They were guarded when he asked them why they were being hunted. He, of course, did not know that the black Gamintes were a police force acting for the Tlixix, the masters of the planet.
“Why did you help us?” Hrityu responded, repeating his earlier question. “Do you not fear the retribution of the Tlixix?”
“The Tlixix?” Northrop laughed at the mention of the lobsters, though he did not know how the translator would render a laughing noise. “No, I don’t fear them. They don’t rule my kind.”
Hrityu and Karvass looked at one another in astonishment. Hrityu’s bewilderment increased. He recalled again the strange scene in the Pavilion of Audience.
Could it be that these green men with moss for head crests were also in revolt against the Tlixix? Or—extraordinary thought!—could they hail from the ancient time of the Tlixix themselves, in view of their tolerance of water?
He didn’t know what the truth was, but the stranger’s words brought out anew the indignation he felt. “The green enemies you saw belong to the tribe of the Crome,” he said in a rush, “and they have announced a war of extermination against my tribe, the Analane, a war to which the Tlixix have given consent! It is on a mission to save our tribe that I and my dear friend Kurwer were travelling, in company with Karvass of the Artaxa, who has promised us help.”
The list of names and tribes came at Northrop in a barely intelligible babble. Such a patchwork of wars and quarrels was to be expected he supposed.
“If the Tlixix are against you, your position is dire,” he commented.
Karvass’s membranes were dilating in alarm as Hrityu appeared to be exposing the secret of the gathering alliance, but the Analane would not be stopped. “Not any more! The tyranny of the Tlixix will come to an end! We shall survive!”
Not knowing anything of local politics, Northrop received this announcement without surprise. A feeling of pity for the dehydrates assailed him, mingled with an undercurrent of guilt. The struggles of the desert tribes did not matter. The dehydrates would probably all perish when water came back to Tenacity.
He felt almost tempted to reveal what was going to happen, and maybe provoke the dehydrates into a general revolt in an attempt to prevent it. But he did not dare to do that. Krabbe and Bouche would have the legal right to kill him.
Suddenly Hrityu and Karvass became fidgety and uncomfortable. Northrop could guess why. The water vapour given off by his body was affecting them.
He rose, opened the flap of the tent, and gestured to the outside. Thankfully the dehydrates followed his suggestion, though they had no real idea what was causing them discomfort.
Northrop hesitated. He glanced over to the men at the drilling rig. They were not looking his way. He retreated to the other side of the tent so that they could not see him.
“I hope you manage the rest of your journey without being attacked again,” he said. “If not—perhaps this will help.”
He knew he was being far too impulsive, but he took out the DE beamer and showed it to Hrityu. “This is the weapon I used on your enemies. All you do is aim this square part here, and press this stud.” He demonstrated, flexing his finger without taking it past the safety guard. “This ring here widens the angle so you can take out more warriors, but it’s weaker then and doesn’t always kill.”
He pressed the gun into the astonished Analane’s hands. “Hide it somewhere so my friends don’t see I’ve given it to you. Good luck. Maybe it will help defend your tribe, too. There are just under two hundred shots left in it.”
He didn’t know whether the translator was conveying everything he was saying, but he waved the dehydrates away, anxious not to get himself in trouble. Slowly they walked to their vehicles and boarded them. Inner wheels began to revolve. The prow of the desert boat began to glide through the sand.
Without looking back, Hrityu and Karvass departed.
On being conducted into the giant hydrorium Castaneda was overcome by astonishment mixed with nervousness. It was impressive, seriously impressive, to see so grandiose an artificial environment on so arid and poverty-stricken a world. If human beings had built it, of course, it would be a routine piece of engineering. But the lobsters had kept this going in adverse circumstances for a very long time. He doubted if his own species would have been able to do that. Something would have gone wrong sooner or later, perhaps of a social character. The delicate balance of a closed biological system would have collapsed.
Yes, the lobsters. That was what frightened him. They were capable. But they had the partners in their grasp, and might not realize what a catastrophe it would be for them if they did Krabbe and Bouche any harm.
As usual, the partners had breezed in apparently oblivious of any danger to themselves. It was one of their many qualities which Castaneda admired. But he wished he didn’t have to follow them into the spider’s parlour.
Being in the presence of the lobsters was scary, too. For all their alienness they exuded a familiar air of menace—the menace of a master race accustomed to command. The partners would have had a tougher job being taken seriously, Boris Bouche commented, if it hadn’t been for their trick of swallowing water. That had set them apart from the dehydrates.
Krabbe and Bouche greeted Castaneda cheerily, almost drunkenly, draping a translator band around his neck on the instant. Castaneda was given no time for mental adjustment. He launched himself into his presentation before Tlixix leaders and scientists who reared over him in their rank-smelling pool. Then the scientists questioned him closely and at length. They were the repositories of all the knowledge of their race. They had their own map of pre-dehydration Tenacity, and compared it in detail with the one Castaneda had drawn up. His description of the faultlines fascinated them. It was the first explanation they had ever heard of how Tenacity lost its water. They cast their four milky-white eyes on the locations of the proposed drilling. They grew more and more excited.
The translation package was elegant. Using some deft algorithm, it managed to give a representation of the lobsters’ hoary character, giving them voices that mostly were hoarsely ferocious but sometimes condescendingly gentle—just the sort of tones masters would develop for dealing with their slaves.
It took hours, but in the end they seemed convinced. Krabbe and Bouche took over again, together with Shelley, the lawyer. The Tlixix scientists remained, but now it was mainly the top lobsters who did the talking.
This time it was Castaneda’s turn to be fascinated. He always was, every time he had been present when the partners came to the crunch in a negotiation. Piece by piece, they were buying a planet.
But there was one more thing. The Tlixix still wanted to see the big ship in orbit. That was their guarantee that they weren’t being conned. And, they made it clear, they did not want either Krabbe or Bouche personally to be their guide. The partners were to stay on Tenacity pending the outcome of the project.
And so, once Shelley had drawn up the final contract, Castaneda found himself lofting Enterprise-ward in the lighter, in company with the lawyer and a high-ranking Tlixix, filling the cabin with the tang of seaweed.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
No description by Karvass could have prepared Hrityu for the underground camp of the Artaxa.
They had travelled far from the World Market. Continuing to follow the Artaxa, whose prowed craft ploughed its way endlessly through the shifting sand, Hrityu had been almost disappointed not to encounter more Gaminte patrols—or even better, Crome warbands. He would have liked the chance to try out the weapon given him by the mysterious moss-headed stranger.
At length, a cluster of hills appeared in close formation, the sand having been blown off their peaks to reveal multi-hued ochre rock. Karvass steered his sand-boat on a winding course among them, losing himself to Hrityu’s view several times, until entering a box canyon. Hrityu was puzzled that he should make for so obvious a dead end; until he noticed, at the far end, a shadow cast by a broad overhanging shelf of rock.
Stra
ight into that shadow plunged the sand-boat. More cautiously, Hrityu followed, coming to a halt on finding himself at the top of a wide bank which sloped dawn into underground darkness.
Karvass’s craft was already out of sight. Hrityu motivated his outer wheels again, setting off down the slope,
Soon he was in pitch blackness, carefully holding back his vehicle as it slid and slithered on loose shale. He did not know how far underground he was when a greenish glow appeared below him, slowly swelling into a steady, soft light. And then he was nearly at the bottom of the incline, looking down into a huge cavern.
And what a cavern! In the light streaming from radium lamps placed all round the curving walls, the roof was a great vault of massed down-jutting crystals of enormous size, many of them phosphorescing in response to the radiation and adding brilliant colours to the general illumination: purple, orange and ghostly yellow. On the floor of the cavern was as large a camp as any Hrityu had seen. Artaxa were present in large numbers, swirling in the ritual dances of their tribe, working at countless tasks, hammering at pieces of metal which, presumably, had been forged and smelted elsewhere, or shaping naturally occurring glass and crystal. Visible here and there were also the white sinuous forms of Sawune lizards. This was an odd sight. Hrityu had never witnessed close cooperation between humanoids and lizards before, leaving aside trade relations at the World Market.
That was not all. Also present were a number of black humanoids, lacking head crests. Toureen. Nussmussa must already have brought in his tribe as allies. Presumably they had brought the secret of eruptionite with them. Provided its ingredients were available close at hand, stocks of the violent mixture were no doubt already being built up.
Neither would it take Hrityu long to impart the secret of the longdistance radiators. Essentially the device was simple; one need only understand the principle of its working, and what kind of resonating crystals to use. There was no time now, of course, to arrange negotiations with the elders of the Analane. For all he knew the Crome might at this very moment be launching their final attack on his home territory! It was urgent that he persuade the Artaxa to mount an expeditionary force almost immediately.
As he took in the incredible sight he saw that the giant cavity was in fact only the first of a series. On either side were arched openings leading to similar caverns. A shiver went through him. This was as impressive as the World Market, if not more so! Almost as impressive as the giant hydroriums in which the Tlixix lived! (Though he had never seen these and knew them only by repute; Gaminte patrols kept all other dehydrate tribes well away.)
He could truly believe in what the Artaxa proposed. The days of the Tlixix were numbered!
True, the thought cost him unwelcome feelings. He had been raised to revere the Tlixix. They were part of the world, like the deserts and the hills. To betray them, even not to obey them, were unthinkable concepts.
Until, that was, the Tlixix themselves betrayed the Analane!
He descended to the floor of the cavern and climbed out of his vehicle. Karvass approached accompanied by an elderly, venerable-looking Artaxa. Hrityu went through the name-exchanging ceremony. Then, at Karvass’s behest, pulled the cover off the pair of radiators.
Hrityu and Karvass spent some time trying to explain what the radiator could do. Finally, inspecting it at length with puzzled interest, the elder gestured his understanding.
“A remarkable invention, but where is its advantage to us?”
“It is not a weapon in itself,” Karvass admitted. “But it will be invaluable for coordinating strategy.”
The elder turned to Hrityu. “What is your price for the secret of this invention?”
“Assistance for my tribe, and immediately!” Hrityu said eagerly. “The Tlixix have given our enemies the Crome permission to effect our extermination, and this may in fact already be in process of commission!”
“Extermination?” the Artaxa repeated thoughtfully. “That is not a common policy, even for the Tlixix.”
“It may be that the Tlixix are recruiting the Crome for the same role as the Gamintes,” Karvass put in. “We were attacked by a mixed force on our way here.”
“All who join with the Tlixix are our enemies, all who join with us against the Tlixix are our friends,” the Artaxan elder exclaimed. He then said to Hrityu, “Do you pledge your tribe in alliance with us?”
“Even though I am not an elder, I believe I can promise that every Analane will be with you,” Hrityu said fervently. “If any survive!”
“Then our help is also pledged. How long will it take you to instruct our artisans in the manufacture and use of your device?”
“Not long—it must be done quickly, for I am determined to accompany your force and take part in the battle—with this!”
Hrityu pulled the beamer given him by ‘Roncie’ from his weapons belt, where it kept company with his three knives.
The elder stared at it with incomprehension.
Karvass spoke. He described the attack in the desert, and how a humanoid of an unknown type had come to their rescue, killing several of the attackers with the weapon Hrityu now possessed. He described, too, the tiny pavilion, and how uncomfortable they had been inside it, ‘like being in the Pavilion of Audience.’
“I wish to see this for myself,” the Artaxan elder pronounced. “Come with me.”
They followed him through the throng to the side of the cavern. Guards standing at the entrance of a narrow passage stood aside, then trooped after them as they entered it and emerged into a chamber which, like the passage itself, had obviously been carved from the rock by hand.
Here was yet another strange sight. Gamintes, stripped of weapons, were chained to the walls. Their glowing red eyes turned to the newcomers. The radium lamp fitted in the roof gave their silvery hair a greenish glow.
To see the favoured police force of the Tlixix in such a situation was a shock in itself. The Gamintes’ faces, too, showed their outrage that such a thing could happen to them, as well as their trepidation as to what their fate was to be. They were half starved, their bodies thin and wasted. That meant that they had been here for quite a long time. Energy-economical dehydrate bodies needed food only at infrequent intervals. Hrityu himself had eaten only once since leaving his home camp, although his wheeled vehicle carried plentiful supplies.
The elder issued clipped orders. The shackles were thrown off one of the Gamintes, who was pushed roughly into the centre of the chamber.
The Artaxan elder made a gesture. “Proceed. Kill the captive.”
An unsettling thought came to Hrityu, put there by the unfamiliarity of events. What would the Tlixix do if they learned of this vast camp and of the plot being concocted there?
Why they would muster all the resources at their command to destroy it!
And what gratitude might they show to the tribe which informed them of such a threat?
No! Hrityu pushed the thought aside. Even if he could now warn the Tlixix, he could not rely on them. They had proved that were not to be trusted. The only hope of survival for the Analane lay with the Artaxa.
Slowly Hrityu lifted the weapon. Remembering the attack in the desert, his reluctance vanished. The Gamintes stared at him blankly, including the one offered him for target practice.
The weapon did not look like a weapon. It was not a flinger, and simply looked like an arbitrarily shaped object.
Hrityu strove to recall what the moss-headed humanoid had said. Press this stud.
He did so. Nothing visible issued from the square-nosed device, but the effect on the Gaminte was instantaneous. He recoiled, seemed to convulse, then fell to the floor of the chamber and was still.
Karvass stepped forward, knelt and examined him.
“He is dead.”
“A flinger could have done as much,” pointed out the elder skeptically.
“There is more,” Hrityu said. “Stand aside, Karvass. Let us see if this works, too.”
With the fingers of
his free hand, he turned the ring Northrop had shown him. He pointed the beamer at the line of prisoners directly in front of him.
Only the Gaminte directly in line with the gun knew that he was doomed and glared his hatred. Those on either side failed to appreciate that their turn had also come. They hung their heads in shame at not being able to help their comrade and uttered keening noises.
Again Hrityu pressed the stud.
The beam encompassed five Gamintes, though unlike the first victim they took some moments to die. First they went rigid, shivered, then slumped in their chains. While the surviving Gamintes looked on with horror Karvass announced them all, on inspection, to be dead. The elder gestured and led the way from the chamber.
He spoke first to Karvass.
“You have acquitted yourself well, Karvass. You have provided us with three new inventions, as well as with alliances with two more tribes. Your praises will be shouted at the next mass convocation.”
He spoke then to Hrityu. “You, too, have performed excellently for your tribe. Your praises too will be shouted, if we are in time to help save your people from extinction. By the way, could not your radiator tell us what the situation is at your camp?”
“Only if we are within a hundred langs.”
“I see … Well, a hundred langs is certainly a useful distance.”
“There is something else that you should know,” Hrityu said, making up his mind to reveal everything. “Karvass has described to you the strangers who gave me my weapon. That there are of an unknown tribe is not perhaps so unusual, for there are many tribes, and for that matter few know of the Artaxa. But I have seen members of this tribe before—in the Pavilion of Audience at the World Market. They were talking with the Tlixix. And they were consuming water, just as the Tlixix do!”
“Water? Did you say water?”
“Yes, elder!”
The Great Hydration Page 8
