by E. C. Tubb
"Well?" Ursula was impatient. "Is. that what we were looking for?"
"Yes, but we've arrived too late." Dumarest rose, dropping the box. "They've gone and taken the stuff with them."
"They could still be in the area."
"No. That guard we heard scream and the others who were killed must have run into the rebels making their escape. That's why they had to die. If the men had been in position a little earlier-" But it was useless to regret what could not be altered. "Who lives here?"
"Lived." The guard was precise. "Masak."
"Alone?" Dumarest studied the room with greater care. Even if not married he could have shared with a friend and certainly fellow conspirators would have spent time with him." The hollow holding the boxes proved that; one man would have needed help to gouge it out and dispose of the dirt. The boxes too would have required more than one to carry. "Are there other rooms attached?"
A kitchen and bathroom comprised the whole. A single person's accommodation as decided by the Choud. Dumarest had known worse.
"Find out who lives in the adjoining rooms," he said. "Get them. Don't frighten them but bring them here to me." As the guards left he moved to touch the walls. They echoed when he rapped them and he guessed they were of hollow brick coated with plaster. He said, "We have a chance, Ursula. These walls are thin and it's possible that others could have heard what was being said in here."
A small chance and one which dwindled as he questioned those brought to him. An old man who lived on the kitchen side and who was almost totally deaf. A woman who lived to the rear of the bedroom and who had a baby at her breast.
"Sometimes I'd hear things," she admitted. "Laughter and cheering and when I did I'd bang on the wall. Lately I've been busy with the child."
Too busy as was the young man who lived in the rooms against the bedroom.
"I'm out a lot," he said. "Working in the fields and when I get back home I'm too tired to do much more than sleep. I didn't hear anything and I don't know what went on."
"Failure, Earl," said Ursula as the man left. "There's no one else."
"One more," he corrected. "The rooms back of the bedroom aren't exactly in line. They're offset a little and the corner of one overlaps this chamber. We've still a chance."
One which faded as he saw the person who occupied the room. An old woman who blinked and cringed and backed as he stepped forward to take her arm.
"Relax, mother," he soothed. "No one is going to hurt you."
"Men," she said in a thin, dry voice. "Running and pushing people about and all that screaming. It wasn't like this in the old days. I lived in a bigger place then with Arold and my two sons. They've gone now and only I'm left." She sucked at her lips. "Should have left me," she said. "That was my house. They should have let me keep it."
"It was too large for you," said Ursula. "How could you have kept it clean?"
Logic which had no place in the old woman's world. She glared and turned away then halted as Dumarest stepped before her.
"They made a mistake, mother," he said. "You'll get your house back if you can help us. Now, let's play a little game. If this were your bedroom, where would your bed be positioned?" He nodded as she pointed. "The head against the wall, eh?"
"In the corner, mister. Where else?"
"And you need a lot of rest. At your age that's to be expected."
"I'm not too old to clean!"
"No, I'm sure you're not, but you like to go to bed early, right? And sleep."
"When I can," she grumbled. "When the noise lets me. All that scraping-why don't they do something about the rats?"
"Scraping," said Dumarest. "You heard a lot of scraping. When? Yesterday?"
"Days ago-I can't remember."
"And talking?"
"That too. Some people have no consideration for an old woman. If Arold and my sons were alive they'd have put a stop to it. Up half the night and sometimes until dawn. Talking and laughing and singing, too, at times. Young villains! Someone should do something about people like that."
"We're going to," promised Dumarest. "When we find them. Now listen carefully, mother. Did you hear them a little while ago?"
"Yes. Bumping and banging and arguing. One of them had a loud voice and my head was against the wall."
"One of them? How many were there?"
"I don't know. Several, I think. One was called Balain. He was the one with the loud voice and he seemed to be giving the orders. Am I going to get my old house back? I can keep it clean."
"Yes," said Dumarest. "That's a promise." Gently he took the thin shoulders in his hands and looked into the faded eyes. "Now just one more thing, mother. Think carefully and tell me if Balain or any of the others said what they were going to do or where they were going."
"Into the city. They were going into the city."
"Among the Choud? And?"
"Get hurry."
"What?"
"Hurry," said the old woman impatiently. "The man with the loud voice said they had to get hurry. That's all I know. When do I get my house, Mister?"
Ursula said, after she had gone, "A waste of time, Earl. The old woman was almost senile. The men are probably far into the plains by now."
"What would they do with explosives in the plains? How would that destroy the Choud?"
"They can't destroy us, Earl."
A confidence he didn't share. Balain would have known what he was doing and speed would be important, but hurry? Get hurry? How could hurry be a target? Not hurry, then, but a word like it. One distorted by the wall and the onset of sleep. Urry? Huri?
Hury!
He said, "They're after Hury. Can they get it?"
"No." Ursula was positive. "It is guarded and there is Only one way to reach it."
"Only one way? In a city? You really believe that?"
"Earl-"
"The sewers, Ursula! They're using the sewers!"
Chapter Thirteen
They ran beneath the jewel-like houses and the neatly kept terraces in a maze of twisting tunnels lit at intervals, damp, noisome, their brooding silence broken only by the susurration of water, the splash of adapted life.
"Rats." Ursula shivered as something darted into the water ahead to leave a trail of widening ripples. "This place must be alive with them."
"They won't hurt you."
"Maybe not." She didn't share Dumarest's confidence. "I hate the creatures. They could be everywhere."
If so they stayed but of sight as did other things which had made the subterranean complex their home. Webs festooned the glowing bowls of luminescence, their delicate, lace-like strands turning the cold glare into a nacreous glow which was reflected in broad lines of deposited slime on the curving sides of the passages and the raised concrete platform which provided dry footing. Bridges crossed the catwalk at intervals to provide access to branches and tributary passages. Echoes rose from the impact of their feet to die murmuring in the distance.
In the lead Dumarest halted, dropping to his knees as he examined the path. He rubbed at the surface, examined the grime on his finger, looked again before rising. Ursula looked at him.
"Earl?"
"We could have found their trail. One must have slipped and the edge of his shoe had scraped the concrete."
A guard said, "It could have happened weeks ago."
"No. The mark is recent or it would have been washed clean of fragments." Dumarest stared ahead to where the tunnel branched. "Send men ahead to search for further traces."
They edged past, the beams of their flashlights making hard circles of brilliance against the stained walls, the turgid water. Dumarest felt the woman close to his side. She was shivering beneath her cloak.
"You're cold," he said. "You should have waited on the surface."
"No." She stared at the bobbing lights. "Why don't they hurry?"
"Give them time." Dumarest saw a light steady and heard the call. "They've found something."
A patch of lichen had been
scraped from a wall to leave a relatively light patch. Dumarest examined it, felt the ripped patch of primitive growth, and looked at the woman.
"Would this take them in the right direction?"
"They could have taken either path. The other would take them to a main junction and they would have to swing around the initial processing area. This would take them to the tributary inlets from the west."
"This is the way they came," said Dumarest. The marks could have been deliberately placed but the odds were against it, Amateur conspirators would have no time or thought for such deceptions and, as yet, they wouldn't know they were being followed. "Let everyone keep a watch for more signs and avoid making any noise."
The tunnels were sounding tubes and small sounds would be magnified. Something which worked both ways but, though Dumarest had called a halt several times in order to listen, he'd heard nothing.
"Hurry," said Ursula. "We must hurry!"
A reversal of her previous confidence when she had been certain nothing could threaten the Choud. Only when she'd learned of an alternative route to Hury had she displayed a nervous anxiety. One shared by the guards.
Dumarest thinned his lips as one called to him from where he'd halted ahead.
"Keep your voice down, damn you! What is it?"
"A branch." The man pointed. "Which way do we go? Left or right?"
"Ursula?" Then, as she made no answer Dumarest snapped, "What's the matter? Doesn't any of you know how these sewers run?"
"Not the entire system."
"But you know where the target is?"
"Of course, but all these passages are confusing." She kept her voice low, words echoing to be lost in the susurration of the water. "A thing which will have to be rectified but who could have guessed we should need the information?"
"Those who built this place." Dumarest looked at the sides of the tunnel. "If they had had any sense they would have set up maps at strategic points.
"Earl, we have no time to look!"
"We'll look as we go on," he told her. "For now we'll split." His gestures divided the party. "You will take the right-hand tunnel while we take the left. If you hit another junction, split again if you have to. Keep searching until you find something. If you do, slow down and act with caution. We don't want to alert the men we're looking for. And remember-it won't help anyone if you get yourselves hurt."
They pressed on, the passages smaller now, the walls more thickly slimed. Beside the raised platform the water rushed past with increased velocity and the air was heavy with noxious odors. An open area gave some relief, the domed roof studded with lights, the walls pierced with rounded openings.
"A sector junction," said Ursula. "We go that way, I think."
Dumarest looked at the opening she had pointed out."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I-" She broke off, clutching his arm. "For God's sake what was that?"
A cry which echoed all around them, low, mournful, a wail which hung like a dirge. It came again, followed by a high-pitched ululation, a deep booming, a sound which resembled a snarl. Cries made by injured men, distorted, magnified, sent to stir the air in deceptive vibrations.
"Balain," said Dumarest. "The others must have found him."
And had been careless despite his warning. Dumarest looked down at a crumpled figure staring upward with sightless eyes. At another with a charred hole above his heart, a third with a crushed skull, a fourth and fifth burned and lying where they had fallen. Another lying with head and arms in the water as if to follow the one who had floated down to guide the living to the scene.
"Ambushed," said Dumarest. "The fools! I warned them to be careful."
"How?" The guard had been sick and stood beside his own vomit. "How did it happen?"
"They were careless. They talked or laughed or let their equipment strike against the wall. They were too confident and they paid for it." Dumarest stared down the passage, at the open mouth of a side tunnel, at a ledge which rested above eye level. "They were here, waiting, and found easy targets."
"The bastards!" The man wanted revenge. "Let's get them!"
Dumarest caught Ursula by the arm as she made to follow the others. They were acting without thought despite the grim evidence of what thoughtlessness could do. They would run and make noise and warn those ahead and again the tunnels would echo to the cries of dying men.
Things he explained as she fought to break his grip.
"Earl, you're letting them kill themselves!"
"I can't stop them." He was grimly practical. "But they will draw the enemy fire and pin them down. If they learn sense those left alive will know what to do after the initial contact. But there is no point in your taking a senseless risk."
"I'm not a coward!"
"And not a fool either, I hope." Dumarest released her arm, listening to the sudden outburst of noise, the cries which echoed down the tunnel. "That's it. Now let's see what we can do."
Another wide area lay beyond the end of the tunnel, a guard lying sprawled in the opening, blood thick around his throat, the feathers which tufted his flesh. The arrow had killed, ripping as it struck, the barbed head shredding delicate tissues. Another moaned as he sat with his back against a wall clutching his stomach. Blood pulsed between his fingers and the cloth of his uniform reeked with the stench of burned fabric.
Dumarest said, "What happened?"
"We found them. I heard a hiss and Riup dropped. Then there was a flash and I got burned." He sucked in his breath. "The beam hit me across the guts."
"Show me." Dumarest lifted the bloodied hands and examined the wound. The man had been lucky. "You'll live. Where are the others?"
"They went after the enemy. The firing came from up there." His head jerked toward the upper regions of the domed area. "There's a stair and the others went up it. I think one got hit."
More than one. Dumarest looked down at the sprawled bodies lying on the lower treads. One had fallen victim to an arrow. Higher up the flight a figure sprawled, head downward, one hand extended as if to clutch at the crossbow inches from his fingers.
"Kumate," said Ursula looking at his face. "The supervisor of the upper plantation. I always thought he was a happy man."
Dumarest made no comment. He stood, looking upward, the laser he carried poised in his hand. As the woman rose from her inspection he said, "Stay back and under cover."
"Why?" She lifted her own weapon. "I can use this as well as anyone."
"And die as bravely?"
"If I have to, yes."
He said bluntly, "I don't want you to die, Just stay out of the way until this is over. The guards may have been able to finish it but I doubt it. If any of the Ohrm are still alive they'll be waiting for us to pass through that door."
It gaped at the head of the stairs, a narrow portal, arched, glowing with a bluish light. Within it lay a dead man, another of the Ohrm, his body marked with many charred holes. Dumarest paused as he neared it, looking, straining his senses to catch any sound or flicker of light. He heard nothing but a faint humming and the light glowed with a steady luminosity.
Ursula said in a whisper, "They must have retreated, Earl. They ran before the guards. They couldn't have expected a second group to be following them."
"Two dead," he said as quietly. "There had to be more."
"They could be lying inside. It could be over."
"Then where are the guards?"
"They, too, perhaps-" She broke off and shook her head. "I don't know. Earl, tell me what to do. You're the expert."
"I told you."
"Not that!"
"Then be careful. Don't stand too close to me and keep to one side. Watch for movement. If you see any, fire without hesitation." He added, "I'm going inside. Count to three and follow."
He moved forward, running, jumping as a foot rested on a body to land to one side, to spring again as he scanned the chamber. A litter of bodies lay on the floor, some of them guards.
"Earl?" Urs
ula had followed. She fell silent at his gesture, followed the movement of his hand. A spiral staircase lay at one end of the room terminating in an opening above. As she watched it Dumarest checked the bodies.
The Ohrm were all dead aside from one who breathed with a liquid gurgling and blew bubbles of blood from his stained lips. None carried explosives. One of the dead guards had an arrow in his heart Counting them, adding those lying below, Dumarest found one to be short. Upstairs?
He reached the foot and began to climb the spiral, laser held in readiness, attention concentrated on the opening above. Halfway up he caught a transient gleam as of a firefly burning in the night. Higher and he froze, listening, aware of the instinct which sent messages of warning; the signals he had long learned to trust.
Looking at the opening, trusting the woman was watching, he made gestures with his free hand.
"What-" With sudden understanding Ursula knew. Without a break she added, "-do you think, Earl? Did the guards get them all? That Ohrm over there, is it the one we're looking for? Here, let me help you turn him over."
She walked across the floor, emphasizing the sound of her footsteps, running to halt and gasp as if bending and lifting a heavy weight.
A deception which worked.
Dumarest saw the "glint, the loom of mass and fired as a man thrust his head, shoulders and crossbow over the edge of the opening. As he fired again the constricting finger tightened in the death shock, and the vicious hum of the released string joined the savage hiss of the arrow as it passed close enough to catch Dumarest's hair.
Before it had fallen to the floor he was up and through the opening, leaping to one side to stand poised, eyes searching, seeing yet another stairway, the bulk of a machine, the sprawled figure of a guard.
"Earl!" Ursula appeared in the opening, tripping as her foot hit the dead man, stumbling to save herself from falling with a hand pressed against the enigmatic machine. "Did you get him? Balain, is he dead?"
A question answered as a man stepped from behind the shielding bulk of the machine to close his arm around her throat, the forearm pressed against her windpipe as the snort of the laser he held pressed hard against her temple.
