by Alex Raymond
Djorj massaged his cheek again. “It was about twenty miles from here,” he thought. “That’s another thing, these men dragged me all that way even though— Yes, all right, I’ll tell you the story.” He gave Captain Suell a detailed account of his encounter with Flash Gordon and the others.
Wlen the trapper was finished, Suell thought, “You might have had some money at that. You shouldn’t have let them get the best of you, though.”
“They’re very clever beasts,” thought Djorj.
Tapping his broad chest, the captain thought, “But still beasts, nonetheless, and no match for men.”
One of the blue militiamen stepped forward now. He held several lengths of rope in his gloved hands. “These are what the fellow was tied up with,” he thought.
Suell grabbed a length and came close to Djorj.
The trapper cringed.
The captain laughed. “You’re an easily frightened fellow, for a trapper,” he thought. “I won’t hit you again, don’t worry. I simply want a few more facts. Did the animals handle this rope?”
“Yes, when they tied me up with it.” He took a few steps back from the captain.
“Very good, that’s very good. You can go home now, trapper.”
“Thank you.” Djorj quickly slipped away into the woods.
“Cowardly fellow,” mused Suell as he returned to the crate. “One would think a trapper would have to be a brave man.”
“Many people fear the militia, sir,” pointed out Padd.
“Yes, I suppose they do.”
“And the fellow had been tied up in the woods for many hours.”
“We all have to learn to endure hardships, Padd. That’s what makes us men—what makes us superior to animals.” He stopped beside the crate, nodded at the militiaman who held a crowbar. “Why haven’t you opened it, man?”
“We waited your arrival, sir.”
“A little more initiative on everyone’s part might make for a more efficient militia,” thought the captain. “Might produce a group that could track down escaped animals a bit more quickly. Well, go ahead and open it.”
“Very good, sir.”
A side of the crate was soon pried free and lifted away. Captain Suell stepped forward and peered inside.
“A half dozen of them,” he thought, nodding to himself. “All right, get them out of there and ready to work.”
Three of the militamen hauled out the robot dogs that had just been delivered to aid in the search. Each metallic dog was large and copper-colored. Their teeth were of stainless steel, their eyes of yellow vinyl, and their nose mechanisms of aluminum mesh.
Lieutenant Padd activated one of the hunting dogs by flicking a switch concealed beneath a metal ear. “If I might have the rope, sir.”
The robot dog opened its jaws and snapped at the air once. Its eyes flashed an intense yellow.
Suell himself held the coil of rope beneath the robot dog’s nose. “Sniff this, old fellow,” he commanded. “Then go into that forest and find us the animals who handled it.”
The dog’s nose quivered. A low growl began rumbling and rattling inside its metal chest.
CHAPTER 29
The old man said, “Good as new,” and put his hands away under the cloak.
“Thank you,” said Jape. Old Abel had just treated the wound Jape had received in their recent tangle with the giant glow bats.
“Our local bats,” said Hopp, “are a healthy lot. So it’s not likely you’ll get too many after-effects from that bite, my friend.” He dipped a hand into a pouch hanging from his belt, extracting a thin black cigar.
“That’s good to know.”
“They’ll kill you if they can, and drink your blood afterwards. But if you escape, you usually don’t have to worry about disease.” The red-bearded man took a glowing stick from their small campfire and got his cigar going.
They were all seated around the campfire. Flash was studying the rough map Hopp had given him. “Our slavers will be heading this way?” he said, tracing a finger along the splotchy paper.
“Yes,” said Hopp, exhaling a swirl of smoke, “that’s the route to the slave market.”
“Maybe if we keep after them all night,” said Flash, “we can catch up with them.”
“Probably not, my friend.” Hopp reached over to tap the map with the wet end of his cigar. “What your slavers will do is reach the river about there someplace. They may be at that spot already.”
“You mean they’ll travel by boat down to the settlement?”
“Many of them have forlorn little boats of their own that they use in their trade,” explained the red-haired man. “There are also a few crooked bargemen—not that almost all bargemen aren’t crooked—who don’t care who they carry. They’ll take anybody downriver if there’s a little money in it.”
“Can you help us get hold of a boat?” asked Flash.
“Nothing to it,” chuckled old Abel, his feathery hair seeming to flicker in the firelight.
“We have some friends on the river,” said Hopp.
“I’d like,” said Flash, standing up, “to get going tonight.”
Hopp remained seated. He took another puff at his cigar. After watching the exhaled smoke spiral up and away into the darkness, he said, “The best we can do for you, my friend, is first thing in the morning.”
One of the old man’s hands appeared from under his tattered cloak. He pointed at Jape. “Ought to rest,” he said.
“Abel’s right,” said Hopp. “You ought to give that wound a night to start healing, my friend.”
Jape said, “I suppose so, but the longer we delay the worse it is for Narla.”
“Patience,” said the old man.
Flash said, “Okay, we’ll stop here for the night and get going tomorrow at dawn.”
One of the blue men had been listening to the portable radio. He detached the earphones now, snapping his fingers to attract Jape’s attention.
“Something you want me to hear?” said the four-armed man.
The blue man’s head bobbed up and down.
Jape put on an earphone, frowning. He listened for a few silent moments, then put the radio aside. “A fresh announcement by the militia,” he told Flash. “Seems the effort to catch us is being stepped up. Captain Suel is quoted as saying they’re bringing in the latest technological devices to aid in the hunt for these vicious animals.”
Flash looked inquiringly around the circle. “What exactly does that mean?”
“Well, my friend,” said Hopp, “it’s not likely they can get tanks into the jungle here. And that roof of leaves and branches makes it pretty tough for any airships to spot us . . .” His voice trailed off as he rubbed his forehead thoughtfully.
“Dogs,” said the old man.
“I was thinking about that,” Hopp said. “We hear the Mesmo National Militia has robot dogs especially designed to hunt runaway slaves and the like.”
“We’ve got a pretty good lead on them,” said Flash. “If they’ve just turned the dogs loose now.”
“The river’ll help you, too,” said Hopp. “I don’t think even robot tracking dogs can trail you on the water.”
“Yes, so maybe well be safe,” said Flash. “But the rest of our friends are traveling inland. Huk and Mallox and Sixy.”
“Patience,” repeated Abel.
“He means,” said Hopp, “there’s nothing you can do about that, Flash. You’ll have to wait and see what happens.”
“I don’t like waiting,” said Flash.
CHAPTER 30
A mist was on the river, thick yellowish vapor that swirled and scurried along the surface of the black water. It drifted among the vines and roots which hung out over the river edge, wound around the ramshackle barge which was drifting downstream.
Mist seeped under the wooden door of the small cabin Narla was in. She shivered, hugged herself tighter than ever. There was nothing in the small low room with her, not a stick of furniture. The only illumination ca
me from what little misty moonlight filtered through the one tiny window near the ceiling. There were bars, close together, over the window.
“There’s absolutely no chance now,” she cried aloud. “They’ll never be able to find me again. They might be able to follow our trail on land, but you can’t track a boat. Even an old slow broken-down one like this.”
A big night bird came flapping down to land on the roof of the cabin. It danced a few scraping steps, then flapped off again into the mist.
How long, thought the girl, before we get to the slave market? Probably by morning.
She knew what the two men who had kidnapped her intended to do with her. She had known that ever since they split from the other group of slavers, from the ones who had poor hopeless Booker.
“If only Booker hadn’t fallen asleep. But then I didn’t hear the ones who jumped and gagged me either. So maybe it wouldn’t have made any difference.”
The thick door of the cabin creaked and rattled. It swung outward a few inches and a large hefty man worked his way in. “Not a word, love,” he whispered.
He was dressed in black, with a short black cloak over his wide shoulders. He had a pale, pocked face, touched with a wisp of beard. Narla knew he was the captain of the barge.
He closed the door silently. From under his cloak he took a small electric battery lantern and set it on the dirty plank floor, with the light falling on the huddled girl. “You know me, don’t you, love?” he asked, crouching beside the lantern. “Norlan, captain of this noble craft and one of the best bargemen on the river. Eh?”
“Yes, I saw you when they threw me in here last night.”
“I had nothing to say about that, love,” Norlan told her. “Had I had a say you’d have been treated much more gentle. Eh?”
“What do you want?”
A smile curled the corners of his mouth. “What would I want but to help you. Eh?”
She watched his pale face. “Help me escape, you mean?”
“What else would I be up to, love?” He eased closer to her. “You don’t know where we’re going, don’t know what it’s like there. A vicious place, no place for as lovely a girl as you are. Eh? No, so I’m determined to do anything in my power to see that such a sad fate does not befall you.”
“That’s very nice of you,” said Narla, not trusting him at all.
“To be sure it is, love,” agreed the barge captain, “You see, I know this fellow Zarle who’s got you in his clutches. Scum is what Zarle is. Even among the lowlifes on the river, he is not liked.”
“When are we due at the slave market?”
“Soon, love, very soon,” answered Norlan. “We’ll make port by dawn.”
“Then you’d better tell me now how you intend to help me get away,” said the girl.
“Exactly why I’m here, love.” He moved even closer to her. “Here, then, is my offer. I will set you down at a safe spot some distance from the settlement. Zarle is deep in a drunken stupor, something I saw to I might add, and he’ll not know a thing about it until it is far too late. I will tell him you escaped on your own and arrange things here to indicate that. Eh?”
Narla said, “Where is this spot you’re going to put me off?”
“Ah, it’s a perfectly safe little place, love.” The captain smiled. “In fact, you’ll be well looked after there.”
“There are others there?”
“I have a small house and warehouse near there, back in the jungle a bit,” explained the captain. “Let me be perfectly frank with you, love. I also have a few women there. Ah, but none such as you.”
“I see,” said Narla. “So what you’re offering me is really one kind of slavery instead of another?”
“You might put it that way, love,” said Norlan. “Let me assure you that it’s nothing like what will befall you if you’re sold at the market.” He laughed, a choking laugh deep inside himself. “I may be only the lesser of two evils, I admit. But you don’t have much of a choice. Eh?”
Narla thought she might have a better chance if she were off the barge, away from Zarle and the blue man who had originally captured her. But she didn’t know how many people she might have to tangle with at the captain’s establishment. It might be harder to escape from there than from the slave market. “It’s an interesting offer,” she said, debating what answer to give him, trying to decide what course of action would give her the best chance of escape.
“You haven’t much time to think it over, love,” said Norlan. “So I’d advise—”
The door was wrenched open and a lank black-haired man stepped over the threshold. “She’s got no time at all, Norlan.”
The captain jumped, stumbling to his feet. “What’s the matter, Zarle? I was merely having a little fun.”
Zarle stepped into the cabin and struck the bargeman across the face with his open hand. “You know our deal, Norlan,” he said in a calm level voice. “You leave my girls alone. I pay you well. That’s our deal.” He hit the other man twice more in the face, using his closed fist.
Norlan fell to his knees, pulled himself up, wavered. “You’ve no call to do that, Zarle.” He rubbed his fingers across his bleeding mouth.
“A deal is a deal, Norlan.” He grabbed hold of the captain’s tunic, pulling him across the small cabin. He kicked him out onto the corridor floor.
“We’re not going to do any more business,” said the captain. “We’re finished from this night on, Eh?”
“You’re not the only thieving bargeman who plies the river,” said Zarle as he slammed the door. He turned to grin at the girl. It was a dreadful, mirthless grin, “I’m sorry that fellow annoyed you, miss.”
Narla said nothing.
Zarle bent to pick up the lantern the captain had left behind. “It’s quite late, miss,” he said to her. “I advise you to get some sleep. It would be nice if you looked fresh and rested when we arrive at the slave market.” He continued to grin and left her there in the misty darkness.
CHAPTER 31
They were moving through the infinite silence of space. Dr. Zarkov was muttering an old New England sea chanty under his breath as he sat hunched over the controls of the spacecraft. Somehow space travel always put him in a nautical mood.
“We’re nearing the transfer point,” said Dale, her eyes on the array of dials before her.
“Okay, get ready for jump number two,” boomed Zarkov.
He gave his beard a final tug, then poked, jabbed, and pulled at the control panel. Switches were thrown, toggles flicked, buttons pressed.
Sitting tensely in the pilot chair, Zarkov gave a shake of his hips. “Here we go.”
The ship quivered slightly. It executed a spatial-temporal jump and they were in the planet system of the planet Mesmo.
Dale ran her tongue over her lips. She felt slightly dizzy, and her stomach was acting as though she’d just dropped a hundred stories in an elevator. “It works,” she said faintly.
“Of course it works,” bellowed Zarkov, slapping the control panel proudly. “Most things Zarkov comes up with work. And you don’t even feel anything on the transition. Not like the clumsy system they’re still using back home.”
“I felt something,” said Dale.
“You’ve got butterflies in your stomach from worrying about Flash,” he told her. “That’s all you’re feeling, Dale.” He took a few hearty tugs of his beard, then punched out a flight pattern on the control board. “Now we can relax until we land on Mesmo.”
“It’s a big planet,” said Dale.
“Got an equatorial diameter of seventy-five hundred miles,” said Zarkov as he slouched back in his seat. “Which means it’s nearly as large as Earth.”
Dale activated a row of dials and switches. “We better start collecting information about her.”
“You think of Mesmo as a her?”
“Yes, I guess so.”
“Probably because you feel she’s taken Flash away from you,” said the doctor. “A jealousy reaction.
”
“It’s not something to make jokes about.”
Zarkov glanced over at the sad-eyed girl. “I’m as anxious about Flash as you are, Dale,” he said in a softer tone. “I wouldn’t have batted out this crate if I wasn’t.”
She reached over and touched his arm. “Yes, I know. I’m sorry.”
“Most people like my jokes,” said Zarkov. “I’m in great demand at scientific conventions and dinners all over the universe. And talk shows. Why the last time I was on Jupiter, I sat in on at least . . .”
“Forest below us,” announced Dale after consulting a scanner screen.
“Good,” said Dr. Zarkov. “I’d rather not land in the middle of Main Street.”
“You can’t land this ship on the treetops.”
“In my youth, I would have tried,” boomed Zarkov. “But the mellowing effect of time has given me a little more sense. So we’ll find a clearing, set her down, and then conceal her.”
“You called the ship her,” pointed out the girl.
“It’s an old naval custom,” answered the doctor. “Means nothing.”
“Quite an impressive jungle,” said Dale, looking again at the pictures their infrared cameras were taking of the sight forest below. “Clearing coming up.”
Zarkov gritted his teeth and began the braking operations.
The ship slowed and slowed.
Zarkov switched to manual controls, putting the craft into a wide circling pattern. “Now have the scanners tell the landing mechanism where that clearing is,” he told Dale.
“Okay, done.”
“It’s a shame we can’t arrive a little more openly,” said Zarkov. “Not that I’m especially vain, but I must say I do enjoy arriving at a spaceport and having the local officials rush out to greet us. I like parades, too. Except on some of the more backward planets where they still go in for open landcars. You have to watch out for flying eggs and fruit then. It’s amazing that even a scientist with my reputation in so many of the known planet systems occasionally gets a ripe tomato tossed at him.”
