by Alan David
‘We are aliens,’ Clark said quickly. ‘We have come to this planet in friendship. We are not Brutans, who attack you on sight, or Ogrins, who kill you for food. We are travellers, and we ask you for hospitality.’
He knew his words sounded incongruous after the fate that had overtaken Searby, but if he could gain a breathing space for himself and Balfin then they might find a way of escape.
‘What machine is that you are using?’ came the swift reply. ‘How can it turn your words into my tongue and let you understand what I say?’
‘If I explained how it worked you wouldn’t understand,’ Clark said. ‘We are not enemies of your people. Quite possibly we could help you. The weapons we carry are powerful enough to kill Ogrins. Even the Avics have no weapons powerful enough to do that.
‘We take you for Brutans. They are good to eat and so are you.’
‘Where we come from we do not eat the flesh of men. We do not kill every stranger who comes our way unless he threatens us.’
‘You came into our territory. Under our laws that means you die.’
‘We were escaping from Brutans and Ogrins,’ Clark said.
‘You fight Brutans and Ogrins?’
‘Yes. We have killed many Ogrins. We are friendly with the Avics, and have helped them fight the Ogrins.’
‘We eat Avics. If we do not kill you will you show us where the Avics are camped?’
‘I do not know where they live, apart from being in the jungle. If you fight Brutans and Ogrins and we do the same then that makes us friends.’
Clark realized that his assumption was too simple to be taken seriously, but he could think of nothing else to say. If he could get these cannibals to accept him and Balfin as friends, or at least not regard them as enemies and potential meals, then they might have a chance of surviving this situation.
‘If you fight Brutans and Ogrins then you would fight us. We have fought with you and that makes us enemies. We have eaten one of your companions, and plan to eat another of you tomorrow.’
Clark sighed heavily. There could not be any kind of an argument against that logic. These aliens had life worked out to simple rules that all added up to the same thing — survival.
He realized that he had to obey those same simple rules if he wanted to live.
‘The two of us are very small,’ he said tightly. ‘If you are short of meat then we will kill some Ogrins for you.’
‘Ogrin meat is bitter. Your meat is good, better than the Avics or the Brutans. We heard there are more of you in the jungle, and we shall find the Avic camp before very long and take all of you.’
That sounded ominous to Clark, and he fell silent. He tried to figure out what to say that would interest these little cannibals and take their minds off their next meal. His hands were free now, and if he could remain so for a little longer then he might get the chance to grab the Laser. With that in his hands he would even up the odds considerably.
He glanced in Balfin’s direction and saw the Major had regained his senses. Clark had to fight hard against the impulse to look towards the weapons on the ground. He stared into the Marsc leader’s face.
‘Do you have weapons powerful enough to kill Ogrins?’ he demanded.
‘We catch them with our nets and drown them,’ came the grim reply. ‘The weapons the Brutans and Avics use taint the flesh. You are of no use to us except as food.’
Clark fell silent, and the Marsc leader came forward with his knife at the ready. He kicked the transmuter away from Clark and motioned for Clark to lie down. All eyes were upon Clark, and he slowly obeyed, aware that the rest of the tribe was alert and ready for any attempt to escape. Clark felt his spirits sink, and he dropped flat upon his back. The Marsc leader bent over him, and in that instant Baffin’s voice roared out, echoing across the small camp.
‘Fight ’em!’ the Major yelled, and there was a scuffling and thudding as the women and children started away out of danger. Clark reached up for the Marshman, grasping the wrist of the hand that held the knife, and he twisted sideways as the cannibal tried to plunge the weapon into his chest. In the background there was a confusion of voices and noises as Balfin, evidently free of his bonds, made a dive for their weapons.
Clark found the Marsc leader surprisingly strong, and had difficulty in retaining a grip on the pygmy’s wrist. The alien was astonishingly quick, with instant reflex action, and Clark was hard put to keep the point of the knife out of his flesh. He was desperate, and rolled quickly, dragging the smaller man off balance and to the ground. Aware that a number of knives and clubs were nearby, Clark sought to get his adversary between him and the rest of the tribe, and he was barely in time. As he twisted around to face the gathered pygmies a club struck the ground at his side, and a knife whirled towards him, the point digging into the ground a scant few inches from his left hip.
The pygmy was as strong as Clark despite the disparity of their size, and Clark realized that he had to get on his feet in order to make his weight tell. He got to one knee, using the weight of his upper body, and out of the corner of his eye he saw some of the other pygmies coming to the aid of their leader.
But Balfin was already at the pile of equipment, his clutching hands reaching out for the Laser. Some of the Marshmen were starting towards him, and a knife whizzed by him, but he grabbed the Laser and went into a forward roll with it, going-down and over, his hands sure upon the weapon, his nerves taut, his mind filled with desperate determination because he knew that if they failed to make a break now both he and Clark would wind up dead.
Balfin came up on one knee, the Laser levelled in his grip, and he was facing the fire and the group of Marscs. Some of the vicious little men were already coming at him, and he gritted his teeth as a club narrowly missed his head. He hoped the Laser had not been damaged, and he thumbed the button and a darting beam of white brilliance snapped out and assailed the tiny men.
Pandemonium struck the Marscs instantly, and a dozen of them went down so quickly they never knew what killed them. Balfin clenched his teeth and swung the Laser, careful not to catch Clark, who was wrestling with the leader of the Marscs, and he sent short streams of death into the densely packed racks of the Marshmen.
In a matter of seconds the situation had changed completely. Those aliens who had not been destroyed were intent upon saving themselves, and the campfire was totally deserted except for the remains of the pygmies who had died. Even women and children had been caught by the Laser beam, and Balfin was trembling inwardly as he swung around to check his rear. Then he started towards Clark, who was on his feet now and trying to hold the Marsc leader.
Balfin struck savagely at the alien’s head, and Clark released the pygmy as he fell unconscious. For a moment both men froze, staring at one another. Then Balfin drew a quick breath.
‘We’d better get out of here, Commander,’ he said.
‘Let’s not leave any equipment behind,’ Clark said. ‘We’re going to need everything we can carry. And turn the Laser on Searby’s remains, Kester. We can’t leave him for the Marscs to finish off.’
Balfin nodded grimly and went to the spot where Searby’s remains lay. He turned the Laser upon them and then came back to where Clark was busy sorting through the equipment that had been taken from them. There were no signs of the Marscs now, although the shadows around them were echoing with strange calls and sounds.
‘We don’t know the way out of here,’ Balfin said, and Clark looked up at the stars.
‘Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll try to locate some of the stars I noted last night,’ Clark said. ‘Watch our backs, Kester. They’ll try and overpower us if we give them the chance. Remember those nets they use. If they can trap Ogrins and drown them then we’ll have to be very careful.’
Balfin crouched, the Laser ready in his hands, and he stared around grimly, peering into the shadows.
‘I figure we’d better hole up somewhere, Commander, until the sun shows,’ he suggested.
‘If we do that we’ll be asking for trouble from the Brutans.’ Clark checked his handgun, and then stuck it into his belt. He massaged his wrists for a moment as he straightened and looked around. Then he picked up the transmuter and put it on, strapping it to his chest. ‘I’m ready to go now. We’d better stick close together and try to cover all directions.’
‘We’re probably in the middle of the marshes now,’ Balfin said. ‘If so we’re gonna need a boat or something.’
‘Let’s take a look around anyhow. I don’t want to stay at this spot for a moment longer than necessary.’
Balfin nodded slowly, and he fired a precautionary shot from the Laser, swinging the muzzle and burning down the crude habitations of the Marscs. There were anguished yells from the surrounding darkness, and Balfin’s blood ran cold for a moment as he considered what faced them.
‘I’m ready to go,’ he said in a grating tone, and Clark took out his sidearm and readied it for action.
They started from the camp area, and almost immediately clubs and knives came silently through the night. They dropped to their knees and Balfin fired again, sending stabs of brilliant death in all directions. A silence followed and they got up to go on, but had barely covered any distance at all when there were furtive sounds in the shadows all about them.
‘We’re not going to get out of this!’ Balfin spoke through his teeth, and his lips were hard and pulled back in a snarl of defiance. ‘I’m up to my knees in water, Commander, and the ground underneath is barely taking my weight. We’ll need a boat of some kind or we’ll be in bad trouble.’
‘There must be some craft around here,’ Clark said. ‘Let’s move to the right.’ He lifted his gun and fired when he fancied he saw movement just ahead, and the brightness of the flaring weapon almost blinded him for several moments. He kept blinking as they moved off to the right, and the water was getting deeper with each step.
Soon they were up to their waists, and the darkness closed in impenetrably. They were silent, and when they paused to listen they heard nothing but the slap of water here and there and the gentle sighing of a dark breeze.
‘That slapping sound,’ Balfin said softly, his mouth close to Clark’s ear. ‘Sounds like water on the bottom of a boat, Commander.’
‘That’s what I was thinking!’ Clark peered around, his eyes still affected by the flashes of their weapons, and he fancied he made out a straight line in the darkness, an unnatural outline that could belong to a raft or boat.
They paused and Balfin diminished his height a little, trying for a silhouette.
‘It’s a boat okay,’ the Major said slowly. ‘Better let me go ahead to check if there’s anyone aboard.’
Clark nodded, half turning to guard their rear, and he heard a series of splashing sounds not far away. They were still under observation, he reminded himself grimly, and was ready for any attack with the strange nets that had made them captive before. He glanced back towards Balfin and was surprised to find the Major several yards away, moving swiftly and silently through the water towards the alien craft.
Balfin held the Laser ready, and his keen eyes were closed to the merest slits. He didn’t care now he had the Laser in his hands. He would take on all-corners without fear. He saw a small figure rear up on the flat boat ahead, and he cut the instinctive action which almost had him using the Laser. If he fired he would get the boat too! He moved in, and discovered that the boat was a little more than a long dugout — a tree trunk that had been hollowed and adapted for marsh use. He saw water churning where the Marsc who had vacated the boat was swimming, and he fought down the impulse to use the Laser. He peered around, satisfying himself that they were safe from attack for the moment. Clark was coming towards him, and together they hurriedly climbed into the frail craft.
Clark took the Laser and sat in the bows, peering around alertly, while Balfin picked up a heavy sweep-type oar and stood up in the stern. They began to move out as the Major put his weight on the oar, digging one end into the mud under the surface and poling them away from the Marsc camp area.
Balfin ducked several times as he heard heavy objects whizzing past his head in the dark, and there were faint splashes around them as they moved away to signify they were under some kind of attack. But the Marshmen were cautious, too afraid of the Laser to come to close grips once more.
Clark watched all quarters, twisting this way and that to ensure they did not come under sudden attack. He fancied he saw another boat out to the right, following them at a safe distance, but the shadows were deceptive, and he did not fire to give away their position.
Minutes later they were well clear of the area, and it seemed that all dangers were past. Clark heaved a long sigh as Balfin substituted a light paddle for the long oar, and then they were making good progress across an open stretch of water. There was a second paddle in the boat and Clark picked it up, holding the Laser across his lap. He dipped the thin wooden blade into the smooth water and exerted his strength, adding his weight to their primitive mode of propulsion, and the light craft fairly lifted and surged along.
‘We’re well out of that, Commander,’ Balfin called at length. ‘But have you any idea where we are?’
Clark had been keeping an eye on their surroundings and at the same time trying to look at the night sky. He knew the night was well advanced, and it seemed to him that their troubles were not over by a long way. He turned his attention to the sky once more, and after a few moments had to admit that he did not know where they were or what direction they should take. As far as he was concerned they were totally lost.
‘We’d better try and make dry ground somewhere, then go on from there,’ he admitted finally. ‘We don’t know where those Marshmen took us, Kester, after they captured us.’
‘You’re right,’ the Major agreed without hesitation. ‘I think we’ll be all right once we strike dry land.’
Clark looked around, afraid that they might be heading into more trouble. These Marshmen knew the area intimately, and they would not be keen for two prisoners to escape. He paused in his paddling and checked the Laser. They would not be taken alive the next time. He would prefer to fight to the death than rely upon the mercy of the alien pygmies.
They began to tire. Their wrists had been cruelly bound for some considerable time, and Clark didn’t have any feeling in the little finger on his left hand. He ached in every muscle and his back felt as if it were broken, but they paddled on, their horror over their experiences forcing them on when muscle and sinew cried enough.
When he glanced backwards, Clark saw Balfin straining at his work in the stern. He continued for several more moments before calling a cessation.
‘I’m just about done,’ Clark said. ‘Let’s take five minutes, Kester. We need to listen for sounds of pursuit.’
They stopped and the boat slowly lost way. In the ensuing silence they heard nothing that was not natural, and Clark was ready to believe that the Marshmen had decided against fighting men armed with weapons such as the Laser. They had probably cut their losses. But he did not blind himself to the possibilities, and until they were clear of the marshes they could not afford to believe their enemies had quit.
‘How long do you think we’ve got before the sun comes up?’ Balfin asked as they went on once more.
Clark stared at the sky again, his eyes narrowed. He shook his head as he failed to come to a decision.
‘It’s hard to say. But I figure that the Marshmen couldn’t have taken us far from firm ground in the time they’ve had at their disposal. We didn’t leave Ralip’s farm until sundown, and we travelled for a long time before falling in with the Marscs. I think we’re not so badly off as we imagine, Kester.’
‘I hope you’re right, Commander,’ came the firm reply.
Clark felt tiredness trying to swoop into his mind, and he fought it with all the mental strength he could muster. He kept looking around, ready to drop the paddle and grab the Laser, but there was no sign of impending trouble anywhe
re within the range of his vision. Time passed and a strand of worry-attached itself to his thoughts. It enlarged and became twisted as further time elapsed, but he said nothing to Balfin. It wouldn’t help to indicate the obvious. If they were not under cover before sunrise then the trouble they’d experienced at the hands of the Marscs would be as nothing to what they could expect from the Brutans or the Ogrins.
A black shadow stretched away on either hand and before them, Clark noticed, peering ahead, and it was low and heavy. A spurting hope touched his mind, but he killed it instantly. They paddled on, and the black outline drew imperceptibly nearer. Balfin had spotted it and now ceased paddling.
‘What is it, Commander?’ he demanded hoarsely.
Tm hoping it is dry land,’ Clark replied. ‘Let’s push on a bit.’
They did, and a few moments later the prow of the ungainly craft ran aground. The impact came so unexpectedly that Clark was thrown forward heavily, and he lost the Laser as he pitched out of the craft. He landed on his face in a foot of water, but there was firm ground under his body and he started up instantly with relief flaring in his mind. Balfin was coming towards him, grabbing up the Laser, and they hastily took their equipment and scrambled out of the marsh.
‘Don’t stop yet,’ Clark said after they had left the water behind. ‘I shan’t feel safe now until we reach the jungle.’
‘If we’re anywhere near the point where they took us into the marsh then we’re moving in the right direction now,’ Balfin said.
Clark studied the stars and after some moments he agreed.
‘I think we are on the right track again,’ he commented. ‘We’d better move apart a bit, Kester, just in case. I’m not keen on any more nasty surprises. ‘We’ll cover each other. You take the Laser. You’re better with it than I am.’
Balfin chuckled harshly and moved slightly to the right and they went on.
Now the immediate dangers were past Clark found his mind becoming inundated with horror. When he recalled the events that had taken place in the camp of the Marshmen his mind tried to rebel against the agony of remembering, and he clenched his teeth as he walked stolidly through the darkness. He pushed one foot before the other without conscious thought, and they went on through the indistinct shadows, crossing alien country with only their primeval instincts to aid them.
