XI
She felt the power of the goddess working in her, but feebly. Dark ...so dark ... and so tired ... how old was she? More than eight hundredmoons had waxed and waned above her head since birth. And she had run atthe head of her spearmen to the motor sounds. A motor meant thesmithymen from the sea, and you killed smithymen when you could.
She let out a short shrill chuckle in the dark. There was a rustling ofbranches. One of the spearmen had turned to stare at the sound. She knewhis face was worried. "Tend to business, you fool!" she wheezed. "Or byBridget--" His breath went in with a hiss and she chuckled again. Youhad to let them know who was the cook and who was the potatoes every nowand then. Kill the fool? Not now; not when there were smithymen withguns waiting to be taken.
The power of the goddess worked stronger in her withered breast as herrage grew at their impudence. Coming into _her_ woods with theirstinking metal!
There were two of them. A grin slit her face. She had not taken twosmithymen together for thirty moons. For all her wrinkles and creaks,what a fine vessel she was for the power, to be sure! Her worthless,slow-to-learn niece could run and jump and she had a certain air, butshe'd never be such a vessel. Her sister--the crone spat--these weredegenerate days. In the old days, the sister would have been spittedwhen she refused the ordeal in her youth. The little one now, whateverher name was, she would make a _fine_ vessel for the power when she wasgathered to the goddess. If her sister or her niece didn't hold her headunder water too long, or have a spear shoved too deep into her gut orhit her on the head with too heavy a rock.
These were degenerate days. She had poisoned her own mother to becomethe vessel of power.
The spearmen to her right and left shifted uneasily. She heard a faintmumble of the two smithymen talking. Let them talk! Doubtless they werecursing the goddess obscenely; doubtless that was what the smithymen alldid when their mouths were not stuffed with food.
She thought of the man called Kennedy who forged spearheads andarrowpoints for her people--he was a strange one, touched by thegoddess, which proved her infinite power. She could touch and turn thehead of even a smithyman. He was a strange one. Well now, to get on withit. She wished the power were working stronger in her; she was tired andcould hardly see. But by the grace of the goddess there would be two newheads over her holy hut come dawn. She could hardly see, but the goddesswouldn't fail her....
She quavered like a screech-owl, and the spearmen began to slip forwardthrough the brush. She was not allowed to eat honey lest its sweetnessclash with the power in her, but the taste of power was sweeter than thetaste of honey.
* * * * *
With frightful suddenness there was an ear-splitting shriek and atrampling rush of feet. By sheer reflex, Orsino clamped down on thetrigger of his fifty, and his brain rocked at its thunder. Shadowyfigures were blotted out by the orange muzzle-flash. You're supposed tofire neat, spaced bursts of eight he told himself. I wonder what oldGilby would say if he could see his star pupil burning out a barrel andswinging his gun like a fire hose?
The gun stopped firing; end of the belt. Twenty, fifty or a hundredrounds? He didn't remember. He clawed for another belt and smoothly, inthe dark, loaded again and listened.
"You all right, gangster?" the jaygee said behind him, making him jump.
"Yes," he said. "Will they come back?"
"I don't know."
"You filthy swine," an agonized voice wheezed from the darkness. "Meback is broke, you stinking lice." The voice began to sob.
They listened to it in silence for perhaps a minute. At last he said tothe jaygee: "If the rest are gone maybe we can at least--make himcomfortable."
"Too risky," the jaygee said after a long pause.
The sobbing went on. As the excitement of the attack drained fromOrsino, he felt deathly tired, cramped and thirsty. The thirst he coulddo something about. He scooped water from the muddy runnel by his kneeand sucked it from his palms twice. The third time, he thought of thethirst that the sobbing creature out in the dark must be feeling, andhis hand wouldn't go to his mouth.
"I'm going to get him," he whispered to the jaygee.
"Stay where you are! That's an order!"
He didn't answer, but began to work his cramped and aching body fromunder the jeep. The jaygee, a couple of years younger and lither thanhe, slid out first from his own side. Orsino sighed and relaxed as heheard his footsteps cautiously circle the jeep.
"Finish me off!" the wounded man was sobbing. "For the love of thegoddess, finish me off, you bitches' bastards! You've broke meback--_ah!_" That was a cry of savage delight.
There was a strangled noise from the jaygee and then only a soft, deadlythrashing noise from the dark. Hell, Orsino thought bitterly. It was myidea. He snaked out from under the jeep and raced through wet brush.
The two of them were a tangled knot of darkness rolling on the ground. Anaked back came uppermost; Orsino fell on it and clawed at its head. Hefelt a huge beard, took two hand-fulls of it and pulled as hard as hecould. There was a wild screech and a flailing of arms. The jaygee brokeaway and stood up, panting hoarsely. Charles heard a sharp crunch and asnap, and the flailing sweaty figure, beneath him lay still.
"Back to the guns," the jaygee choked. He swayed, and Orsino took him bythe arm.... On the way back to the jeep, they stumbled over somethingthat was certainly a body.
Orsino's flesh shrank from lying down again in the mud behind his gun,but he did, shivering. He heard the jaygee thud wearily into position."What did you do to him?" he asked. "Is he dead?"
"Kicked him," the jaygee choked. "His head snapped back and there wasthat crack. I guess he's dead. I never heard of that broken-wing trickbefore. I guess he wanted to take one more with him. They have a kind ofreligion."
The jaygee sounded as though he was teetering on the edge of breakdown.Make him mad, intuition said to Orsino. He might go howling off amongthe trees unless he snaps out of it.
"It's a hell of way to run an island," he said nastily. "You beggarswere chased out of North America because you couldn't run it right andnow you can't even control a lousy little island for more than fivemiles inland." He added with deliberate, superior amusement: "Of course,they've got witches."
"Shut your mouth, gangster--_I'm warning you._" The note of hysteria wasstill there. And then the jaygee said dully: "I didn't mean that. I'msorry. You did come out and help me after all."
"Surprised?"
"Yes. Twice. First time when you wanted to go out yourself. I supposeyou can't help being born where you were. Maybe if you came over to usall the way, the Government would forgive and forget. But no--I supposenot." He paused, obviously casting about for a change of subject. Hestill seemed sublimely confident that they'd get back to the naval basewith him in charge of the detail. "What ship did you cross in?"
"Atom sub _Taft_," Orsino said. He could have bitten his tongue out.
"_Taft?_ That's my father's pigboat! Captain Van Dellen. How is he? Iwas going down to the dock when--"
"He's dead," Orsino said flatly. "He was caught on deck during anemergency dive."
The jaygee said nothing for a while and then uttered an unconvincinglaugh of disbelief. "You're lying," he said. "His crew'd never let thathappen. They'd let the ship be blown to hell before they took her downwithout the skipper."
"Grinnel had the con. He ordered the dive and roared down the crew whenthey wanted to get your father inboard. I'm sorry."
"Grinnel," the jaygee whispered. "Grinnel. Yes, I know CommanderGrinnel. He's--he's a good officer. He must have done it because he hadto. Tell me about it, please."
It was more than Orsino could bear. "Your father was murdered," he saidharshly. "I know because Grinnel put me on radar watch--and I don't knowa God-damned thing about reading a radarscope. He told me to sing out'enemy planes' and I did because I didn't know what the hell was goingon. He used that as an excuse to crash-dive while your father wassleeping on deck. Your good officer murdere
d him."
He heard the jaygee sobbing hoarsely. At last he asked Orsino in a dry,choked voice: "Politics?"
"Politics," Orsino said.
Orsino jumped wildly as the jaygee's machine gun began to roar a longburst of twenty, but he didn't fire himself. He knew that there was noenemy out there in the dark, and that the bullets were aimed only at anabsent phantom.
"We've got to get to Iceland," the jaygee said at last, soberly. "It'sour only chance."
"Iceland?"
"This is one for the C.C. of the Constitutionists. The CentralCommittee. It's a breach of the Freiberg Compromise. It means we callthe Sociocrats, and if they don't make full restitution--war."
"What do you mean, _we_?"
"You and I. You're the source of the story; you're the one who'd belie-tested."
You've got him, Orsino told himself, but don't be fool enough to counton it. He's been light-headed from hunger and no sleep and the shock ofhis father's death. You helped him in a death struggle and there's teamspirit working on him. The guy covering my back, how can I fail to trusthim, how could I dare not to trust him? But don't be fool enough tocount on it after he's slept. Meanwhile, push it for all it's worth.
"What are your plans?" he asked gravely.
"We've got to slip out of Ireland by sub or plane," the jaygee brooded."We can't go to the New Portsmouth or Com-Surf organizations; they'reSociocrat, and Grinnel will have passed the word to the Sociocrats thatyou're out of control."
"What does that mean?"
"Death," the jaygee said.
The Syndic Page 11