Space Trap

by Juanita Coulson

  She debated the matter, listening to orders from M’Nae headquarters, then nodded. Ken went on, “If you hear anyone, hide. Get out of here. Probably, they won’t kill R.C.,” he added lamely. Trying to make the argument solid, he added, “After all, we’re human. But you’re in danger, Thayenta.”

  Ken stared into empty air, addressing Briv directly. “If I can contact my home planet, my people will come and capture Eads. They will take him and the other deathbringers away and leave this world to the M’Nae. Please don’t kill any of the colonists. Give me a chance.”

  There was no response. Thayenta was expressionless. If Briv was in agreement, he wasn’t sharing it with his little ambassador.

  Ken patted Thayenta’s shoulder, then ran out of the compartment. Briv had to keep that smoke screen a while longer to protect R.C. and Thayenta.

  He chased along corridors and clambered up glide tubes that no longer operated. All the mechanical and electronic gear was either non-functioning or gutted. Eads’ people had cannibalized what they could and left the rest for junk. But that shouldn’t apply to communications. Possibly Eads wouldn’t want to call for help, ever; but surely he would have kept radio equipment operating and repaired any damage. No one would deep-space without some insurance against unforeseen catastrophe.

  Ken reached the ship’s top deck and ran the full length. At the control section, he slowed his pace. There were no guards. Staring in numb horror, Ken stood in the door to Communications. There had been no cannibalizing of equipment, here: there was nothing to cannibalize.

  R.C. was wrong. Eads had broken completely with all the rules, even those that kept a man alive in deep space. The communications room was absolutely clean. Along the bulkheads, where consoles should have stood, there was nothing but a few faint outlines to show where apparatus had been. The stark cleanliness of the spots, the sealed circuitry fixtures all pointed to one conclusion. The ship never carried deep space com gear!

  This colony couldn’t call for help. No matter how bad things got, the colony was voiceless.

  There had been radar, a deep-space navigation tool, but after the crash, the colonists had ripped out its parts. But there was no way Ken could convert such equipment to warp frequencies anyway.

  Eads’ madness sliced at Ken like a knife. All of them were on their own, permanently severed from the communications umbilical connecting them with home.

  No reinforcements need be expected, now, or for months — years — to come.

  CHAPTER 10

  “I don’t believe it.” R.C.’s expression underlined his statement. “Nothing?”

  “It was stripped clean. They must have done that as soon as they stole the ship from the Proxima berth,” Ken said, reluctant to break the news and shatter R.C.’s hopes. As the pilot sat up, grim-faced, Ken grabbed his shoulders.

  He tried to soften the news with a smile, but that wasn’t necessary. Obviously R.C. was well aware of their position. “No, no, I’m fine,” he reassured Ken. “I really do feel much better — thanks to the girl. The pain is down to an occasional twinge, and she even did something to take the swelling in my lip away.”

  Thayenta knelt by Zachary’s side, looking pleased with herself. Ken acknowledged her skill with a nod and replied, “But a needler wound is still a serious injury.”

  The pilot tentatively wiggled his left foot. “It still hurts, but I’m sure I can walk. We got rid of the tourniquet and there’s no further bleeding. I tell you, Ken, if we can get the M’Nae together with some Terran doctors …”

  “Right.” Ken rummaged in a pocket and dug out a vial of old-style concentrates, dropping them into R.C.’s hand. “And here’s some icing for the cake. I found them up top. The colonists hadn’t cleaned out all the lockers.”

  Zachary flipped open the vial and hungrily popped several of the tablets. He made a sour face. “Old. They taste like they’ve been on board since this tub was commissioned.”

  “Probably have, but the nutritional value should be intact.” Ken went to the hatchway and peered out, checking for search parties. The view downhill toward the village was clear of purple mist now and sundown shadows raked across the valley. There was no one in sight.

  Zachary munched a few more tablets before offering some to Thayenta. She shook her head, amused. R.C. shrugged and said, “Yes, everything has to be ‘natural’ for Noland. Fits his philosophy. Naturally, he’d ignore these concentrates when his people stripped this ship. No communications, no force tools. He lectured on the natural life all those years, but none of us really thought he’d carry through on those harebrained ideas.”

  The little compartment was almost dark; only a small ray of light filtered in from rents in the bulkheads of adjoining compartments. R.C. propped himself up and tested his wounded leg again, thumping it lightly against the deck.

  Thayenta said nothing. She must have been following some of the conversation, but what? Her lithe form was an elfin shadow in the fading light. How much of what Thayenta saw and heard was Briv learning as well? And what decisions would the alien leader make as a result?

  “Did you tell Eads the truth?” Ken asked. “Is the Patrol likely to come hunting for him soon?”

  “No, we can’t expect much out of Central.” It was too dark to see his face now, but Ken heard the regret in R.C.’s voice. “Once they were sure Eads had escaped, not rebelled, the assignment became a low priority. I had my own options on a search pattern. I was to locate him, if possible, and report back.”

  “So they could cart him back to Earth and turn him over to the psych people, I suppose. Would they lock him up and pry at his brains?”

  “He’s dangerous, Ken.”

  “Yes, but if he could be salvaged —”

  “A brilliant mind is worse when it vectors off-center than a mediocre head is,” R.C. quoted from a famous medical journal. He sighed, again worked his leg against the deck.

  It was an eerie setting. They were in almost complete darkness, discussing the future of man and a complicated humanoid species, on the threshold of war.

  Ken stared into the blackness. “Thayenta, why did our ship burn, and Ead’s ship survive? He was the death bringer, not us.”

  She cocked her head to one side. In the faint light from the corridor Ken saw reflected iridescence out of the dark, two rainbow-colored circles: Thayenta’s eyes, glowing. “I … we did not know he was the death bringer. Not at first.”

  Ken was entranced by her catlike gaze, but he forced himself back on course. “I see. And by the time we landed, you had decided that all humans were death bringers. So thanks to what Eads had done to your ambassador, we were attacked.”

  “It can’t go any further,” R.C. growled. “We’ve got to stop this insane collision.”

  Bitterly, Ken asked, “How? We have two needlers and a couple of days’ supply of concentrates. That’s our arsenal and food supply. Eads has a colony full of supplies. As for Briv …” He paused, thinking over the meager information they had collected on the M’Nae. “Briv has his telepathy, and something called a Gera-ana … ”

  Thayenta sucked in her breath, her cat’s eyes glittering.

  He had to get through to her. She was the key, the only link the Surveymen had. “You saved us, Thayenta. Briv could have wiped us out, but you saved us. You tried to warn me away, out in space. Then you pleaded our case when we crashed. Help us now. We’ve got to make Briv understand. There can’t be war between M’Nae and humans. Even if the M’Nae win, a lot of them may die.”

  “Gera-ana,” Thayenta repeated, slowly.

  Ken fed M’Nae pronouncements back at her. “You said: we came here with the Gera-ana. I don’t know if that means the big prism or the black area beyond the stream or the purple mist. But it’s plainly something very important to the M’Nae. You know.”

  Ken had made several blind stabs, but Thayenta reacted as if he had laid bare the M’Nae’s most closely guarded secrets. She gulped and said, “Briv — Vrytan. Very powerful. A wal
ker between … places. He can be hard. Can break through shields if he desires.”

  “He’d have to be strong,” R.C. mused. “It makes sense. The M’Nae came here from another world, and Briv’s their leader. He’d have to be able to cope with anything that might crop up — even an encounter with an alien species.”

  “The pioneer breed.” Ken smiled. It didn’t make any difference that R.C. couldn’t see him. “Just like a couple of men named Zachary and Eads. You know, if I think of Briv in that light, I just might be able to understand him and reason with him.”

  “Are you thinking of taking command?” R.C. asked. And after a short silence, he said firmly, “Agreed. You’ll have to, Ken. This leg is better, but not good enough for any hard travelling. If anyone gets back to the M’Nae and settles this thing, it’ll have to be you.”

  Ken argued, “If they come to the ship —”

  “I can handle it.” That sounded like the gruff and familiar R.C. Zachary, undaunted by a leg wound and a space wreck. “I’ve got a needler. And I cut my spaceman’s teeth on Class-D cargo ships. I know this hulk inside out.”

  “She’s dead,” Ken warned. “No power, no elevators operational.”

  “I’m more at home in her than anyone out in that village, except Noland, and he’s not in his right mind.” R.C. hesitated, then said, “Go on, Ken. It’s our best chance. I’ve got a stomach full of concentrates, and thanks to the lady, my leg feels better than it ought to. You go to the mountain, since it won’t come to us.”

  R.C. was right. Ken was forced to agree that the choice was logical. “Are you sure?” he asked, loathe to leave the injured pilot.

  “Go on,” and R.C. slapped out at Ken, lightly striking the younger man’s arm. “You’ve got a war to stop.”

  Ken stood up and heard — no, felt — Thayenta get to her feet. “I go, too,” she said. “You must have guide to … to M’Nae. To the Gera-ana.” She was reading Ken’s mind, again, understanding his needs before he asked. He didn’t resent her telepathic gifts so much any more. In fact, Ken began to revel in them. She was his ace in the hole, one Noland Eads couldn’t hope to match.

  “I would appreciate your help — one more time.” Small fingers slid into his hand, warm flesh pressing his palm, a sweet fragrance filling the little compartment. This was the alien’s response, not a scent of fear, but of trust.

  “Good luck.” In the dark, Ken and R.C. shook hands briefly. Both men knew the risks and accepted their share of them.

  Towing Thayenta, Ken fumbled his way out into the dark corridor. The woman stumbled and gasped with annoyance, then steered him away from colliding with a bulkhead projection. “Not quite the blind leading the blind,” Ken chuckled.

  “Which way are we going?” Thayenta inquired via the translator.

  Ken debated, then said, “Up high in the ship, toward the side where the sun sets. You can see in the dark, and I know the general construction of this ship; between the two of us we’ll manage.”

  He was right. They teamed up with remarkable ease. Thayenta wasn’t knowledgeable about compartment order or the location of ascent tubes, but she saw perfectly in the stygian guts of the cargo craft. Their progress was swifter than Ken had dared to hope. Occasionally he murmured, “There should be a corridor to the right about here,” and felt a confirming tug on his hand by Thayenta.

  *

  Finally, they emerged on a level-two deck. Sifting through gaps in the hull, the last rays of daylight glimmered. Ken dug into his memories of Class-D specs. “Steering computers section. This’ll do. There must be an access for antenna maintenance here.” The inner hatch was sprung from the crash. Now that his eyes served him once more, Ken pulled Thayenta along, hurrying across a suit locker. The suits were gone. The colonists must have taken them for the fabric. But the helmets still hung from their hooks. Several had been smashed in the wreck. They dangled facelessly, like skulls from the Terran technology that Eads and his people wanted to abandon.

  Hydraulics were dead, so Ken had to crank the outer hatch manually: there was no sucking sigh as the last milliliters of oxygen rushed out into vacuum. But the air outside was fresher than the stale atmosphere in the dead ship.

  Ken peered from the hatch warily, but there was no sign of search parties. He had guessed well, choosing the starboard side and this level. A couple of meters below him the bulge of the ship’s hull rested snugly against bare earth. The last rays of the setting sun sparked a golden radiance across the crest of the hill five meters above Ken’s vantage point.

  “Wait,” he said, before stepping off the airlock’s lip. He landed on all fours in the soft earth. Conveniently, the crash had jammed and loosened the soil, rendering it as pliable as sponge. He held up his arms and silently ordered Thayenta to jump. Without hesitation, she did.

  Ken caught her easily, and held her a few moments longer than necessary. Sometime, there would be time to take things slowly. There were so many things he wanted to know about her.

  In the twilight her features were ethereal, more lovely than ever, the bruise on her cheek almost unnoticeable. Her nose and brow wrinkled charmingly as she puzzled over his behavior.

  They crept along the slope, heading for the valley’s back wall. For part of the way they went on hands and knees. Dew was forming on the purple grass, making footing tricky and slippery.

  Ken was alert, watching for guards. It was impossible to predict where Noland Eads might have posted them, but perhaps it hadn’t seemed necessary to watch the village’s back door. Eads figured the massive wreck of the ship was protection enough against invasion from that direction.

  The reverse was true. From this angle the ship’s bulk shielded them from any lookouts in the village. And the valley’s back wall was empty, unguarded. Ken helped Thayenta up the last meter or so of slope and they ducked under the shelter of a forest of pink willows.

  The dying sun hung on the horizon for a last few seconds. Thayenta reached up to some low branches. To Ken’s wide-eyed astonishment, the leaves flowed from the dangling limbs, became fabric. They twined and blended with the woman’s wisp of clothing, replenishing the “cloth” she had donated as blankets and bandage for R.C.

  “That’s quite a little dress factory you’ve got there,” Ken said admiringly.

  Twilight descended, wrapping them in gray and violet. Light from NE 592’s three moons dappled through the willow leaves, drenching the scene with multi-shadowed coolness, a beautiful, unreal world. Thayenta seemed to fit into it very well.

  “I … I was cold,” Thayenta said, apparently digesting Ken’s comment.

  “Whatever keeps you comfortable. We’ve got a long way to go tonight,” Ken assured her softly. “I’m counting on you to steer that raft back upstream. Can you?”

  A pause while her translator converted Terran words to M’Nae. But when Thayenta replied she scorned the device, speaking directly to Ken, copying his word. “I can.”

  “Good girl. Let’s go.” They started eastward, meandering through the lunar light, in and out of friendly, concealing willow trees. Ken felt oddly at one with nature, protected by the planet itself.

  He almost persuaded himself he was on a lovers’ stroll through a fantasy land. The grass was slightly damp, the air heavy and moist and perfumed with night flowers. Nocturnal insects and animals wakened and began a chirping chorus all about the two fugitives. It was hard to concentrate, in such a pleasant environment, hard to remember what must be done, the dangers he faced.

  If he were out orbiting NE 592 in a Survey ship, it would all be cut and dried. There’d be no night sounds or scents, none of this intoxicating beauty. He would think in purely scientific terms: the terminator, the surface features, the spectroanalysis. Tape it and file it for reference.

  But here, Ken was intensely alive, more aware of his senses than he had ever been before. Even facing possible death could not mask his heightened awareness of the alien loveliness around him and the nearness of Thayenta.

&nbs
p; “If you get tired —” he started to say.

  “I go. Thayenta go okay.” She didn’t use the translator, so he got the full effect of her irritation.

  “Thayenta does indeed go okay,” Ken agreed.

  If she was wearied by all this heavy physical activity, she did not admit it. Her hand was firm on his, guiding Ken around fallen trees and marshy ground, under low hanging limbs. Now and then he caught a glimpse of moving lights to the left, down in the valley: search parties, still rummaging about.

  Ken telepathically relayed instructions and Thayenta steered a wide course clear of the falls and the waterwheel. They cut across the circle. Ken drew maps in his head and let the alien woman pick his brain, enjoying the silent exchange, beginning to delight in the easy flow of information. He wordlessly explained his reasoning. Best to come out of the woods well above the rapids, right at the place where they had beached the raft. That way they could avoid —

  There was a guard.

  Ken pulled Thayenta down beside him in the lush grass and detritus of leaves dropped by willows. Fortunately they hadn’t yet emerged from the woods. He pointed, winging his thoughts to that figure a few centimeters from his own. Her response came back. Yes. I understand.

  Staying under the concealing droop of willow limbs along the bank of the stream, they crept upstream. Ken looked back to check their position. There was just one guard there, on the opposite bank, right where the raft was.

  Frustrating! He hadn’t counted on Eads reaching out that far to trap the fugitives. Okay. It would mean only a slight delay, if it was handled correctly.

  They had come far enough. Ken gingerly stepped into the water, making as little splash as he could. The night was muggy, and the stream was comfortably cool. Thayenta was right behind him, unmindful of her clothes. Well, if she could make fresh dresses out of willow leaves any time she chose, he supposed she needn’t trouble about a little dampness spoiling an outfit.

  The current was sluggish here, well above the rapids. Ken waded slowly, glancing back at Thayenta frequently. The water was up to her waist, but she was earnestly following him to the opposite bank.