John Maddox Roberts - Space Angel

by John Maddox Roberts

  About twenty of them were working in a field, tall and angular, body surfaces dull-green articulated plates. From the neck down, they rather resembled Vivers, but their heads were antlike, with a double-domed cranium bearing a deep crease down the middle. The crease was surmounted by a stubby crest, and they had four eyes apiece.

  "Well, now we know who built the cities," Finn said. "Technologically speaking, they seem to have come down in the world. Are those stone tools they're using?"

  "We can't be sure of that," Nancy whispered. "The builders might have chosen to portray one of their deities or demons with these people's features. What do you think, Tor?"

  "This subject fascinates me no end. Let's get moving along. We just want to scout out the area, look for signs of the kid, and head back. Let's just go and get a closeup view of the city."

  They passed the fields unseen and soon were in sight of a village built against the side of one of the great stone platforms. Taking to a deep ditch, they crept forward until, screened by reeds, they had a closeup view. The settlement was composed of about a hundred reed huts on stilts, thatched with broad leaves. The villagers were more interesting. A large party of them were working under the eyes of watchful guards, and the guards did not appear to be of the same species as the workers.

  The new aliens had large, high-domed heads with broad, almost square snouts set with needle-pointed teeth. Three eyes were set above and to either side of the snout. Their upper torsos had four arms, the upper pair stout and muscular, the lower pair thin and delicate. Their legs were short and bent at the knee joints, the thighs thick and gnarled with muscle. The feet resembled an eagle's but had a large central pad for walking purposes. They sported long tails that appeared to be prehensile. Most disturbing of all, the beings carried efficient-looking weapons, rifles of some sort cradled in the upper pair of arms, and numerous smaller hand weapons hung on the harnesses that crisscrossed their bare torsos. Several carried swords as well as knives and clubs.

  "Homer," Torwald whispered, "do you recognize those beauties?"

  "Quite clearly. Those are Tchork. They had an extensive empire of nearly a thousand worlds—their policy is one of pillage and enslavement. As soon as they have exhausted a planet's easily lifted resources, they usually leave for better pickings, at least until the population has produced another stealable supply. They are a savage race who made it into space by serving as soldiers for more-civilized peoples. Once they had mastered the skills of spacefaring, they simply mutinied, stole the ships they had been serving on, and went into business for themselves."

  "Just the kind of folks we needed to run into while our ship's disabled," sighed Tor. "Now, what do you suppose they are doing in this backwater?"

  "They seem to be looting that city," Finn suggested. "Reasonable enough, when you consider that we had thoughts of doing just that ourselves not so long ago."

  From where they stood, Torwald's group could see that a rickety system of zigzag ladders and platforms reached from the village to the top of the platform, and two files of natives, one ascending and one descending, were using it. Those going up carried empty baskets, and those coming down were bent under full ones. The natives dumped the contents onto a pile growing in the center of the village. One of the Tchork appeared to be keeping a tally of what was dropped. The heap seemed to consist mostly of glittering metals, but there were also gemstones and objects not identifiable at a distance.

  One of the natives staggered under the weight of his basket and lurched into the tallykeeper, spilling his basket in the process. The Tchork gave vent to a series of shrill barks and slapped the native so powerfully that the arthropoid nearly fell to the ground. When the native began to chatter in protest, the Tchork drew a heavy, cleaver-shaped blade and sheared through the creature's thin neck with one swipe. Sheathing the blade, the Tchork kicked the head across the village clearing and returned to his task. The line resumed its endless toil.

  "Sweet people," Torwald commented. Nancy and Kelly looked ill.

  "I suggest that we leave this place, and speedily," said Finn.

  "No argument, there," Torwald said. "Now, very, very quietly, I want you all to turn around and start heading back the way we came. Stay Sow, keep your eyes open, and keep moving. If you see or hear something, use hand signals instead of talking. Maintain five-meter intervals." That last instruction reinforced the seriousness of their situation. The five-meter interval was an ancient footsoldier's practice to prevent having one shot or explosion kill two or more men.

  Retreating slowly, bent over at waist and knee, they began sweating from more than humidity. All except Homer had the twitchy feeling between the shoulder blades that comes from leaving an armed enemy at one's rear. Had they been properly trained, Torwald would have had them crawling on their bellies. Once they were within the first line of trees and well out of sight of the village, Torwald called a halt. Taking out his communicator, he sent a distress alert.

  "I hate to do this," he said to the others, "but they have to be warned in case we don't make it back." While his party was mulling that over, the response came through.

  "What's wrong?" It was the skipper's voice.

  "Tor, you in trouble?" That was Ham.

  "Skipper," Torwald began, "be ready to clear out of here at a second's notice, repairs or no repairs. We've run into bad guys."

  "Natives?"

  "No, the natives are primitives. They appear to be peaceful farmers. The baddies are from elsewhere. Homer calls them Tchork and he says that they control a powerful empire. He also says that they're savages who've seized somebody else's advanced technology. From what we've seen, they're meaner than four-headed rattlesnakes." He described the scene in the village.

  "That explains the condition of the city I'm in," said Ham. "All the valuable metal has been stripped away from the buildings we've explored so far. No gems, either. Nothing much left except stone."

  "Listen," Torwald said, "we're heading back for that first city. Skipper, what shape's the AC in?"

  "Won't be ready for several hours yet. It might be flying by the time you and Ham rendezvous."

  "Let's hope so," Torwald said. "I'm signing off and getting out of here."

  They made the best time they could getting through the trees. Chancing upon a well-marked trail that led in the right direction, they set out at a slow lope, fear overcoming their fatigue. Suddenly, without warning, a party of natives appeared around a bend in the .trail and stopped, staring at the intruders. The humans also stopped, unsure what to do next. Then they heard an unmistakable, high-pitched bark. The natives scattered as two Tchork strode forward from behind. They, too, goggled for a second at the unexpected visitors, then raised their weapons. Biting back a curse, Torwald sliced one nearly in two with his beamer, while Finn shot the other neatly among the eyes with his pistol.

  "Damn! That tears it! Run like hell, and don't stop till I tell you to." They flew down the path in desperation, running until their lungs were bursting and their sides felt as if they had red-hot knives in them. They came to an abrupt halt when the trail opened onto a broad clearing.

  "We'll have to go across," Finn suggested. "The jungle's so thick here it'd take us an hour to get around."

  "We'll go across one at a time," said Torwald. "Finn, you go first and cover the rest of us from the other—"

  "Listen!" said Homer, antennae quivering in the direction they had just come. There were unmistakable sounds of rapidly nearing pursuit.

  "On second thought," said Torwald, "we'll all go across at once. Keep your heads down and move!" They shot out into the clearing, spreading out and sprinting for the trees on the far side. A rushing noise sounded behind them and they were quickly enveloped in shadow. Looking back over their shoulders, they saw a many-sided craft hovering ten meters above the ground behind them, blocking the sun. Torwald and Finn turned and dropped to one knee, firing at the craft. After a moment's hesitation, Kelly and Nancy did the same. Their beams seemed to have n
o effect and were absorbed without damage by the bottom of the craft. Something large and amorphous was flung over the edge of the hovering craft. It spun toward them, spreading and whirling, a vague, transparent mass that hissed as it fell. The explorers scattered, but not quickly enough. They were borne to the ground by the surprising weight of the thing, which proved to be a net of fine, transparent, amber-colored strands. As they tried to raise their weapons, the net tightened, binding their arms tightly against their sides. In seconds, they were completely helpless.

  The vehicle lowered to the ground, and a half-dozen Tchork jumped off. More came from the woods. Very carefully, they began extricating the humans from the sticky folds of the net, touching it here and there with a short, rod-shaped instrument which caused the meshes to fall loose wherever they were touched. Gingerly, the Tchork gathered the humans' weapons before freeing them. Once the humans were free of the net but under heavy guard, the Tchork lifted a large box off the vehicle and opened it. The net flowed across the intervening distance and swarmed into the box.

  "That thing's some kind of animal!" said Nancy.

  "Just the thing for capturing slaves without damaging the merchandise," Torwald said bitterly. One of the Tchork barked viciously at them, and they shut up. Kelly looked around for Homer, saw him nearby, placidly munching grass and trying to radiate an impression of utter, mindless stupidity. A Tchork in a jewel-studded weapons harness walked over to the crustacean and kicked him in the side. Homer ambled over to where his friends were being guarded. "Well, it was worth a try," he said. The bejeweled Tchork began barking again. To the humans' surprise, Homer began translating simultaneously with the Tchork's barks, so that there was no lag in transmission.

  "Do not take me for a fool," the Tchork said to Homer. "I have seen your kind before. What are you doing here and what are these creatures? Our slaves captured one yesterday, and they say they have never seen one before."

  "I am a poet, like most of my kind, and I travel in search of material for my verse. These persons are on business of their own and have been kind enough to allow me to travel with them." This time, Homer was speaking in two languages at once, a virtuoso performance.

  "And what might that business be?" The Tchork

  glared at the humans, who found a three-eyed glare to be a distinctly uncomfortable experience.

  "We are explorers," Torwald said, extemporizing for all he was worth. "One of our number strayed from our ship, and we have come looking for him. I understand that you have him. If you'll just turn him over to us, we'll be on our way."

  "Do not try my patience," the Tchork snapped, slapping Torwald solidly. "You are heavily armed."

  "These jungles are full of dangerous creatures. Of course we're armed," Finn explained, as Torwald seemed slightly dazed.

  "What world are you from? I've never seen any beings quite like you before."

  "Our world is called Earth," said Finn, seized with a sudden inspiration. "It is the head of an empire of thousands of powerful worlds. If harm comes to us, they will take a terrible revenge on you."

  "I do not believe you," the Tchork stated. "Besides, it was you who killed two of our men." He seemed fractionally less arrogant, though.

  "They reached for their weapons first. What were we supposed to do?" Finn was playing the scene by ear, trying to find words that would be effective to this creature's peculiar psychology. "Besides, they were just lowly slave-drivers, beneath the notice of any person of quality." He was sure that humility would cut no ice with the Tchork.

  "They were of no great value," the Tchork admitted, "but I am shorthanded here." He stopped abruptly, thinking perhaps he'd said too much. He switched subjects. "How many of you are on this world, and where is your ship?"

  "Have we asked you such questions?" Torwald asked, seemingly recovered.

  "You will do well to notice which of us is armed. Just answer my questions."

  "We were left here by our ship several days ago to make our preliminary survey. It will not be back for thirty more days."

  "Then you must have a camp. You are not carrying enough equipment to last for thirty days in this terrain. Anyone can see that you are not creatures adapted for the jungle. Where is your camp?"

  "I cannot tell you that until I am assured of the benevolence of your intentions."

  Homer squawked slightly. "Torwald, I fear that there is no word in the Tchork language for benevolence."

  "Hm, that figures. Try 'lack of immediate hostile intention' then."

  Homer complied.

  "Then you are protecting others. Or else you fear for the safety of your ship. You will return with me to my base. Get aboard!" They had no choice but to comply. Aboard the craft, they were seized and their arms bound behind them. Two of the Tchork kept them under watchful guard at all times. The craft lifted silently and turned toward the plundering site.

  "Well," Torwald remarked in a half-hearted attempt at joviality, "at least we know now what it was Kelly saw last night."

  They were worn out, aching, and filthy. The boss Tchork had been interrogating them since they had arrived back at the village, and the inquisition had not been gentle. Obviously, the Tchork were experts at dealing with many types of physiology, because they managed to be brutal without causing any really permanent damage. After fruitless questioning, the officer ordered them bound and placed between the stilts of one of the huts. No doubt, he did not wish to do anything drastic until he received instructions from superiors.

  "Well, it could be worse," Torwald observed philisophically. "If they knew more about our anatomy and psychology, they'd know to stick burning slivers under our fingernails, or crush our—"

  "Don't talk like that!" Nancy shuddered. "It was bad enough as it was. I think I'm going to lose a few of my teeth." She wiggled her jaw experimentally, probing at the loose teeth with her tongue.

  "Michelle will implant some new ones for you when we get back to the ship."

  "What makes you think we'll get back?" Kelly asked testily.

  "No, no, you have it all wrong, Kelly," Torwald said. "It's you young ones who're supposed to be eternally optimistic, while we crusty old spacers are full of sour, pessimism. Admittedly, our situation just now is eighty-twenty in favor of pessimism, though."

  Torwald looked out over the village, where the natives were going about their endless drudgery. For about the fifth time that afternoon it began to rain and the villagers donned long, woven-grass capes. Evening was coming on, and with it some slight abatement of the day's heat. A mild breeze began blowing. Soon the natives started fires.

  "I wonder if they plan to cook us," said Nancy.

  "Don't be so morbid," Tor cautioned. "We saw fires from here last night. Pretty soon, they'll be toasting the local equivalent of marshmallows."

  No one bothered to feed the Earthpeople. They also ignored Homer, who was kept in a small metal cage at some distance from his friends, where his nippers could not get at their bonds. Most of the natives huddled dispiritedly around their fires, while a majority of the Tchork had disappeared into a large, domed structure built against the base of the stone platform. Apparently the building was their barracks. The six guards detailed to watch the prisoners sat in a small group about a fire, conversing in low barks and growls. Occasionally, one would get up to check the prisoners' bonds. For a while, the guards killed time by playing a complicated game involving tossing counters from one prehensile tail to another. The player who dropped a counter or missed a catch was soundly kicked and beaten by the others. Eventually, the troopers tired of this and began a rhythmic barking and howling that might have been singing.

  Despite the discomfort of their position and the pain of their treatment, the humans began to drowse toward midnight. Their guards were still wide awake and perfectly alert, and the prisoners had given up planning escapes involving sleepy guards. As he was about to drift off, Torwald's attention was caught by two natives who were walking between the huts, wearing rain capes and carrying
grain sacks on their shoulders. One of the guards saw them also, and seemed suspicious. He barked and got to his feet, gesturing for the two to approach the guards' fire. The natives hesitated, then complied. Yes, Tor thought, those two definitely look odd. When the two were standing amid the guards, they suddenly dropped the sacks and capes. Instead of a pair of passive, obedient natives, the Tchork were staring in bewilderment at two specimens of prime, aggressive young Viverhood.

  As the standing Tchork opened his snout to bark, K'Stin gave him a backhanded swat that sent him pin-wheeling across the clearing. B'Shant gave another a kick in the snout that straightened him up to tiptoes, then lashed him across the midsection with a sidewise slash of a leg-spur, neatly disembowelling the guard. With two short, vicious slashes of his open-clawed hands, K'Stin killed two more Tchork before they were quite on their feet. Simultaneously, B'Shant grabbed another by the neck, snapping whatever served it for a spine, while the Viver's other hand drew a machete and with one lightning move halved the remaining Tchork from shoulder to waist. All six guards were dead. The entire action had taken about two seconds. None of the guards had managed to make a sound.

  Quickly, the Vivers ripped open the sacks and removed the weapons inside. While hanging various lethal objects about their persons, the Vivers set about releasing the prisoners. "You squishy people must not be very alert, to be caught so easily," K'Stin said cutting Finn's bonds with one razor-taloned forefinger.

  "You know," said Nancy, "for the first time, you two look beautiful."

  "We've always been beautiful, spongy yellow creature. Enough of aesthetics. Where is your gear?"

  "I saw them take it over there." Kelly pointed to a hut fifty meters away. "A few Tchork went in that one with our stuff and they didn't come out again. They must be keeping guard on the stuff. I think that's where they have Lafayette, too. I saw a Tchork up there earlier tossing out an empty ration packet. They probably wouldn't be eating our food."