Starwolf (Omnibus)

by Edmond Hamilton

  "Now what does this place remind me of?" Chane asked himself.

  Then he remembered. It had been two years ago, when the Starwolves had raided the Pleiades. Chane had been one of them, and Nimurun had been the leader; he had always been reckless, even for a Varnan. He had got their squadron boxed and it had looked like a fight at long odds.

  But they had found a hidey-hole, an uninhabited, lifeless little planet that had been blasted by some past war. Its metal buildings that remained were twisted and misshapen like the tortured ghosts of buildings. For three days and nights they had lain hidden and listened to the wind moan through those wrecked buildings, but they had not been found. Eventually they had got safely out of the Pleiades.

  Chane did not like ruined cities. He liked cities that were bustling with life and full of costly and desirable things that could be looted.

  He grinned. That's Starwolf thinking, he told himself. You must keep remembering that you're a good honest Merc now.

  They had landed here less than an hour ago. A camouflage net had been drawn quickly over the flier, and none too soon, for presently other fliers from the direction of Yarr had swung over the ruins, circling and circling and then gone on again. That the hunt for them was on, was quite obvious.

  Then Janssen got the jitters. He swore that he glimpsed men flitting around in the jungle beyond the ruins, spying on them. Dilullo had patiently pointed out that it was quite impossible that any Arkuuns could have got here this soon. Janssen persisted in his assertion.

  "I'll go out and have a look around," Chane had volunteered. He was already bored with sitting on his hunkers under the net.

  "No," said Dilullo. "If there are any of them out there, we'll know it soon enough."

  "Ah, let him go, John," said Bollard. "He's young blood, he's restless; can't you see that? He's not like us poor old crocks."

  Dilullo shrugged. "Okay, Chane, take a look and see what Janssen's spooks are."

  Chane nodded, and told Bollard, "I'll do my best to come back safely. For your sake."

  Bollard guffawed and said that Chane was going to be the death of him one of these days as Chane had left them.

  In the ruins, there was apparently nobody at all. But there was life of some kind out in the jungle. He paused once, hearing a sound, and caught the echoes of a faraway cry, long, falling inflections that were wordless yet sounded as though they might have come from a human throat.

  There was no sharp line of demarcation between city and jungle. Chane gradually passed into a zone where there was more vegetation than ruins, and then it came to be thick jungle with only an occasional bulk of carved stones here and there amid the foliage.

  He had been in many forests on many worlds. It was a favorite Starwolf tactic to land by night in such places and then make their spring from that cover, upon their target. Chane knew how to move silently, to slip always from one shadow to another, to bring his foot down softly. He stopped from time to time to listen, but there were only the small cheepings and rustlings normal to any jungle.

  He listened for a repetition of that weird far away call but he did not hear it again.

  No one, he thought. Janssen was just seeing things.

  Then an odd thing happened. The skin between his shoulders seemed to tighten, and the short hairs on the back of his neck seemed to rise.

  Danger. And near ...

  The Starwolves had no sixth sense, but they had trained the five they had to an utter keenness. Something—some smell, or almost inaudible sound—had reached and warned him.

  Chane silently whirled around. He thought that he just glimpsed a white something vanish behind one of the giant trees.

  He went there, his stunner in his hand.

  Nothing.

  There was the faintest of rustles and he spun around fast again, and thought he glimpsed another vague white shape flit from sight.

  With appalling suddenness, the voice he had heard from far away sounded loudly from close by. It was not a human voice, and it spoke no words. It laughed, a kind of sobbing, shivery laughter.

  Then the unhuman sound cut off sharply, and there was silence again.

  Chane waited, his face dark and dangerous in a bar of the shifting moonlight. They were around him and they thought they had him, and so they were laughing.

  He faced back toward the ruined city. He was not afraid, but he had all a Varnan's cunning caution. This world and what it might contain were new to him; he must go carefully.

  He took a half dozen steps and then something came out of the brush ahead of him.

  He thought at first that it was a man, and then as the moonlight shifted slightly he saw that it was manlike but not human. It had arms and legs and a body and a head. It wore no clothing, and was apparently sexless. It came slowly toward him and he saw a face that had softly glowing big eyes, no nose at all—just a blank space where the nose should be—and a nauseatingly pretty little mouth.

  Chane triggered the stunner, aiming directly at the thing. Nothing happened at all, except that the thing uttered that sobbing laugh again.

  He notched the stunner to lethal and fired again.

  Again, nothing happened.

  He knew then that the stunner, designed to paralyze the nervous system of a mammalian or near-mammalian creature, was useless.

  A sudden thought occurred to him. The thing had been a little too obvious about coming out and holding his attention. There could be another one behind him ...

  Chane started to turn but did not complete the movement. A living weight landed on his back, and smooth cold arms went around his throat. The grip tightened, swiftly choking him.

  All right, thought Chane. But you haven't caught a man: You've caught a Starwolf.

  He put all his Varnan strength into a great surge of arms and shoulders to break the grip.

  It did not break. He realized, even as he began to gasp for air, that he had finally met something as strong as he was. Perhaps stronger.

  That appalling knowledge triggered a wild revulsion in Chane's mind. He stopped trying to break the choking grip. He flexed his knees and sprang, hurling himself and the thing upon his back with him, away from there.

  He turned in mid-air and when they hit the ground the white shape on his back hit underneath him. The impact jarred its hold, not much, but enough to weaken it. Chane burst free.

  The white man-thing was up quicker than a cat, coming at him and making a hideous little mewing sound. Chane's hand flashed and hit its neck. The neck should have broken but it did not. It was like hitting pure gristle and muscle without a bone.

  He pretended he was going to strike again, but it was his foot that flashed this time and his boot caught the thing in the stomach. It was knocked back into the brush.

  Chane whirled around just in time. The one that had been laughing was only a few feet from him, the delicately-fingered white hands reaching for him.

  He struck and struck. He was sweating and scared now, the more so because he thought he could hear the light running steps of a third thing coming.

  Chane suddenly sprang and ran. He could not face two of these creatures—it was doubtful if he could even match one. Three, if there were three, would certainly kill him.

  He went through the brush with all the furious speed of which his body was capable. And he could not lose the things. They flitted almost beside him, lithe and swift as white panthers, seeking to draw ahead of him and cut off his escape.

  He was among the marble ruins and they were about to block his way, when he heard yelling voices, and then the hiss and flash and searing crack of a portable laser letting go.

  The white ones went away into the brush so fast that he hardly saw them go, and then he saw Dilullo coming through the ruins with Janssen and with Milner, the latter holding one of the portable lasers in his hands.

  "We heard you threshing around out there," said Dilullo. "Who the devil were they?"

  "Not who—what," said Chane. He was more shaken than he h
ad been for a long time. "They aren't people. I don't know what they are, but it's something pretty nasty." He added, for Dilullo's especial benefit, "They almost got me." His voice had a note of dismayed incredulity. Dilullo got the warning.

  They went back to where the flier hid under its camouflage net. The others were there, Bollard and Garcia and the girl Vreya.

  Chane described what he had met out in the jungle. When he had finished, Vreya said, "The Nanes."

  "The what?"

  "The word None, in our language, means 'not a man'.

  They're not too bright, but they're deadly."

  "You didn't mention them, that I recall," Dilullo said to her, in an edged voice.

  Vreya turned toward him. "I told you there was dangerous life in the jungles. What do you expect me to do—mother you?"

  Bollard exploded into laughter, and Chane grinned. Dilullo looked angrily at them. "What kind of evolution could produce things like that?"

  Vreya looked around at the tall ruins that towered into the silver light. "There were great scientists in these cities in the old days. It was they who created the Free-Faring. And it is said that they also created the Nanes. The creatures don't breed. But on the other hand they were made to be practically immortal, and there are still some of them in the jungles."

  Milner said in a whining voice, "A real ugly world we've come to, I think. I don't like it."

  "Nobody," said Dilullo, "has ever paid Mercs big money to go somewhere and have a good time. Go to sleep. Chane, you've kept us all up with your prowling. You can stand first watch."

  Chane nodded, and took the portable laser from Milner. The others went and got into their sleeping bags and stretched out.

  The two moons wheeled across the starry sky, the distance between them getting bigger all the time and the forked shadows more bizarre. From far out in the jungle came a sobbing cry.

  Chane smiled. "No, my friend," he muttered. "Not again."

  After a while he heard movement, and turned. Vreya had got out of the sleeping bag they had given her. She walked out to where Chane stood guard amid a tumbled mass of giant blocks, and sat down on one of the blocks.

  Chane watched her, admiring her beautiful arms and legs. They were all silver now in the tarnished light.

  "This place depresses me," she told him.

  He shrugged. "I'll admit I've seen more amusing places myself."

  She looked at him somberly. "It doesn't mean anything to you. You've just come here; it's only another strange world to you, and you'll soon go away again. But to us ..."

  She was silent for a time, and then said, "This was a great trading city, once. There was a big starport north of here. Ships went out and traded with star-worlds far up what you call the Perseus Arm. And others went farther. The people of Arkuu were starfarers for generations. Now we live in dust and memories on two little planets, and there are no more stars for us at all."

  Her voice took on a note of passion. "Because of old, superstitious fears, we have become the Closed

  Worlds. No one must come to Allubane, and we must not go away from it. But some of us work to lift that senseless ban, and because of it we are called plotters and traitors by men like Helmer, who follow blind dogmas."

  Chane felt a strong sympathy. He had lived too long as a Starwolf not to sympathize with anyone barred from roving the starways.

  "Perhaps the time has come when the Closed Worlds will be open again," he said.

  She said nothing to that, but looked away at the ruined towers that had been strong and joyous once.

  Chane felt a surge of warmth toward her. He went to where she sat and bent over her.

  Her shapely knee came up and cracked his chin. He saw stars as he staggered back.

  He shook his head to clear it. She was looking at him with contemptuous self-assurance. Chane suddenly leaped and grabbed her. His hand went over her mouth as it had done the other time.

  She struggled with the strength of a tigress. But Chane used all his iron force and held her.

  "Now," he whispered in her ear, "I can do just what I want to do."

  Again she tried to break free, but the Starwolf strength held her. "And what I want to do," Chane whispered, "is ... tell you that I like you."

  He gave her a great smacking kiss on the cheek and then let her go and stepped back. And at the mingled rage and astonishment on her face, he began to laugh.

  Vreya looked at him, her hands clenched into fists, and then her face softened and she laughed also.

  She said in a low voice, "Raul will be very angry with me for this." And, still laughing, she came up close to Chane and kissed him on the mouth.

  IX

  Dilullo woke up in the morning with pains in his shoulders and his rump. He had slept in the aisle of the flier instead of out in the open like the others. He had met and faced many strange forms of life on many worlds, but one thing he could never get used to was insects. The thought of them crawling over his face had made him prefer the hard floor to a sleeping bag outside.

  He felt rusty and mean. He got a drink of water and brushed his teeth, and then went outside. The topaz sun was well up over the horizon, throwing a flood of yellow light over everything. He went out from under the camouflage net, toward the brushy ruins a little distance away.

  As he went he passed the girl Vreya, lying in her sleeping bag, her yellow hair rumpled and her face in the repose of slumber looking childish and cherubic. He gazed down at her with an oddly fatherly feeling.

  Probably a no-good wench, he thought, and doubtless trying to use us all for her own purposes. But a nice-looking girl.

  He went on and met Janssen, who had taken over the second watch. Janssen yawned and said that nothing had happened.

  When Dilullo returned he went into the flier and came back out with one of the documents that James

  Ashton had given him. It was a map of Arkuu—not a very good map, since the Closed Worlds had forcefully discouraged topographical surveys—but the only one he had.

  He sat down on the shady side of the flier with his back against a wheel and frowned at the map. After a minute, he looked around. Nobody was stirring. Dilul-lo reached into the pocket of his coverall and brought out a small case. He took from it a pair of spectacles and put them on and then reexamined the map.

  A few minutes later, a shadow fell across him. He looked up quickly. It was Chane, regarding him with interest.

  Dilullo gave him a hard, challenging stare. He meant it to say, "Yes, I wear spectacles to read when no one's around, and you had better keep your mouth shut about it."

  But the stare was wasted. Chane was pure brass. He looked down at Dilullo and said,

  "I never saw those before. Eyes getting a little weak, eh?"

  Dilullo snarled. "Is that any of your business?"

  Chane started laughing. He said, "John, let me tell you something. You're the smartest among us, and you could probably beat up any one of us, except me, of course."

  "Of course," said Dilullo, between his teeth.

  "Stop worrying about getting old," Chane continued. "All around, you're the best man—except me, of course ..."

  "Of course," said Dilullo, but he had a bleak grin on his face now.

  He took the spectacles off and put them away. "All right, break out some rations for breakfast. And wake up your girl friend. I want a serious talk with her."

  Chane looked puzzled. "My girl friend?"

  Dilullo said, "Look, my eyes may be a little weak at reading, but I generally know what's going on around me. Get her."

  When Vreya came, Dilullo motioned to her to sit down, and then spoke to her in galacto.

  "We brought you along because we thought you might be able to tell us where Ashton went. But you're not a prisoner. If you want to go back, you can stay here and signal the next flier that comes over looking for us."

  "Go back to being locked up?" said Vreya. "No, I don't want to go back."

  "I take it, then," said Dilull
o, "you want to join your friend who went with Ashton—what was his name?"

  "Raul," she said. "He's the leader of our party. The Open-Worlders, they call us, because we want the freedom of the stars again." She added bitterly, "Helmer calls us other things, like conspirators and traitors."

  "All right, stay with us and guide us to where Ashton and Raul and the others went," said Dilullo.

  Vreya shook her head. "It's not that easy. All I know is the general area they were going to. It's where the legends have always said the Free-Faring was hidden, but it's a big area."

  "How big? Show me, on the map."

  Vreya's fine eyes studied the map intently. Dilullo handed her a pencil, and with it she drew a large irregular circle in the north.

  "Somewhere in there," she said.

  Dilullo looked, and his face grew long. "That's the devil and all of a big area. And mountains, too."

  "The highest on Arkuu," she said. "There are valleys of jungle between them."

  "Oh, fine," he muttered. "We can't search an area like that from the air." He frowned, thinking. Then he said, "You told me that this area is where legends put the Free-Faring. I take it Helmer and his bunch would know the legends, too?"

  She nodded. "Yes; he went with fliers to look for Raul and Ashton and the rest, but it's as you said: you can't comb an area like that from the air."

  "Then," said Dilullo, "Helmer would know that we're heading there, too, since he knows we're out to find Ashton." He shook his head. "That spells trouble."

  The others were awake. Janssen came in from guard duty and they sat around in a circle under the net, eating their breakfast rations.

  When they had finished them, Dilullo began an informal council of war. He had found long ago that Mercs would do almost anything you asked them, if they knew beforehand what they were into, and what the reasons were. You could not order them around high-handedly; you had to lay it out to them.

  He laid it out to them. Nobody said anything for a little while. Then Bollard, who was always pessimistic when he was separated from the supply of beer in the ship, shook his head.