Virgin Planet

by Poul Anderson

  Bee and Ay were under the horizon when they clattered by the patrols up to Freetoon, but Minos, Ariadne, Theseus, and tiny Aegeus gave plenty of light. The embassy had dismounted in the courtyard and stamped into the Big House when Barbara realized her usefulness was over. She turned her kill over to the servants and put the two orspers in the castle barn. Poor birds, they were so tired. Then she ought to go tell her barracks mates, but—“Where’s the Monster being kept?” she asked, before thinking.

  “In the shed under the north wall, ma’m,” said the Nicholson groom. “Didn’t dare have him anywhere else, they didn’t, though he ain’t done no harm yet but you can’t never tell.”

  “He!” said Barbara with a flash of anger. “Why call it ‘he?’ ”

  “Well, he says he’s a male, ma’m, and, uh, well, he says—” Barbara walked off. No reason why the Monster shouldn’t be male. They were Man and woman, the wise happy people of the stars, and doubtless Monsters too—But why should the thought of this Davis creature’s maleness be so odd, half frightening and therefore resented?

  She grew suddenly aware that she had rounded the Big House and was in its multiple shadow looking toward the Monster’s prison.

  A door of wooden bars had been erected for the shed. It . . . he . . . Davis stood against the bars, flooded with cool Minos-light and moonlight. He showed sharp and clear in the radiance, and somehow the hollow cheeks and flat hairy breast and bulging muscles were no longer ugly.

  They had given him clothes, kilt, cloak, and sandals, his hair was combed and a yellow beard was growing out on his face.

  He was holding hands between the bars with a girl in a long feather cloak. Their voices drifted to Barbara—Elinor Dyckman, of all foul pests!

  “Oh, I really must be going, Bertie. Those awful Greendalers . . . didn’t you see them come in? Claudia will be just furious.”

  “Stick around, beautiful.” The Monster’s low chuckle was paralyzing, Barbara could not have moved after hearing it. “It’s worth all my woes, just to get you here alone at last.”

  “Really . . . Bertie, let go, you scare me.” Elinor tittered.

  “Aw, now, macushla. I’m not going to eat you. Let me only feast on your silken hair, your starry eyes, your—” Etc., etc.

  “You say such things.” Elinor leaned closer against the bars. “Nobody says such things here.”

  “Ah, nobody is able to appreciate you, my little one. To think I crossed the stars and found you. Come here . . . lend me that adorable mouth—”

  “Bert! I . . . I . . . mmmmm—”

  The night blurred before Barbara. She wondered why, gulped, realized it was tears, and cursed herself.

  “I mustn’t, Bertie, dear! Why, you’re a—”

  “A man. And you’re a woman.”

  “But you said—”

  “I had no choice then.” Davis leered. “But come in here and I’ll prove it to you this time.”

  “Oh, I can’t, Bertie, I just can’t! You’re locked in and—”

  “You can swipe the key, can’t you? Here, give me another kiss.” It was too much. And a Whitley was no sneaking spy like a, a, a Dyckman. Barbara strode across the yard, jingling her spurs as noisily as possible. “What’s going on here?” she yelled.

  “Oh!” Elinor squealed. “Oh . . . Babs, is it? Babs, dear, I was only—”

  “I know what you were only. Get out before I knock your teeth down your throat!”

  Elinor wailed and fled.

  Barbara turned furiously on Davis. “What were you plotting?” she snarled.

  The Monster sighed, shrugged, and gave her a rueful grin. “Nothing very evil,” he said. “You again, eh?”

  Heat and cold chased each other across Barbara’s face.

  “You know,” went on Davis, “this is die kind of thing I used to daydream about in my teens. A brand new world, like Earth but more beautiful, and I the only man among a million women. And holy Cosmos, I’ve found it, and I want out!”

  Barbara raised a fist. “Yes, so you can go home and call your friends to come raiding.”

  “Look,” said Davis earnestly, “we want to help you—blast it all, were not your kind of bloodthirsty pirate. And I am a man, as human as you. If you’d not come along, Elinor Dyckman would have found that out . . . nine months afterward, at most!” His smile grew altogether insolent. “Maybe you’d like to give me another chance? Honestly, you’re one of the best-looking girls I’ve seen anywhere.”

  “Hell spit me out if I do!” Barbara turned her back.

  “Don’t go away,” begged Davis. “It’s lonesome as space here. All I’ve done is argue with that barrelshaped queen of yours.”

  Barbara couldn’t help laughing. The epithet was too good.

  “That’s better,” said Davis. “Shall we be friends?”

  “Why do you claim to be a Man?” she countered hastily. “You’ve already admitted you aren’t.”

  “I had no choice then, blast it! You and . . . the other girl . . . only ones who might give me a chance to convince them. I tell Siz Claudia that I’m a benevolent Monster and if they’ll let me at my boat—under guard, if they want—I’ll go home and bring the Men. I mean it, too.”

  “But she doesn’t dare,” said Barbara slowly.

  “Well, not so far. Can’t really say I blame her. Say, have you found my blaster?”

  “Your what?”

  “My weapon. I had it in a hip holster, dropped it when you—No? I suppose it must be lying out in the grass somewhere. You won’t find much in my pack. Medical kit, lighter, camera, a few such gadgets. I’ve offered to demonstrate them, but the old sow won’t let me.”

  “What were you doing when I . . . found you?” asked Barbara. Really, she thought, he wasn’t a bad Monster at heart.

  “Just looking around. I analyzed basic surface conditions from space, then came down to let my robots check on the biochemistry, bacteriology, and ecology. That looked safe too, so I violated all doctrine and went for a stroll. I was just coming back to the boat when—Oh, Evil, I don’t imagine you understand a word.” Davis smiled gently. “Poor kid. Poor little Amazon.”

  “I can take care of myself!” she flared.

  “No doubt. But come over here. I won’t hurt you.”

  Barbara went to the door. He held her hands and pressed his face against the bars. What right had that hairy, jut-nosed, thinlipped face to look beautiful? Her temples hammered.

  “I want to show you something,” he said in a grave tone. “Maybe that way. . . one kiss, Barbara.”

  She couldn’t help it, she felt bonelessly weak and leaned toward him.

  The main door of the Big House crashed open. Torchlight spilled on the cobbles, Minos became suddenly wan. The Greendale Macklin strode angrily forth, her women bristling about her.

  The voice jerked Barbara to awareness, she sprang from the Monster and grabbed for the crossbar slung at her shoulder.

  “This means war!”

  VI

  Civilians and movable property were brought inside the stockade that night, and armed females streamed forth. But the fighting didn’t start till well after sunrise.

  Davis could just hear the horns and shouts and clash of metal. There was a good-sized battle on the edge of the forest, he guessed. He looked across a courtyard littered with women, children, and assorted dry goods and wondered what the desolation to do.

  Claudia Udall tramped over to his jail, in full armor and toting a battle ax. Elinor Dyckman undulated in her wake, thinly clad and scared. Davis would rather have looked at her but thought it more tactful to meet the queen’s eyes.

  “Well, Monster, now a war has started on your account,” said Claudia grimly.

  Davis gave her a weak smile.

  “It wasn’t my idea . . . uh, ma’m. What do they want me for, anyway?”

  “The power, of course! Any town which had you and your ship could conquer the rest in days. Now we’ll have those Greendale pests chased away by eclips
e. Then will you help us?”

  Davis hesitated. Union law was unreasonably strict about one’s relationship with primitives. You could fight in self-defense, but using atomic guns to help a local aggression meant a stiff sentence.

  “Let me aboard my boat—” he began.

  “Of course,” beamed Claudia. “Under guard.”

  “Hm, yeh, that’s what I was afraid of.” Davis had intended only to light out for Nerthus and never come back. Let the Service disentangle this Atlantean mess. He gulped and shook his head. “Sorry, I can’t use the boat to fight with. You see, uh, well—”

  “Bertie!” Elinor wobbled toward him. Her white indoor face was beaded with sweat. “Bertie, darling, you’ve got to help us. It’s death for me if the Greendalers take this place.”

  “Hm?”

  “Don’t you understand? The Greendale Udall already has two Dyckman lovers. They won’t want a third . . . they’ll see to it . . . Ber-r-rtie!”

  Davis got the idea. A queen’s favorite dropped the word to some unsentimental captain—

  “Nonsense, child.” Claudia glared jealously. “Monster, right now the Greendalers do hold the area where your ship is. Can they get in?”

  Davis laughed nervously. “Axes and crowbars against inert steel? I’d like to see them try!”

  Short of atomic tools, there was only one way to open that airlock. He had set it to respond to himself whistling a few bars of a certain ballad. And The Jolly Tinker was not a song which any lady ought to know.

  “You won’t help us?” Claudia narrowed her eyes.

  Davis began a long, thoroughly mendacious speech about friends who would avenge any harm done to him. He was just getting to the section on gunboats when Claudia snorted.

  If we can’t have you, Monster, I might decide not to let anybody have you.” She swung on her heel and walked off. Elinor followed, throwing imploring looks across her shoulder.

  Davis sat down on the straw and groaned. As if he didn’t have troubles enough, that sex machine had to slither around in a thin skirt and few beads . . . just out of reach.

  Then he found himself wondering about Barbara Whitley. He hoped very much she wouldn’t be hurt.

  Eclipse came. It happened daily, at high noon in this longitude, when Atlantis, eternally facing her primary, got Minos between B and herself. An impressive sight: the planet, dimly lit by the remote companion sun, fourteen times as wide as Earth’s moon, brimmed with fiery light refracted through the dense atmosphere . . . dusk on the ground and night in the sky. Davis looked hungrily at the stars. Civilized, urbane, pleasant stars! . . .

  An hour later, the battle had ended and the Freetoon girls came back to the castle. Davis noticed that the warriors were divided into about thirty genotypes. When everyone in a single line of descent was genetically identical, a caste system was a natural development. And, yes, he could see why the Atlanteans had reverted to die old custom of putting surnames last. Family in the normal sense couldn’t be very important here. For a moment the image of his father drifted across Davis’ memory. He’d been rather a disappointment to the old man; it occurred to him that he had spent most of his life trying to justify himself in his father’s eyes. But his chromosomes had never intended him for a solid citizen.

  The armored lasses, foot and orsper (horse bird?) troops, clamored for lunch and beer. They had casualties and prisoners with them. There weren’t many dead or seriously wounded—couldn’t be, with these clumsy weapons powered by female muscles—but some had been killed, by ax, knife, dart, bolt—

  “Barbara!” Davis whooped it forth.

  The tall redhead looked his way and strolled over through the crowd. Her left hand was wrapped in a wet crimson bandage. “Barbara! Cosmos, I’m glad to see you’re all right!”

  She gave him an unfriendly grin. “Mistake, Monster. I’m her cousin Valeria.”

  “Oh. Well, how is she?”

  “No damage. She’s helping mount guard on your ship.”

  “Then you did win.”

  “For now. We beat them back into the woods, but they haven’t quit.” Valeria gave him a hard green stare. “Now I know you’re a Monster. The Men would fight.”

  “Why can’t you tribes compromise?”

  “Who ever heard of an Udall compromising?” laughed Valeria. “Then why do you obey them?”

  “Why? Why, they’re the . . . the Udalls!” Valeria was shocked. “When I took arms, I swore—”

  “Why did you swear? My people have learned better than to allow absolute rulers. You’ve got a whole world here. What is there to fight about?”

  “A gutless Monster would say that.” Valeria spat and left.

  The day dragged. Davis was fed, otherwise ignored. Night came, and he tried to sleep, but the refugees made too much noise.

  Toward morning he fell into a doze, huddled under his feather quilts against the upland chill. A racket of trumpets and hurrying feet woke him.

  Another battle! He strained against the bars, into darkness. And wasn’t it getting closer? The sentries were shooting and—

  Elinor screamed her way across the courtyard. The multiple shadows thrown by Minos and the other moons rippled weirdly before her. “Bertie, you’ve got to help! They’re driving us back!”

  He reached out and patted her in a not very brotherly fashion. “There, there.” When it made her hysterics worse, he shouted. After a struggle, he got some facts.

  The Greendalers had returned with allies. Outnumbered three to one, the Freetooners were being hammered back through their own streets.

  Newburgh, Blockhouse, and Highbridge banners flew beyond the walls. It was clear enough to Davis. Having learned about the spaceship, and well aware she couldn’t take it alone, the Greendale Udall had sent off for help, days ago, probably. And the prize looked great enough to unite even these factions for a while.

  “But now Claudia will have to make terms,” he blurted.

  “It’s too late!” sobbed Elinor. She moaned and ran toward the Big House. Only warriors were to be seen, the artisans and helots had retreated into their sheds. Davis told himself to stop shaking.

  The fighting didn’t halt even for eclipse. At mid-afternoon the gates opened and Freetoon’s army poured into the court.

  Step by step, their rearguard followed. Davis saw Barbara at the end of the line. She had a round wooden shield on one arm and swung a light long-shafted ax. A red lock fell from under the battered morion and plastered itself to a small, drawn face.

  A burly warrior pushed against her. Barbara caught the descending ax-blow on her shield. Her own weapon chopped for the neck, missed, and bit at the leather cuirass. It didn’t go through; low-carbon steel got blunted almighty fast. The other woman grinned and began hailing blows. Barbara sprang back and threw her ax between the enemy’s legs. Down went the woman. Barbara’s dagger jumped into her hand, she fell on top of the other and made a deft slicing motion.

  Davis got to his pot barely in time.

  When he came back to the door, there was a lull in the battle. The Freetooners had been pumping bolts and javelins from the catwalk, discouraging the allies long enough for the gates to be closed.

  Presently Barbara herself came to him. She was a-shiver with weariness, and the eyes regarding him had dark rims beneath. There was blood splashed on her breastplate and arms.

  “How is it for you?” she asked hoarsely.

  “I’m all right,” said Davis. With more anxiety than a neutral party ought to feel: “Are you hurt?”

  “No. But I’m afraid this is the end.”

  “What . . . what do you think will happen? To you, I mean?”

  “I’ll get away at the last if I can.” Her voice was numb.

  Davis told himself sternly that this mess wasn’t his fault. He had seen from space that there were small towns and agriculture on this continent, and had landed to bring the gift of Union civilization to all its natives. The last thing he wanted was—

  The first thing
he wanted, he thought in self-abasement, had been the glory of finding a new inhabited planet. And the money prizes, and the lucrative survey commissions, and the adoring women.

  “Cosmos curse it,” he shouted, “I can’t help your stupidity!”

  Barbara gave him a blind, dazed look and wandered off.

  At B-set the battle resumed.

  Trumpets howled, and by Minos-light he saw Claudia hurry toward the gate.

  Its wood groaned. The ladies from Greendale must be using a battering ram. Fire kindled outside, flame ran up and splashed the sky. Somehow a house had been touched off. The top of the stockade loomed black across the blaze, like a row of teethe the warriors on the catwalk were silhouetted devils. Davis wondered crazily which of them was Barbara, if Barbara was still alive.

  The main gate shuddered and a hinge pulled loose.

  Someone galloped toward him on a frantic orsper, leading two others. She jumped from the saddle. “Barbara!” he whispered.

  “Valeria again.” The girl laughed with scant humor. “Stand aside, I’m going to get you out.”

  Her ax thudded against the bolt.

  “But what—why—”

  “We’re finished,” snapped Valeria. “For now, anyway. For always, unless you can help us. I’m going to get you out, Monster. We’ll escape if we can, and see if you can remedy matters.”

  “But I’m neutral!” gibbered Davis.

  Valeria grinned unpleasantly. “I have an ax and a knife, my dear, and nothing to lose. Are you still neutral?”

  “No,” gulped Davis. “Not if you feel that way about it.”

  Another orsper ran from the stables, with a rider who led a spare mount. Valeria turned, lifted her ax. “Oh, you.”

  “Same idea, I see,” answered Barbara. Of course, thought Davis, genetic twins normally think alike. He saw that Barbara strove not to weep. It could be no fun to watch your country conquered.

  “Put on your cloak, Monster,” ordered Valeria between blows. “Pull the hood up. They won’t bother with three people trying to get away . . . unless they know what you are!”