Fletcher Pratt

by Alien Planet

  I stretched. "All very interesting," I said, "but I'm hungry. Let's have something to eat. How soon before we will dare to go out?"

  "In the morning," said Ashembe. "I am uncertain how far we are from the borders of the hunting ground. We will have to make instrumental calculation. It may be long journey. There are always those in the hunting ground who will attempt to secure from us whatever we possess." "What about your destructive ray? Isn't that weapon enough to protect us?"

  He laughed, a trifle grimly. "You do our people insufficient credit. Some young men and women in the hunting ground are very clever at laying ambush. We would not have the chance to use the ray, if caught. Moreover, the use of the ray-flash in the hunting ground is contrary to regulation. I am unable to do so."

  "I should think there would also be regulations against attacking returning explorers," I said.

  "Wherefore? Explorers of the Bodrog Fotas are supposed to be able to care for themselves. To impose regulations of such a kind would be the beginning of destroying the whole spirit of the hunting ground. There is no regulation in the hunting ground."

  "Didn't you just say there was a regulation against using modern weapons?"

  "The law is against bringing them to the hunting ground. Since we are here with the Shoraru, it is considered a small spot of territory belonging to the rest of Murashema."

  "Oh. But won't someone else on Murashema have seen you landing, and be sending expeditions?"

  "Not expeditions. I am an explorer, as I repeatedly say. I am supposed to aid myself. Pause." He dug out his tensal helmet, snapped some keys in it and put it on. An hour later, he rose. "The landing has been perceived, but they do not know it is I. There are always many Shoraru traveling here and there. They are awaiting report and conjecture that my sending apparatus is damaged. Nothing further to do." *

  * This chapter is in quite bad shape. The text is frequently well-nigh unreadable, and at the end of the chapter appears the following note in Schierstedt's handwriting:

  "Don't forg. 2 insrt. my quest. 'Don't you leave lot to chance' & Ash's ans. explaining there is no such thing as chance; all governed by natural laws."

  It would be interesting to have Schierstedt's (or rather Ashembe's) exposition of this point of view. Unfortunately we have not, nor is there any place where such a remark would seem to have been the proper thing.

  XII

  THE MURASHEMAN day is only about twenty-one hours in length, and as the planet's orbit is more nearly circular than Earth's and the axial inclination less, both days and seasons have greater regularity than ours. In something near ten hours, I should judge, Ashembe led the way to the door of the space ship again, and we crawled through into the wrecked outer chamber, where he paused long enough to seal the inner door with the welding flash, before taking a cautious look around outside.

  Our improvised ladder still stood against the side of the space ship, to my eyes, just as we had left it, but Ashembe frowned as he looked it over in the pale cold light that just precedes the rising of the sun. "We are found," he said in a whisper, looking intently at the ground nearby. "See," he pointed. I could make out nothing but a little depression in the sand which might have been a heel mark made when the tree was set against the side of the car.

  "Print of a sling base," said my companion. "The comer has covered footprints but forgotten this. Here!"

  He handed me a knife with a narrow six-inch blade, made in one piece with a metal handle. "Made it during the night," he said. "Quickly, descend the tree. I will cover your descent." Producing a knife, the mate in all respects of the one he had handed me, he balanced himself just inside the door with the weapon ready in his hand for throwing.

  I had begun to realize that the danger was perfectly genuine and imminent, and I slid down the tree at the cost of some scratches with the weapon firmly clutched in my fist. Nothing happened. My feet struck the sand with a soft plud! I picked myself up and looked around. A few branches were stirring gently in the light air of morning; that was all. No sound; no other motion.

  A moment more and Ashembe stood beside me. He looked around briefly, and motioned me wordlessly to follow him. Imitating his motions, I bent low, and ran rapidly behind him into the scrub, straight ahead for a short distance, then back along the way we had come, and off to the right a little way from our path to a clump of stubby trees. "Cut down two straight trees," Ashembe whispered, balancing his knife for throwing, "while I prepare the footprints."

  Still no sound or motion from the scrub. Under the direction of my companion I hacked down, cut the limbs from and smoothed into staves a couple of the short, pinelike trees. I noted the thickness of the bark and the softness of the wood where I cut into it. Ashembe, returning from his business, looked them over critically, and drew from his pocket two long and broad metal points, with sockets at their bases. At the side of the socket, each had an ingenious screw arrangement to hold the head firmly to the shaft. He fixed these heads on the staves I had cut, hefted and balanced them, and then cut an inch or two off one. They made not unsatisfactory javelins.

  By now I had become contemptuous of the promised terrors of the hunting ground. Surely, if we were to be set upon, the most defenseless moment when we emerged from the Shoraru would have been the time.

  A huge red sun popped suddenly above the low mountains in the east, flooding the shrub with light. It was all very delicious—light, open air, green things around. We were home at last. I turned to say something to Ashembe, and just as I turned, he gripped my arm quickly, pulling me down beside him to a crouching position and pointing in the direction of our vehicle.

  Its top was clearly visible above the thicket, not far away, the rays of the dawn-sun picking out the pits and scars of the surface. I could see nothing unusual, but as I looked, there was the sudden sound of a clanging blow—of metal striking metal. Ashembe pulled me by the arm, motioning me to follow, and crawled on hands and knees away from the clump where we had made our weapons in the direction we had come. The clanging blow on the Shoraru was repeated; my companion halted by another clump of trees and peered cautiously through the branches. I watched with him. Nothing.

  Again the sound of the blow, and among the branches I thought I detected something that had not been there before. A moment later I was certain—a man was cautiously following our trail into the scrub. He looked young; was dressed in a jerkin of dark leather, sleeveless and stained in weird markings by some woodland dye. On his head was a closefitting Phrygian cap of the same material and his legs bore pliable buskins. At his belt, a hand-axe swung and over his shoulder a quiver. He was carrying a bow, with arrow astring, and moving slowly, peering from this side to that.

  The enemy! I thought, and drew back my arm to test my new javelin on him. But Ashembe, before I could throw, grasped me by arm and body, pulling me flat on my face behind the trees. I dared to lift my head and caught a glimpse of the hunter. He had turned, and stood with drawn arrow pointing in our direction, eagerly watching for the source of whatever whisper of sound had reached him.

  As I watched, another man, dressed like the first, and like him, armed with a bow, but carrying also a round shield slung over his shoulder, appeared soundlessly not twenty feet away from us on our side of the trail as though he had risen from the ground. The first bowman relaxed his tension on the string and made a rapid series of motions with one hand; the other turned and looked in our direction—right in my eyes apparently—then turned back and himself moved a hand rapidly. I saw why Ashembe had kept me from throwing the javelin.

  A moment more of this silent colloquy and the newcomer vanished as mysteriously as he had appeared, while the questing bowman turned again to the trail. From the left, the clanging sound of another blow on the Shoraru rang out again.

  We lay in our covert for perhaps two hours more. After a time the sound of the blows on the side of the car ceased and we saw one of the hunters among the trees as he glided silently back along our trail, his face wearing an expre
ssion of cold and intense thoughtfulness. At last Ashembe, moving slowly and holding his body low, started out motioning me to follow him.

  He led across the intervening space to the trail, where there were now two series of footsteps mingled with our own, and stepping carefully, so that his feet should fall in the same tracks as before, began to lead down it. Every few moments he paused, listening intently. It was not till he reached the place where we had turned aside, that he let out a long breath, and stepped out briskly, moving away from the car.

  He set a killing pace and at the end of an hour I was forced to grab his arm and whisper that I wished to halt. He smiled, "All right," and then in an ordinary voice, "I think we have outdistanced pursuit for the moment. Let us have to eat."

  We dined on some of the concentrated foods from the Shoraru, and after a brief rest, set out again at the same rapid pace as before. The sun grew warm. Unused to exercise, I tired easily, and it was not long before I was again calling for a halt. Ashembe spared me as much as possible during that day's journey, but for all that, it was a nightmare to me. I was never so heartily glad as when, with the sun westering, Ashembe turned round, led me back along the trail we had made and off to one side as before, returning to obliterate the footprints that marked our divagation.

  The landscape had changed not at all. Twice we crossed the beds of small streams, deep-cut to reddish rock amid the sandy soil. For the rest there was only an infinitude of the pine-like trees, and low rolling sandy ground. Our camp was pitched a few paces back from the edge of one of the little canyons where a stream ran. From it we secured water for drinking and washing, one of us dipping it up while the other watched from concealment on the bank above, javelin in hand. When our meal was finished, Ashembe cut down another of the trees, and working with some care and many pauses to measure the result, began to shape it into something or other. It became distinctly chilly; my request for a fire was refused with a mere shake of the head, and when I dozed off to sleep, it was from sheer weariness.

  I was wakened by the pressure of Ashembe's hand on my shoulder. The night was extraordinarily bright; I could make out his features clearly in the light of the stars, and he had a finger laid on his lips to enjoin silence as I rose. He pointed off in the direction I took to be north and I dimly perceived a faint, ruddy glow somewhere there. As silently, he motioned*me to gather up my few belongings and follow, and set off through the brush, following the line of the stream a little back from its verge.

  I was staggering sleepy, but I toiled after him, wondering what all this meant. We had traveled about twenty minutes and must have covered nearly a couple of miles with the red glow growing stronger all the time, when he halted so suddenly that I ran into him. After a second of listening he dropped to his hands and knees; I imitated him and we began to crawl toward the bank of the stream, pausing every time a twig snapped. I heard nothing. He came to a halt behind a clump of trees, holding out a restraining hand to keep me from making unnecessary noise. I still heard nothing, but a moment later my ears caught the sound of a pebble, rolled by a careless foot, and then a low gurgle of laughter. Shadowy forms became apparent in the canyon below.

  There were four of them, following the stream toward its mouth; first one man alone, then three in a group, all heavily loaded. I expected Ashembe to spring out, but he remained perfectly silent until they were past.

  Then, with his lips close to my ear, he whispered, "No more. We will pursue. I will take the first one." And without further explanation, he began to work his way along the bank. I followed, my heart in my mouth.

  We were not long in overtaking them. The canyon made a bend away at a point not far below, and Ashembe led me across the tongue of land at a rapid gait. We ensconced ourselves at the edge of the bank and a moment later I could make out the form of the first picking his way among the rocks, and then the other three. Without a sound Ashembe rose to one knee, balanced his javelin carefully, and flung it straight down into the form of the leader.

  The man gave a curious strangled cry and tumbled into a heap with a clash of metal, as I flung my own weapon at the next fellow. Ashembe leaped down the bank with a shout; I followed him and things resolved into a haze of conflict. I was struggling with a burly chap who had dropped an armload of something and was struggling to get a sword from its scabbard. I realized I had missed him and without trying to pick up the javelin, flung myself upon his arm. He let go the hilt abruptly, swinging me half round, and as I tripped over the things he had dropped, swung his foot up in a glancing kick, which was stout enough to throw me sprawling. I saw him draw the blade and take a stride, but before he could do more, he was jerked backward from behind. My clutching fingers caught a loose stone; I threw it as I rose, and though it only caught him on the chest, it took him off balance again, and I dived forward in a football tackle before he could swing his weapon, catching him around the knees and taking him cleanly off his feet.

  We went down together. I was on top, but as we fell, someone else landed on my back, screaming rapid, unintelligible words in Murasheman. I let go my man's legs and rolled free, catching at the javelin where it stood in the ground; missed it; clutched again, successfully, and struggled to my feet. My two adversaries lay on the ground, engaged in combat, the big fellow underneath trying to get loose the hand that held the sword. I suddenly grasped the idea that the other was a friend and flung myself into the combat again, pinning the big man's hands just as he managed to work free. I heard the slap of his blade as it struck the other chap sidelong; he said something quickly, the big man bellowed, and as though despairing of my comprehension, my ally thrust close to my face a pair of hands bound together with leather thongs.

  I shifted position to bring the big man under me, holding him down with difficulty. The prisoner began to rub his bonds frantically against the edge of the sword, and I heard a clash of arms behind that told me Ashembe was busy. The big man gave a heave that threw me on my side. I clutched him desperately, but at that moment the prisoner won free, snatched up the javelin and calmly and accurately plunged it into the throat of the man who was now trying to down me. He gripped me convulsively for a second, then went limp and something warm and wet hit me under the chin. I felt ill, but struggled unsteadily to my feet in time to see Ashembe's opponent making off down the canyon and my friend making toward the recent prisoner with arm drawn back to strike.

  "Don't!" I called. "He's with us!" Ashembe lowered his blade and came over to us.

  "Quickly," he said to me, rummaging among the articles our adversaries had dropped. "We must go. Here."

  He was extending to me a sword, a bow and some packages. I bundled them together and followed him up the bank of the canyon and off into the low forest. Our newfound friend came with us wordlessly.

  I was ready to drop with fatigue and sleepiness. But Ashembe led on remorselessly through the clutching branches and it was not for a good hour that he halted at all, flinging down his load and motioning me to do likewise. We were in a circular clearing, with trees all around it, and I didn't even bother to pull branches for a bed; simply sank to sleep, utterly worn out.

  The sun, striking down through the trees, woke me at last. I urged my aching limbs to a sitting posture and saw Ashembe and our new friend sitting on the ground before me, sorting the various things we had brought, and engaged in low conversation. Ashembe smiled a greeting at me and handed me food—dark meat of some kind with a strong wild taste, quite unlike the concentrated foods we had lived on for the last three years.

  "This is," he said, "Tandana Kabu," and then to the former prisoner, "Angara sheg Alvin Schierstedt loth umt mashec." I bowed from the waist and received the bent-kneed gesture of courtesy in return.

  "She is," continued Ashembe in English, "extremely grateful for our rescuing her." (She!" I thought, looking at the newcomer with aroused interest. I perceived a slender young woman, clad more or less like the hunters who had sought us the day before, but without the helmet; a pleasing face tanne
d by exposure to the sun and of the triangular shape softened to an oval, and—with so little hair that she would have passed for bald in New York.) "Grateful for rescuing her. She was a member of a small agricultural association in the hunting ground—where we last night saw the fire. It was raided by a predatory association, and most of the people killed. She was taken prisoner by the three we attacked."

  "Tell me something," I said. "Did you know you would run into that gang with a prisoner?"

  He smiled. "Oh, no. I did not attempt. But I felt sure that where there was a fire there had been a raid. At first I hoped only to find some equipment the raiders had over- - looked. When I heard them..."

  Tandana Kabu put in a word or two. Ashembe turned to me again. "She says you are a very brave man to attack the raider. He was Agogai Besh and he was regarded as a very brilliant young man."

  "Is this the way your process of selection works out? You lose your best young men through a mere accidental encounter."

  "You do us injustice," he countered. "Appearances are erroneous. Agogai Besh was regarded as a brilliant young man but he made strong errors on this occasion. Mark you well. First, he failed to keep his band together at the end on the raid. Second, he carried Tandana Kabu off as unwilling captive—he should either have persuaded her to come, or let her go. Third, he was overburdened with plunder. Fourth, he came down the bed of the stream because it was easy instead of taking the safe path through the forest. Fifth, he had no picket out, so our attack was the complete surprise. This is all very irrational, passionate, and careless, and it is just such irrational and careless characters that we desire to eliminate. He depended too much on physical strength. Not so much unlucky as a bad workman."

  "But we have no picket out either," I protested.

  "Truthful," replied my mentor, "but this is daytime, and not on a traveled road, and we are to move immediately. Come hither."