by Jack Vance
Dusk fell over the landscape; the group began to descend the mountainside.
Floodlights illuminated the ground beside the warehouses, the repair shop, the depot in back of the loading zone. The remainder of the field remained in greater or less darkness, the ships casting long shadows away from the lights.
The men scrambled the last few feet down to the base of the hill, crossed a path of dank marshland, and came to the edge of the field, and here they waited five minutes, watching and listening. The warehouses showed no activity; in the shops a few men still worked.
Reith, Zarfo and Thadzei went forth to reconnoiter. Crouching they ran to the abandoned hulk, where they stood in the shadows.
From the machine shop came the whine of machinery; from the depot a voice called something unintelligible. The three waited ten minutes. In the town at the back of the spacefield long skeins of light had come into being; across the harbor the Wankh towers showed a few glimmers of yellow.
The machine shop became quiet; the workers appeared to be leaving. Reith, Zarfo and Thadzei moved across the field keeping to the long shadows. They reached the first of the small cargo ships, where again they halted to look and listen: there were no sounds, no alarms. Zarfo and Thadzei went to the entry hatch, heaved it open and entered, while Reith with beating heart stood guard outside.
Ten interminable minutes passed. From within came furtive sounds and once or twice a glimmer of light, which aroused in Reith an intense nervousness.
Finally the two Lokhars returned. "No good," grunted Zarfo. "No air, no energy.
Let's try the other."
They stole quickly across the bands of light and shadow to the second cargo ship; as before Zarfo and Thadzei entered while Reith stood at the port. The Lokhars returned almost immediately. "Under repair," Zarfo reported glumly.
"This is where the component cases come from."
They turned to look at the passenger vessel. "It's not a standard design," Zarfo grumbled. "Still, the instruments and layout may be familiar to us."
"Let's go aboard and look," said Reith. But now a light flared across the field.
Reith's first thought was that they had been discovered. But the light played toward the passenger vessel. From the direction of the gate came a low easy-moving shape. The vehicle stopped beside the passenger vessel; a number of dark figures alighted-how many could not be ascertained in the glare. With a curiously abrupt and heavy motion, the figures entered the ship.
"Wankh," muttered Zarfo. "They're going aboard."
"It would mean that the ship is ready for departure," said Reith. "A chance we can't afford to miss!"
Zarfo demurred. "It's one thing to steal an empty ship, another coping with a half dozen Wankh, and Wankhmen as well."
"How do you know Wankhmen are aboard?"
"Because of the lights. Wankh project pulses of radiation and observe the reflections."
Behind them came a faint sound. Reith whirled to find Traz. "We became worried; you were gone so long."
"Go back; bring everyone here. If we have opportunity, we'll board the passenger ship. It's the only one available."
Traz vanished into the darkness. Five minutes later the entire group stood in the shadow of the cargo ship.
Half an hour went by. In the passenger ship shapes moved across the lights, performing activities beyond the comprehension of the nervous men. In husky whispers they debated possible courses of action. Should they try to storm the ship now? Almost certainly departure was in the offing. Such action was obviously reckless. The group decided to pursue a conservative course and return into the mountains to await a more propitious occasion. As they started back, a number of Wankh issued from the vessel and lurched to the vehicle, which almost immediately left the field. Within the ship lights still glowed. No further activity was evident.
"I'm going to give it a look," said Reith. He ran across the field, followed by the others. They mounted the ramp, passed through an embarkation port into the ship's main saloon, which was unoccupied. "Everybody to his station," said Reith. "Let's take it up!"
"If we can," grumbled Zorofim.
Traz cried out a warning: turning, Reith saw that a single Wankh had entered the saloon, watching in nonplussed disapproval. It was a black creature somewhat larger than a man, with a heavy torso, a squat head from which two black lenses flickered at half-second intervals. The legs were short; the feet were played webs; it carried no weapons or implements; in fact wore no garment or harness of any sort. From a sound organ at the base of the skull came four reverberating chimes, which, considering the circumstances, seemed measured and unexcited.
Reith stepped forward, pointed to a settee, to indicate that it should sit down.
The Wankh stood motionless, looking after the Lokhars who had gone their various ways, checking engines, energy, supplies, oxygen. The Wankh at last seemed to understand the events which were taking place. It took a step toward the exit port, but Reith barred the way and once again pointed to the settee. The Wankh loomed in front of him, the glassy eyes flickering. Once again the chimes sounded, more peremptory than before.
Zarfo returned to the saloon. "The ship is in order. But it's an unfamiliar model, as I feared."
"Can we take it up?"
"We'll have to make sure we know what we are doing. It may be minutes or hours."
"Then we can't let the Wankh go."
"Awkward," said Zarfo.
The Wankh thrust forward; Reith pushed it back and displayed his handgun. The Wankh uttered a loud chime. Zarfo made a chirping sound. The Wankh drew back.
Reith asked: "What did you say?"
"I just gave the pidgin sound for 'danger.' It seems to understand well enough."
"I wish it would sit down; it makes me nervous standing there."
"Wankh almost never sit," said Zarfo and went to seal the entrance port.
Time passed. From various locations about the ship came calls and exclamations from the Lokhars. At Reith's direction, Traz stood in the observation dome, watching over the field. The Wankh stood stolidly, apparently at a loss for action.
The ship shuddered; the lights flickered, went dim, came on bright once more.
Zarfo looked into the saloon. "We've got the engines pumping. Now if Thadzei can figure out the control configurations-"
Traz called down: "The car is coming back. The floodlight has just gone on, to light the field."
Thadzei ran through the saloon, jumped up to the control console. He peered this way and that, while Zarfo stood by his side urging him to haste. Reith set Anacho to guarding the Wankh, Joined Traz in the observation dome. The car was slowing to a stop beside the ship.
Zarfo pointed here and there across the control panel; Thadzei nodded doubtfully, thrust at a set of pressure pads. The ship shuddered and heaved; Reith felt acceleration underfoot. He was departing Tschai! Thadzei made adjustments; the ship pitched. Reith reached for a stanchion; the Wankh stumbled and fell upon the settee, where it remained. From elsewhere about the ship came full-throated Lokhar curses.
Reith made his way to the bridge, to stand beside Thadzei, who desperately worked the controls, testing first one pad, then another. Reith asked: "Is there an automatic pilot?"
"Bound to be, somewhere. I can't locate the engagement. These are by no means standard controls."
"Do you know what you are doing?"
"No."
Reith looked down at the dark face of Tschai. "So long as we are going up and not down, we're in good shape."
"If I had an hour, a single hour," moaned Thadzei, "I could trace out the circuits."
Jag Jaganig came into the saloon to make a querulous protest. Thadzei called back: "I'm doing the best I can!"
"It's not good enough! We'll crash!"
"Not yet," said Thadzei grimly. "I see a lever I haven't tried." He pulled the lever; the ship skidded alarmingly and thrust off at great speed to the east.
Once more the Lokhars gave a series of anguishe
d cries. Thadzei moved the lever back to its original position. The ship came to a trembling stasis. Thadzei gave a great tremulous sigh, peering back and forth across the panel. "Like none I have ever seen!"
Reith looked out the port but saw nothing but darkness. Zarfo spoke in a calm voice: "Our altitude is not quite a thousand feet ... Now it is nine hundred..."
Thadzei desperately worked the controls. Once again the ship lurched and fled eastward. "Up, up!" screamed Zarfo. "We're diving into the ground!"
Thadzei brought the ship back to a halt. "Well then, this toggle will surely activate the repulsors." He gave it a twitch. From aft came a sinister crackle, a muffled explosion. The Lokhars yelled mournfully. Zarfo read the altimeter.
"Five hundred ... Four hundred ... Three ... Two ... One..."
Contact: a splash, a bobbing and pitching, then silence. The ship was afloat, apparently undamaged, in an unknown body of water. The Parapan? The Schanizade?
Reith threw up his hands in fatalistic despair. Back once more in Tschai.
Reith jumped down to the saloon. The Wankh stood like a statue. Whatever its emotions, none were evident.
Reith went aft to the engine room, where Jag Jaganig and Belje looked disconsolately at a smoldering panel. "An overload," said Belje. "Circuits and nodes are certainly melted."
"Can we make repairs?"
Belje made a glum sound. "If tools and parts are aboard."
"If time is given to us," said Jag Jaganig.
Reith returned to the saloon. He threw himself down upon a settee and stared bleakly at the Wankh. The plan had succeeded ... almost. He leaned back, sodden with fatigue. The others must be feeling the same. No useful purpose could be served by going longer without rest. He got to his feet, called the group together. Two-man watches were set; the others slumped upon settees to sleep as best they could.
The night passed. Az raced across the sky, followed by Braz. Dawn revealed a placid expanse which Zarfo identified as Lake Falas. "And never has it served a more useful purpose!"
Reith went out on the top surface of the hull, and searched the horizons through his scanscope. Hazy water stretched to south, east and west. To the north was a low shore toward which the ship was drifting, propelled by a gentle breeze from the south. Reith went back into the ship. The Lokhars had detached a panel and were unenthusiastically discussing the damage. Their attitudes gave Reith all the information he needed.
In the saloon he found Anacho and Traz gnawing on spheres of black paste encased in a hard white rind which they had taken from a locker. Reith offered one of the spheres to the Wankh, who paid no heed. Reith ate the sphere himself, finding it similar to cheese. Zarfo presently joined him and verified what Reith already had guessed. "Repairs are not feasible. A whole bank of crystals is destroyed. There are no spares aboard."
Reith gave a gloomy nod. "As I expected."
"What next?" demanded Zarfo.
"As soon as the wind blows us ashore we disembark and return to Ao Hidis for another try."
Zargo grunted. "What of the Wankh?"
"We'll have to let him go his own way. I certainly don't plan to murder him."
"A mistake," sniffed Anacho. "Best kill the repulsive beast."
"For your information," said Zarfo, "the main Wankh citadel Ao Khaha is situated on Lake Falas. It will not be far distant."
Reith went back out on the foredeck. The first tussocks of the shore were only half a mile distant; beyond lay quagmire. To ground at the edge of such a morass would be highly inconvenient, and Reith was glad to see that the wind, shifting to the east, seemed to be moving the ship slowly to the west, perhaps aided by a sluggish current. Turning the scanscope along the shore Reith was able to distinguish a set of irregular juts and promontories far to the west.
From within came the sound of expostulation, followed by the thud of heavy footsteps. Out on the foredeck came the Wankh, followed by Anacho and Traz. The Wankh fixed Reith for half a second with its flicking vision, long enough to register an image, then turned by slow degrees to look around the horizon.
Before Reith could prevent it, even were he able to do so, the Wankh stepped forward, ran with its peculiar lurching gait down the side of the ship and plunged into the water. Reith caught a glimpse of wet black hide, then the creature was gone into the depths.
Reith searched the surface for a period but saw no more of the Wankh. An hour later, checking the progress of the vessel, he once more turned the scanscope on the western shore. To his cold dismay he saw that the shapes he had thought to be crags were the black glass towers of an extensive Wankh fortress city.
Wordlessly Reith examined the swamp to the north with a new interest born of desperation.
Tussocks of white grass protruded like hairy wens from fields of black slime and stagnant ponds. Reith went below to seek material for a raft, but found nothing.
The padding of the settee was welded to the structure and came away in shreds and chunks. There was no lifeboat aboard. Reith returned to the deck and wondered what his next move should be. The Lokhars joined him: disconsolate figures in wheatcolored smocks, wind blowing the white hair back from their craggy black faces.
Reith spoke to Zarfo: "Do you know the place yonder?"
"It must be Ao Khaha."
"If we are taken, what can we expect?"
"Death."
The morning passed; the sun climbing toward noon dissolved the haze which shrouded the horizons, and the towers of Ao Khaha stood distinct.
The ship was noted. On the water under the city appeared a barge, which surged across the water leaving a ribbon of white wake. Reith studied it through the scanscope. Wankhmen stood on the deck, perhaps a dozen, curiously alike; slender men with death-pale skins, saturnine or, in some instances, ascetic features.
Reith considered resistance: perhaps a desperate attempt to seize the barge? He decided against such a trial, which almost certainly could not succeed.
The Wankhmen scrambled aboard the ship. Ignoring Reith, Traz and Anacho, they addressed the Lokhars. "All down to the barge. Do you carry weapons?"
"No," grunted Zarfo.
"Quick then." Now they noticed Anacho. "What is this? A Dirdirman?" And they gave chuckles of soft surprise. They inspected Reith. "And what sort is that one? A motley crew, to be sure! Now then, all down to the barge!"
The Lokhars went first, hulk-shouldered, knowing what lay ahead. Reith, Traz and Anacho followed.
"All! Stand on the deck, at the gunwales, in a neat line. Turn your backs." And the Wankhman brought out their handguns.
The Lokhars started to obey. Reith had not expected such casual and perfunctory slaughter. Furious that he had not resisted from the first he cried out: "Should we let them kill us so easily? Let's make a fight of it!"
The Wankhmen gave sharp orders: "Unless you wish worse, quick! To the gunwales!"
Near the barge the water roiled. A black shape floated lazily to the surface and produced four plangent chimes. The Wankhmen stiffened; their faces sagged into sneers of annoyance. They waved at their captives. "Back then, into the cockpit."
The barge returned to the great black fortress, the Wankhmen muttering among themselves. It passed behind a breakwater, magnetically clamped itself to a pier. The prisoners were marshaled ashore and through a portal, into Ao Khaha.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
SURFACES OF BLACK glass, stark walls and areas of black concrete, angles, blocks, masses: a negation of organic shape. Reith wondered at the architecture; it seemed remarkably abstract and severe. Into a cul-de-sac, walled on three sides with dark concrete, the captives were taken. "Halt! Remain in place!" came the command.
The prisoners, with no choice, halted and stood in a surly line.
"Water yourselves at that spigot. Perform evacuation into that trough. Make no noise or disturbance." The Wankhmen departed, leaving the prisoners unguarded.
Reith said in a wondering voice, "We haven't even been searched! I still have my weapons."
>
"It's not far to the portal," said Traz. "Why should we wait here to be killed?"
"We'd never reach the portal," growled Zarfo.
"So we must stand here like docile animals?"
"That's what I plan to do," said Belje, with a bitter glance toward Reith. "I'll never see Smargash more, but I may escape with my life."
Zorofim gave a rude laugh. "In the mines?"
"I know only rumor of the mines."
"Once a man goes underground he never emerges. There are ambushes and terrible tricks by Pnume and Pnumekin. If we are not executed out of hand we will go to the mines."
"All for avarice and mad folly!" lamented Belje. "Adam Reith, you have much to answer for!"
"Quiet, poltroon," said Zarfo without heat. "No one forced you to come. The fault is your own. We should abase ourselves before Reith; he trusted our knowledge; we showed him ineptitude."
"All of us did our best," said Reith. "The operation was risky; we failed; it's as simple as that ... As for trying to escape from here-I can't believe that they'd leave us alone, unguarded, free to walk away."
Jag Jaganig snorted sadly. "Don't be too sure; to the Wankhmen we are animals."
Reith turned to Traz, whose perceptions at times bewildered him. "Could you find your way to the portal?"
"I don't know. Not directly. There were many turns. The buildings confuse me."
"Then we had best remain here ... There's a bare chance that we can talk our way out of the situation."
The afternoon passed, then the long night, with Az and Braz creating fantasies of shapes and shadows. In the chill morning, cantankerous with stiff joints and hunger, and increasingly restless because of their captors' inattention, even the most fearful of the Lokhars were peering out of the cul-de-sac and speculating as to the whereabouts of the portal through the black glass wall.
Reith still counseled patience. "We'd never make it. Our only hope as I see it is that the Wankh may decide to be lenient with us."
"Why should they be lenient?" sneered Thadzei. "Their justice is forthright: the same justice we use toward pests."
