Caltroon. Rome rode along behind them cautiously; he was relieved to see that the lights in the Great Keep were still lighted. But the relief turned to fear as some of the lights suddenly went out and the night wind carried indistinct fragments of screams and what might have been the rattle of automatic weapons. As the last light went out, Rome was already running through North Gate.
Inquiries at the War Office netted Rome an outright denial that any General Tenn had ever been carried on their lists. The Admiralty had never heard, or said that they had never heard, of anyone named Tenn, but perhaps the Office of Procurement might know. Rome knew nothing of any such Office, but since they had an office in the basement of the Admiralty, he tried anyway. There an emaciated-looking matron with steel dentures said that the only Tenn she knew of was working with the Admiralty and that he had just been sent on a diplomatic mission to Mourne. This Tenn should be back in ten years. Would Sir Philip care to wait?