However, caution had decreed that they should make their first landing somewhere remote from the nearest settlement so that they would have time to rest and acclimatize themselves to the planet’s slight atmospheric and gravitational differences before they attempted to make contact. The cramped, eighty-seven day journey through the solar system had left them all tense and strained. Space travel, between the traumas of launch and landing, was an infinitely tedious process that led to irritation and short tempers among the best of crews. And on this trip they could not afford to have their peace mission turn into confrontation through some simple lack of diplomatic tact.
Zela, Commander First Class of the Alphan Space Corps, commander of the ship and leader of the Alphan expedition to the third planet, lay at ease in the cool shade of a bamboo grove. Her eyes were closed and her thoughts drifted peacefully as she listened to the soft gurgling of the nearby stream. Her one-piece silver zip-suit was open for comfort and beneath it she wore only a brief pair of pants. Her arms were stretched back, her hands clasped behind her head, and even in that semi-flattened position it was clear that her breasts, like those of all Alphan women, were firm, round and voluptuous. Her flawless skin was a light golden colour, a few shades paler than her long, golden hair.
In one ever-responsible corner of her mind, she marked the positions of her companions. Blair, her energetic First Officer was upstream, almost certainly absorbed in the scientific analysis of more of the planet’s flora and fauna. Cadel, the Engineering Officer, was back on the ship, forever checking and testing, writing up his log books or reading his manuals. Only Kyle and Laurya had any sense. Her Weapons and Communications officers were together on the far side of the stream, out of sight and out of hearing, at the very least holding hands, and more likely stealing another opportunity to make love.
Zela smiled wistfully at the mental image and felt a brief touch of jealousy. Her loins felt sensuous and she wished that she were some exotic wild woman, and native of this beautiful blue-green planet. Perhaps then Blair would find a scientific interest in her. Blair was not unhandsome to look at, and at least he had a first class body. Or perhaps if she were robotic, with an internal system of electrodes and microchips, then Cadel would find her an object worthy of his love and fascination. She chuckled aloud at her thoughts. She should not be thinking these things, she told herself. A commander should remain a little bit aloof. Love encounters at her level were not good for discipline.
The tiny wings of a dragonfly beat a gentle murmur close to her ear. There was a drone from other insects feasting on the nectar of a profusion of scarlet and yellow flowers but they did not bother her. A single ray of direct sunlight found its way through the green blades of bamboo and warmed the bare nipple of her left breast. Zela closed her eyes and drifted toward sleep. She heard the splash of fisher birds darting in and out of the stream, a dove cooed, a lark warbled, and somewhere faraway there sounded a faint, shrill scream.
Zela was abruptly awake and alert. She sat up, her head cocked and listening. They had chosen this valley because, although there was a clear glade where the ship could land beside the stream, it was otherwise thickly wooded with tall trees and screening jungle to keep them hidden. However, from the pre-landing survey, she knew that the land rose in a long hill to the south, and it was from the direction of the ridge top that the sound had come. Now she faintly heard other sounds that were not in tune with her sylvan surroundings, far-off human voices and the harsh notes of some kind of musical instrument.
Zela reached for her belt pack and deftly fastened it around her waist. In its neat pockets the belt held emergency food, medical and tool kits, her communicator and a lazer hand weapon. She used the communicator to call the others back to the ship, and without haste began to move in that direction herself.
Something was definitely disturbing the forest to her left. Birds and monkeys were now shrieking in flight through the treetops. Zela hesitated and drew the lazer weapon with her right hand. For a moment she was uncertain whether to hurry ahead or to wait for Blair. Then the panicked scream of the trumpeting elephant assailed her ears. The tusked beast was descending the steep ridge too fast, its huge bulk slipping and sliding as it flattened every obstacle in its path. Its scream and the thunderous crashing of its approach focused Zela’s attention too far back along the line of the pursuit and she was facing the wrong direction as the tiger leaped out into the glade fifty yards ahead of her. As it landed, it opened its throat to let out a great roar of rage.
Zela pivoted on her heel, half turning and catching her boot in a tangle of grass. She fell sideways on her right hip and elbow, her eyes wide in horror at what she saw. The huge red-and-white striped beast was twice the length of a man and almost as high at the shoulders. A fearsome sabre tooth curved down from each side of the snarling jaws that already dripped with blood. The eyes burned and the cat roared again, and then launched itself toward her in a running charge.
Having landed on her right elbow, it was impossible for Zela to aim the lazer weapon in her hand, but she fired it anyway. The bolt of white light missed the bounding fury of fang, fur and claw, but struck a tree close to the animal’s path. The tree was felled as though by a clean axe-blow and simultaneously burst into flames. The cat turned, startled and screaming, to bound back in the direction from which it had come.
The forest parted with another mighty crash of breaking trees and branches and the war elephant lumbered into view with Kananda still clinging precariously to its neck with his knees. The Hindu prince had exchanged his lightweight throwing javelin for a heavier hunting spear, which was poised in his hand. But events were moving too fast for him and springing too many surprises. He saw a brief glimpse of the golden-haired woman in the silver suit, and then tiger and elephant met in a gigantic clash of hurtling tusk and tooth and claw. For the first time, Kananda realized that he had been chasing a sabre-tooth, twice as large as any ordinary tiger, and as dangerous as one of the wrathful gods themselves.
The gods were with the tiger. As it leaped upon the elephant, it missed impaling itself upon the tusks and the war spike and crashed against the side of the elephant’s head. One great paw raked the elephant’s eye, blinding it instantly on the one side. One razor-edged claw from the other front paw laid open Kananda’s thigh and the young prince was knocked backwards. As he fell, he thrust with his spear and wounded the tiger’s shoulder.
Hurled from his mount, Kananda landed on his back and shoulders, his fall mercifully broken by a clump of bushes. He was bleeding and bruised but quickly struggled to his feet. The sabre tooth still clung to the head of the roaring elephant, snarling as it slashed with fang and claws. Half blind and mad with pain, the elephant backed up, dragging its tormentor with it. Kananda steadied himself and with his spear braced in both hands, he ran forward to plunge its blade into the tiger’s side.
The great cat wheeled, screaming now with pain of its own, leaving the elephant to attack the challenging man. Kananda withdrew his spear with a wrench, knowing that if the shaft was snapped off he would be defenceless. He wielded the weapon in desperate fury to fend of the flailing claws and the monstrous jaws.
Zela was on her feet now and running forward, her composure partially recovered and her hand steady. But the man blocked a clear line of fire. She had to wait as man and beast fought with awful ferocity, and then the whirling conflict presented her with a chance. She fired and her second bolt hit the tiger in the side, the energy-charged beam burning its way deep into the huge body and scorching the red-and-white fur. The tiger howled but was still not finished. Kananda was flung aside and the sabre tooth turned again to charge at the woman.
Zela held her ground and fired her third bolt. Three was the most these small hand-held weapons could discharge without losing lethal power and the third beam lanced full into the spitting jaws. Still, its charge carried the beast forward and Zela went down beneath it. The great cat was dying but there was enough strength left in it to make a final k
ill. The sabre-toothed jaws loomed over her within inches of closing on the soft golden throat. Then Kanada made his final charge and his spear penetrated the cat’s neck. The thrust was deep and the monster arched backward in its death agony. Kananda pushed with all his strength and the cat fell sideways, its fall pulling the bloodied spear from his hands.
The man and woman from different planets gazed at each other in bewilderment and wonder. Beside them, the muscles and limbs of their mutual enemy still writhed in lingering death spasms, and after a moment Kananda reached for the woman’s arms and tugged her clear. Then a great dizziness came over him, his head reeled, his body swayed, and he collapsed beside her.
Chapter Three
Zela lay breathless, temporarily stunned and in a state of shock. On the edge of the clearing, Kananda’s dying elephant had sunk to its knees, weakened by its terrible loss of blood, and it raised its trunk in one last anguished, gasping bellow, before it toppled sideways and expired. Then the clearing was still and silent. There was only the sickly reek of the blood that was soaked and spattered everywhere over the crushed grass and foliage, from the elephant, from the tiger, from Kananda and, Zela realized as her senses began to swim back, from her own left arm. Her suit and the flesh beneath had been slashed from shoulder to elbow. Pain began to seep through the initial numbness, and as she struggled to push herself up onto her right elbow, she had to clench her teeth against the need to cry out.
Through the mist of tears in her eyes, she stared at the sabretooth. Even in death the size of it made her shudder. The savage jaws that had almost snatched her head from her shoulders were still open wide in its final snarl. There was still menace in the red-stained sabres that were like two curved ivory daggers, and only the now-dulled eyes reassured her that she was safe. At first she was fearful that they might blaze again, that the tiger might still possess some last flicker of life, but at last she turned her head slowly to look at the strange earth native who had been her ally in the unexpected battle.
The man was as tall as any man of her own race, perhaps an inch taller than Blair who was the tallest in her crew. He had the body of a trained athlete, fit and supple with firm muscles and no body hair. His skin was bronzed, a richer, more reddish gold than her own. His face was handsome, and even though he had fainted it still hinted at strength of character in the clean lines of the bone structure and the firm jaw. His jeweled helmet had rolled away to reveal dark hair that was cut short, tousled and wet with sweat. His courage he had already proven in their fight with the tiger, and fleetingly she wondered how he would make love.
She banished the thought as she realized that his leg was bleeding badly, more so than her own arm. There were more practical things to think about and her hand moved to the medical kit in her belt pack. Then she cautiously became still as the silence was broken by the crash of more approaching beasts and men.
The second elephant blundered noisily into view with Ramesh mounted on its neck and urging it forward. As the green tangle of jungle parted, the young prince gaped with amazement at the scene before his tusker continued to plunge forward, and then, realizing that he was about to trample his own brother, Ramesh yelled at it to halt. His spear butt banged on the huge forehead and his mount stopped with one giant foot poised to throw its shadow over Kananda’s face. The elephant was well trained, but in the excitement of the hunt it was baffled and confused. It hesitated, but then the training won and, responding to the urgent commands of its rider, it eased back a pace and stopped. Ramesh stared down, sweating, and he too was bewildered by all that he saw.
More arrivals burst out of the forest. Three of the horse riders who had accompanied the unfortunate Jayhad reined their steeds alongside the war elephant and their prince. The head huntsman and a dozen warriors arrived on foot, and with every moment more warriors and hunters flooded out from the barrier of green. All of them were armed with raised spears. They formed a startled, but threatening circle behind Ramesh and the young lords.
Blair reached the clearing from the opposite side, a lazer weapon ready in his hand. Zela saw the silver flash of his suit from the corner of her eye and spoke without turning her head.
“Wait, Blair, do not alarm them.”
Blair stopped, motionless at her command, but the lazer was still pointed and ready. The warriors recognized a fighting stance and the sharper-witted suspected rightly that the stranger held a weapon. Spear arms tensed and a dozen voices spoke in warning. With Kananda fallen they looked to Ramesh for a lead. The young prince bit his lip uncertainly. He was not ready for this level of responsibility. At the same time he was a Karakhoran prince and with Kananda unconscious, he was the only acting member of the royal line present. He looked down at Kananda and read the signs. The dead tiger told its own tale.
“Wait,” Ramesh decided. “He is only one man.”
“There are three.”
Ramesh looked up as Kasim, one of the horse-riders, spoke at his side. He saw two more of the strange silver-suited figures wading across a small stream. They too held mysterious weapon-like implements in their hands. Kyle and Laurya came to stand silently beside Blair, the former putting a cautionary hand on his companion’s weapon arm as he saw that the situation, although tense, was not desperate.
“They are dangerous,” Kasim said nervously. “We should slay them all before more appear.”
The head huntsman was looking over the dead sabretooth with a practised eye. His fears were confirmed and he was only surprised to see the beast dead.
“Sire,” Hamir said slowly, speaking in Hindu which Zela and her companions could not understand. “There is a wound I do not understand in the side of the beast. It was not made by a spear. The flesh and fur are burned as though by fire.”
“Perhaps that is what those weapons do,” Kasim suggested. “We should kill these people, before they kill us as they have killed Kananda and the tiger.”
A dozen voices shouted assent, and a dozen spear arms were poised to throw, but still they awaited the royal command. And still Ramesh hesitated. Then another elephant pushed its way up to his side.
“There is no burn wound on the Prince Kananda.” The high priest Kaseem made the solemn observation from the lofty perch of his canopied seat on the elephant’s back. “If these people slew the beast, then perhaps it was to save our prince.”
Ramesh glanced at the old Brahmin with relief. “What do you advise?” he asked in a rare moment of complete deference.
Before the old man could answer, a new voice chose to make itself heard, booming above the assembled heads as though coming from the sky itself.
“Zela.” The voice was Cadel’s, amplified through a communication speaker from the ship. “I have the ships main battle lazer targeted on your new friends. Ready to fire on your command.”
Prince and priest, warriors and hunters, all drew back in sudden terror from the sound. They stared upward with bloodless faces, and then a chorus of gasps, whispers and exclamations focused their gaze further down the valley, where the Tri-Thruster command ship stood tall and graceful against the green jungle and the brilliant blue sky.
“A black temple—a temple of steel.” The words were choked hoarsely from the ashen ranks of the Hindus. “These must be the gods—the gods speak—the voice is Indra !.
“Cadel.” Zela used their moment of confusion to speak into her communicator. “Do nothing.” She looked up to Kaseem and Ramesh and smiled as warmly as she knew how. Their languages were different, but a smile was a universal sign of friendship, or at least she so hoped. “We are your friends,” she said quietly. “Please let us help you.” She knew they could not understand, but trusted that the tone of her voice would add to the reassurance of her smile.
Ramesh could only gape, while Kaseem suffered an internal turmoil of mental struggle and physical emotion. The old priest was torn between faith and doubt, fear and ecstasy, and hope and despair. These beings were nothing like any of his dearly held images of the gods. They were
only the size of men, and they lacked the multiplicity of arms and hands essential for the multiplicity of tasks involved in maintaining the whole of creation. They did not wield thunder and lightning, like mighty Indra, the god of the elements and of war. Their feet were firmly fixed upon the Earth. They did not reign in the far blue heaven where the god Varuna was emperor and overseer of all that happened in the universe. And they were not wreathed in sacred flames like the fire-god Agni who carried the smoke and incense of sacrifices to the two great gods. At the same time, the strange voice from the sky had rolled like thunder, and the tiger had been burned with fire. Perhaps only a lightning bolt could have killed such a devil beast. If these beings were not deities, it seemed that perhaps they did have their powers. Perhaps they were messengers of the gods.
The old man closed his eyes in anguish and swayed dizzily. His tormented mind simp1y could not cope and deep in his heart he was not sure that he wanted to meet the gods. As a physical reality he was not even sure that he had ever believed in them, he had often thought of them as symbolic of a reality that was essentially spiritual and metaphysical. Perhaps he was wrong and Indra had sent these messengers to punish him. The thought stabbed him with a soul-struck fear, and he would have fallen if Ramesh had not been close enough to reach a steadying hand for his shoulder.
Zela saw that the old man was temporarily incapable of decision and gambled that the others would not act without his lead. She turned to her companions and kept her voice calm and gentle as she issued her orders.
“Relax and put the lazers down on the ground. Laurya, their culture seems male-dominated and so they will probably have less fear of a woman. Come to me slowly.”
Cautiously, Laurya crossed the open glade. Like Zela, she was golden-haired and golden-skinned, although a few inches shorter and slighter of build. Her silver suit hugged her figure tightly and the contours of breast and hip were clearly defined. She stopped beside her commander who was still resting on her good elbow on the reddened grass. Zela held up her injured arm.
The Sword Lord Page 3