by Hal Annas
“I warned you,” Aleta said.
But what troubled Aline was not the strategy of the Infinio Curl. In those last seconds, before the explosion, her sharp young eyes had seen something the others may have missed. She was almost certain the markings on the ship that had broken in two were those that Moxol wore on his armor.
For a moment her blue eyes filled with mist, then she put the thought aside and clutched at her mother’s arm.
“We must do something,” she said. “We mustn’t let Rahn Buskner kill these men.”
“Rahn Buskner!”
“Rahn Buskner!”
“Rahn Buskner!”
The three officers repeated the dread name with something like awe in their voices. They looked from one to another. They studied Aline and Aleta. One pointed significantly.
“That must be the notorious Winrow girl,” he said. “Wanted on Earth for treason. She vanished eighteen years ago.”
Aleta’s scorn was bitter.
“And this could be her daughter. She was with child at the time.”
Aline shrank back, confused emotions torturing her.
“It all ties in,” another said. “Rahn Buskner. Aleta Winrow. So we’ve finally found their hideout. This may solve our problem. Hostages.”
The thought failed to move Aline other than to a sense of outrage. But it was apparent that Aleta was frightened.
“Do you realize,” Aleta said earnestly, “Rahn Buskner would burn the surface of this planet, and us with it, rather than let you take us?”
“She’s right,” the greybeard said. “You youngsters haven’t fought Novakkans as long as I. We were fools to fire on their ships. More fools to think of molesting their women. We might have got off with ransoms.”
The officer in command lifted his chin. “We represent Earth and its colonies,” he said. “The whole Earth fleet is behind us. If we allow Novakkans to dominate our actions we are no better than this traitor.” He pointed at Aleta.
“Having the Earth fleet behind us,” the graybeard reminded him, “didn’t keep our forces from being cut in two in the spacelane. And may I repeat that we’re sitting and enemy ships are going into the Infinio Curl. We’d better strike our flag and talk terms if we can get them.”
“This is a matter for the commanding officer. Take these women out to the ship.”
Aline and her mother were herded out to the ship. She didn’t see Chris Darby, but saw men working frantically, clearing out debris and making preparations for launching. They waited in the corridor until the commander admitted them to the chartroom.
He listened patiently to the officers, then said, “The idea of taking hostages is unthinkable. We are civilized men, not barbarians. But if there is sufficient evidence to indicate the older woman is or has been a traitor, our course is clear. We must deliver her to proper authorities.” The greybeard stepped forward impatiently. “If we scatter across the countryside,” he said, “some of us may live. We don’t have much time.”
“He’s alluding to a typical Novakkan maneuver,” another explained. “He expects the Novakkan ships to bob above the horizon with all guns blazing.”
The intercom crackled into life: “Ships just out of range on three sides. Appear to be reconnoitering. Our instruments indicate they are heavily armed with both atomics and photonics. The debris of the ship we hit is still falling. Two lifeships put out from it. Engineers report will be ready for launching within hour.”
“Stand by,” the commander ordered, then: “Check the files and if this woman is a traitor detain her. Remove the other one. Clear for action.”
CHAPTER THREE
THE next hour was a nightmare to Aline. Repairs had not been completed on the ship and the corridors were littered. Men moved in confusion, working desperately. Only the older officers seemed undisturbed and their actions seemed governed by a set of regulations.
Her mother was led to another room. She followed. Somebody tried to separate them, to press her along to the airlock and outside, but other orders came and she was forgotten.
It was apparent that the men were striving to get the ship aloft. To them it meant survival. Nothing made them feel more helpless than to be sitting with raiders swarming about them.
Aleta grew more bitter. “Fools!” she said scornfully. “To think they can get off the planet with Rahn Buskner out there!”
They could only wait.
An officer nervously switched on a visual. On it they could see images of the activities outside. Most of the debris had been cleared away. The last man was moved inside the ship, the airlocks closed.
The ship shuddered as the engineers tested their reactors. Bells rang. Orders crackled over the intercom.
Outside, the night was pale with starlight, quiet, peaceful. No sound came from the castle, from the surrounding villages. But Aline knew that behind each portal Unorians shivered.
The ship shuddered, lurched. The final test checked. The order sounded, “Take her up.”
On the visual Aline saw tiny radiant dots. They were far away, so far that the ship’s gunnery officers were not interested. The thought brought tears to her eyes. Rahn Buskner was, after all, letting them take her and her mother. Only one thought softened the sense of loss that came with the tremoring belief that she might never again see Castle du David and the scenes of her childhood where she had spent so many happy hours with Moxol and Unorian children. The thought that cast a glow of unreality over everything else was the knowledge that Chris Darby was on this ship.
The gravity shifted. The ship labored to lift itself from the planet, to begin the long climb out of its grip.
The castle began receding.
And then on the visual she saw something bob above the horizon. It was there for a moment only, and in that moment it glowed as a nova. Far off to the left the same thing was repeated, and again to the right.
The ship rocked, bounced, seemed to swap ends. Light flashed all around it, blotted out the view on the visual.
A still heavier jolt followed. She was thrown from her feet, dazed. And then the shaking stopped.
Voices roared in her ears. “Zero forward batteries. Clear the damage below. Stand by your guns.”
“Fools!” Aleta repeated. “They never learn.”
“What happened?” Aline asked.
“These Earthling fools are trying to get a crippled ship off the planet with Rahn Buskner’s raiders out there?”
“Will they destroy the ship?”
“Not if they can avoid it. Novakkans destroy ships only when they can’t capture. This one is sitting on their own planet.”
“I thought it had got off.”
“It tried, got started, then the raiders smashed its tubes. They could’ve burned it to a cinder, but the fool Earthlings won’t believe it.”
The visual no longer worked. Aline lost sight of what was happening on the horizon, but when she glanced out a port she saw, in golden starlight, something that made her heart leap into her throat. It was the tall figures, the colorful skirts, the white hair of Novakkans. They were swarming toward both ship and castle, spreading across the grounds.
Voices sounded in the corridors. Men moved wildly, aimlessly. Somebody passed on the information that the guns had been knocked out. Nothing but hand weapons remained.
Then it dawned over Aline that Chris Darby was somewhere in that mob of confusion and that his life was in danger.
She started toward the corridor, but her mother’s hand closed on her shoulder, flung her back.
“The killing will begin in just a moment,” her mother hissed. “Stay back.”
Pale and quivering, Aline asked, “What does it mean?”
“The raiders are coming in. They’re ripping the locks apart now. Stay back. In a corner. Under a table. Anywhere.”
Aline was held helpless behind her mother. She was astonished at the strength in the older woman’s hands and body. Her actions and decisions were positive like a man’s. Aline got the
impression that if danger entered here her mother would fight as grimly as any man.
Something of this determination entered her own soul. She had no intention of cowering behind her mother while the raiders killed Chris. And this, she gathered, was what was going to happen.
The Novakkans would come in killing. Her mother had made that clear. And she herself had always been a little terrified in their presence.
Crashing and tearing sounds grated through the ship, then shrieks. And finally came the stench of burned flesh.
Wrenching herself free, Aline plunged toward the doorway. She saw a tangle of men, arms upraised, long knives descending. Towering above them, their green-tinged features horrible in their blood lust, were the Novakkans.
Something struck her on the head The floor seemed to come up to meet her. Dimly she heard a feminine scream, was aware of a tangle of legs, of shaking and thundering and cursing, and the sickening smell of blood.
And then it all turned into a dream and she lay in her own bed. Her head and body ached. She tried to turn, discovered that she was bruised all over.
Voices sounded nearby. One of them belonged to Rahn Buskner.
“Search every inch of the planet,” he said. “Use every float. Don’t stop until you can bring me Moxol or his body.”
A softer voice said “Torturing the prisoners won’t bring Moxol back. Without water they’ll die staked out under the sun. Order your men to lock them in the storage rooms.”
The meaning was not clear, but Aline was aware that it was daylight, high noon. Memory cleared slowly. Then it all came back, and without another thought for her bruises she leaped out of bed.
It was some moments before she could get into garments and into the big high-ceilinged hall. There she was seized by her mother who, though showing strain, was again calm and in command of the situation.
“Don’t go out,” Aleta ordered, “until they’ve moved those men out of the sun. It can only bring you nightmares.”
But Chris Darby was out there somewhere, if he still lived. She had no intention of sparing herself while he suffered. She snatched away from her mother, ran to the court and on out to the lawns.
The lawns were green and lush. Hardly a sign of their recent occupancy by injured remained. Nothing was in sight to give her qualms.
But atop a distant rise Novakkans squatted. They were Rahn Buskner’s men. She had seen them hundreds of times. Their own dwellings were in the villages and about the countryside. She had always been just a little afraid of them, but never shown it. She had no intention of doing so now.
Hurrying, she continued on to the rise. As she approached she heard groans. Her knees trembled. She drove herself on. The Novakkans twisted, stared idly, made no other move.
At the top of the rise her heart stopped beating.
Staked to the ground, their faces to the burning sun, were scores of naked Earthmen. Their bodies were already beet red. Their tongues hung out. They begged for water.
Half-choking, nearly blind with tears, Aline ran down among them. No one moved to stop her. And when she thought she would faint, when she thought she could not move her trembling legs another step, she saw him. Chris Darby.
His broken arm was twisted into a grotesque position and shackled. The unhealed burns on his body were open and running. He had fresh wounds and his fine strong features looked as if they had been clubbed again and again.
Dropping beside him with a sob, she made an effort to cover his body with hers, to protect it from the pitiless sun. He groaned, then recognized her, begged her to go away.
Ignoring his pleas, she tore off her skirt and placed it over him. She cast about desperately for something with which to break the shackle.
Somebody croaked hoarsely, “Water.”
The word acted as a spur. While Novakkan eyes followed her, she ran, almost nude, to the castle, on back through the servants’ quarters, and didn’t stop until she found a plastic container that would hold gallons.
With water sloshing out of the container, she again ran, stumbling, to the rise and down among the Earthmen. She never stopped for breath until she reached Chris Darby.
The cries and groans about her suddenly quieted, and when she looked up she saw Rahn Buskner and her mother.
Her mother said, “She can’t bear suffering. You’ll have to move these men into the storage rooms before she becomes demented.”
Rahn Buskner growled an order and Novakkans came hurrying.
Aline watched the shackles removed from Chris Darby’s limbs and neck. She helped him to his feet. She supported him as he tottered back toward the castle. She shrieked to servants to bring her medicants, and she attended his injuries while the storage rooms were being opened and cleared.
At just what moment she became conscious of her nudity, and his, she hardly knew. It may have been as his eyes cleared and strength flowed back into his body.
Aware that the eyes of other Earthmen, being prodded back to the castle, were on her, she squeezed Darby’s good hand one more time and ran inside and to her own rooms.
Her undergarments were stained with blood and watery fluid from burns. She skinned out of them and entered the great marble pool in the sun room. But she didn’t dally.
In fresh clothes she hurried to the grounds. The prisoners were no longer there. They had been herded into the storage rooms, she knew.
The storage rooms were an acre of subterranean vaults. On Earth they would’ve been called dungeons when put to their present use.
She went down the winding stone steps into the shadowy dimness, met Novakkans coming up. They eyed her unemotionally, said nothing, made no move to stop her.
Though they knew she was not a Novakkan, they had long ago accepted her as Rahn Buskner’s daughter, as Moxol’s sister. No one dared interfere with Rahn Buskner’s movements. So also Moxol, even when he was a child. And so now Aline. No Novakkan, under Rahn Buskner’s command, would dare order her to stay out of the lower corridors.
In semi-darkness she found the big plastic door, the slot through which food could be passed. She called Chris Darby.
They talked. He assured her that he was all right and begged her not to take any further risks.
“But,” he said, “if you can, without endangering yourself, find out what is to be done with us.”
She reached a hand in to him, felt his lips touch first the back, then the palm.
“I’ll find out,” she promised. “And somehow I’ll get you out of this.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“WHAT,” she asked her mother in her private chamber “will Rahn Buskner do with those men?”
Her mother’s voice was low and tense: “If he doesn’t find Moxol, I’m afraid to even think of what will happen.” She pressed a handkerchief to her eyes. “Reports are coming in every hour. They’ve found one wrecked lifeship. There were no survivors.”
Aline realized suddenly that she hadn’t given much thought to her half-brother. Things had happened so fast and there was so much confusion around her that other things seemed of less import. The thought that Moxol might be dead sent a chill through her.
In childhood they had been close. When she was nearly fourteen, and he was twelve, he had gone with his father into space. She didn’t think of it then as a raid.
She remembered how she had looked forward to his return and to listening to the tales he would tell of planets of strange color and beauties and music that would make you dream.
But when he returned he had changed, grown older. Even her mother stopped treating him as a child. From then on the childhood camaraderie that had been theirs was gone. He was strangely quiet, reserved, thoughtful.
He would never be as big as his giant of a father. At sixteen he was little more than six feet tall, slim, finely molded. Unlike the true Novakkan’s, his hair was yellow, eyes reddish brown, and his skin olive in hue.
Aline had once heard her mother say, proudly, “He’s quick as an Earthman, shrewd as an Eg, and
fearless as a Novakkan.
His strength was abnormal for his size. Aline had seen him wrestle with hardbitten raiders fourteen inches taller, who outweighed him by more than a hundred pounds. Some could master him at fifteen. She doubted if many could now. That is, if he was still alive.
Except for some chance remark, such as “That box we were in under Arcadia was the hottest—” he never spoke of his adventures. Nor did he make himself prominent at the feasts when the ships returned from long months of raiding as was his due, being the son of Rahn Buskner. He sat quietly and sometimes Walked off alone.
In her own newfound knowledge of„ the ways of men and women, Aline wondered if he had fallen in love with some sultry olive-skinned princess whose palace he had spared because of her beauty. She wondered if, on his raiding jaunts, he passed close to that imaginary planet and held the Novakkans in check from the rich spoils because he had marked a special treasure there for himself.
These fanciful thoughts helped her to bear the uncertainty. But they didn’t erase the anguish of the knowledge that Chris Darby was imprisoned beneath her feet.
Few Novakkans remained on the grounds. Rahn Buskner had taken charge of the search for Moxol and was away.
She could come and go as she pleased, and she carried many fine things to eat to the storage rooms.
Earthlings crowded round the slot and she had little opportunity to talk with Darby alone. Others were not so solicitous about her endangering herself and suggested over and over again that she try to get them out.
The thought had occurred to her, but it devolved solely around Darby. She would take any risk for him, and at the first opportunity she whispered a message.
“My mother has keys to every room in the castle,” she said. “Rahn Buskner is often away for months. When he goes away I’ll get the keys and let you out.”
Darby shook his head sadly. “Hell dispose of us someway before then.”
