In love? With an Earthwoman?”
The covenants did not specifically prohibit sexual relationships between the watchers and the watched, because those who had drawn the covenants had never entertained the possibility that such relationships might develop. Vorneen took small comfort in knowing that what he had done was not illegal, technically. Soon, he suspected, he would be leaving Earth. What would happen to Kathryn then? And to him?
Fifteen
The rescue mission consisted of six Dirnans, two teams of three. Each comprised a complete sexual group: male-female-female in one case, male-female-male in the other. They entered New Mexico the day after the explosion, and began to comb the state for the three possible survivors. The task would have been easier if they had had communicator signals to guide them.
All they had to go by were probabilities, plus one extremely distorted signal. The computers, weighing all the likelihoods, had decided that all three Dirnans must have come down approximately in the center of the state: one in the vicinity of Albuquerque, one closer to Santa Fe, and one west of the line connecting the other two, thus forming a vaguely equilateral triangle. But the best the computers could offer by way of actual locations was an area determination with a built-in error of + 20 miles. That was hardly encouraging.
The rescue team led by Furnil and his two mates had a slight advantage over the other group. Coming down from the north, they were guided by the dim, uncertain bleeping of the damaged communicator, and so they had at least an initial clue. The communicator’s signal was emerging as a bleary smear, spread over too many wavelengths, but it provided a clue of sorts. It told them that one of the three Dirnans who had fallen to Earth had almost certainly landed within a few miles of the Rio Grande somewhere not too far south of Santa Fe, and that he was still alive — for the communicator had to be reactivated every time a signal was sent out.
Finding him was a tall order, though. The Dirnans immediately established their local command post in a motel on the lower outskirts of Santa Fe and set up their portable detecting instruments in the hope that they could clean up that blurred signal and trace it to its source. They attempted to factor out the distortion and narrow their search vectors. Their first calculation showed that the missing watcher could have come down in the vicinity of Cochiti Pueblo, but that proved to be incorrect — or, if the Dirnan had landed there, the Indians were keeping it well concealed. A radical correction in the vectors placed the watcher’s location across the Rio Grande, out by the ruins of Pecos Pueblo; a quick trip there produced nothing, and some reexamination showed that it had been a mistake. The signal was corning from the western bank of the river. They kept looking.
The other group, working its way up from Albuquerque, had nothing at all to go by except the assurance of the computers that they should look in this area. Their instruments remained totally silent. They had to use other methods: asking careful questions, studying police and military reports, placing cunningly worded advertisements in the newspapers. There were no results.
This group was led by a male named Sartak, who affected a rugged, excessively virile Earthman body. His companions were two Dirnan females, one of them somewhat his senior, the other a young one on her first watcher assignment and also in her first sexual group. Their names were Thuw and Leenor. Leenor had an agreeably innocent air about her that made her useful as an asker of questions. Sartak sent her down to the Albuquerque office of the Contact Cult to see if she could find anything worthwhile there. Like all Dirnans, Sartak had a hearty contempt for the cynical emptiness of Frederic Storm’s organization; but it was just remotely possible that some local citizen, having discovered an injured galactic alien, would choose to report that fact to the cult instead of to the military authorities. Sartak could not afford to ignore any leads.
He was programming one of his detecting instruments later that day when Leenor phoned, greatly agitated.
“I’ve just left the Contact Cult,” she gasped. “They don’t know anything about anything there. But — oh, Sartak, we’ve got to do something!”
“About what?”
“About the Kranazoi spy!”
Sartak glared into the telephone screen. “The what?’”
“He was at the cult place too. I could smell him across the room. He calls himself David Bridger, and he’s fat and horrible, and he’s looking for the survivors too!”
“How did you find that out?”
“By eavesdropping. I didn’t speak to him at all. I don’t think he noticed me. I’m sure he didn’t, Sartak.”
Sartak let his breath out in a long, slow snort of disgust. A member of the enemy mixed into this too! Wasn’t life hard enough?
He said, “Do you know where he’s staying?”
“A motel not far from ours. The name is — I’ve got it written down here — “-
“What is it?”
She found the slip and told him. Sartak made a note of it. Then he said, “This is annoying, but we’ll make the most of it. Leenor, get over to his motel and let him pick you up. Pretend to be a moron — your usual act. I doubt that he’ll try to take you to bed, but if he does, cooperate. And find out everything he knows. He may already have information that’s of use to us.”
“What if he finds out my real nature?”
“He won’t. Kranazoi don’t have our sense of smell. He’s got no way of knowing what’s under your skin, and most likely he isn’t familiar enough with real Earthpeople to know that you’re a fake. Just stay very calm, giggle a lot, and listen carefully to everything he says.”
“But what if he does, find out, Sartak?”
“You’re carrying an antipersonnel grenade, aren’t you? We’re acting under the covenants here, and he isn’t. If he makes any hostile moves, kill him.”
“Kill him?”
“Kill him,” Sartak repeated with deliberate brutality. I know, I know, we’re all civilized beings here. But we’re rescuers, and he’s an obstructor. Put the grenade in his fat belly and let him sizzle, Leenor. If necessary, that is. Clear?”
The girl looked a little dazed.
“Clear,” she said.
Sixteen
Charley Estancia kept the Dirnan laser strapped to his belly all the time, even when he slept. He did not dare let it get away from him. It was small enough so that it didn’t bulge beneath his clothes, especially if he let his shirttails hang out. The cool metal against his skin was reassuring.
He knew that he shouldn’t have stolen it from Mirtin. But he hadn’t been able to resist. The little tool had been so fascinating that he had pocketed it while Mirtin looked the other way. He hoped that the man from the stars would forgive him for the theft, but he wasn’t sure.
The worst thing was that Charley couldn’t find a way to leave the village just now. The Fire Society dances were going on, and it was too risky to slip away. Everyone had to be present. They were staging the initiations, picking the new candidates and taking them into the kiva to mumble the half-forgotten words over them, then emerging to do the fire dance and the stick-swallowing dance. Charley did not expect to be selected for membership of the Fire Society; everybody in the pueblo knew that he was a troublemaker, and trouble-makers were best kept out of the secret societies. But there was always the crazy chance that they had picked him for initiation this year, and if they had, and couldn’t find him, he would be in real trouble.
So he had to sit tight, leaving Mirtin to shift for himself. He doubted that Mirtin would starve or die of thirst; what really worried Charley was the thought of Mirtin lying there imagining that Charley had stolen his laser and abandoned him, after all their friendly conversations. Charley hadn’t had a chance to explain about the Fire Society dance. He had miscalculated, thinking it would start a day later; he had planned to let Mirtin know about it ahead of time, but now he could not. Miserably, he skulked around the village, hoping for some way to slip off. The place was full of tourists, now. Cameras everywhere, fat white women telling the childr
en how cute they were, bored-looking husbands. The tourists went everywhere, even right into people’s houses. They’d go into the kiva, too, if the governor of the pueblo hadn’t posted a couple of muscular boys to guard the entrance.
In the few secret moments Charley had, he examined the tool he had stolen.
He hesitated to try to open it; not yet, anyway. Mirtin’s talk about an Earthman learning things he was not supposed to learn did not bother Charley, but he was afraid that in opening the laser he would break it. First the wanted to study it in details from the outside, to see how it worked.
He used it to cut a thick log in half. He turned it on a rock and watched the sandstone melt into a puddle. He dug a ditch a foot deep and ten feet long. He made some mistakes, overshooting his target or covering too wide an area, but in an hour he had mastered the fine controls. Quite a gadget, he thought. It was like a little miracle. These star people, they were really something! He wished he could go off to Mirtin’s planet and see it. And go to school there.
Two days passed that way.
The Fire Society dancers came and got Tomas Aguirre the big dope. They initiated him, and then they came for Mark Gachupin. Usually they chose only three new members each year. Charley wondered what he would do if they came for him. Go with them, and burst out laughing in the middle of the sacred rites? Or just turn and run? They would call upon him in his Indian name, Tsiwaiwonyi, the name he never used. Some of the older people tried to call everyone by Indian names, but Charley stuck to the Christian names. They’d say, “Tsiwaiwonyi, come with us to the kiva’, and he’d stand there gaping.
But of course they didn’t come for him. They didn’t want him. On the morning of the third day they picked Jose Galvan, and Charley knew he was safe for another year. Now he could go out to the desert and apologize to Mirtin and explain to him about the ceremony, and maybe even give him back the laser, because Charley was feeling very guilty about having taken it. He packed a bunch of tortillas, filled a canteen, and quietly left the village while no one was looking.
He was halfway to Mirtin’s cave before he realized that he was being followed.
First he heard a crackle of dry twigs behind him. That could be anything, from a jackrabbit heading for its nest to a bobcat looking for lunch. Charley stopped and turned, but he didn’t see anything unusual behind him. He was still suspicious, though. Another ten feet along, and he thought he heard a muffled cough. Jackrabbits didn’t cough. Charley spun around suddenly and saw the long, lean form of Marty Moquino about a dozen yards in back of him.
“Hi,” Marty said. He chucked out his cigarette and took a fresh one. “Where you going, Charley?”
“For a walk.”
“All by yourself in the middle of the winter?”
“None of your business what I’m doing,” Charley said. He tried to hide his panic. Why had Marty followed him from the pueblo? Did Marty know about the cave and its occupant? If he found out, all would be up for Mirtin. Marty would sell him to the Government, sure as anything. Or to the newspapers.
Marty Moquino said, “How about taking me where you’re heading?”
“I’m just going for a walk.”
“Yeah. And you just happen to go for a walk every night, too. I been watching you, kid. What’s out there, anyway?”
“N-nothing.”
“And what you got in that package you’re carrying? Let me have a look.”
Marty took a couple of steps forward. Charley grasped the wrapped tortillas tightly and backed away. “Leave me alone, Marty. I got no business with you.”
“I want to know what’s up.”
“Please, Marty—”
“You got a friend hiding out there? Maybe a prisoner got out of jail, you taking care of him? Might be a reward for him, huh? And you just crazy enough to visit him instead. What’s the story, Charley?”
Charley quivered a little. Marty kept coming toward him, and Charley kept edging back, but that couldn’t continue for long. And if he ran, he’d never be able to outstrip Marty Moquino’s long legs. The only thing to do was to bluff.
“There ain’t no story,” Charley said stubbornly. “I don’t know what you’re after.”
A lean arm shot out. Strong fingers grasped the fleshy part of Charley’s arm. Marty Moquino towered above him, look* ing mean and ugly. He said, “I been watching you since that night you ran over me and Maria. When it gets dark, you take a canteen, you take a package of maybe food, and you go out onto the desert. So you got a friend out there, right? This time you gonna take me to him, or I gonna make you feel sorry you didn’t.”
“Marty—”
“Take me there.”
“Let-go—”
The fingers dug deep. Charley winced, twisted, managed to pull his arm free. He swung around and ran a dozen paces, then stopped. Marty Moquino came after him, naturally. But Charley pulled the laser out from its hiding place under his shirt and pointed it at Marty’s chest, just as though it were a gun.
“What the hell you got there?” Marty demanded.
“It’s a death ray,” Charley said. His voice shook so badly he could barely get the words out. “One squirt from this and it’ll burn a hole right through you. I mean it.”
Marty guffawed. “Now I know you’re crazy, kid!”
He didn’t move, though. Charley kept the laser aimed.
“Turn around and go back to the pueblo, Marty. Or I’ll fire. I’ll kill you. I honestly will.” Charley’s heart thundered. At the moment, he believed his own words. It would please him a great deal to kill Marty Moquino. With the laser, he could do such a thorough job that there would be no body left to find. He’d never get arrested for it.
Sneering, Marty said, “Put that stupid toy away.”
“It’s no toy. Want to see? Want me to burn your left hand off, for openers?”
Now Marty began to move. Charley saw his right leg come forward in the first step.
He activated the laser and swung it toward a big yucca. One quick jolt from the beam and the yucca vanished. The beam scooped out a crater a foot deep and a yard wide. Marty Moquino jumped back and made the sign of the cross.
“Toy, huh?? Charley cried savagely. “Toy? I gonna cut your legs off! I gonna slice you in half!”
“What the hell-”
“Go on! Run!” Charley switched the laser on again and aimed it at the ground a couple of feet in front of Marty, so that the edge of the beam singed his boots a little. Marty didn’t stay for a further demonstration. His face turned green and he took to his heels in a hurry. Charley had never seen anyone run so fast. On, on he went, down the arroyo, up the other side, past the power substation, vanishing in the distance. Charley shouted curses at him as he disappeared.
Then he realized he was faint with tension. He sank down on his knees for a moment, until the shakes were over. He knew that he had come very close to killing Marty Moquino. If he had been just a little angrier, or a little more afraid, he could have tipped the angle of the beam up a few degrees and blasted Marty to atoms. Only at the last minute had Charley controlled himself, or he’d have a man’s death to his name now.
He rose and thrust the laser back out of sight. Biting his lip hard, he raced toward Mirtin’s cave. He wasn’t sure what would happen now, except that he had to warn Mirtin about this. Marty Moquino had fled in terror, but he might be back, might come snooping around. It wasn’t safe for Mirtin to stay here anymore. He’d have to go to another cave, or else get his friends to take him away. Otherwise, sure as anything, Marty Moquino would find out about him somehow and call the government boys.
Charley stumbled up out of the last arroyo and flung himself into Mirtin’s cave. Mirtin wasn’t there.
For the first dazed instant Charley thought that he must have come to the wrong cave. But there was only one cave like this in this cliff, he knew. And by the daylight creeping into the cave, he could see the strip he had carved out of the cave floor with the laser, the last time he’d been here.
It was the right cave, but Mirtin was gone, along with everything that had been with him — his suit, his kit of tools. Everything. What had happened? Where was he? He couldn’t have gotten up and walked away; he wasn’t able to use his legs yet. So—
Charley saw the note lying on the cave floor. It was a piece of yellowish paper, small and square, and it did not have the feel of paper but rather of some plastic substance. On it were a few words, printed in a kind of loose scrawl, as though the person who had written them could not use his hand very well, or did not know much about how to print English words, or perhaps both. It said:
Charley—
My friends have found me at last. They are taking me away to finish the healing process. I am sorry I could not say goodbye to you, but I did not know they were coming so soon. I thank you with all my heart for the many good things you did for me here.
About that which you borrowed from me: it is yours to keep now. I am not angry that you took it. Keep it. Study it. Learn what you can from it. Only do not ever show it to another person. Will you promise me that?
Keep your eyes open all the time, try to understand the world, and remember that a man is not eleven years old forever. You have a wonderful life waiting, if you reach out for it. Some day soon your people will go to the stars. I like to think that you will be among them, and that soon we will meet again out there. Until then—
Mirtin.
Charley read the letter a dozen times. Then, carefully, he folded it and put it in his shirt, next to the laser. He scuffed at the cave floor with his toe.
Out loud he said, “I’m glad your people found you, Mirtin. I’m glad you weren’t mad about the laser.”
Those Who Watch Page 13
