by Andre Norton
"If and when we go out, we'll let you know. Clear skies-"
"Clear skies." The other returned the spaceman's good-bye.
Outside the door Kartr's hand closed for a moment only on Rolth's. The Faltharian at once began talking about hunting.
"Those horned beasts we saw in the clearing," he said as they mounted the stairs again, "they should make excellent eating. There may be some way of salting down the flesh-if we could locate salt deposits. And the same for those river creatures Zinga is always talking about. We needn't send him to bring in those." The Faltharian laughed as light-heartedly as if he had not caught the message and was speaking now for other ears. "He'd eat more than he'd bring back."
"We'd better not use the blasters," Kartr cut in as if he were giving some serious thought to the questions. "Spoils too much of the meat. Force blades-"
"Have to get in close to use them, wouldn't you?" asked Rolth dubiously.
Both of them were climbing faster. There was someone behind them now. Kartr's mind touched and then recoiled, sickened. The Can-hound was trailing them. But they did not run, though they were breathing hard when they reached the top of the last flight and saw the door to the tower open just enough for them to squeeze through. Zinga slammed it shut on their heels with an open-jawed snarl of rage.
"So that's after you!"
"As a trailer only, I think. Let him stew around outside. Now, Rolth, what about that woman. What did she want?"
"She thought we were brave heroes come to the rescue. Cummi's kept it dark-our arrival-but word got around-our uniforms are too well known. She came to ask for help. The situation here is just about what you thought it was. Cummi's set himself up as a pocket-sized Central Control. You do just as he says or you don't eat. And if you protest too loudly you disappear-"
"How many have disappeared?" Fylh wanted to know.
"The Captain of the X451 and three or four others. Then there were four Bemmy passengers-they disappeared too. But not in the same way. I gather that they saw which way the stars were showing right after the landing and went off into the blue by themselves-"
"Bemmys! What species?" Zinga's frill made a fan behind his head. He still stood by the door as if listening to something on the other side of the portal.
"I couldn't get that out of her. She didn't see them until after the ship came down-it was a two-class liner. Anyway there is now a Cummi party, small but armed and dangerous, and an anti-Cummi party badly organized and just milling around-taking it out in talk where they can't be overheard by the lord and master. Cummi himself keeps holed up here and has his men patrolling. Those who know anything-the techneers, the medico-he keeps right under his eyes. That Can-hound is one of his big threats."
"Are we invited to join the anti-Cummi party?" Fylh asked.
"I don't think it has gone that far yet. They had an idea that the Patrol had moved in to take over. And do you know-I think that that is just what we might have done if we had handled this the way you wanted to, Kartr-allowed them to think we had an undamaged ship and were on duty. I had to tell the woman that we were not in charge. But I also informed her that the rangers were sticking together."
"They may plan a palace revolution," Kartr mused. "Very well. I say we stick tight here until we know more."
"Where did that medico learn ranger hand talk?" Rolth wondered.
"A question I'll ask him if I ever get the chance. He's another who suggested the waiting game and to keep our eyes open and our mouths shut."
"Our eyes and other things open-" Zinga's head was pressed against the surface of the door. "The Canhound is about to do a little prying. Think sweet thoughts for him-quick!"
9 - SHOWDOWN
"Then you press this little knob and- Neat, isn't it?"
Kartr had to agree with the Zacathan that the results of pressing the little knob were neat. Water, clear, honest, fresh water splashed out of a spout disguised as a monster's head and fell into a basin set in the floor, a basin large enough to accommodate with ease even Kartr's inches.
"Go on-try it!" urged Zinga. "I did-twice! And you don't see me any the worse for it, do you?" He turned slowly around flexing his muscles and grinning toothily.
Rolth leaned back against the edge of the doorway and watched the flood suspiciously.
"What about the water supply? Could our friends down below shut it off if they wanted to?"
Kartr had unbuckled and thrown aside belt and tunic. Now he paused uncertainly. It might be wiser to conserve water instead of wasting it on baths. But the Zacathan shook his head.
"The pipes carrying this run up through the walls. If they shut us off they will probably have to shut off their own supply also. Anyway-if a siege is included in their future plans we'd be fools to allow ourselves to get bottled up here any longer than it would take us to climb down that outer wall. Don't be a spoilsport," he ended. "Or do you like to go dirty?"
Kartr peeled off the rest of his clothing and kicked it across the floor. He had one clean outfit in his bag and he reveled in the thought of using it.
"I wonder what they looked like-" He tried the temperature of the pool with his toes and found it to be pleasantly warm-much more comfortable than the mountain stream.
"Who-? Oh, you mean the builders of this delightful spot? Well"-Zinga indicated the mirrored walls-"they were not ashamed to look themselves in the face. Wonder if those ever before reflected any bathers as ugly as you two-"
Kartr laughed and splashed water at the Zacathan. "Speak for yourself, Zinga. I'll have you know that my face is not considered suitable for frightening children-"
Or did that still hold true, he wondered suddenly, and for the first time surveyed his reflection critically as it appeared in the mirror which ran the full length of the wall behind the basin.
The deep brown skin which proclaimed his space-borne occupation had only a few lines as yet. Of course, above that dark expanse the color of his hair did look rather odd. But its soft cream and red brown in waving strips was perfectly natural for a son of Ylene. He had two eyes, green, set slightly aslant-a straight nose-a mouth centrally placed-all proper for a human.
"Teeth too small-"
Kartr flushed and watched the dark crimson creep up along his sharply defined cheek bones.
"Freeze and blast you, Zinga! Can't you leave a man's thoughts alone?"
"Admiring himself, was he? But I don't agree about the teeth-large ones aren't marks of beauty among our kind, you know-"
Zinga was standing open-jawed just before his own section of mirror. "And why not? Useful and beautiful both. I'd like to see either of you two puny humans take part in one of our warrior duels-no talons-no proper teeth-you wouldn't last a minute!"
"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and conditioned by upbringing," announced the Faltharian. "Now
Kartr's people have two-shaded hair-so does their ideal of beauty. My race"-he had been shedding helmet and tunic as he talked-"have white hair, white skin-pale eyes. So-for us those attributes are necessary to be considered handsome."
"Oh, you are all answers to the sighs of maidens." Fylh's voice deflated from the doorway. "Why not finish up that absurd splashing about in liquid and come and eat. Such a stupid waste of time-"
But Kartr refused to be hurried and Rolth was as leisurely in enjoying Zinga's discovery. When they were again clad and followed Fylh into the outer room they found the Trystian curled up on the ledge of an open window exchanging trills with several large birds.
"Gossiping again," commented Zinga. "And where is this food that it was so important that we eat? I'll wager two credits that he's passed it out to those feathered friends of his!"
"Serve you right if I had. But you'll find it just beyond your noses."
The concentrated rations were twice as tasteless to anyone who had recently dined on roasted meat and the fresh fruits of the wilderness. Kartr chewed and swallowed conscientiously and longed to return to the past.
"I'll take it back."
Zinga gagged realistically after he downed the last cube. "Fylh wouldn't pass this offal on-it would kill the birds and he likes birds-"
"What are we doing here anyway?" There was the whir of wings as the birds went and Fylh dropped to the floor, closing the window. "We should have stayed out there. This is a dead place and there is no sense in trying to bring it to life!"
"Don't worry. We'll probably be outside again sooner than we bargain for. Let's go down and agree to go hunting like good little rangers and then go-and never come back!"
Kartr looked up. He could understand that plea of Zinga's, and part of him wanted to do just what the
Zacathan suggested. And he could participate in Fylh's feeling that this was a dead place returned to an unnatural life. But-there were women and children below in the city and there was a cold season approaching-unless Cummi had lied about that also. Maybe the intal planters, and some of the other passengers had hunted, but could their efforts supply all the needs of the community? And that woman today, she had appealed to Rolth, believed in their help just because they wore the Comets.
"It is like this," the sergeant began slowly, trying to put all these tangled feelings into the right words, to spread out before the others both sides of the question. "Do we have any right to walk out when we may be needed? On the other hand, if Cummi's anti-Bemmy talk puts you two in danger, you must go-"
"Why-?"
Zinga interrupted Fylh. "We don't go yet. But I see your point. Only, let me warn you, Kartr, there are times when a man-or a Bemmy-has to harden his heart. We needn't make any decisions tonight. A good rest-"
"Locked door or not, I'm suggesting a watch," Fylh stated.
"They won't try to reach us-that way." Kartr shook his head.
"You mean-mind touch!" Rolth whistled. "Then Fylh and I won't be much help."
"True. So Zinga and I will divide the night."
There followed uneasy hours. Three rolled in bedrolls, one on guard, slipping on unbooted feet from room to room, up and down, listening with both ears and mind. They did it in two-hour watches and
Kartr had taken to his bed for the second time when Zinga hailed him with a low hiss. The sergeant pulled out with a sigh to join the Zacathan at an open window.
"Smitt is coming-across that other roof-"
The Zacathan was right; the mind pattern of the com-techneer identified him. And only a trained ranger could have sighted him. His dodging from shadow to shadow, his use of every bit of cover was
Patrol work at its best.
"I'll go down to meet him." Before Zinga could protest Kartr was through the window and on that ladder of block design. Fortunately it was a cloudy night and he thought that unless someone were watching him through vision lenses he could not be seen, his uniform being almost the same shade as the stone.
As the sergeant came within a foot or two of the roof over which Smitt was advancing he gave a soft whistle of Patrol recognition. There was a moment of silence and then he was answered and the comtechneer came running to join him.
"Kartr here-"
"Thank the Spirit of Space! I've been trying to reach you for hours!"
"What's up?"
"The men-those against Cummi. They've taken our appearance here as a signal to fight him. The idiotic fools! He has a disruptor mounted in every main corridor, they can't get anywhere near him.
And that Can-hound has knocked out two of the leaders-put them to sleep the same way you did
Snyn back in the ship. It'll be nothing but raw murder if they try to storm Cummi's quarters! He had
Jaksan locked up with the medico-and the techneers are under guard. He'll wipe out all opposition-"
"He's planted a force bomb at the foot of your tower stairs. If you try to come down-finish! And he and the Can-hound are cooking up something special to smoke you out-"
Something special! If the Ageratan believed that he was only dealing with a sensitive of equal powers there were many things he could try. But against a six point six and Zinga such attacks might backfire.
"I've got to get back." Smitt nursed his blaster in one hand. "I've got to keep those fools from attacking head on. Is there anything you can do?"
"I don't know. But we'll try. Hold off your men as long as you can. Maybe we can turn the tables-"
Smitt melted away into the night. If he kept his mental guard he was going to be a formidable addition to the rebel forces. Neither the Ageratan nor the Can-hound could get to him that way. Kartr climbed back up to the tower window to discover all the rangers waiting for him.
"That was Smitt." As usual darkness had not confused Rolth. "What did he want?"
"There's a rebellion against Cummi. The other side took our arrival for the signal to break loose."
"And Cummi, of course, has not been slumbering peacefully meanwhile. What have his merry men prepared for us?"
"Yes"-Rolth added his question to Fylh's-"what is ready and waiting for us?"
"Smitt said a force bomb at the foot of the stairs, ready to go off as we go down-"
"Play rough, don't they? Do you know, I think that somebody should put the old healthy fear of the
Patrol into these gentlemen-"
"Where's Zinga?" Kartr interrupted the Faltharian.
"Gone below to do what he calls `listening.' " Fylh laid a torch on the floor, pulled the edge of his bedroll partially over it and by the shielded light began to count out the extra clips for their blasters. It did not, unfortunately, take him very long to finish the task.
"That all we have?" Kartr asked grimly.
"You have the charges now in your weapons and the extras in your belt loops-if you've followed regulations. These are the rest."
"All right. It comes to three apiece and the one over for Rolth. If this is to be a night fight we might as well give the advantage to the one who can make the best us of it."
The Faltharian was busy at a task of his own, securing their packs. If they did not have to make a run for it, they might be able to bring off their equipment too.
"They've moved our sled into the hallway down there and it is probably under guard now. If we win through-"
"If we win," Fylh broke in, "we can march right in and take it. We might just do that anyway. What's keeping the old lizard?"
Kartr had wondered about that, too, enough to send a questing thought which was answered instantly with a strong impression of danger. The sergeant scooped up his share of the blaster clips and tucked them into his belt before he crossed the room and went down to the green fish chamber. Zinga stood pressed against the door as if he wished to melt into its surface. Kartr joined him to "listen."
There were movements-not too far away-maybe just beyond the foot of the staircase. Two living things withdrew, a third remained-that was the Can-hound. But why did they leave that one on guard unless-
Unless, Zinga's thought answered him in a second's flash, they suspect that you-or I-are not what we seem. But they cannot know the full truth or they would not leave the Can-hound. Not after the way you handled him before. They must have discovered that-
Or is he-bait? Kartr thought back to Zinga, reveling in the freedom of this exchange which he had always longed to experience but had never found before.
That we shall see. This time the task is mine-brother!
Kartr withdrew mind touch and concentrated only on trying to sense the approach of any other who might break Zinga's control. He felt the Zacathan's body grow tense and guessed the agony Zinga was feeling.
It was as if they had stepped out of time-planet time. Kartr never knew how long they fought their soundless battle before he had to give a warning.
"One comes." He said that aloud, not daring to break in by thought.
Zinga hissed a long sigh. "He was bait of a sort," he answered in words, as if his thought power was almost exhausted. "But not as we had feared. He has been under observation all the time-if he withdrew against orders then they could assume that we were powerful enough to contro
l him. So they suspect-but they do not know."
"You say-they-we face more than Cummi and the Can-hound?"
"Cummi has learned to tap the mind energy of some others-how many I do not know. If a five point nine can do that-"
"What will he be able to raise himself to?" A great deal of Kartr's confidence was wiped out by the thought of that. Even with Zinga could he face down a Cummi so reinforced?
"I suggest," Zinga said a little dryly as if he were shaken also, "that we continue to stick to blasters as offensive weapons for a while. That way the odds are easier to assess."
