The commander was right. It was amazing how much gold one man had beenable to stash away.
IX
They couldn't stay long in any one village; they didn't have the time tosit and relax any more than was necessary. Once they had reached thenorthern marches of the native empire, it was to the commander'sadvantage to keep his men moving. He didn't know for sure how good orhow rapid communications were among the various native provinces, but hehad to assume that they were top notch, allowing for the limitations ofa barbaric society.
The worst trouble they ran into on their way was not caused by thenative warriors, but by disease.
The route to the south was spotted by great strips of sandy barrenness,torn by winds that swept the grains of sand into the troopers' eyes andcrept into the chinks of their armor. Underfoot, the sand made atreacherous pathway; carriers and men alike found it heavy going.
The heat from the sun was intense; the brilliant beams from the primaryseemed to penetrate through the men's armor and through the insulationunderneath, and made the marching even harder.
Even so, in spite of the discomfort, the men were making good time untilthe disease struck. And that stopped them in their tracks.
What the disease was or how it was spread is unknown and unknowable atthis late date. Virus or bacterium, amoeba or fungus--whatever it was,it struck.
Symptoms: Lassitude, weariness, weakness, and pain.
Signs: Great, ulcerous, wartlike, blood-filled blisters that grewrapidly over the body.
A man might go to sleep at night feeling reasonably tired, but not ill,and wake up in the morning to find himself unable to rise, his musclestoo weak to lift him from his bed.
If the blisters broke, or were lanced, it was almost impossible to stopthe bleeding, and many died, not from the toxic effect of the diseaseitself, but from simple loss of blood.
But, like many epidemics, the thing had a fairly short life span. Aftertwo weeks, it had burned itself out. Most of those who got it recovered,and a few were evidently immune.
Eighteen men remained behind in shallow graves.
The rest went on.
X
No man is perfect. Even with four decades of training behind him,Commander Frank couldn't call the turn every time. After the first fewvillages, there were no further battles. The natives, having seen whatthe invaders could do, simply showed up missing when the commander andhis men arrived. The villages were empty by the time the column reachedthe outskirts.
Frater Vincent, the agent of the Universal Assembly, complained in nouncertain terms about this state of affairs.
"As you know, commander," he said frowningly one morning, "it's no usetrying to indoctrinate a people we can't contact. And you can't subjecta people by force of arms alone; the power of the Truth--"
"I know, Frater," the commander interposed quickly. "But we can't dealwith these savages in the hinterlands. When we get a little farther intothis barbarian empire, we can take the necessary steps to--"
"The Truth," Frater Vincent interrupted somewhat testily, "is for allmen. It works, regardless of the state of civilization of the society."
The commander looked out of the unglazed window of the native hut inwhich he had established his temporary headquarters, in one of the manyvillages he had taken--or, rather, walked into without a fight becauseit was empty. "But you'll admit, Frater, that it takes longer withsavages."
"True," said Frater Vincent.
"We simply haven't the time. We've got to keep on the move. And,besides, we haven't even been able to contact any of the natives forquite a while; they get out of our way. And we have taken a fewprisoners--" His voice was apologetic, but there was a trace ofirritation in it. He didn't want to offend Frater Vincent, of course,but dammit, the Assemblyman didn't understand military tactics at all.Or, he corrected himself hastily, at least only slightly.
"Yes," admitted Frater Vincent, "and I've had considerable success withthe prisoners. But, remember--we're not here just to indoctrinate a fewoccasional prisoners, but to change the entire moral and philosophicalviewpoint of an entire race."
"I realize that, Frater," the commander admitted. He turned from thewindow and faced the Assemblyman. "We're getting close to the Great Baynow. That's where our ship landed on the second probing expedition. Iexpect we'll be more welcome there than we have been, out here in thecountryside. We'll take it easy, and I think you'll have a chance towork with the natives on a mass basis."
The Frater smiled. "Excellent, commander. I ... uh ... want you tounderstand that I'm not trying to tell you your business; you run thiscampaign as you see fit. But don't lose sight of the ultimate goal oflife."
"I won't. How could I? It's just that my methods are not, perhaps, asrefined as yours."
Frater Vincent nodded, still smiling. "True. You are a great deal moredirect. And--in your own way--just as effective. After all, the Assemblycould not function without the military, but there were armies longbefore the Universal Assembly came into being."
The commander smiled back. "Not any armies like this, Frater."
Frater Vincent nodded. The understanding between the two men--at leaston that point--was tacit and mutual. He traced a symbol in the air andleft the commander to his thoughts.
Mentally, the commander went through the symbol-patterns that he hadlearned as a child--the symbol-patterns that brought him into directcontact with the Ultimate Power, the Power that controlled not only thespinning of atoms and the whirling of electrons in their orbits, but theworkings of probability itself.
Once indoctrinated into the teachings of the Universal Assembly, any mancould tap that Power to a greater or lesser degree, depending on hismental control and ethical attitude. At the top level, a first-classadept could utilize that Power for telepathy, psychokinesis, levitation,teleportation, and other powers that the commander only vaguelyunderstood.
He, himself, had no such depth of mind, such iron control over his will,and he knew he'd never have it. But he could and did tap that Power tothe extent that his physical body was under near-perfect control at alltimes, and not even the fear of death could shake his determination towin or his great courage.
He turned again to the window and looked at the alien sky. There was agreat deal yet to be done.
* * * * *
The commander needed information--needed it badly. He had to know whatthe government of the alien empire was doing. Had they been warned ofhis arrival? Surely they must have, and yet they had taken no steps toimpede his progress.
For this purpose, he decided to set up headquarters on an island justoffshore in the Great Bay. It was a protected position, easily defendedfrom assault, and the natives, he knew from his previous visit, werefriendly.
They even helped him to get his men and equipment and the carriersacross on huge rafts.
From that point, he began collecting the information he needed to invadethe central domains of the Greatest Noble himself. It seemed an idealspot--not only protection-wise, but because this was the spot he hadoriginally picked for the landing of the ship. The vessel, which hadreturned to the base for reinforcements and extra supplies, would beaiming for the Great Bay area when she came back. And there was littlelikelihood that atmospheric disturbances would throw her off courseagain; Captain Bartholomew was too good a man to be fooled twice.
But landing on that island was the first--and only--mistake thecommander made during the campaign. The rumors of internal bickeringsamong the Great Nobles of the barbarian empire were not the only rumorshe heard. News of more local treachery came to his ears through theagency of natives, now loyal to the commander, who had beenindoctrinated into the philosophy of the Assembly.
A group of native chieftains had decided that the invading Earthmen weretoo dangerous to be allowed to remain on their island, in spite of thefact that the invaders had done them no harm. There were, after all,whisperings from the north, whence the invaders had come, that thearmored beings with the terr
ible weapons had used their power more thanonce during their march to the south. The chieftains were determined torid their island of the potential menace.
As soon as the matter was brought to the commander's attention, heacted. He sent out a patrol to the place where the ringleaders weremeeting, arrested them, and sentenced them to death. He didn't realizewhat effect that action would have on the rest of the islanders.
He almost found out too late.
XI
"There must be three thousand of them out there," said Lieutenantcommander Hernan tightly, "and every one of them's crazy."
"Rot!" The commander spat on the ground and then sighted again along thebarrel of his weapon. "I'm the one who's crazy. I'm a lousy politician;that's my trouble."
The lieutenant commander shrugged lightly. "Anyone can make a mistake.Just chalk it up to experience."
"I will, when we get out of this mess." He watched the gathering nativesthrough hard, slitted eyes.
The invading Earthmen were in a village at the southern end of theeight-mile-long island, waiting inside the mud-brick huts while thenatives who had surrounded the village worked themselves into a frenzyfor an attack. The commander knew there was no sense in charging intothem at that point: they would simply scatter and reassemble. The onlything to do was wait until they attacked--and then smash the attack.
"Hernan," he said, his eyes still watching the outside, "you and theothers get out there with the carriers after the first volley. Cut themdown. They're twenty-to-one against us, so make every blow count. Move."
Hernan nodded wordlessly and slipped away.
The natives were building up their courage with some sort of war dance,whooping and screaming and making threatening gestures toward theembattled invaders. Then the pattern of the dance changed; the islanderswhirled to face the mud-brick buildings which housed the invadingEarthmen. Suddenly, the dance broke, and the warriors ran in ascreaming charge, straight for the trapped soldiers.
The commander waited. His own shot would be the signal, and he didn'twant the men to fire too quickly. If the islanders were hit too soon,they might fall back into the woods and set up a siege, which the littlecompany couldn't stand. Better to mop up the natives now, if possible.
Closer. Closer--
_Now!_
The commander's first shot picked off one of the leaders in the frontranks of the native warriors, and was followed by a raking volley fromthe other power weapons, firing from the windows of the mud-brickbuildings. The warriors in the front rank dropped, and those in thesecond rank had to move adroitly to keep from stumbling over the bodiesof their fallen fellows. The firing from the huts became ragged, but itsraking effect was still deadly. A cloud of heavy, stinking smoke rolledacross the clearing between the edge of the jungle and the village, asthe bright, hard lances of heat leaped from the muzzles of the powerweapons toward the bodies of the charging warriors.
The charge was gone from the commander's weapon, and he didn't bother toreplace it. As Hernan and his men charged into the melee with theircarriers, the commander went with them.
At the same time, the armored infantrymen came pouring out of themud-brick houses, swinging their swords, straight into the mass ofconfused native warriors. A picked group of sharpshooters remainedbehind, in the concealment of the huts to pick off the warriors at theedge of the battle with their sporadic fire.
The commander's lips were moving a little as he formed thesymbol-patterns of power almost unconsciously; a lifetime of habit hadburned them into his brain so deeply that he could form themautomatically while turning the thinking part of his mind to thebusiness at hand.
He soon found himself entirely surrounded by the alien warriors. Theirbronze weapons glittered in the sunlight as they tried to fight off theonslaught of the invaders. And those same bronze weapons were sheared,nicked, blunted, bent, and broken as they met the harder steel of thecommander's sword.
Then the unexpected happened. One of the warriors, braver than the rest,made a grab for the commander's sword arm. At almost the same moment, awarrior on the other side of the carrier aimed a spear thrust at hisside.
Either by itself would have been ineffectual. The spear clangedharmlessly from the commander's armor, and the warrior who had attemptedto pull him from the carrier died before he could give much of a tug.But the combination, plus the fact that the heavy armor was a littleunwieldy, overbalanced him. He toppled to the ground with a clash ofsteel as he and the carrier parted company.
Without a human hand at its controls, the carrier automatically movedaway from the mass of struggling fighters and came to a halt well awayfrom the battle.
The commander rolled as he hit and leaped to his feet, his sword movingin flickering arcs around him. The natives had no knowledge of effectiveswordplay. Like any barbarian, they conceived of a sword as a cuttinginstrument rather than a thrusting one. They chopped with them, usingsmall shields to protect their bodies as they tried to hack thecommander to bits.
* * * * *
But the commander had no desire to become mincemeat just yet. Five ofthe barbarians were coming at him, their swords raised for a downwardslash. The commander lunged forward with a straight stop-thrust aimed atthe groin of the nearest one. It came as a complete surprise to thewarrior, who doubled up in pain.
The commander had already withdrawn his blade and was attacking thesecond as the first fell. He made another feint to the groin and thenchanged the aim of his point as the warrior tried to cover with hisshield. A buckler is fine protection against a man who is trying to hackyou to death with a chopper, because a heavy cutting sword and a shieldhave about the same inertia, and thus the same maneuverability. But theshield isn't worth anything against a light stabbing weapon. Thewarrior's shield started downward and he was unable to stop it andreverse its direction before the commander's sword pierced his throat.
Two down, three to go. No, four. Another warrior had decided to join thelittle battle against the leader of the invading Earthmen.
The commander changed his tactics just slightly with the third man. Heslashed with the tip of his blade against the descending sword-arm ofhis opponent--a short, quick flick of his wrist that sheared through theinside of the wrist, severing tendons, muscles, veins and arteries as itcut to the bone. The sword clanged harmlessly off the commander'sshoulder. A quick thrust, and the third man died.
The other three slowed their attack and began circling warily, trying toget behind the commander. Instead of waiting, he charged forward, againcutting at the sword arm of his adversary, severing fingers this time.As the warrior turned, the commander's sword pierced his side.
How long it went on, he had no idea. He kept his legs and his sword-armmoving, and his eyes ever alert for new foes as man after man droppedbeneath that snake-tonguing blade. Inside his armor, perspiration pouredin rivulets down his skin, and his arms and legs began to ache, but notfor one second did he let up. He could not see what was going on, couldnot tell the direction of the battle nor even allow his mind to wonderwhat was going on more than ten paces from him.
And then, quite suddenly, it seemed, it was all over. Lieutenantcommander Hernan and five other men pulled up with their carriers, as iffrom nowhere, their weapons dealing death, clearing a space around theircommander.
"You hurt?" bawled Hernan.
The commander paused to catch his breath. He knew there was asword-slash across his face, and his right leg felt as though there wasa cut on it, but otherwise--
"I'm all right," he said. "How's it going?"
"They're breaking," Hernan told him. "We'll have them scattered withinminutes."
Even as he spoke, the surge of battle moved away from them, toward theforest. The charge of the carriers, wreaking havoc on every side, hadbroken up the battle formation the aliens had had; the flaming deathfrom the horrible weapons of the invaders, the fearless courage of thefoot soldiers, and the steel-clad monsters that were running amuck amongthem shattered the little dis
cipline they had. Panicky, they lost theiranger, which had taken them several hours to build up. They scattered,heading for the forest.
Shortly, the village was silent. Not an alien warrior was to be seen,save for the hundreds of mute corpses that testified to the carnage thathad been wrought.
Several of the commander's men had been wounded, and three had died.Lieutenant commander Hernan had been severely wounded in the leg by anative javelin, but the injury was a long way from being fatal.
Hernan gritted his teeth while his leg was being bandaged. "The angelswere with us on that one," he said between winces.
The commander nodded. "I hope they stick with us. We'll need 'em to getoff this island."
XII
For a while, it looked as though they were trapped on the island. Thenatives didn't dare to attack again, but no hunting party was safe, andthe food supply was dropping. They had gotten on the island only by thehelp of the natives, who had ferried them over on rafts. But getting offwas another thing, now that the natives were hostile. Cutting down treesto build rafts might possibly be managed, but during the loading thelittle company would be too vulnerable to attack.
The commander was seated bleakly in the hut he had taken as hisheadquarters, trying to devise a scheme for getting to the mainland,when the deadlock was finally broken.
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