The Song of Phaid the Gambler

by Mick Farren

  Sick and dizzy, he staggered to his feet. Makartur's plan had worked out better than he could have imagined. The two flippers were little more than a mass of tangled metal. Even as he watched, a third and fourth ploughed into the wreckage. A chain reaction of lesser collisions started, as other drovers tried to dodge the pile up. The ordered menace of the closing circle was turned, for some minutes, into total chaos.

  At first, Phaid could do nothing except stand dumbly, blinking at the confusion that he had helped to create. Then he saw the other driver, the bearded one who had been their first target, limping towards him, bleeding badly from a cut on his forehead.

  'What did you go and do that for, you stupid bastard?'

  The drover obviously still thought that the crash had been a genuine accident. Almost as an unthinking reflex, Phaid pulled out his fuse tube and burned the man down. Immediately after he had fired, a blaster roared four or five times in quick succession. Phaid jumped around, looking for the source of the sound. Makartur, with a weapon clutched in each hand, was backing towards the two machines of the elaihim, firing as he went. Seeing Phaid still not about to act, he waved with his gun.

  'Get under cover, you damn fool! Get back to those transports!'

  Phaid's instinct for self preservation snapped back into action. He was still alive. Quite how, he wasn't sure, but he was certainly going to do his best to stay that way. The confusion was starting to sort itself out. When Makartur had fired his first blast, the drovers had been left in no doubt that something was amiss. Many were crouching with drawn guns, wondering who the enemy was and where he was coming from.

  A blaster was lying on the sand nearby. Presumably it had been dropped during the crash. Phaid scooped it up and started running directly towards where the elaihim were sheltering beside their transport beds.

  Blaster fire threw up sand at his heels. He started zigzagging. At least one drover had realised part of what was going on.

  A shallow gully ran between Phaid and the transports. Phaid made this his first objective. Lungs pumping and heart pounding, he ran like he had never run before. The air around him howled with the discharge from blasters.

  Seemingly by a miracle, Phaid reached the gully. Without even looking, he dived into it and threw himself flat on to the ground.

  To his surprise, he found himself lying next to a lanky elaihi male who was also pressing into the ground, trying to make himself as small a target as possible. Phaid had never been so close to an elaihi before, but it was neither the time nor the place to indulge his curiosity. He pushed the spare blaster towards the man.

  'All hell's going to break loose now. You better use this.'

  To Phaid's utter astonishment, the elaihi shook his head.

  'No, I'm sorry. I can't use it.'

  Phaid crawled closer.

  'It's easy. Let me show you.'

  Again he shook his head.

  'I understand how to use the weapon. I can't, though. I can't take a life, another life.'

  Phaid looked at him in blank amazement.

  'Those bastards are going to take your life if you don't do something about it. Mine too, for that matter, and mine's pretty damn precious.'

  'I can't, under any circumstances.'

  Phaid closed his eyes.

  'Sweet Lords!'

  A sweep of blaster fire churned the lip of the gully. Without bothering to aim, or even raising his head, Phaid returned fire with both weapons. He shot the elaihi a venomous look.

  'You bastards don't deserve saving. How the hell do you expect to survive if you won't defend yourselves?'

  The elaihi regarded him with sad, pale blue eyes.

  'I'm sorry.'

  'That does me a lot of good.'

  Phaid risked raising his head for the first time. The majority of the drovers had taken up positions' among the various pieces of scooter debris. Two, however, were making what looked like an attacking run on a still serviceable flipper. This run was also headed exactly in Phaid's direction. Phaid squeezed off a snap shot at the drover and, to his own surprise, dropped him first time. The flipper ploughed straight into the ground and ex­ploded as something in its power circuits cracked on impact. Phaid bit his lip and grinned.

  'How about that.'

  Immediately he had to hit the ground as a dozen or more blasters flashed. Phaid turned his head in appeal to the elaihi.

  'If you won't fight, you could at least do something to make this gully a bit deeper. That can't be against your principles.'

  'No, I can do that.'

  'Then get digging, stupid. I thought you people were supposed to be smarter than us.'

  'I will dig.'

  'Just dandy.'

  The elaihi dug while Phaid kept up a steady stream of fire with the blaster and his fuse tube. The drovers didn't seem in any hurry to attempt anything like a frontal attack on Phaid and Makartur. Grounding their flippers, they had taken cover and appeared, at least for the moment, to be simply exchanging fire. It wasn't too long before the elaihi had turned the section of the gully where he and Phaid lay into a rough but serviceable trench.

  Finally a lull came in the fighting. Phaid suddenly heard Makartur's voice roaring from some distance behind him and a way off to the right.

  'Hey! You drovers! We didn't ought to be doing each other like this. Go on back to your herd. Nobody needs to get killed over this.' ,

  'You need to get killed, ape breath. We're going to get you swine if it's the last thing we do. If you love those dome heads so much you're going to die with them - as slow and painful as we can arrange.'

  'You got to get us first.'

  'We'll get you, don't worry about that!" Discharges from a number of blasters put the final punctuation to this chillingly delivered promise. Phaid fired back, but nothing happened. The drovers seemed quite happy to sit still and bide their time. Phaid couldn't quite understand how both he and Makartur had avoided being hit. It was almost as though something was myster­iously throwing off the drovers' aim.

  It wasn't long before Phaid started to notice that his mouth was becoming uncomfortably hot and dry. He tried to speak, but found that all he could come up with was a rasping croak.

  'You don't have any water, do you?'

  The elaihi once again shook his head and looked sorrowful.

  'I don't.'

  'Just great.'

  'We elaihim can go for long periods without either food or water. It's one of the results of our ability to control our metabolism.'

  'Screw your metabolism.'

  'I'm sorry.'

  'So am I. I'm the one who's going to die of thirst.'

  'There is water back on our transports. I could get it if you want.'

  'You'd do that?'

  'Of course.'

  Phaid, despite his thirst, was reluctant to ask the elaihi to risk climbing out of the trench.

  'I hate to do this, but I won't last too long in this sun if I don't get any.'

  'I will go.'

  Before Phaid could say anything else, the elaihi had rolled out of the trench and was running in a low crouch towards the two transports. The movement produced a flurry of fire. Phaid prayed that this act of courage wouldn't be the elaihi's last.

  He was a long time in returning, and Phaid was just about ready to give him up for dead when, in a second eruption of fire from the drovers, he rolled back into the gully, clutching a clear plastic container filled with water. The elaihi handed it to Phaid with a smile.

  'Here.'

  'Thanks.'

  Phaid drank gratefully and then slowly wiped his mouth.

  'Sweet mercy, I needed that.'

  'You feel better now?'

  'Yeah, much. Are your people okay?'

  'Two have been killed, I'm afraid.'

  'That's too bad.'

  'The others are unharmed. You and your companion seemed to be keeping the herdsmen at bay for the moment.'

  Phaid looked curiously at the elaihi. There was some­thing disturb
ingly cold and unemotional about him. Phaid had to remind himself that there wasn't even any reason to believe that the elaihim were human. It had to be ex­pected that they'd be very different.

  'Do you have a name?'

  'Of course. We all have names.'

  Aside from being unemotional, this elaihi, at least, had a terrible tendency to take everything very, very literally.

  'So what's yours?'

  'Rathyaal.'

  'Rathyaal?'

  That's right.'

  'Mine's Phaid.'

  'Now we have exchanged names.'

  Phaid gave up trying to understand the elaihi.

  'I guess we have.'

  The long hot desert afternoon dragged on and still the drovers didn't seem anxious to make a move. Occasional­ly they'd fire on Phaid's or Makartur's position, or yell threats and taunts, but the rush that Phaid had been expecting ever since he'd first rolled into the gully failed to materialise. Gradually the shadows began to lengthen.

  They're going to have to make their move soon. It'll be sunset before too long and their flippers will stop working.'

  'It's almost time for us to take a hand. You have bought us some very valuable time . . . Phaid.'

  'Huh?'

  'You have bought us valuable time.'

  'What the hell are you talking about?'

  'I can't explain right now. It's almost time.'

  'You mean you're actually going to do something?'

  'I can't explain now.'

  Phaid took a quick look over the side of the trench.

  'Whatever it is that you've got in mind, you better do it damn quick. I think the drovers are getting ready to pull something.'

  'Please be silent.'

  Phaid's temper abruptly gave out. He swung around on the elaihi with anger boiling out of him. The sight of Rathyaal stopped him dead. The elaihi had folded his arms and legs into a seemingly impossible position. His eyes were tightly shut and sweat was streaming down his face. As far as Phaid could see, he was in the grip of some sort of seizure. Phaid's imagination cast around for an explanation. Surely the elaihi couldn't be going into a self created suicide.

  'If you are, you picked a damn fine time.' In among the wreckage there was now something definitely happening. The furtive movements had stepped up, and it looked as though the drovers were finally preparing for the rush. Phaid let go a couple of shots and then ducked as twice the number came back. He took another glance at the elaihi. His normally pallid face had turned quite grey. Veins twitched all over his forehead as though there were worms beneath the skin struggling to get out.

  A loud yell went up from the drovers. They had started to move. A line of crouching figures were crawling quickly towards Phaid's position. Using both his weapons, Phaid fired as fast as he could, but, in their sheer weight of numbers, the drovers had the advantage. The whole rim of the gully became a target for their blasters and Phaid was forced to huddle at the bottom. He knew that the end must come very soon, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. On one level, it was almost a relief. At least he didn't have to be afraid much longer.

  He took a final look at Rathyaal and was surprised to find that the elaihi had fallen over on to his side and was gasping like a fish out of water. At first Phaid assumed that he'd been hit, but then he noticed that there was no sign of a wound.

  There was no time, though, to worry about Rathyaal. The drovers were coming up fast. Phaid tried a few more shots and then once again was forced to cower in the bottom of the trench. He knew that any moment the drovers would come storming over the edge and that would be it. He wondered how much being killed by a blaster would hurt. Was death really the end of every­thing? It all seemed so futile. He'd spent a lifetime hustling and struggling, watching angles and trying to get an edge. If he'd known that it was going to end like this he would have done it all very differently. His blood felt as though it had turned to ice, and then the firing stopped.

  The shouting of the drovers changed in tone. Rathyaal started to move. He seemed to be trying to say something.

  'They're running.'

  'What?'

  'The beasts are running.'

  The new developments were too much for Phaid. He risked a look over the edge of the trench and found that the drovers were dashing back towards the flippers that were still intact. Phaid slowly got to his feet. One of the drovers turned and aimed a final, wildly inaccurate shot at him.

  'We'll be back to get you, you bastard. Just you see if we don't!'

  Then he continued running for his flipper. In the distance, where the herd had been, something was churn­ing up a huge cloud of dust. Still clutching his weapons, he let his arms drop to his sides.

  'Will somebody tell me what the hell is going on?'

  Chapter 9

  'It was very hard.'

  'I can imagine.'

  'No, I don't think you could really imagine. I don't think you would be able to visualise exactly what it was like.'

  Phaid was quickly discovering that the elaihim had a rather obnoxious streak of superior-to-thou. On the sur­face they sounded kindly but beneath there was a strata of contempt. It got on his nerves, but he didn't make any comment. He was at least getting the explanation that he'd waited half the night for. Makartur, however, who hadn't witnessed the violent spasms that had gripped Rathyaal at the climax of the fight with the drovers, was scratching his beard and attempting to put what he'd been told into some kind of manageable form.

  'Let me get this straight. You're telling me that all of your group went into some sort of trance . . .'

  'Trance is a purely human capability.'

  Makartur grunted. 'It'll do for me.'

  It was plain that the elaihim were also causing him some degree of irritation.

  'You went into this trance, or call it what you want, and you set up a mental link with the veebes in the herd.'

  Once again Rathyaal couldn't curb his need for strict accuracy in just about ever detail.

  'In fact, we only formed a link with specific individuals within the herd, but otherwise you are broadly correct.'

  Phaid nodded slowly and for a long time. It was almost impossible to tell whether he was being ultra deferential or simply ironic.

  'I'm obliged to you. May I go on?'

  'Please do.'

  'You formed these links with some of the beasts and told them to start running.'

  'That is a painfully simplistic explanation.'

  'I thought it might be.'

  'The veebe, having been selectively bred by your people over many thousands of years, simply for its weight of edible flesh . . .' Rathyaal permitted himself a faint gri­mace of distaste '. . . is a particularly neurotic and para­noid being.'

  Makartur laughed. 'They were paranoid before us humans had anything to do with them. You'd be paranoid too, if half the carnivores in the world thought of you as dinner.'

  Phaid was faintly surprised by the way that Makartur was able to laugh, relax and even jest with the elaihim and not in the least intimidated by their more than human capabilities.

  This time Rathyaal allowed himself a faint smile.

  'That is very true. My people have an unforgivable habit of blaming you humans for all the ills of the world.'

  Everything about the elaihim seemed to be faint. It was almost as though a large part of them was really in some other plane or dimension, one from which humans were excluded. He nibbled on a small sliver of a dried leaf that, judging from the meal that had been put in front of them, was the mainstay of the elaihim diet. It was only after a great deal of chewing that Phaid detected the slightest hint of a flavour. The elaihim appeared to move through a world of both tastes and ideas that were too delicate and subtle for a human being to either share or understand.

  While Phaid covertly examined the elaihim, Rathyaal went on with his story.

  'The mind of the herd veebe is a painful place to even visit. It is a disorganised conflict of fear, vindictivene
ss, anger and an awful stubborness. It is easy to introduce feelings of panic and hysteria, but it requires a massive effort to overcome the stubbornness. Even though we gave it all our concentration, it almost exhausted our resources. It was only at the very last minute that they finally ran.'

  Phaid nodded. 'You can say that again.'

  Rathyaal raised an almost non-existent eyebrow.

  'Is that really necessary?'

  'It's a figure of speech.'

  Phaid realised that he was being mocked. He didn't quite know what to do so he blundered on.

  'You can tell me one thing, though.'

  'If I can.'

  'Why did you leave it so long? I mean, you could have run the herd any time that you wanted to. Why did you wait until the very end of the day?'

  'I would have thought that was obvious.'

  'It sure as hell wasn't obvious when I was sweating my way through the afternoon, expecting to be killed at any moment.'

  'If we had started running the herd any earlier, it would have been possible for the drovers to stop them before the sun had set and their machines ceased to operate. They might have been able to come back and kill us. That is why we decided to delay this action until just a short time before sunset.'

  Phaid suddenly grew angry.

  'We only made it to sundown by sheer luck. It was a miracle we weren't killed.'

  'It was a risk. I'll admit that.'

  'No shit? You'll admit that. That's really big of you.'

  Phaid was up on his feet.

  'You bastards really take the prize, don't you? We risk our lives trying to save your asses and you start treating us like dirt under your feet. Where do you swine get off? It ain't no wonder the drovers wanted to grease the lot of you. They were probably right!'

  Makartur stood up too, in an attempt to keep the peace.

  'You're going to far, manny. These people are our hosts.'

  'And we're their fucking saviours!'

  Rathyaal spread his hands in an apologetic gesture. 'I didn't mean to give offence.'

  'Well, you managed it just the same.' Phaid stalked away from where the group was talking and marched out into the desert. He reached the gully. The ground was still pockmarked and scorched from the afternoon's fighting. The sight only served to make him even angrier.