They issued forth from the skimmer, and a small land car, supported by air cushions, came skittering up.
“Take us to the ad building,” DeRudder said to the enlisted man behind the controls.
“Yes, sir, Cornet.” The other saluted.
John followed the Sidonian into the back of the vehicle and surreptitiously held on, as they zoomed off.
The ad building, as DeRudder had called it, was to the far side of the field. There was an air of ultraefficiency about it never witnessed by the Aberdeen clannsman before. Caledonians were on the philosophical side when it came to even such matters as obeying sagamores and caciques during their raids. Obedience to a raid chief was a voluntary thing, not truly a requirement.
They left their vehicle, and John followed DeRudder into a large entrance. Two guards at the door snapped to attention, presenting their hand weapons in a salute. The cornet flipped them a semi-salute in return and strode on, unspeaking. John looked at them from the corner of his eye. Little men, by Caledonian standards, as all these Sidonians were little men; few indeed were as much as six and a half feet tall. However although he didn’t know the old saying of another frontier age, he was aware of the truth of it. “All men are created equal—Sam’l Colt made “em that way.” He would hate to see what these two could do to a raiding party, with their weapons, from a distance of half a mile or more.
Samuel DeRudder came up before a desk. The man behind it looked up, startled, and then began to scramble to his feet to salute.
DeRudder said, “At ease, Ensign.”
“Cornet DeRudder! We had given you up for lost. The detachment at—”
“I know, I know. I was the sole survivor. Clannsmen of the Loch Confederation took me prisoner.”
“You’re lucky to be alive, sir!” The ensign sank back into his chair.
DeRudder said, “Any developments since I’ve been gone?”
“Not especially.” The ensign ran a hand back through his hair, as though in despair. “Two more skimmers banged up. Both got back, though. A patrol was wiped out up in the hills where those Highland Confederation clannsmen are. It’s evidently worse up there than here, sir. Leading a patrol through those mist shrouded hills full of murderous seven foot howling barbarians is like trying to collect crocodiles in the Amazon Park by diving into the river and swimming after them. And air transport’s no good either. Those Highlanders are crack shots, and sitting in all those mist covered hills, in caves and such, where the detectors won’t spot them. Come down below the mist to take a look, and what do you know? You’re dead.”
Cornet DeRudder wasn’t amused. “Got any answers, soldier?”
“No, sir. I sure haven’t. Trying to pacify this wild bunch of cattle rustling, horse stealing, murderous pillagers is more of a job than we ever thought it was going to be. We thought it was kind of a police action. We raid them if they gave us any trouble. But that’s their favorite occupation raiding and being raided. It’s like saying, “Junior if you take any more of that cake, I’m going to make you eat a whole dish of ice cream.’ ”
The ensign could evidently see that the comet still wasn’t amused. He said, “Who’s this, sir?” He pulled a report blank toward him.
“John Hawk. A Caledonian from the former town of Aberdeen. He’s come to take a job with the company.”
The ensign frowned unhappily, taking in the looming former clannsman and war cacique.
I vouch for him,” DeRudder said impatiently. Yes, sir. It’s just that we’re kind of busy. Won’t be able to process him for several days.”
“I’ll take him into my quarters. He’s a cut above the ordinary, Ensign.”
“Yes, sir.” The ensign made some marks on the report. “Got it, sir.”
“And, Ensign, see to it that a new ID credit card is cut for me and sent up to my quarters. All my things were taken, of course. My ID number is M-16A-15.643.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll do that immediately.”
John followed the other back through the entry. DeRudder waved a hand, summoning another of the small land cars. It came swooping up to them, and they climbed in.
As they progressed through the streets of New Sidon City, John again tried to hide the wide eyed element he was projecting. He had never seen so large a town; he had never seen such numbers of people; nor had he ever witnessed such a scurrying, such an amount of construction, such obvious purpose in what on the surface would have seemed utter confusion. A Caledonian town was on the slow moving side, even during the yearly festival of the Dail. DeRudder hid his amusement.
They darted down a side street and shortly to an apartment house. It was, John decided, at least the size of a longhouse on the ground floor alone. But then it towered some ten stories, as though one longhouse had been stacked atop another. For the moment, he could see no advantage to such an arrangement, for surely the aged and the very young would have difficulties climbing such a height.
He was glad he hadn’t said anything to that extent to DeRudder, since all was explained when they entered the gravity lift and were whisked upward. It had taken considerable courage for John to step into the shaft after the Sidonian, nor did he object when the other took his arm to steady him. There was no shame in not knowing how to conduct oneself in situations through which one had never been before.
The cornet’s apartments were on the top floor and so situated as to dominate the city. It came to John that this man must rank high among the chiefs of the Sidonians. As high, perhaps, as John had once ranked in the Loch Confederation.
DeRudder led him into what was obviously a living room, though furnished and decorated in a manner completely foreign to the Caledonian. He walked over to a piece of furniture set into the wall and said over his shoulder, “A drink? I suspect we could both use one.”
John was not particularly a drinker, but a good many things had happened to him within the past twenty-four hours. He said, “You have, perhaps, uisgebeatha?”
DeRudder said, “I have a descendent of your national beverage. We call it whiskey.” He selected a bottle from (he shelves, brought forth two glasses and poured. He handed one of them to John.
To the Caledonian warrior’s amazement, the contents were cool, although the surface of the glass seemed at room temperature.
“You want water or anything with that?” DeRudder said. John shook his head. “We have a saying in Aberdeen, that there is already too much water in uisgebeatha.”
DeRudder grunted. “It’s a saying that seems to have spread about a considerable portion of the galaxy, whatever the beverage involved.” He held his glass up. “To your successful adaptation to New Sidon City, John of the Hawks.”
John held his own glass up, but his words were bitter. “You forget that I am no longer John of the Hawks, but a clannless one.” However, he tossed the drink back.
He was prepared to snort and cough his throat clear, but then his eyes widened. He stared down into the glass. “It is uisgebeatha, without doubt,” he said. “But such uisgebeatha!”
DeRudder poured him another slug. “I told you that civilization has its advantages when it comes to material things. Among them, nip that can be appreciated and drunk for pleasure rather than just to get binged.”
He led the way into what was obviously, even to the Caledonian, a bedroom.
“You can stay here until you’re assigned quarters of your own. Over there’s the bathroom.” He made a grimace. “You could use a bath, if you don’t mind my saying so.” He looked at John with mild suspicion. “You wouldn’t have lice, would you?”
“Lice?”
“Or this planet’s equivalent. Little bugs that particularly get into your hair.”
“No,” John said. “Though it has been more difficult to maintain body cleanliness since you flamed us out of Aberdeen.
DeRudder looked at him. “I was opposed to that, John. Not that I wouldn’t have been in favor had I thought it would end the continual raids. However, I don’t believe you bring b
arbarians to heel by bombing their towns.”
“What is a barbarian?”
“I doubt if you’ll understand. It’s an ethnic period in man’s social evolution. You have savagery, barbarism, eventually, ah, civilization. All three periods are subdivided.”
“And what period is this city of New Sidon at, Samuel of the DeRudders?”
“That’s a good question. Come on in here, and I’ll show you how to work the plumbing. As I recall, you have running water and somewhat primitive plumbing in your long-houses, but not bathtubs, refreshers, or even showers, as we know them.” DeRudder hesitated and there was a wry element in his voice again. “New Sidon? I suppose you could say she’s at an early period of civilization, considering socioeconomic system and such.”
In the bath, DeRudder demonstrated hot water, cold water, needle sprays, soap and towels. John was astounded. He asked various questions, such as where the hot water was heated, where the refuse went, and finally just what soap was.
“I’d forgotten you didn’t have soap,” DeRudder muttered. “One simply presupposes soap. How in the world did your culture lose it, after the Inverness Ark crashed?”
“I don’t know,” John said defensively. “Evidently, we lost many things during the misty years that followed.”
“All right,” DeRudder said. “You’re on your own. I’ll get you some other clothes.”
“What is wrong with my clothing?”
“It’s dirty, among other things. Besides, this is New Sidon City, not Aberdeen. If you went around in those kilts, you’d stand out like a walrus in a goldfish bowl.”
“What’s a walrus and a goldfish bowl?”
“Never mind. I’ll be in the other room.”
John experimented with the bathing facilities. He hated to admit that they fascinated him as well as refreshed him beyond any point he could ever remember. There were many aspects to this way of life of the men from Beyond.
In the next room, he could hear Cornet DeRudder on some sort of communication device. The other was saying, “I want you to send up several outfits to try on a Caledonian. He’s about average size, perhaps a little bigger, say seven feet two, give or take an inch. No, he has no insignia yet. Hasn’t been processed. Just send standard United Mining coveralls.”
The voice broke off and after a few minutes spoke again. “Cornet Samuel DeRudder reporting.” The language then deteriorated into officialese that John couldn’t follow.
When he emerged from the bath, he found several outfits laid out on his bed. He scowled in distaste. Never in his life had he worn other than kilts, shirt and jerkin. Nor did the outfits that the men from Beyond clothed themselves in seem either meet or comfortable.
DeRudder called from the living room, “Could you hurry, John? I have to leave.”
The coveralls weren’t hard to figure out. John found the outfit that fitted him best and climbed into it. He wondered, a bit narrow eyed, what would happen to his field worker’s kilts. Possibly his benefactor, if such DeRudder could be thought, would dispose of them in some manner. For a moment, he hesitated.
In the living room, the other was seated in a chair, another drink in hand. He looked at the giant of a man thoughtfully. “Nobody’d ever take you for a Sidonian,” he in uttered.
There seemed no particular answer to that. DeRudder said suddenly, “John, I’m going to warn you. No tricks.”
“Tricks?”
“You’re unarmed and don’t know the town. There are police all over it. They are armed, and they keep track of Caledonians, particularly Caledonians whose clothes indicate that they aren’t long in town.”
John said bitterly, “I am as though in a different world, and you are the only person I know in it. I don’t even understand how to leave the building, did I wish to leave. What kind of trick did you expect of me, Samuel of the DeRudders?”
“Sam DeRudder,” the other sighed. “And you’re simply John Hawk, as of arrival in New Sidon. Come on into the dining-kitchenette and I’ll show you how to manipulate the autochef.”
As John followed him, he looked at the smaller and older man from the corner of his eye. “Why do you do all this, -Samuel… Sam DeRudder?”
DeRudder said, “I don’t know. Perhaps because as I told you, we need good men if we’re ever going to develop Caledonia. You’re a good man.”
Chapter Five
Rudder gave his new guest a tour of the apartment, finally winding up back in the living room.
He indicated a desklike piece of furniture upon which was situated a blank screen. “This is a standard, universal communicator,” he said, sitting down before the screen. “Its workings are simple enough; however, you won’t be using it, at least for a time, except for reading. This switch connects you to New Sidon’s library.”
For the next ten minutes, DeRudder demonstrated to the fascinated Caledonian how to utilize the library banks.
Finally, his voice holding a trace of awe, John said, “What else will this box from Beyond do?”
The other chuckled. “Well, as I say, it’s a universal communicator. It’s a combination videophone—”
“What is a videophone?”
DeRudder told him, keeping impatience from his voice.
In seeming disbelief, John said, “You mean, with this you can talk to and be seen by anyone on all Caledonia?”
“Not exactly,” Sam DeRudder said wryly. “The other chap would have to have one too. Then you could talk to him simply by dialing his number. You see, here is the number of this communicator. If anyone dials it, then a summons rings and I answer. If I am not here, the message is taped and I play it back when I return.”
“But anywhere on all Caledonia? Any distance? With no trouble whatsoever?”
DeRudder chuckled again. He said, “Well, there is one small necessity. If your call is made anywhere outside New Sidon, you’d better have a valid ID credit card.”
“What is a valid ID credit card?”
DeRudder brought a wallet from his tunic and flicked it open. “Here’s my new one. Your friends back at the Dail confiscated my original… precious lot of good it will do them. At any rate, in ordering anything that involves credit exchange, it is necessary to put your credit card in this slot. The cost of the product or service is then deducted from your credit account.”
John shook his head. “Perhaps I will understand later. Will it be necessary for me to have such a card?”
DeRudder put his wallet away. “Yes, of course. As soon as you have been found employment, you will be issued a restricted card. It is impossible to survive without one, under ordinary circumstances. So long as you live here with me, of course, I will handle all matters pertaining to your expenditures.”
“What is a restricted credit card?”
DeRudder took a breath and looked up at the chronometer on the wall. “The kind issued to Caledonians.”
John looked at him. “Caledonians are in New Sidon what clannless ones are in one of our towns. Is it not so?”
DeRudder was uncomfortable. He came to his feet. “Not exactly, John. However, there is such a thing as security. I am a cornet in the Sidon armed forces. As such, I have access to information and resources available not even to lesser ranking Sidonians. And now, I’m going to have to leave you temporarily. Make yourself at home. Eat and drink what you will. I suggest you spend your time at the library banks, familiarizing yourself with the layout of the town and with a few of the”—he made a wry face—“banns that exist under the Canons of the League of Planets.”
John was slightly taken aback. “Then you, too, have banns?”
The other said dryly, “Believe me, John, every society I have ever heard of has had banns of one type or another. Some of them can get on the far-out side.”
He made his way to the door, saying over his shoulder, “For the time, I wouldn’t suggest you leave this apartment. You’re so unacquainted with the workings of a semi-modem city that you might get lost, or even hurt in the traffic
.”
“Very well, Sam of the DeRudders.”
When the other was gone, John sat himself down cautiously at the communicator and threw the switch connecting him with the library. Carefully following his host’s instructions, he dialed city maps and spent the next hour poring over them, his eyes strained, his forehead wrinkled in concentration.
In time, the communicator’s controls became easier for him, and fascinated, he skipped from one tape to another, sampling the endless multitude of works available in the library banks.
He was stymied once or twice. When he ordered a particular subject listed in the library banks, a voice said me-tallically, “Security limitations. Priority of M-3. If you wish this tape, please present your ID credit card.”
In each case, John looked blankly at the screen and switched to a new subject.
At long last he came to his feet, went back into the dining-kitchenette and spent some time fiddling with the autochef. Disastrously, as it turned out. In his fascination with the library banks during the past two hours, he had forgotten part of DeRudder’s instructions pertaining to the ordering of food. All he could bring forth was a series of desserts. However, as with many ultraactive men not particularly prone to alcohol, John had a sweet tooth worthy of a ten year old. He polished off several pieces of chocolate cake and a slice of lemon meringue pie and returned to the communicator, deciding inwardly that if nothing else, the invaders from Beyond were far in advance of Caledonian pastry cooks.
He spent another half hour scrutinizing tapes before hearing an unfamiliar musical note. He looked up, scowling.
It sounded again.
He came to his feet and looked about the moderately large room. But the sound had come from the direction of the apartment door. He walked in that direction, frowning still, and bent down to the point where he could look into the door’s screen.
John was puzzled. There was a face there—a feminine face.
He cleared his throat and said, “I am John, Sachem of the—” But then he shook his head and said, “I am John Hawk. This is the longhouse of Samuel of the… Samuel DeRudder. May the bards sing the praises of your man-children. What do you will?”
The Space Barbarians Page 16
