The Fabulous Riverboat by Phillip Jose Farmer

14

Sam awoke with a start, Ms heart beating as if some monster of his nightmares had kicked it. Wet air was blowing in through the interstices of the bamboo walls and the mat hanging over the entranceway. Rain crashed against the leaf-covered roof, and thunder boomed from the mountains. Joe was still snoring his private thunder.

Sam stretched, and then he cried out and sat up. His hand had touched flesh. Lightning from far away paled the darkness by two shades and gave vague shape to someone squatting by the cot.

A familiar baritone spoke. “You needn’t look for the titanthrop to come to your aid. I’ve ensured that he’ll not wake until dawn.”

By this, Sam knew that the Ethical could see where no light was. Sam picked up a cigar from the little folding table and said, “Mind if I smoke?”

The Mysterious Stranger took so long replying that Sam wondered. The glow from the hot wire in Sam’s lighter would not be bright enough to reveal the man’s features, and probably he was wearing a mask or some device over his face. Did he dislike the odor of cigars, perhaps of tobacco in any form? Yet he hesitated to say so because this characteristic might identify him? Identify whom? The other Ethicals who knew that they had a renegade among them? There were twelve, or so the Stranger had said. If they ever learned that he, Sam Clemens, had been contacted by an Ethical, and learned of the Ethical’s dislike of tobacco, would They know at once the renegade’s identity?

Sam did not voice his suspicions. He would keep this to himself for possible later use.

“Smoke,” the Stranger said. Although Sam could not see him or hear him move, he got the impression that he backed off a little.

“What’s the occasion for this unexpected visit?” Sam said.

“To tell you I won’t be able to see you again for a long time. I didn’t want you to think I’d deserted you. I’m being called away on business you wouldn’t understand even if I were to explain it. You’re on your own now for a long time. If things should go badly for you, I won’t be able to interfere even in a subtle way.

“However, you have all you need at present to occupy you for a decade. You’ll have to use your own ingenuity to solve the many technical problems that will arise. I can’t supply you with any more metals or materials you might need or extricate you from difficulties with invaders. I took enough chances in getting the meteorite down to you and in telling you where the bauxite and platinum are.

“There will be other Ethicals—not the Twelve, but second-order—to watch you, but they won’t interfere. They won’t think the boat any danger to The Plan. They’d rather you didn’t have the iron and they’ll be upset when you ‘discover’ the platinum and bauxite. They want you Terrestrials to be occupied with psychic development, not technological. But they won’t stick their noses in.”

Sam felt a little panic. For the first time, he realized that, though he hated the Ethical, he had come to depend strongly on him for moral and material support.

“I hope nothing goes wrong,” Sam said. “I almost lost my chance at the iron today. If it hadn’t been for Joe and that fellow, Odysseus. . . .”

Then he said, “Hold it! Odysseus told me that the Ethical who talked to him was a woman!” The darkness chuckled. “What does that mean?”

“Either you’re not the only renegade or else you can change your voice. Or maybe, maybe you’re not telling me the truth at all! Maybe you’re all in on this and feeding out fine lies for some plan of your own! We’re tools in your hands!”

“I’m not lying! And I can’t tell you about your other guesses. If you, or the others I’ve chosen, are detected and questioned, their stories will confuse my colleagues.”

There was a rustic. “I must go now. You’re on your own. Good luck.” “Wait! What if I fail?”

“Somebody else will build the boat, but I have good reasons for wanting you to do it.”