The Great White Space by Basil Copper Read Free Book Online Page B

pumped the water along the dykes to the fields.
     
    The high whine of the pumping machinery; the keening of the wind far out; the curious patterns and whorls in the browny-grey sand of the desert which stretched away across the far horizon; the black and menacing line of the mountains in the distance; and the scorching breath of an oven which came from off the desert like the respiration of a wild beast had a fascination all its own and even now, after all this time, and with the knowledge I bear, I have only to close my eyes to bring it all vividly back to mind. These evenings represented almost the last peaceful moments I was to know in this life.
     
    So the days slowly passed in this strange spot with all the gentle inconsistency of a hashish-eater's dream and one evening Scarsdale announced that we would be setting out for the distant fastness of Nylstrom the following morning. We had spent the day testing the tractors and taking on fresh supplies so it was no real surprise but one had become so used to the present life that it was something of a shock to realise that we would shortly be fighting at the levers of the tractors and sweltering in the tropical heat.
     
    The Mir had assigned to us one of the more prepossessing of his subjects, the dwarf Zalor, who knew the people of Nylstrom and, what was more important, the nomadic desert tribes, and who, the ruler thought, would be useful to us on our travels. He would remain at Nylstrom and return to Zak with the monthly caravan which traded between these two places. I personally was unimpressed with our guide who had the cold eyes, pointed head, and thick lips endemic to his race and who was, moreover, like all his fellows, completely without a sense of humour.
     
    Uniquely, however, he spoke perfect English and a smattering of the desert tongues in addition to his own language, so he was obviously a valuable addition to the expedition. To my regret, however, Scarsdale said that he would be traveling in our tractor for the first day. Scarsdale had a habit, when we were under way, of dividing his time between the tractors; in that way he could see how each of us handled the machines and, what was more important from his point of view, discover how we dealt with the various emergencies that inevitably came up during the course of each day. So I was relieved to know that the formidable figure of the Professor would also be aboard; I should have all my time fully occupied in controlling the machine and I did not relish the somewhat malignant figure of the dwarf hovering over my shoulder during all of the difficult day.
     
    It was a morning of shouting wind and brilliant sunshine, the second week in September, when we left Zak; the Mir had graciously consented to see us off in formal style and I took photographs of him shaking hands with Scarsdale and Van Damm and otherwise recorded the historic moment for posterity. The sullen people of the city, as was their habit, showed as little enthusiasm for the occasion as they had for our coming and there were only about a couple of dozen people, mostly officials and administrators from the Palace staff, who had come to salute us into the unknown.
     
    They stood in a semi-circle as the whine of the tractor's motors cut through the noise of the wind, and raised their strange, three-pronged wands of office in grave farewell. Van Damm's vehicle, with pennants bravely fluttering, was first off, though this was merely a piece of show. As soon as we were under way my tractor, which would carry the guide, would be in the lead position and the others would take station on us. In the meantime the dwarf Zalor pointed out the general direction to Van Damm; we were heading south, but would have to shift and tack across the great sand wilderness to avoid certain geological features.
     
    At last, with the other three great machines lumbering across the ridge and making for the distant point where the earth ran out into browny-grey sand,