And why not? Where were the multitudes of birds, insects, small animals—the thousands of species that should be teeming across this planet?
My poor Melisa. I watched her as she slept out the day. She still clung to my tattered shirt, but it didn't pretend to cover her, I had created impossibly long and shapely legs for this fantasy of mine, and now they were colored soft, flesh-gold by the sun. How I longed to reach out and touch her again, to feel all of my Melisa curl in against me.
Instead, I sat miserably in my own cramped corner of the burrow and watched her breasts rise beneath my shirt.
How could I go to her now—make her understand, when I understood so little myself? It made no sense to tell her I simply knew there was something I had to do, a place I had to be. . . .
When , I looked at her again, I saw that her eyes were open, and knew she had been watching me. "Melisa," I said, "I know this has been hard for you. . . ."
She shook her head, and a little cry stuck in her throat, and suddenly she was in my arms. And it was as if nothing had ever come between us. . . .
"It's been a long time, Andrew."
"Much too long."
"I'm—sorry."
"For what?"
She ran a finger across my chest. "For being—like I am."
I tilted her chin and looked at her. "It isn't your fault for not understanding. I've given you very little to hold on to, Melisa."
"No." Her lips clamped together. "I'm sorry for believing that I have to understand, Andrew. Don't you see? If I loved you like I should, it wouldn't matter if I—didn't see why you do what you do."
"That's a nice way to love. But it's hard to do, and asks a great deal of a person."
"I should do it, though."
"No. You want to understand and I can't ask any more than that. God knows I've asked you to accept a hell of a lot. And it's frustrating to me because I want you to know things. Just saying my world is very different from your world doesn't make it. Even if it's true."
"I understand some of it, Andrew."
I squeezed her shoulder and touched her hair. "I know you do. Just seeing how different I am from these people tells you a lot. Or how different you are, Melisa. Because you're not like them at all. Any of them. You were born here. Period. That's as far as it goes."
"Maybe you're wrong, Andrew."
Her eyes were somewhere else when I looked at her. "How do you mean?"
"You know I–feel things."
"Like it's wrong to want to be someplace else."
"And other things."
I waited. "Look. You don't have to talk about it."
"I don't know if I know how to talk about it. I just"—she shrugged bare shoulders—"know things you don't know. Things I know you can't feel, Andrew. Like—" She stopped, and held my head between her hands and searched my eyes. "You know how you feel when you make love to me? I feel that way, too, and it's not something you can put into words, is it? Telling somebody about it doesn't really work. Well, I feel—other things. Everyone on this world feels them. I know that. I don't as much because I'm a part of you. But the feelings are there, Andrew. They really are."
I put my arm around her and held her to me.
"I don't know why the Ghroals roam forever out on the flatlands. But I feel them doing this, and it feels—right. And sometimes I think I can feel the whole world breathe, Andrew. I'm part of that breathing and sometimes I don't want to be. Sometimes it scares me terribly."
I thought about this. It was the most she had ever said about "feelings," though she had alluded to this before. And I told her that maybe it was like the feelings I couldn't explain. About how I had to go somewhere, and find something. I told her that on my world that was the nature of a man. That we were curious beasts. That we demanded answers to things that puzzled us, and never stopped looking or asking.
I told her this. But I knew it wasn't the same thing at all, and so did she.
The land sloped up steeply behind our beach—a sandy dune perhaps seven meters or so. I climbed it late in the afternoon, with an eye to checking the shape of the coast ahead before we launched the boat after dark. Topping the ridge, I peered out over the sea and followed the long coastline.
Then I dropped quickly to the ground.
Melisa called after me and wanted to know what was wrong and I waved her quiet, and bellied up to the edge and looked over. Three creatures just below me. I'd caught the hint of movement before going to ground. They hadn't seen me because they were intent on watching for danger from another direction. Two dug hurriedly in the sand and there was a small pile of bulbs beside them. The third had the job of keeping watch—though he wasn't to be trusted, for the other two continually looked over their shoulders.
Now what in the hell was all this about? I followed their glances, but there was nothing to see. Low mounds of dun-colored sand that scarcely cast a decent shadow.
I noticed something else, then. These creatures were armed. Each carried a cluster of bamboo sticks gathered at both ends with a strand of fiber rope: the standard deadly weapon on this planet, though these were fairly sophisticated models.
The creatures were standard issue, too, with minor local variations. Gaunt, dark brown with a tinge of purple, long-faced and simple-featured. They didn't need a wide array of expressions, however, to show they were scared out of their wits. They weren't sure they really wanted those bulbs badly enough to stay and dig for them. And who, I wondered, could care if they did or they didn't?
Look for trouble, though, and you'll find it.
It came in the form of five creatures exactly like the others, loping across the sands to my right, and God knows where they came from. The bulb-diggers saw them too, and there was no time to do more than take up weapons and make the best of it.
It was a difficult spectacle for an outsider to follow. Seconds after invader and defender came together I could no longer tell the teams apart. Gray sand flew under splayed feet and there was a blur of bamboo and bodies. Then three of the bodies were quite still—with the kind of stillness that might take hold forever.
For a long moment, I followed the path of the five victors. One was limping badly. One carefully counted his ribs. They left the way they had come, then veered back toward the coast. Past them, now that I knew where it should be, there was a mud settlement close to the water. Three hundred meters or so beyond, there was another. If we continued down the coast we would have to pass them both in the night.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
"What do you think they'll do?"
"I don't know," I told her honestly, "but I'm not overly anxious to find out. They are not a happy people."
The situation was not to my liking. More than that, I was completely puzzled. I had witnessed assault, murder, and cannibalism on this planet—but Sterzet and company were in a class by themselves. The mayhem below the dune was completely out of character. The sluggish dun folk did not take bludgeons to one another. And over waterbulbs?
We waited an extra hour after sunset before launching the boat. It was an agonizing delay. I didn't want to linger here. But I wanted to pass this group in full darkness. And though there was no moon on this world, the stars were thickly gathered in the sky, and lit the night with their own cold brilliance. So I spent the better part of that hour crouched on the rim of the dune. If someone wandered our way, Melisa and the child were ready by the shore, and I could launch the boat quickly.
Ordinarily, we hugged the coast—a good idea because the water there was hardly deeper than my chest. Now, though, it seemed wise to give these creatures a wide berth, and I paddled farther out to sea than I cared to. A good two hundred meters or so, I guessed, and if the little craft foundered now . . . I had a quick mental picture of swimming to a hostile shore with Melisa in tow. I had explained the art of swimming, but she did not care to listen. And of course there was the child, too.
There was an alternative, of course.
Melisa was kind enough not to ment
ion it. An added burden of guilt, but no fault of hers. I could have turned back, and not risked our lives, and we were both aware of this.
Once, I almost reversed our course. For God's sake, the sea was brighter than high noon! It wasn't, of course, but might as well have been. Anyone who cared to could spot us without half trying.
You are a fool, Andrew, I told myself. And an irresponsible fool, at that. Your own life is yours to spend, but now there is Melisa and the child. You brought them both into the world, but you've no right to see them out of it so quickly.
The two settlements were both behind us, now, if I'd judged correctly. Giving us an extra few moments for good measure, I rowed quietly toward the shore and took up my regular shallow course again.
We'd made it then. And before we beached at the dawn, I would do a very thorough scouting job of the area.
And then the child began to cry.
I straightened with a chill at the sound. This was no ordinary cry. He had come awake out of a full-scale nightmare. I whipped the boat about and thrashed toward the open sea.
"Can't you—do something, Melisa?"
"What, Andrew?" she said sharply. "What should I do, strangle him?"
I didn't answer. I kept rowing, putting distance between us and the shore. The child kept crying. Maybe they're all asleep, I thought. Fat chance. Then Melisa sucked in a breath and I looked back over my shoulder. Great. A whole horde of gaunt shadows on the beach, howling and waving their arms about. Behind us and to the left. Maybe a hundred and fifty meters downshore.
Melisa whimpered something and rocked the boat.
"Be still, damn it!" I yelled at her.
"Andrew!" she wailed.
"Melisa. We'll make it. I'm sorry I screamed at you. Just don't—"
They set up a fierce bellowing ashore—and Melisa started from her end of the boat to mine. I stared at her, then the stars tipped over and I swallowed brown water.
"Andrew, the child!" Melisa came up gagging.
"Take it easy, I've got the child," I told her, and I did, though I didn't know where it had come from. It was wailing and jerking about and was scarcely damp.
"Help me, Andrew!"
"Melisa, stop it!" I jerked her hands from my neck and pushed her toward the shore. The water was waist-high. Melisa floundered about as if we'd gone down in fifty fathoms.
"I can't swim, Andrew."
"This isn't swimming," I told her, "this is walking." I looked past her. We were maybe twenty meters from shore. The creatures were running toward us along the beach, thumping bamboo weapons against the sand. I guessed we'd all arrive at the same spot together.
I thrust the child at Melisa to give her something to do, and urged her along. Just a few more meters. If they caught us in the water. . . .
I was still towing the canoe along behind. I pulled it to me and began ripping at it frantically as I went. It was tougher than I'd thought. OK, to hell with it. I wanted a light weapon, but heavy artillery would do. I pushed past Melisa to dry land and urged her behind me. Just in time. The first two creatures bounced over a shallow dune and made for us. They hooted like mad owls and blinked round eyes and I heaved the canoe off the ground and swung it in a wide circle.
I heard it whistle. The bamboo warriors stopped in their tracks. This was something they hadn't seen before. The boat caught them squarely in their respective midsections and took the air out of them. It also splintered my weapon into handy staves. I gathered as many as I could carry and yelled at Melisa and pointed at the nearest dune. She was to get herself up there, and keep down.
I glanced down the beach. The second wave was nearly on us. I lurched after Melisa and took the dune running.
"Just stay behind me," I told her, and took in a lungful of air. The dune was less than four meters high, but it was a good, steep climb all around. They couldn't bound up here like rabbits. Not without casualties.
I caught myself, then. Suddenly aware of what I was doing. Andrew, you stupid bastard. What is that supposed to mean, "not without casualties"? There must be hundreds of these gangly killers. You intend to stop them all, do you? Yes, I answered, since there was nothing else to say. A cornered economics professor is a dangerous beast. Suitably aroused, I would probably be merciless.
I flattened the first two easily. They fell back and tumbled another pair. The third came up on their left to flank me and I shoved the blunt end of my pole hard into his crotch. He looked surprised and sick.
Melisa screamed a warning and I ducked and felt my shoulder go numb. He was on me, bad breath and all, clubbing away at close quarters. That was fine with me. He couldn't do much with the weapon a nose-length away and I clung to him like a lost lover. He backed off for swinging room and I dropped my own club and brought up a clean right under his jaw. He went down like a log and I helped him over the side.
It was a startling feeling. By God, I remembered I had never hit anyone before in my life! It was a satisfying experience.
Fine, I thought grimly. If you enjoy this sort of thing, all kinds of opportunities are in the offing. I rubbed my shoulder, stood over Melisa and the child, and hoped my legs would stop shaking before the next wave.
No one was after us for the moment. They were clustered about the base of the dune, howling and waving their weapons. Reevaluating the situation, I decided. Killers they might be, but they were cowards as well, and not overly bright. They had a strange beast cornered here, and they were puzzled over its actions. I'd learned a few useful facts. They swung their weapons over their heads like bludgeons, and evidently didn't know what else to do with them. I instinctively used mine like a broadsword to gain wide, horizontal strikes, and as a pike for jabbing. They'd never thought of that. Also, more bewildering, I used my fists and my feet. These tactics weren't in the books here.
A couple of advantages, then. If you set aside the fact that I was only putting off the inevitable—that Melisa, the child, and fighting Andrew Gavin were as good as cooked. It was only a question of time.
It took them a while.
They finally saw the obvious tactic: Everyone take him at once. Strength in numbers. So they howled and clambered up the sides of the dune and I decided this was it, as they say in the tape thrillers. I didn't even want to look at Melisa.
In my few moments of grace I had knotted a half dozen staves together with scraps of fiber rope. I wanted the heaviest club I could manage, and I stood firmly over Melisa and swallowed the bile that kept rising to my throat.
The club made a wide, killing arc and I felt it snap bone and flesh and the shock that trembled up my arms sent new strength through my body. I gave a rousing war cry better than any hoot the enemy could manage, and saw them pull back in surprise. I was Andrew of Gavin, warrior of strange planets, and my boots were rooted in sacred soil over my lady and heir, and I would not give way to these heathens. Then something hit me hard just above the kidneys and I dropped the club and felt tears sting my eyes. My God, it hurt! It hurt terribly, and all I could do was yell and double up on the ground over Melisa and let the bastards have at me.
I couldn't feel the blows anymore.
That's bad, I decided. It couldn't be long, then.
Melisa was shaking me and screaming about something. Evidently, I wasn't quite dead. I looked up, bleary-eyed, and shook my head. There was blood in my mouth. I got one leg under the other and fell on my face. Tried again and made it. I blinked, stared into the darkness, and decided I couldn't feel anything anymore because no one was beating on me. They were too busy beating on each other.
I stood shakily atop the dune and watched this insanity. I guessed what had happened. The rival settlement had heard all the clamor. There was fighting underway, and they wanted a piece of the action. Maybe there were new bulbs to be gained from this midnight hassle. They were beating the daylights out of each other, and the new beast atop the dune was temporarily forgotten.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Putting aches and pains aside, I guid
ed Melisa hurriedly down the back of the dune and through the darkness. I explained to her quietly that this scene had all the makings of a good massacre, and that it would be an excellent time for our side to withdraw from the field.
Melisa may have caught some of this chatter, though this is unlikely. She was in a mild state of shock and content to do as she was told. Just as well. I needed a tractable companion, not a committee. It was important to put great distances between where we were and where we were going. I would need all my faculties for that.
No great navigational problem. The idea was to make a wide circle around our enemy. There were small hummocks of sand here and there to make us difficult to see, and the stars kept us from stumbling.
"Andrew, can't we stop?" Melisa said numbly.
"Back with us, are you?" I halted briefly, then pulled her along. "We have to keep going, Melisa. Someone's going to win back there eventually. Then they won't have anything else to do. I want to be far away from here when that happens."
She nodded wearily. "You were very wonderful, Andrew. I was proud of you."
"Don't be."
"You saved us, didn't you? And you fought marvelously well."
"I also got soundly beaten. You forgot that part. And the fact that I got us into that hassle in the first place. Jesus. Gavin's Last Stand."
"What?"
"Nothing." Squinting ahead, I could make out the open sea again and decided we could safely angle toward it now. We wouldn't walk along the beach just yet, but we could keep it in sight.
As commander of troops, I began to set a slightly easier pace. Without the shock factor to push her along, Melisa wearied quickly. I carried the child, and she hung on to my bamboo pole. The child had slept peacefully throughout the fight on the hill—waking only at sea, long enough to set the enemy upon us.
I do not mean we made a leisurely walk of it. There were still three hours or so before dawn, and I wanted to be far from the scene of battle before the sun found us.
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