Up on the parapets, crossbows began to snap. Orspers reared, squawked, went off the road into the mud and flapped atrophied wings. The charge came to a clanging halt, broke up, fought its way back along the road . . . it stopped. Leaders trotted between panicked riders, haranguing them. Hill women dismounted. Their axes bit at a roadside tree. It wouldn’t take them long to make a battering ram. They would slog forward under fire, they would be slaughtered and others take their place, and the gate would come down.
“When they’re in range,” leered Nelly to Davis, “burn ’em!”
Bee slipped behind Minos. The planet became a circle of blackness ringed with red flame. Of all the moons, only firefly Aegeus was visible. Stars glittered coldly forth. A wind sighed across the draining marshes, dusk lay heavy on the world.
Davis fired into the air. Livid lightning burned across heaven, a small thunder cracked in its wake. Screams came from the shadow army on the road, he fired again and waited for them to flee.
“Hold fast! Stay where you are, Father damn you!” The voices drifted hoarse through the gloom. “If we let the Monster keep the Ship, you’ll die with never another child in your arms!”
Davis shook his head. He might have known it.
Someone clattered up the road. Four short trumpet blasts sent the sea birds mewing into the sudden night. “Truce call,” muttered Valeria. “Let her come talk. I don’t want to see them fried alive.”
The mounted woman approached. She was an Udall. Barbara squinted through the murk at the painted insignia. “Bess of Greendale!” she hissed. “Kill her!”
Davis could only think that the Doctors’ desperation had been measured by their sending clear up to Greendale for help. The swamp and the upper valley must be alive with armies intent on keeping him from his boat.
“No,” he said. “It’s a parley, remember?”
The Udall rode scornfully up under the walls. “Is the Monster here?” she asked.
“The Man is here,” said Barbara.
Davis stepped into view, peering through iron bars and thick twilight. “What do you want?” he asked.
“Your head, and the Ship back before you ruin die life machine.”
“I can kill your whole army,” said Davis. “Watch!” He blasted at the road before him. Stone bubbled and ran molten.
Bess Udall fought her plunging orsper to a halt. “Do you think that matters?” she panted. “We’re lighting for every unborn kid on Atlantis. Without die machine we might as well die.”
“But I’m not going to harm the damned machine!”
“So you say. You’ve struck down the Doctors. I wouldn’t trust you dead without a stake through your heart.”
“Oh, hell,” snarled Valeria. “Why bother? Let ’em attack and find out you mean business.”
Davis stared at the blaster. “No,” he said. “There are decent limits.”
He shook himself and looked out at the vague form of the woman. “I’ll make terms,” he said.
“What?” yelled Barbara and Valeria together.
“Shut up. Bess, here’s my offer. You can enter the town. The sea people will go back to their ships and sail away at next high tide. In return, they’ll have access to the life machine just as before.”
“And you?” grated the Udall. “We won’t stop lighting till you’re dead.”
“I’ll come out,” said Davis. “Agreed?”
“No!” Barbara leaped at him. He swung his arm and knocked her to the ground.
“Stand back!” His voice rattled. “I’m still a man.”
Bess Udall stared at him through the darkness. “Agreed,” she said. “I swear to your terms by Father.”
The rebels shuffled forward, shadow mass in a shadow world. “Don’t move,” said Davis. “It isn’t worth it . . . my life . . . Evil! The Men will be here in another generation anyway.”
His blaster boomed, eating through the lock on the gate. He pushed it open, the hot iron burned his hands, and trod through. With a convulsive gesture, he tossed the blaster into a mudpool.
“All right,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Bess edged her orsper close to him.
“Move!” she barked. A few women surged from the gateway. She brandished her spear. “Stand back, or the Monster gets this right now!”
Minos was a ring of hellfire in the sky.
“Wait!”
It was a Whitley voice. Davis turned. He felt only an infinite weariness, let them kill him and be done with it.
He couldn’t see whether it was Barbara or Valeria who spoke: “Hold on there! It’s us who make the terms.”
“Yes?” growled the rider. Her spear poised over Davis.
“We have the life machine. Turn him back to us or we’ll smash it and kill every Doctor in town before you can stop us!” They faced the crowd defiantly.
A sighing went through the rebels. Nelly cursed them into stillness. “That’s right, dearie,” she cried. “What the blazes is a bloody machine worth when we could have the Men?”
The Whitley walked closer, cat-gaited. “These are our terms,” she said flatly. “Lay down your arms. We won’t hurt you. By Father, I never knew what it means to be a Man till now! You can keep the town and the machine—yes, the Doctors—if you want. Just let us bring the Man to his ship to bring the Men back for us!”
Bess Udall’s spear dropped to the ground.
“You don’t know he’s a Man,” she stammered.
“I sure as hell do, sister. Do you think we’d have stormed the Holy Ship for a Monster?” She waited.
Night and silence lay thick across the land. A salt wind whined around red-stained battlements.
“Almighty Father,” choked Bess. “I think you’re right.”
She whirled her orsper about and dashed down the road to the army.
Davis heard them talking in the orsper host. It seemed to come from very far away. His knees were stiff as he walked slowly back toward the gate.
Several riders hurried after him. They pulled up and jumped to the ground and laid their weapons at his feet.
“Welcome,” said a voice. “Welcome, Man.”
The sun swung from behind Minos and day burned across watery wastes and the far eastern mountains.
Davis let them cheer around him.
Barbara knelt at his feet, hugging his knees. Valeria pushed her way close to lay her lips on his.
“Bert,” she whispered. He tasted tears on her mouth. “Bert, darling.”
“Take either of us,” sobbed Barbara. “Take us both if you want.”
“Well, hooray for the Man!” said Nelly. “Three chee—whoops! Catch him there! I think he’s fainted!”
XIV
It had been a slow trip up through the valley. They had to stop and be feasted at every town along the way.
Davis Bertram stood in tall grass, under a morning wind, and looked up the beloved length of his spaceship. He whistled, and the airlock opened and the ladder descended for him.
“I’ll be back,” he said clumsily. “Inside a hundred of your days, the Men will be here.”
And what would they say when he walked into Stellamont wearing this garb of kilt, feather cloak, and warbonnet?
The Freetoon army was drawn up in dress parade a few meters off. Sunlight flamed on polished metal and oiled leather, plumes nodded and banners fluttered in the breeze. More of their warriors had survived the invasion than he expected. They came out of the woods to worship him as their deliverer when he ordered the town set free.
Gaping civilians trampled the meadows behind them. Davis wondered how many of their babies he had touched, for good luck. Well, it beat kissing the little apes. . . not that it wouldn’t be nice to have a few of his own someday.
Barbara and Valeria stood before him. Under the burnished helmets their faces were drawn tight, waiting for his word.
His cheeks felt hot. He looked away from their steady green eyes and dug at the ground with his sandals.
“Y
ou’re in charge here,” he mumbled. “If you really want to make Freetoon a republic—and it’d be a big help, you folk have a difficult period of adjustment ahead—at least one of you has to stay and see the job is done right. There has to be someone here I can trust.”
“I know,” said Valeria. Her tone grew wistful. “You’ll bring that machine of yours to . . . make her forget you?”
“Not forget,” said Davis. “Only to feel differently about it. I’ll do better than that, though. I’ll bring a hundred young men, and you can take your pick!”
“All right,” said Valerie. “I pick you.”
“Hoy, there!” said Barbara.
Davis wiped sweat off his brow. What was a chap to do, anyway? He felt trapped.
“It’d be better if you both stayed,” he groped. “You’ll have a . . . a rough time. . . fitting into civilization—”
“Do you really want that?” asked Barbara coolly.
“No,” said Davis. “Good Cosmos, no!”
After all, he was a survey man. He wouldn’t be close to civilization for very long at a time, ever. Even a barbarian woman, given spirit and intelligence, could be trained into a spacehand.
And a few gaucheries wouldn’t matter. A Whitley in formal dress would be too stunning.
“Well, then,” said Valeria. Her knuckles tightened around her spearshaft. “Take your choice.”
“I can’t,” said Davis. “I just can’t.”
The cousins looked at each other. They nodded. One of them took a pair of dice from her pouch.
“One roll,” said Barbara.
“High girl gets him,” said Valeria.
Davis Bertram stood aside and waited.
He had the grace to blush.
Virgin Planet Page 9
