The Quillian Sector

by E. C. Tubb

  "No houses," she said dully. "No roads. No animals. No signs of life. A wilderness. It's a damned wilderness!"

  "Easy." Dumarest caught her by the arm, his fingers relaying a warm comfort. "Just take it easy. Ask Bochner to start a fire and make some sort of a camp." It would give them both something to do. "Find some rocks and make sure they aren't harboring snakes. The night will bring wind, so bear that in mind. Come now!" He smiled and lifted up her chin. "Look on the bright side. There could be swamps or desert down there. Salt flats or marsh. Remember that place you spoke of on Swenna? Your land? Is it so different?"

  "No," she admitted. "I guess not."

  "Then why the disappointment? It should be like coming home."

  But on Swenna there would be a town and neighbors, and even if they weren't close, they would be there and within contact range. Now she felt as if no one else but themselves existed on this entire planet. That they had crashed to live as best they might, to live and die without ever seeing the civilization she had known. The ships and towns and busy places. The markets and communes and the sound of eager voices.

  Bochner said, "Gather fuel, woman. Get it while there is still light to see. And watch for snakes and things which could bite." His smile was ugly, that of a predator enjoying the moment before the kill. "Come now, move!"

  The tone of command, which she had heard so often as a child and had never learned to like. For a moment she faced him, tempted to challenge his assumption that she would obey, to take him, hold him, use her hands to crush out his life. A moment only, then she recognized the weakness which made her less than the hunter. Sometimes, at rare intervals, she could overcome it, but always there had to be the stimulus. Now it was easier to turn and move off to gather dried grasses and broken twigs, patches of moss and windblown debris which would burn.

  Egulus said, "Here, Earl? It's as high as we're going to get unless we head for those mountains."

  "Here." Dumarest looked at the sun, the sea bathed in washes of color, swaths of warm and enticing hue which matched and augmented the splendor of the sky. "But not yet. Wait until its well after dark. We don't want to fight the sun more than we have to."

  "After dark," agreed the captain. "We've three good, strong bursts, Earl. Shall I send them out quickly, one after the other, or space them out?"

  "Space them through the night. Send the last at dawn. Wait, then use what power is left to do what you can."

  "And if we get no response?" Egulus sucked at his lips as Dumarest made no answer. "Maybe I can pick up something by switching to reception. No luck so far, but the hills could have blocked the signal. At least we might get a line as to the whereabouts of the field."

  And if not they could, perhaps, see ships coming in to land. Others leaving-if they were on the right hemisphere.

  Darkness brought a chill wind, which caught at the fire and sent the flames dancing to paint the area in shifting patterns of light. From the shadowed savannah, something cried out with a harsh, grating sound quickly ended. A beast falling to the claws and fangs of a predator or the mating call of an animal in heat. It was not repeated and Dumarest, standing watch, guessed the former to be the most likely explanation.

  He turned as Bochner came towards him. The hunter looked at the cold gleam of the knife lifted towards him and smiled.

  "I could have killed you, Earl, had I wanted."

  "Perhaps."

  "You imply doubt. There is no doubt. I could have been on you before you knew it. A move. A single blow and you would be dead, now." The hunter drew in his breath, released it with a soft inhalation. "My friend, I am a practical man and know you are, also. What if rescue does not arrive?"

  "We live."

  "Of course, but how? I mean in what manner? Three men and only one woman-you recognize the problem? The captain, I think, can be left out of the equation, but there is still you and me. Frankly, the need of a woman is, to me, only a minor irritation, but there is a question of principle. Of precedence. You understand?"

  Dumarest remembered the cry he had heard-death sending its warning. Was he listening to another? Had he received it?

  Against the glow of the fire the hunter's face was in shadow, the light which delineated his stance masking his expression, but there were things the shadows couldn't hide. The scent which came from him; the odor born of released adrenalin, of pulsing blood, of muscular tension and glandular secretions all designed to lift and hold the body to a fighting pitch. Odors Dumarest had smelled before when facing men in the arena. The stench which came through oil and sweat and which usually held the taint of fear. A taint now absent.

  Bochner said again, "You understand?"

  "Yes," said Dumarest. "I understand."

  "And the woman?"

  "Will make her own choice."

  "I don't think so."

  Dumarest looked at the shape limned in the firelight, the shadowed face in which reflected starlight betrayed the eyes. "I can't agree."

  "So?"

  "I think that as you're so wakeful you can take over the watch. Arguments can wait until later." He added dryly, "And don't worry, I won't creep up on you in the dark."

  Dawn came with splinters of light and a wind which dropped as the day grew older. Dilys, refreshed by her sleep, tried to wash her face and hair in the dew which assuaged their thirst. Too little and too hard to collect, tantalizing rather than satisfying. When she complained, Dumarest waved at the savannah.

  "We're too high for water up here. It's all running to lower levels."

  "Why can't we wait down there?"

  "Smoke." He looked at the fire. "Down lower it will be masked against the hills. Up here, it can be seen for miles."

  The obvious, which she had overlooked. Irritably, she began to pile the remaining fuel on the embers.

  "Save that until later," advised Dumarest, "until the morning winds have died. And if we're going to keep it fed, we'll need more fuel."

  They descended to find it, dropping down the landward slope to gather and haul ferns and branches, twigs, roots, dried stems and saplings to be piled beside the fire. Dumarest downed a scurrying shape with his thrown knife and Bochner tried to emulate the feat. His blade pierced a leg and sent the rodent, screaming, to bite at the steel. Screams which died as he broke the creature's neck, but he was not pleased. Dumarest had killed clean at twice the distance.

  "A dangerous man, that," said Egulus when, later, he watched with Dumarest beside the fire. Fed with the remaining scraps of available plastic, it threw an ebon column into the sky. "I saw his face when he realized you had bested him. He can't stand to be beaten at anything. I've known men like that before. I suppose, in a way, I was one myself. What I wanted, I had to get. I did, too-but that's over now. The Entil is gone."

  "What do you know of him?"

  "Leo Bochner?" The captain shrugged. "Nothing. He wanted passage and could pay for it. What else was there for me to know? You must have learned more about him than I did?"

  A man who had boarded with expensive equipment; weapons and items of price, to be expected from a successful hunter and the representative of a wealthy consortium. His luggage was gone now, dumped with the rest of the jettisoned weight, and he had not protested. That, in itself, was unusual. In Dumarest's experience, the wealthy hated to lose their possessions; few were realistic enough to accept the necessity for sacrifice.

  He said, "Anything on the radio?"

  "Nothing." Egulus picked it up and tripped a switch. "I've been saving power. It's on to receive now. I-" He broke off, grunting with surprise. "I think-yes, by God! A signal!"

  Dumarest listened to the sharp series of blips, the silence, the blips again.

  As the following silence dragged he said, "Direction?"

  "Hard to tell with precision." Egulus scowled at the instrument. "From land, though. Somewhere over there."

  His hand pointed over the savannah, aimed above the heads of Bochner and Dilys as they searched for edible grasses lower down the
slope. Looking at her, the captain shook his head.

  "Jumoke was a fool, Earl. He had no patience. I told him that your association with Dilys wouldn't last but he refused to listen. He even wanted to share. The bastard!" His hands tightened on the radio. "The crazy bastard! The work of a lifetime thrown away because he became obsessed with a woman!"

  "It's over." Dumarest could appreciate the man's anger. "It's all in the past now, Captain."

  "Yes." Egulus looked at his hands and eased their pressure. "Yes, Earl, but the woman is still with us. She still could be a source of trouble. You and Bochner-if she favors him, will you let her go?"

  "I don't own her."

  "Maybe she wishes you did. Maybe she'd want you to fight over her. You and Bochner like a couple of rutting dogs, with her watching and willing to mate with the one who wins." Egulus ended bitterly, "You and Bochner-I don't count."

  Dumarest said quietly, "You're wrong, Yarn. You and she have more in common than you think. You belong to the same world. Before Jumoke-were you close?"

  "Yes."

  "And she left you for the navigator?"

  "She's her own master, Earl. You know how it is in space. We have our own customs and a captain has to respect them. And we were all partners, don't forget. Each of us technically equal to the other-hell, why waste time talking about it!"

  "Check the radio," said Dumarest. "See if there are any further signals."

  He added more fuel to the fire as the captain obeyed, damp leaves, mosses and green twigs which thickened the column of smoke into a brown-gray pillar against the sky. Turning, he stared toward the distant range of mountains. They were too far for him to make out other than general detail, but there could be mines and men working them and passes leading to farms beyond. Even a lone prospector, sending in a report, could have accounted for the signals.

  An hour later they spotted the raft.

  Chapter Twelve

  Dilys watched as it came towards them, conscious of a tremendous relief. Soon, now, she would be on her way to houses and people. To the field and ships and the warm comfort and security of familiar things.

  "They've come!" Her voice carried gladness. "They've come to rescue us!"

  Egulus said, "They must have picked up our signals and come to investigate."

  He was more cautious than the girl, and with reason. Investigation did not assume rescue; that implied payment and they had little to offer. A caution Dumarest shared.

  "Spread out," he said. "Bochner, you take the left and I'll take the right. If they move against us, don't hesitate to act."

  Orders which, for once, the hunter didn't object to obeying. He took up his position, looking at the advancing raft, head tilted, eyes narrowed.

  "Small," he commented. "It could belong to a lone prospector or hunter."

  "It's seen us," said Dilys. "It's heading directly toward the smoke."

  Words spoken for reassurance-it had been obvious from the first that the raft was making for the peak on which they stood. Dumarest watched as it lowered its line of flight. Small, as Bochner had said, a hollow shell fitted with controls at one end, a rail around the body which would hold a padded seat. If there was a protective canopy, it was folded back. The body holding the antigrav units was equipped with landing skids, and the sound of the engine powering the units was a soft humming purr.

  It would be holding one man at least, the driver. Then, as he caught a blur of movement, Dumarest revised his figures. Two men, including the driver. The head he had seen toward the rear of the craft could not have belonged to the man at the controls.

  "Two men." Bochner had also spotted the movement. "Either that's all there are or the rest are lying low. In which case, we could have a problem."

  "Earl?" Dilys had heard and looked questioningly at Dumarest. "What does he mean?"

  "Nothing. Just wave and call out."

  To act the person in distress and to reveal the fact that she was a woman. Bait, if those who could be lurking inside the raft were scavengers; men who would kill for the sake of what they could steal. A good reason for landing if those within the vehicle were not the honest rescuers she thought.

  The craft dropped lower, slowed, passed over them to swing in a wide circle over the sea before returning to settle gently on the edge of the summit.

  Two men only, one at the controls, the other sitting in the body of the raft. A tall man, wearing dull fabrics and a peaked cap. One Bochner recognized. Caradoc, in disguise.

  Oddly, he wasn't surprised.

  The cyber glanced at him, then at the others. "Trouble?"

  "Yes." Dumarest stepped toward the raft. "Our ship crashed and we're lucky to be alive. Can you take us to safety?"

  "Of course." The smooth, even modulation held no hesitation. "Are there others besides yourselves?"

  "No." Dumarest glanced at the man seated at the controls. Young, his face devoid of expression, hands resting on his knees. They were slim, with delicate fingers, the nails neatly rounded. He wore a loose robe of coarse brown material, the sleeves wide, the garment held by a cincture at the waist. "How did you know we were here? Did you pick up our signal?"

  "Yes," said Caradoc.

  "So we were lucky. A gamble which paid off." Dumarest added casually, "Did you have to travel far?"

  "Twelve hours."

  A thousand miles, at the usual touring speed of a raft and the rotation of Hyrcanus, was fast. They must have started out before the signal had been sent from the peak.

  "A long time," said Dumarest. "It was good of you to take the trouble. Do you have any other business this way?"

  "No."

  "So you just picked up our signal and came straight to the rescue?" Dumarest glanced at the bundle within the raft. "Carrying survival gear, too, I see."

  "An elementary precaution," said Caradoc. "Our action seems to disturb you. Why?"

  Bochner could have told him and he stood, fuming, at the idiocy of the man. Even a young and inexperienced cyber should be aware that men did nothing without hope of reward. Certainly not the men living on worlds such as this. Fuel had to be paid for. The expense of the raft met. Time and energy expended in another's behalf had to be compensated for. At the very least, Caradoc should have asked what the party was prepared to pay for transportation. And Dumarest had been shrewd-that question as to the signal!

  The answer had been as good as a confession.

  "Disturb me?" Dumarest smiled and shook his head, lifting his hands as if to display their emptiness. Neither of the men in the raft were armed, as far as he could see. Another anomaly-but the wide sleeves of the robe the driver wore could cover more than wrists and arms. "Just the reverse. I am more pleased to see you than you can imagine. We are all pleased to see you. The alternative-" He broke off with a shrug. "Can you take us all aboard?"

  "Unfortunately, that is not possible," said Caradoc. "The distance to be covered is long and we developed a fault which has lessened our load capacity. I can take one now, and make arrangements for the rest to be picked up later. You." He pointed at Dumarest. "I shall take you."

  "No!" Bochner stepped forward, fighting to control his anger. The quarry was his and, he realized, now his only assurance of safety. Once the cyber had Dumarest, he would have no further use for the hunter. "Take me with you," he urged. "You can dump the survival gear, if you have to lighten the raft. Take me, too!"

  A message made as plain as he dared if he hoped to maintain his pretense. And if Caradoc should betray him- what? To face Dumarest with naked blades? To attack and beat the cyber and his acolyte and, somehow, hold the quarry for later delivery?

  Thoughts which spun and stilled as the cyber said, "That would be illogical. True, the possibility of an accident is small but, nevertheless, it exists. Without the survival gear we should be taking an unnecessary risk."

  Dumarest said quickly, "Bochner! Hit them! Now!"

  He was at the raft before the hunter had moved, reaching for the cyber, freezing as the driver
whipped his hand into his sleeve and sent a beam of searing heat to pass a foot before his eyes. Another shot from the laser fused stone at Bochner's foot, a third sent smoke rising from crisped and incinerated hair.

  "Yvan! Up!"

  A touch and the raft had lifted, to hang poised in the air four feet from the edge of the summit and three above the uppermost level. From his vantage point Caradoc looked down at the group below.

  Dumarest-the man the Cyclan had hunted for so long, now within his grasp. If Bochner had not spoken he would have been helpless now, drugged into unconsciousness by the hypogun clipped beneath the rail. And yet, would he have walked into the trap? Caradoc remembered the questions, the looks, the final command.

  How had he known?

  Bochner could have told him, but the hunter was at Dumarest's side, beating the last of the embers from his hair.

  "They shot at us, Earl. Why, for God's sake?"

  "The tall man's a cyber. The other is his acolyte. He didn't shoot to kill."

  "I could argue that." Bochner touched his seared hair. "Are you sure that man's a cyber?"

  "I'm sure." The tone, the lack of human curiosity, the failure to act as normal men would have acted. And the last, cold calculation which, coupled with his instinctive reaction, left no doubt.

  "So, where does that leave us?" Bochner stared at the raft. A jump and he could reach it, but if the acolyte fired he would be dead when he did. And the man would fire, and had already shown his skill with the weapon now carried openly in his hand. "He could kill us, Earl. Burn us down."

  All, but not Dumarest. He could be crippled, laser fire directed against his knees and elbows to leave him helpless. Injuries which would leave his brain and the secret it held intact.

  Caradoc said, "A bargain, Dumarest I guarantee the safety of the rest if you will agree to accompany us."