11 - Planet of the Damned by Harry Harrison

In a world where extraordinary individuals emerge only once in a generation, Brion Brandd possesses a remarkable gift an enhanced sense of empathy. This unique ability propels him to victory in the Twenties, a prestigious competition showcasing the most brilliant minds on Anvhar. However, his triumph is short-lived as he is thrust into the chaotic realm of Dis, a planet on the brink of nuclear devastation. To save both worlds, Brandd must navigate treacherous negotiations with a menacing blockade, delve into the dark underbelly of Dis, and unravel the enigma of the merciless magter. Summary by Great Plains

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter eleven of Planet of the Damned. This is a
LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain.
For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot org.
Recording by November eighth, Echo Victor Victor, Planet of the

(00:20):
Damned by Harry Harrison, Chapter eleven. Facing the silent distance,
Brion's thoughts hurdled about in sweeping circles. There would be
no more than an instant's tick of time before the
magter revenged themselves bloodily and completely. He felt a fleeting
regret for not having brought his gun, then abandoned the thought.

(00:44):
There was no time for regrets. What could he do now?
The silent watchers hadn't attacked instantly, and Brion realized that
they couldn't be positive yet that lig Magta had been killed.
Only Brion himself knew the deadliness of that blow. Their
lack of knowledge might buy him a little more time.

(01:07):
Lig Magta is unconscious, but he will revive quickly, Brion said,
pointing to the huddled body. As the eyes turned automatically
to follow his finger. He began walking slowly towards the exit.
I did not want to do this, but he forced
me to because he wouldn't listen to reason. Now, I

(01:28):
have something else to show you, something that I hoped
it would not be necessary to reveal. He was saying
the first words that came into his head, trying to
keep them distracted as long as possible. He must appear
to be only going across the room. That was the
feeling he must generate. There was even time to stop

(01:50):
for a second and straighten his rumpled clothing and brush
the sweat from his eyes, talking easily, walking slowly towards
the hall that led out of the chamber. He was
halfway there when the spell broke and the rush began.
One of the magter knelt and touched the body and
shouted a single word dead. Brion hadn't waited for the

(02:14):
official announcement. At the first movement of feet, he dived
headlong for the shelter of the exit. There was a
spatter of tiny missiles on the wall next to him,
and he had a brief glimpse of raised blowguns before
the wall intervened. He went up the dimly lit stairs
three at a time. The pack was just behind him,

(02:35):
voiceless and deadly. He could not gain on them. If anything,
they were closing the distance as he pushed his already
tired body to the utmost. There was no subtlety or
trick he could use now, just straightforward flight back the
way he had come. A single slip on the irregular
steps and it would be all over. There was someone

(02:59):
ahead of him. If the woman had waited a few
seconds more, he would certainly have been killed. But instead
of slashing at him as he went by the doorway,
she made the mistake of rushing to the center of
the stairs, the knife ready to impale him as he
came up without slowing. Brion fell on to his hands
and easily dodged under the blow. As he passed, he

(03:22):
twisted and seized her around the waist, picking her from
the ground. When her legs lifted from under her, the
woman screamed, the first human sound Brion had heard in
this human ant hill. His pursuers were just behind him,
and he hurled the woman into them with all his strength.
They fell in a tangle, and Brion used the precious

(03:44):
seconds gained to reach the top of the building. There
must have been other stairs and exits, because one of them.
Magter stood between Brion and the way down out of
this trap, armed and ready to kill him if he
tried to pass. As he ran towards the executioner, Brion
flicked on his collar radio and shouted into it, I'm

(04:06):
in trouble here, can you The guards in the car
must have been waiting for this message. Before he had finished,
there was the thud of a high velocity slug hitting flesh,
and the distance spun and fell, blood soaking his shoulder,
Brion leaped over him and headed for the ramp. This
next one is me. Hold your fire, he called. Both

(04:28):
guards must have had their telescopic sights zeroed on the spot.
They let Brion pass, then threw in a hail of
semi automatic fire that tore chunks from the stone and
screamed away in noisy ricochets. Brion didn't try to see
if anyone was braving this hail of covering fire. He
concentrated his energies on making as quick and erratical descent

(04:51):
as he could Above the sounds of the firing. He
heard the car motor howl as it leaped forward. With
their careful aim spoiled, the gunners switched to full automatic
and unleashed a hailstorm of flying metal that bracketed the
top of the tower cease firing. Brion gasped into the

(05:12):
radio as he ran. The driver was good and timed
his rival with exactitude. The car reached the base of
the tower at the same instant Brion did, and he
burst through the door while it was still moving. No
orders were necessary. He fell headlong onto a seat as
the car swung in a dust raising turn and ground

(05:32):
into high gear back to the city. Reaching over carefully,
the tall guard gently extracted a bit of pointed wood
and fluff from a fold of Brion's pants. He cracked
open the car door and just as delicately threw it out.
I knew that thing didn't touch you, he said, since

(05:53):
you're still among the living. They've got a poison on
those blowgun darts that takes all of twelve seconds to work.
Lucky Lucky Brion was beginning to realize just how lucky
he was to be out of the trap, alive and
with information. Now that he knew more about the magter,

(06:13):
he shuddered at his innocence in walking alone and unarmed
into the tower. Skill had helped him survive, but better
than average luck had been necessary. Curiosity had got him
him in brashness and speed had taken him out. He
was exhausted, battered and bloody, but cheerfully happy. The facts

(06:35):
about the Magter were arranging themselves into a theory that
might explain their attempt at racial suicide. It just needed
a little time to be put into shape. A pain
cut across his arm, and he jumped, startled, piece of
his of his thoughts crashing into ruin around him. The
gunner had cracked the first aid box and was swabbing

(06:58):
his arm with antiseptic. The knife wound was long, but
not deep. Brion shivered while the bandage was going on,
then quickly slipped into his coat. The air conditioner whined industriously,
bringing down the temperature. There was no attempt to follow
the car. When the Black Tower had dropped over the horizon,

(07:19):
the guards relaxed, ran cleaning rods through their guns, and
compared marksmanship. All of their antagonism towards Brion was gone.
They actually smiled at him. He had given them the
first chance to shoot back since they had been on
this planet. The ride was uneventful, and Brion was scarcely

(07:40):
aware of it. A theory was taking form in his mind.
It was radical and startling, yet it seemed to be
the only one that fitted the facts. He pushed at
it from all sides, but if there were any holes,
he couldn't find them. What it needed was dispassionate proving
or disproving. There was all only one person on Diss

(08:01):
who was qualified to do this. Lea was working in
the lab when he came in, bent over a low
power binocular microscope. Something small, limbless and throbbing was on
the slide. She glanced up when she heard his footsteps,
smiling warmly when she recognized him. Fatigue and pain had

(08:23):
drawn her face, her skin glistening with burn an ointment,
was chapped and peeling. I must look a wreck, she said,
putting the back of her hand to her cheek, something
like a well oiled and lightly cooked piece of beef.
She lowered her arms suddenly and took his hand in

(08:43):
both of hers. Her palms were warm and slightly moist.
Thank you, Brion, was all she could say. Her society
on Earth was highly civilized and sophisticated, able to discuss
any topic without emotion and without embarrassment. This was fine
in most circumstances, but it made it difficult to thank

(09:07):
a person for saving your life. However you tried to
phrase it, it came out sounding like a last act
speech from a historical play. There was no doubt, however,
as to what she meant. Her eyes were large and dark,
the pupils dilated by the drugs she had been given.
They could not lie, nor could the emotions he sensed.

(09:30):
He did not answer, just held her hand an instant longer.
How do you feel, he asked, concerned. His conscience twinged
as he remembered that he was the one who had
ordered her out of bed and back to work to day.
I should be feeling terrible, she said, with an airy
wave of her hand, but I'm walking on top of

(09:52):
the world. I'm so loaded with pain killers and stimulants
that I'm high as the moon. All the nerves to
my feet feel turned off. It's like walking on two
balls of fluff. Thanks for getting me out of that
awful hospital and back to work. Brion was suddenly sorry

(10:12):
for having driven her from her sick bed. Don't be sorry,
Leah said, apparently reading his mind, but really seeing only
his sudden, ashamed expression. I'm feeling no pain. Honestly, I
feel a little lightheaded and foggy at times, nothing more.
And this is the job I came here to do.

(10:33):
In fact, well, it's almost impossible to tell you just
how fascinating it all is. It's almost worth getting baked
and parboiled for. She swung back to the microscope, centering
the specimen with a turn of the stage adjustment screw.
Poor Isle was right when he said this planet was
exobiologically fascinating. This is a gastropod, a lot like ODIs,

(11:00):
but it has parasitical morphological changes so profound that there's
something else. I remember, Brion said, interrupting her enthusiastic lecture,
only half of which he could understand, didn't. I also
hope that you would give some study to the natives
as well as their environment. The problem is with the Disans,

(11:24):
not with the local wildlife. But I am studying them.
Leah insisted. The Dissans have attained an incredibly advanced form
of commensialism. Their lives are so intimately connected and integrated
with the other life forms that they must be studied
in relation to their environment. I doubt if they show

(11:47):
as many external physical changes as little eating foot odostomia
on the slide here. But there will surely be a
number of psychological changes and adjustments that will crop up.
These might be the explanation of their urge for planetary suicide.
That may be true, but I don't think so, Brion said.

(12:09):
I went on a little expedition this morning and found
something that has more immediate relevancy. For the first time,
Leah became aware of his slightly battered condition. Her drug
grooved mind could only follow a single idea at a time,
and had overlooked the significance of the bandage in dirt.

(12:29):
I've been visiting, Brion said, forestalling the question on her lips.
The magter are the ones who are responsible for causing
the trouble, and I had to see them up close
before I could make any decisions. It wasn't a very
pleasant thing, but I found out what I wanted to know.
They are different in every way from the normal distance

(12:51):
I've compared them. I've talked to Olv, the native who
saved us in the desert, and I can understand him.
He is not like us in many ways. He certainly
couldn't be living in this oven, but he is still
undeniably human. He gave us drinking water when we needed it,
then brought help. The Magter, the upper class lords of

(13:14):
dis are the direct opposite, as cold blooded and ruthless,
a bunch of murderers as you can possibly imagine. They
tried to kill me when they met me without reason.
Their clothes, habits, dwellings, manners, everything about them differs from
that of the normal Disan. More important, the Magter are

(13:35):
as coldly, efficient and inhuman as a reptile. They have
no emotions, no love, no hate, no anger, no fear, nothing.
Each of them is a chilling bundle of thought processes
and reactions with all the emotions removed. Aren't you exaggerating,

(13:56):
Leah asked, After all, you can't be sure. It might
just be part of their training not to reveal any
emotional state. Everyone must experience emotional states, whether they like
it or not. That's my main point. Everyone does, except
the Magter. I can't go into all the details now,

(14:16):
so you'll just have to take my word for it.
Even at the point of death, they have no fear
or hatred. It may sound impossible, but it is true.
Leah tried to shake the knots from her drug hazed mind.
I'm dull today, she said. You'll have to excuse me.
If these rulers had no emotional responses, that might explain

(14:40):
their present suicidal position. But an explanation like this raises
more new problems than it supplies answers to the old ones.
How did they get this way? It doesn't seem humanly
possible to be without emotions of some kind. Just my point,
not humanly possible. I think these ruling class disans aren't

(15:03):
human at all, like the other disans. I think they
are alien creatures, robots or androids, anything except men. I
think they are living in disguise among the normal human dwellers.
At first, Lea started to smile, Then her feeling changed
when she saw his face. You are serious, she asked,

(15:26):
Never more so. I realize it must sound as if
I've had my brains bounced around too much this morning.
Yet this is the only idea I can come up
with that fits all of the fats. Look at the
evidence yourself. One simple thing stands out clearly, and it
must be considered first if any theory is to hold up.

(15:48):
That is the magter's complete indifference to death, their own
or anyone else's. Is that normal to mankind? No? But
I can find a couple of explanation that I would
rather explore first before dragging in an alien life form.
There must have been a mutation or an inherited disease

(16:09):
that has deformed or warped their minds. Wouldn't that be
sort of self eliminating, Brion asked anti survival. People who
die before puberty would find it a little difficult to
pass on a mutation to their children. But let's not
beat this one point to death. It's the totality of
those people that I find so hard to accept. Any

(16:32):
One thing might be explained away, but not the collection
of them. What about their complete lack of emotion, or
their manner of dress and their secrecy in general? The
ordinary disan wears a cloth kilt, while the magger cover
themselves as completely as possible. They stay in their black
towers and never go out except in groups. They're dead,

(16:55):
are always removed, so they can't be examined. In every way.
They act like a race apart, and I think they
are granted for the moment that this outlandish idea might
be true. How did they get here? And why doesn't
anyone know about it besides them easily enough, explained. Brion insisted,

(17:17):
there are no written records on this planet. After the breakdown,
when the handful of survivors were just trying to exist here,
the aliens could have landed and moved in. Any interference
could have been wiped out. Once the population began to grow,
the invaders found they could keep control by staying separate,

(17:38):
so their alien difference wouldn't be noticed. Why should that
bother them, Leah asked. If they are so indifferent to death,
they can't have any strong thoughts on public opinion or
alien body odor. Why would they bother with such a
complex camouflage if they arrived from another planet? What has happened?

(18:00):
And to the scientific ability that brought them here peace,
Brion said, I don't know enough to be able even
to guess at answers to half your questions. I'm just
trying to fit a theory to the facts, and the
facts are clear. The magter are so inhuman they would
give me nightmares if I were sleeping these days. What

(18:22):
we need is more evidence, then get it. Leah said,
with finality. I'm not telling you to turn murderer, but
you might try a bit of grave digging. Give me
a scalpel and one of your friends stretched out on
a slab, and I'll quickly tell you what he is
or not. She turned back to the microscope and bent

(18:44):
over the eyepiece. That was really the only way to
hack the guardian knot Diss had only thirty six more
hours to live, so individual deaths shouldn't be of any concern.
He had to find a dead magter, and if none
was obtin hainable in the proper condition, he had to
get one of them by violence for a planetary savior

(19:06):
he was personally doing in an awful lot of the citizenry.
He stood behind Leah, looking down at her thought fully
while she worked the back of her neck, lightly covered
with gently curling hair, was turned toward him with one
of the about face shifts the mind is capable of.
His thoughts flipped from death to life, and he experienced

(19:30):
a strong desire to caress this spot lightly, to feel
the yielding texture of female flesh. Plunging his hands deep
into his pockets, he walked quickly to the door get
some rest. Soon, he called to her, I doubt if
those bugs will give you the answer I'm going now
to see if I can get the full sized specimen

(19:51):
you want. The truth could be anywhere. I'll stay on
these until you come back, she said, not looking up
from the microscope. Up under the roof was a well
equipped communications room. Brion had taken a quick look at
it when he had first toured the building. The duty
operator had earphones on, though only one of the phones

(20:13):
covered an ear and was maundering through the bands. His
shoeless feet were on the edge of the table and
he was eating a thick sandwich held in his free hand.
His eyes bulged when he saw Brion in the doorway,
and he jumped into a flurry of action. Hold the pose,
Brion told him. It doesn't bother me, and if you

(20:34):
make any sudden moves you are liable to break a phone,
electrocute yourself or choke to death. Just see if you
can set the transceiver on this frequency for me. Brion
wrote the number on a scratch pad and slid it
over to the operator. It was the frequency Professor Commander
Croft had given him for the radio of the illegal terrorists.

(20:58):
The Nyjord Army operator plugged in a handset and gave
it to Brion. Circ and open, he mumbled around a
mouthful of still unswallowed sandwich. This is Brandt, director of
the CRF. Come in please. He went on repeating this
for more than ten minutes before he got an answer.

(21:20):
What do you want. I have a message of vital
urgency for you, and I would also like your help.
Do you want any more information on the radio? No?
Wait there, we'll get in touch with you after dark.
The carrier wave went dead thirty five hours to the

(21:40):
end of the world, and all he could do was wait.
End of Chapter eleven