Nightmare Planet
Page 10
Saya flashed her cloakbefore the beetle, so that it seemed a larger and nearer antagonist. Asthe creature whirled again, Burl thrust once more and a hind-legcrumpled.
Instantly the thing limped crazily. A beetle does not use its legs likefour-legged creatures. It moves the two end legs on one side with thecenter leg on the other, so that always it is braced on an adjustabletripod. But it cannot adjust readily to crippling.
A dog snatched at a spiny lower leg and crunched and darted away. Theexpressionless, machine-like horror uttered a formless, deep-bass cryand was spurred to all possible ferocity. The fight became a thing offurious movement and uproar, with Burl striking once at a multiple eyeso the pain would deflect it from a charge on Saya, and Saya againdeflecting it with her cloak and once breathlessly trying to strike itwith her shorter spear.
Then the beetle sank to the ground, all three legs on one side crippled.The remaining three thrust and thrust and struggled terribly andsuddenly it was on its back, still striking its gigantic jawsfrantically in the hope of murder. But Burl stabbed home between twoarmor-plates where a ganglion was almost exposed. A thrust killed itinstantly.
Burl and Saya smiled at each other. There was a monstrous sound ofsplintering trees. They whirled. The dogs pricked up their ears. One ofthem barked defiantly.
* * * * *
Something huge--truly huge!--settled to the ground a bare hundred yardsaway. It was metal, and there were ports, and it was utterly beyondexperience, because, of course, there had been no spaceship landings onthis planet in forty-odd human generations. But as Burl and Saya staredblankly at it, a port opened, and men came out, and they waved hopefullyto the two barbarically attired figures who had been seen fighting amonster with the help of dogs. Which meant some sort of civilization.
The dogs confirmed it. They sniffed. These, also, were men. And Burl andhis tribe had this smell, and were friends. So the dogs trotted forwardwith the self-confident cordiality of dogs on excellent terms withmen--and there was no question of friendship. None at all. The men cameforward joyously to talk to Burl and Saya.
There were difficulties, of course. But Burl and Saya had the calmcomposure of savages, and the alertness of people who are changing thepattern of their lives of their own volition--and finding it verypleasant--and things went swimmingly. There was, on the spaceship, an"educator." They invited Burl to put it on his head. He obliged. Andvery shortly he understood a new language, and was equipped with a veryconsiderable fund of general information. Among the items of informationwas the fact that presently he would have a splitting headache--hedid--and that the making of records for an educator was so differentthat it required generations to get all the facts and knowledge for asingle type of education down in permanent form.
All of which fitted admirably into the arrangements that the men on thespaceship were anxious to make, and Burl was enthusiastically willing toaccede to. He and his folk knew the creatures of the lowlands as nobodyelse could possibly know them. No electronic educator could possiblymake a record making available that knowledge in less than twogenerations--maybe three. Therefore--
* * * * *
The nightmare world swims in space about its nearby sun. It has a namenow, but it does not matter. It has a city on it, which probably mattersless. It is a curious city, though. The people in it wear gorgeouscolored fur, and cloaks of butterfly wings. The least of the people inthat city wear garments which would fetch fortunes on other inhabitedworlds. In fact, such garments do. But it is most practical for Burl,and Saya, and their followers to wear such garments. There is no day butthat a small, winged flying craft rises from the city to go silentlyover the plateau until it reaches the space above the cloud-bank, andthen dives down into it. It is wise for the occupants and the operatorsof such small craft to wear garments like the other humans on thisplanet. They are recognized, that way, when garments such as mostplanets find suitable would make them seem strange.
They want to be recognized, in the jungles and the noisesome valleys ofthe lowlands. There are other humans down there. The people of the city,of course, bring their fellows out as fast as they can find them. Thereis a session with an educator--and a splitting headache afterward--andvery soon the folk who have hidden from monsters all their lives arezestfully hunting them with dogs. Presently they are hunting them withflying machines.
It is a nice arrangement. The search for more people in the lowlands isa prosperous business even when it is unsuccessful. The wings of whitemorph butterflies bring the highest price, but even a commonswallow-tail is riches enough. And the fur of caterpillars--dulyprocessed--goes into the holds of the regular spaceliners with the samecare given elsewhere to jewels and platinum.
But the nightmare planet has not become a merely sordid place ofbusiness. What comforts and what luxuries spaceships can bring areavailable enough, to be sure. But the city on the plateau, and the homesof the barbarically clad inhabitants are not places to which invitationsare coveted for the luxury of them. The planet is a sportman's paradise.
Not long since, the Planet President of _Surmor III_ was a guest inBurl's dwelling. Burl is all hard muscle, despite his graying hair, andhe and Saya have fitted very beautifully into the sort of civilizationthat turned out to be congenial to them. They have grown children now,and their home is quite fit to entertain a World President in itsrichness. But it is small--the size they want it to be.
The atmosphere is oddly informal. There are self-respecting and amiabledogs nearly everywhere. The World President of _Surmor III_ was inclinedto be stand-offish at first. But he is a sportsman, like Burl. And sincethe last hunting trip, he is very respectful. After all, there are fewplanet leaders who will, as they do, for pure sporting joy of the hunt,fight the mastodon-sized tarantula of the lowlands with nothing but aspear--and win.
But Burl does.