The Almost Complete Short Fiction

by Don Wilcox

“What?”

  For a moment she only looked at me, searching my eyes. “We don’t understand each other, do we?” Finally I said, “Then why don’t we ask each other questions?”

  “Yes . . . Yes, ask me questions.”

  “All right.” I had an impulse to start pacing again. I walked about for a moment. “Tell me, Vauna. When your friend Gravgak demanded that you come and talk with him alone, what would have happened if your father hadn’t called you back?”

  She smiled faintly. “I will tell you a secret, Jim. I had already made my father promise to call me back. I whispered to him, ‘Call me back.’ ”

  “Why?”

  She gave an evasive little laugh. “You understand enough already. Now it is my question. Tell me, Captain Jim, why do you keep saying that you are going back to another world?”

  “Because I am. That’s my duty.”

  “When you ride with us on the Kao-Wagwattl you will come with us to another part of this world. It is more beautiful than here. We are only a few. Our race lives in the other part. My father came here only to study, but soon the Kao-Wagwattl will take us all back. And you and your friend Campbell will go with us and belong to us.”

  The self-discipline of an EGGWE agent is supposed to be his defense against any natives’ invitations, no matter how beautiful or charming the native. All I could say was, “You don’t understand us, do you, Vauna?”

  “Don’t I?”

  “Your people I love. And you, Vauna. But our orders are to return. I must not think of disobeying my orders. And I assure you Campbell is one who would never disobey.”

  “The big silver shell will take you away from us?”

  “Yes.”

  “You will remember me?”

  “Yes, always.”

  “Thank you, Jim.” She was weeping. I started to take her in my arms, but thought better of it. She dried her eyes. “I will remember you too. When I see Campbell and Omosla, I will have a dream of this hour, and how we didn’t understand.”

  I was quick to make a correction. “You’ll not be seeing Campbell. I’ll have to take him back with me, you know.”

  “No, he will be here. It is our rule that he should stay.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he has become the mate of our girl, Omosla.”

  I looked at her, not believing I had heard her words correctly. A fever swept my brain. In my own language I said harshly, “It’s a lie! Campbell would never violate—”

  “I do not understand your words,” Vauna said softly.

  Then in my broken Benzendella accents I asserted, calmly but decisively, “I don’t believe what you say. I don’t believe that Campbell has become the mate of Omosla.”

  “You will believe,” Vauna said, “when Omosla’s baby is born.”

  6.

  I had already sent for Campbell. Mentally I chastised myself for having sent Omosla. For if what I had been told was true, his life had become complicated enough already. (I must admit that for the moment I had something less than proper consideration for her.)

  Omosla didn’t return from the errand for Campbell. Maybe the news of my concern for him had frightened her away. One of her friends told me that Campbell was out on the surface somewhere; that he couldn’t be located just now. When he returned they would send him to me.

  I then sought the counsel of Tomboldo.

  “It can’t be true, this story about Campbell,” I said. “There’s been some mistake.”

  Tomboldo’s answer was soft spoken. “Much has happened. You have been ill for many weeks. You must take our word. Do you find the news not to your liking? Omosla is a devoted girl. And if our hero Campbell became her husband, all of us would be proud.”

  There was no use talking of the EGGWE Code to him, that was plain. All I could say at the moment was, “I’ll talk with Campbell.”

  For the next few nights, after the whole cavern city seemed to be asleep. I would walk forth a little distance. This was more than pacing. It was a test of my Strength and my wits, and most of all my confidence that I would not black out. It was proof; to myself that I was a well man again. It was a willful act of striking out on my own purposes. I would find Campbell.

  Each night I ventured a little farther. The artificial lights burned low. All was quiet. The luminous rock walls stared out from among the cavern furnishings. I walked steadily. I was getting used to the planet’s stronger gravity. I was learning to like the sandals they had given me to wear, cushioned with shreds of sponge-tree vegetation.

  Tonight as always I walked to the right from the arch, through one of Tomboldo’s rooms, and on past the storage rooms. The way opened into a long amber-lighted tunnel. The city branched off in little tunneled avenues from this passageway. Would Campbell be found on guard tonight—this way—or this way—or—

  I heard light footsteps, sounds of two persons somewhere in the distance. I moved back toward Tomboldo’s part of the cave to wait until the ways had cleared.

  Two men were coming through the corridor, conversing in low whispers.

  I moved back into the shadows, scarcely breathing.

  The glow of amber light from the corridor revealed them, silhouetted. The taller man was driving the smaller one ahead of him, threatening him with a short-bladed knife.

  They slowed their steps. Their low whispers were audible.

  “If you breathe a word I’ll rip you.” The agitated words of the tall guard, Gravgak. The light revealed the lines of green-and-black diamonds painted on his thighs.

  The smaller man, also a guard, muttered, “Have I ever told anything?”

  “You understand, then,” said Gravgak. “If anything happens, you’ll swear there was an intruder—one of the savages.”

  “I’ll swear it. I’ll say that I—”

  “Say that he knocked you down and forced his way in. Like this!”

  Gravgak struck him with his fist. The guard tumbled in a heap against the cavern wall. He lay there, eyes closed. Gravgak tiptoed past my hiding place. His eyes glinted with purpose. He paused at Tomboldo’s door, weighed the knife in his hand, then sheathed it. He went on toward Vauna’s room.

  I skipped to one side of the storage room where I had seen my equipment coat hanging. Without it I could have been no match for this man. My fingers caught it off the wall, I got into it as I hurried back. Automatically my hands checked the contents, everything in place—Gravgak was conversing with Vauna through the partly opened door. “I told you I would come.”

  “You have no right. I told you—” There was strength, not fear, in Vauna’s low voice.

  “Your father means for me to win you, if necessary by force.”

  “You lie. Go or I’ll sound the alarm.”

  “You are in love with that stranger.” His voice trembled with rage. “See, you don’t answer. If you want him to live, get rid of him. Send him back in his silver shell.”

  “You threaten my father’s guest?”

  “The great Tomboldo will not live long. I have heard the savages plan to come in some night soon and murder him.”

  At that instant old Tomboldo’s voice sounded from the next room. “Who’s there, Vauna?”

  “Gravgak!” It was Gravgak himself who answered. “I came to protect you, Tomboldo. There’s danger!”

  Tomboldo’s voice thundered with anger at this unaccountable intrusion. “What do you mean?”

  “They mean to kill you, and if they do . . .”

  “Who?”

  “The savages. And if they succeed, I am your successor. Tell your daughter it’s so. Tell her that if a knife blade descends from some dark corner—look out! Someone behind you!”

  It was a ruse to cause old Tomboldo to whirl about and turn his back to Gravgak. Tomboldo didn’t whirl. But he must have seen what I saw, glittering in the dim light—the knife in Gravgak’s hand. It flashed up—

  I flung a capsule bomb at the arch. Fire flashed, and the voices were swallowed up in the concussion. />
  7.

  The swirl of yellow dust sifted through the cavern passages. Coughing and puffing hard, I fought my way into the heap in time to catch sight of Gravgak staggering off toward an exit tunnel.

  The three of us stood together. A strange trio. Two Benzendellas, one Earth man. Bound together in an allegiance that all the space in the universe could never divide. Vauna was weeping softly, holding her arms tight about herself, her hands cupped over the fur wrappings of her elbows.

  She said she could not understand Gravgak’s behavior. Once he had had a chance to become the leader. Was it all because he was insane with jealousy—because she loved me?

  Her father thought it was more than this. He had evidently read signs of disloyalty in Gravgak, even before my coming. Too many plans had filtered out to the savage enemies. For a long time Gravgak had been impatient for a chance to succeed Tomboldo; my coming had thwarted the original plan—the murderous attack on the sunset meeting. Yes, Gravgak had been twisting the sponge-tree bands into his own schemes even then.

  The fine boldness showed in Tomboldo’s eyes as he talked. People had gathered, and they saw clearly the truth of his charges.

  But now there were delays in getting ready to go to the better land on another side of this planet. Part of the delay was caution. Gravgak would probably lie in waiting for the Benzendella migration to the serpent river. He would plan an attack. Some waiting, some scouting and much preparation would be a matter of wisdom. Meanwhile, if Gravgak could be found, let him be killed on sight.

  Several weeks passed. Secret preparations for the twenty mile migration were completed. I was pleaser to hear that Campbell had had a share in these plans. He had made several night hikes back to the ship, and had kept watch through the telescope by day, and made valuable observations by means of infra-red photography by night. He knew where the nests of the savage bands were located. Moreover, I learned that he and a few of Tomboldo’s choice scouts, under cover of darkness, crossed through the sponge-tree area to examine the Serpent River at close range and determine upon a suitable place for getting the Benzendella tribe aboard.

  For these observations, and for an abundance of scientific data which he picked up about the Serpent River itself, I was deeply grateful. If this expedition succeeded in its purposes, the success would be to his credit, not mine.

  Nevertheless, when I was at last conducted to his quarters at the end of one of the tunnels—my long awaited visit—I did not spend all my time complimenting him for his fine achievements.

  “You’re going to be ready to make the trip with the tribe, I presume?” I asked, when we got around to the plans for the migration.

  “And leave the ship here? I shall follow orders, Captain, but I should prefer to stay with the ship, and to proceed with the remainder of the scientific assignments.”

  He handed his field glasses over to one of the relief guards, and led me to a bench in his primitive quarters. A slice of sunlight knifed through from the out-of-doors, the first I had seen for a long time.

  “A little sunlight’s not a bad thing,” I said casually. “I’ve been needing a little light.”

  He looked up at me as if he knew what was coming. “If you’ve been hearing a rumor, don’t believe it.”

  “You’ve heard it too?”

  “They say I’m supposed to become the husband of Omosla.”

  “All I want is your word, Lieutenant Campbell,” I said.

  “My word. Captain.” Split said dryly. “You know I wouldn’t break the Code.”

  “I believe you . . . Okay, we’re in a spot. The fact is, the girl’s going to have a baby. When she does, she’ll declare you her mate. And the tribe will be proud. Have you thought this through?”

  “I’ve tried to.”

  I began to pace. “You know we can’t afford to offend the tribe. If you bluntly deny that you’ve had anything to do with the girl, they’ll be insulted. They’re ready to believe her, not you.”

  “How soon will the child be born?”

  “Within a few days.”

  “How long have we been here?”

  “Long enough.”

  “Why doesn’t her true mate speak up, whoever he is?”

  I said, “That’s one of the strange circumstances. I haven’t heard them mention any other man but you. You see, Split, you’re the hero of the hour. You’re the one they want.”

  “I hope you’re not suggesting that I marry this girl.”

  “I haven’t suggested it, have I? But I will ask this: Do you like the girl? . . . Love her?? . . . Enough to marry her?”

  “Under more favorable conditions—yes. I’ve never loved anybody before. But Omosla—from the first time I saw her, that evening, in the sunset—”

  “All right, Split. But you still tell me you haven’t made love to her?”

  “Absolutely, no. You may not know it, Jim, but I was with you almost constantly for days and nights after your knockout. You came through the operation—the riskiest thing I ever tried in my life. When you began to pull out of it, I could have gladly taken you back to the ship and blasted off for home. But they were giving you care—Vauna and Omosla—and damned intelligent care, according to my orders. By that time the savages were knocking our doors again, and I went onto the defense job with my pockets full of scare bombs, and the other kind too. From then on, I couldn’t have held to tighter discipline if I’d been in a planetary war, I swear it.”

  I beat my fist lightly on Split’s shoulder. The fellow was great, no doubt about it, and I felt like a fool, asking him questions about matters outside the bounds of duty. “You’re okay, Split. You could violate a hundred codes, as far as I’m concerned, and I’d swear before any court in the world that you’re tops. But we’ve still got a problem with this tribe—and this girl.”

  “I’m not asking for compliments,” Split said. “For the record I’m telling you what did happen, and what didn’t. And here’s what did.” Now it was his turn to pace twice around the bench. “How do I begin?”

  “With Omosla.”

  “Omosla comes to me often. She brings me food and drink. She hangs around like a pet. She doesn’t touch me—anymore. I put a stop to that soon after the first time she put her arms around me. Yes, she did that. I was busy watching the sponge-trees move down the valley. She was nearby, murmuring words, most of which I could only half understand. I didn’t stop her when she slipped her arms around me—not for quite awhile. I remember plenty well the way those pins in her elbow furs scratched my arms. They stuck in like thorns. Look, you can still see the marks.” He rolled up his sleeves to show me the slight scars on his upper arms, just above the elbows. “I figured either she didn’t know those pins were sticking me, or else it was some sort of tricky test that girls use on men to test their metal. So I took it, and didn’t wince. Sure, I was enjoying letting her hug me. But after that one time I always kept my distance. This all happened when we first came. You’d think she’d have forgotten. Especially if she had a real husband somewhere on the scene.”

  I groaned. “Every tribe has strange customs. When the baby comes, that’s when they’ll insist on a husband.”

  “I wonder who it really is.”

  “Unfortunately we can’t prove anything by giving the baby a blood test. These primitives wouldn’t understand.”

  “Proofs are out,” Campbell said.

  “However, we still have the eyelash test,” I suggested.

  “You mean—”

  “I mean that you and I are the only two human animals on this planet with eyebrows and eyelashes. When Omosla’s baby arrives without a trace of an eyelash, that might go a long way toward convincing—”

  “You’ll help me fight it, then?”

  “If you’re sure you don’t want to change your mind, throw out the Code, and claim the girl.”

  A look of disdain was all the answer Campbell gave me, at first. Finally he said, “You’d had ample reasons for nicknaming me Split, Captain. B
ut so far, I’ve given you no grounds for applying the term to my personality. I prefer to remain a member of EGGWE, in good standing, and to return to Earth with a clear record. Let Omosla name the true father, whoever he is.”

  8.

  The whole Benzendella tribe made its way across to the Kao-Wagwattl with only one casualty reported. Leeger, the short, slight guard who had once been brutally knocked out by Gravgak, was reported missing.

  Everyone else came through without a scratch. It was a triumph for old Tomboldo. His superhuman courage had carried the day. Children were delighted over the adventure. Old folks were happy over achieving what they had feared would be an impossible undertaking. They could believe, now, that they would live all through to the end of the journey—for Kao-Wagwattl, the serpent river, was a legendary giver of life.

  Campbell did not come. That was according to plan. He kept in touch with me by radio through the final hours of the twenty-mile crossing. “. . . Do you read me, Captain? I’ve drawn them to the north with fire bombs from the ship’s guns. . . They’ve never guessed your course.”

  “No signs of Gravgak? Or Leeger?”

  “Not a sign. The city’s empty.”

  “Keep on the radio, Campbell.”

  “Right, Captain. By the way, how is Omoslo?”

  “Expecting. I’ll let you know. She still talks about the bravest man on the planet, someone named Campbell.”

  “H-m-m. You’ll sort of look after her, won’t you?”

  It was two hours before dawn when the last of the tribe (Leeger excepted) gathered at the mountainside station to board Kao-Wagwattl. We waited for daylight. Strange smells filled our nostrils. Smells of wood fires, sparked to life by friction under the pressures of the crawling monster. Smells of rocks being ground to powder. Smells of the saccharine-sweet breathing from the pores of the thing itself, the giant Kao-Wagwattl.

  The faint gray of dawn gradually changed to pink. In the growing light we could make out the contour of the vast misty creeping form. Its rounded sides moved along only yards from where we stood. As the light of morning came on we could distinguish the immense boxshaped scales that covered its sides. Clouds of sponge-trees rose and fell around it. Unrooted vegetation would sift downward, to be bumped into the air again, or to be rolled under. Small fires were continually being ignited by friction, and often smothered before they were well started. Sometimes the burning would creep up around the curved sides, only to be snuffed out by the surface-breathing of the massive thing: