Planet of Adventure Omnibus (3 page)

The warriors
passed quietly below, stealthy and furtive. They paused in the shadows to
survey the boat, then the leader, a warrior younger than the rest, no more than
a youth and lacking a mustache, stepped out into the open and examined the sky.
He was joined by three older men, wearing globes of pink and blue glass on
their helmets, who also searched the sky with great care. Then the youth
signaled to the others, and all approached the boat.

Paul Waunder
raised his hand in the feeblest of salutes. One of the men with the glass
globes snatched up his catapult, but the youth yelled an angry order and the
man sullenly turned away. One of the warriors cut the parachute shrouds, let
Waunder fall to the ground.

The youth
gave other orders; Waunder was picked up and carried to a dry area.

The youth now
turned to investigate the space-boat. Boldly he clambered up on the hull and
looked in through the ejection ports.

The older men
with the pink and blue globes stood back in the shadows, muttering dourly
through their drooping whiskers and glowering toward Waunder. One of them
clapped his hand to the emblem on his hat as if the object had jerked or made a
sound. Then, at once, as if stimulated by the contact, he stalked upon Waunder,
drew his rapier, brought it flickering down. To Reith’s horror Paul Waunder’s
head rolled free of his torso, and his blood gushed forth to soak into the
black soil.

The youth
seemed to sense the act and swung about. He cried out in fury, leaped to the
ground, marched over to the murderer. The youth snatched forth his own rapier,
flicked it and the flexible end slashed in to cut away the emblem from the man’s
hat. The youth picked it up, and pulling a knife from his boot hacked savagely
at the soft silver, then cast it down at the murderer’s feet with a spate of
bitter words. The murderer, cowed, picked up the emblem and moved sullenly off
to the side.

From a great
distance came a throb of sound. The warriors set up a soft hooting, either as a
ceremonial response or in fear and mutual admonition, and quickly retreated
into the forest.

Low in the
sky appeared an aircraft, which first hovered, then settled: a sky-raft fifty
feet long, twenty feet wide, controlled from an ornate belvedere at the stern.
Forward and aft great lanterns dangled from convolute standards; the bulwarks
were guarded by a squat balustrade. Leaning over the balustrade, pushing and
jostling, were two dozen passengers, in imminent danger, so it seemed, of
falling to the ground.

Reith watched
in numb fascination as the craft landed beside the scout-boat. The passengers
jumped quickly off: individuals of two sorts, non-human and human, though this
distinction was not instantly obvious. The non-human creatures-Blue Chasch, as
Reith was to learn-walked on short heavy legs, moving with a stiff-legged
strut. The typical individual was massive and powerful, scaled like a pangolin
with blue pointed tablets. The torso was wedge-shaped, with exoskeletal
epaulettes of chitin curving over into a dorsal carapace. The skull rose to a bony
point; a heavy brow jutted over the ocular holes, glittering metallic eyes and
the complicated nasal orifice. The men were as similar to the Blue Chasch as
breeding, artifice and mannerism allowed. They were short, stocky, with
bandy-legs; their faces were blunt and almost chinless, with the features
compressed. They wore what appeared to be false craniums which rose to a point
and beetled over their foreheads; and their jerkins and trousers were worked
with scales.

Chasch and
Chaschmen ran to the scout-boat, communicating in fluting glottal cries. Some
clambered up the hull, peered into the interior, others investigated the head
and torso of Paul Waunder, which they picked up and carried aboard the raft.

From the
control belvedere came a bawled alarm. Blue Chasch and Chaschmen looked up into
the sky, then hurriedly pushed the raft under the trees and out of sight. Once
again the little clearing was deserted.

Minutes
passed. Reith closed his eyes and considered the evil nightmare from which he
hoped to wake, secure aboard the
Explorator
.

 A
thudding of engines aroused him from torpor. Down from the sky sank still
another vehicle: an airship which, like the raft, had been built with small
regard for aerodynamic efficiency. There were three decks, a central rotunda,
balconies of black wood and copper, a scrolled prow, observation cupolas,
weapon ports, a vertical fin displaying a gold and black insignia. The ship
hovered while those on the decks gave the space-boat a fastidious inspection.
Some of these were not human, but tall attenuated creatures, hairless, pale as
parchment, with austere countenances, languid and elegant attitudes. Others,
apparently subordinates, were men, though they displayed the same attenuated
arms, legs and torso, the sheep-like mannerisms. Both races wore elaborate
costumes of ribbons, flounces, sashes. Later Reith would know the non-human
folk as Dirdir and their human subordinates as Dirdirmen. At the moment, dazed
by the immensity of his disaster, he noted the splendid Dirdir airship only
with disinterested wonder. The thought, however, seeped into his mind that
either these tall pale folk or their predecessors at the scene had destroyed
the
Explorator IV
, and both had evidently tracked the arrival of the
scout-boat.

Dirdir and
Dirdirmen scrutinized the space-boat with keen interest. One of them called
attention to the print left by the Chasch raft, and the discovery created an
instant atmosphere of emergency. Instantly from the forest came stabs of
purple-white energy; Dirdir and Dirdirmen fell writhing. Chasch and Chaschmen
charged forth, Chasch firing hand-weapons, Chaschmen running to throw grapples
at the ship.

The Dirdir
discharged their own hand-weapons, which exuded a violet flare and whorls of
orange plasma; Chasch and Chaschmen were consumed in a purple and orange blaze.
The Dirdir ship lifted, to be constrained by grapples. The Dirdirmen hacked
with knives, burnt with energy pistols; the ship broke free, to fluting cries
of disappointment from the Chasch.

A hundred
feet above the bog the Dirdir turned heavy plasma-beams upon the forest and
burnt a series of reeking avenues, but failed to destroy the raft, from which
the Chasch were now aiming their own great mortars. The first Chasch projectile
missed. The second struck the ship under the hull; it slewed around under the
impact, then gave a great dart off into the sky, flitting, lurching, jerking
like a wounded insect, upside-down, then right-side up, with Dirdir and
Dirdirmen falling off, black specks drifting down the slate-colored sky. The
ship veered south, then east and presently was lost to sight.

Chasch and
Chaschmen came forth to gaze after the Dirdir ship. The raft slid forth from
the forest, hovered over the scoutboat. Grapples were dropped; the boat was
lifted from the mire. Chasch and Chaschmen climbed aboard the raft; it slanted
up into the air and moved off to the northeast, with the space-boat slung
below.

Time passed.
Reith hung in his harness, barely conscious. The sun settled behind the trees;
dimness began to drift over the landscape.

The
barbarians reappeared. They went to the clearing, made a desultory inspection,
looked up into the sky, then turned away.

Reith gave a
hoarse call. The warriors snatched out their catapults, but the youth made a
furious gesture to restrain them. He gave orders; two men climbed the tree, cut
the parachute shrouds to leave the ejection seat and Reith’s survival gear
swinging in the branches.

Reith was
lowered to the ground, none too gently, and his senses went dim at the grating
of bones in his shoulder. Forms loomed above him, speaking in harsh consonants
and broad vowels. he was lifted, placed in a litter; he felt the thud and swing
of footsteps; then he either fainted or fell asleep.

REITH AWOKE
To the flicker of firelight, the murmur of voices. Above was a dark canopy, to
either side a sky full of strange stars. The nightmare was real. Aspect by
aspect, sensation by sensation, Reith took stock of himself and his condition.
He lay on a pallet of woven reeds which exuded a sourish odor, half-vegetable,
half-human. His shirt had been removed; a harness of withe constricted his
shoulders and provided support for his broken bones. Painfully he raised his
head and looked around. He lay in an open-sided shelter of metal poles covered
with fabric. Another paradox, thought Reith. The metal poles indicated a high
level of technology; the weapons and manners of the people were purely
barbaric. Reith tried to look toward the fire, but the effort pained him and he
lay back.

The camp was
in the open country; the forest had been left behind; so much was evident from
the stars. He wondered about his ejection seat and the attached survival pack.
Seat and pack had been left dangling, so he recalled to his regret. He had only
himself and his innate resources to depend upon-a quality somewhat augmented by
the training forced upon a scout, some of which Reith had considered pedantic
over-elaboration. He had assimilated vast quantities of basic science,
linguistic and communication theory, astronautics, space and energy technology,
biometrics, meteorology, geology, toxicology. So much was theory; additionally
he had trained in practical survival techniques of every description: weaponry,
attack and defense, emergency nutrition, rigging and hoisting, space-drive
mechanics, electronic repair and improvisation. If he was not killed out of
hand, as had been Paul Waunder, he would live-but to what purpose? His chances
of returning to Earth must be considered infinitesimal, which made the intrinsic
interest of the planet less stimulating.

A shadow fell
across his face; Reith saw the youth who had saved his life. After peering
through the dark the youth kneeled down, proffered a bowl of coarse gruel.

“Thanks very
much,” said Reith. “But I don’t think I can eat; I’m constricted by the
splints.”

The youth
leaned forward, speaking in a rather curt voice. Reith thought his face
strangely stern and intense for a boy who could not be more than sixteen years
old.

With great
exertion Reith pulled himself up on his elbow and took the gruel. The youth
rose, moved a few paces back, stood watching as Reith tried to feed himself.
Then he turned and called a gruff summons. A small girl came running forward.
She bowed, took the bowl and began to feed Reith with earnest care.

The boy
watched a moment, evidently mystified by Reith, and Reith was perplexed no
less. Men and women, on a world two hundred and twelve light-years from Earth!
Parallel evolution? Incredible! Spoonful by spoonful the gruel was placed in
his mouth. The girl, about eight years old, wore a ragged pajama-like garment,
not too clean. A half-dozen men of the tribe came to watch; there was a growl
of conversation which the youth ignored.

The bowl was
empty; the girl held a mug of sour beer to Reith’s mouth. Reith drank because
it was expected of him, though the brew puckered his lips. “Thank you,” he told
the girl, who returned a diffident smile and quickly departed.

Reith lay
back on the pallet. The youth spoke to him in a brusque voice: evidently a question.

“Sorry,” said
Reith. “I don’t understand. But don’t be irritated; I need every friend I can
get.”

The youth
spoke no more and presently departed. Reith leaned back on his pallet and tried
to sleep. The firelight flickered low; activity in the camp dwindled.

From far off
came a faint call, half howl, half quavering hoot, which was presently answered
by another, and another, to become an almost identical chanting of hundreds of
voices. Raising up on his elbow once more, Reith saw that the two moons, of
equal apparent diameter, one pink, the other pale blue, had appeared in the
east.

A moment
later a new voice, nearer at hand, joined the far ululation. Reith listened in
wonder; surely this was the voice of a woman? Other voices joined the first,
wailing a wordless dirge, which, joined to the far hooting, produced a colloquy
of vast woe.

The chant at
last halted; the camp became quiet. Reith became drowsy and fell asleep.

In the
morning Reith saw more of the camp. It lay in a swale between a pair of broad
low hills, among multitudes rolling off to the east. Here for reasons not
immediately apparent to Reith the tribesmen elected to sojourn. Each morning
four young warriors wearing long brown cloaks mounted small electric
motorcycles and set off in different directions across the steppe. Each evening
they returned, to make detailed reports to Traz Onmale the boyruler. Every
morning a great kite was paid out, hoisting aloft a boy of eight or nine, whose
function was evidently that of a lookout. Late in the afternoon the wind tended
to die, dropping the kite more or less easily. The boy usually escaped with no
more than a bump, though the men handling the lines seemed to worry more for
the safety of the kite; a four-winged contraption of black membrane stretched
over wooden splints.

Each morning,
from beyond the hill to the east, sounded a fearful squealing, which persisted
for almost half an hour. The tumult, Reith presently learned, arose from the
herd of multilegged animals from which the tribe derived meat. Each morning the
tribe butcher, a woman six feet tall and brawny to match, went through the herd
with a knife and a cleaver, to excise three or four legs for the needs of the
day. Occasionally she cut flesh from a beast’s back, or reached through a wound
to carve chunks from an internal organ. The beasts made little protest at the
excision of their legs, which soon renewed themselves, but performed prodigies
of complaint when their bodies were entered.