Zenya dot-11

by E. C. Tubb

  "As you have done, Earl?" She frowned as he made no answer. "Earl?"

  She looked at his hand, tight around his wineglass, the set look on his face, the eyes misted with memories. Jealous, she said, "Earl, I'm bored. Let's get out of here."

  Branchard was waiting when they returned to the suite. He straightened from where he leaned against a wall, face splitting into a grin as he saw the uniform. Formally he said, "My lord, may I have the pleasure of a few moments of your time?"

  The words were for the benefit of the honor guard standing stiffly beside the door. Maintaining the pretense,

  Dumarest snapped, "This is irregular, but, as you are here…"

  Inside, Branchard glanced around, saw the electronic baffle, and relaxed.

  "I tried to get word to you, Earl, but you didn't ring back, so I had to take a chance and come myself." He nodded at Zenya. "The girl took the message."

  "What message?" She frowned. "A man rang a few times asking for you to call back. A news service, I understood. Naturally you wouldn't want to be bothered."

  "You should have told me," said Dumarest mildly. The delay wasn't important. "Any luck?"

  "Some, but you may not like it. The name didn't help, but names can be changed, and the man you're looking for is known here as Amil Kulov."

  "You're sure?"

  "There's no doubt about it, Earl. The Lammarre details match to the last decimal point. He had an infection shortly after landing and was treated in the city hospital. He also worked for a time in a chemical factory, doing spot checks on sprays and fungicides, and he's on record in their medical section. The thing is, he isn't in the city."

  Dumarest frowned. "Where, then? At one of the villages?"

  "Not even that. He's one of these crazy guys, you know, always trying to help those who don't really want him to interfere but are too polite to say so. The last known of him was that he was living in the hills among the Ayutha." Branchard poured himself some wine, emptied half the glass in a single swallow. "Nice stuff, Earl. They seem to be treating you well."

  "Stick to the point, captain."

  "That is it, Earl. You might as well forget the man. The odds are that he's dead by now. Everyone I spoke to reckons that all the social workers who interested themselves in the primitives got the chop when the trouble started. One thing is for sure-if you go looking for him, you'll head smack into trouble."

  Nothing was simple. Dumarest said, "Thank you, captain. I'll send money to you at the field."

  Chapter Ten

  From the head of the column Ven Taykor said, "I've never been a gambling man, Earl, but if I were I'd take odds that none of us will get back alive." His voice was muffled, distorted by the diaphragm of his respirator. "If I were with the Ayutha, I could pick us off one by one and never need to show myself at all."

  A gamble impossible to avoid. Pausing, Dumarest glanced back at the column of men. They had been marching since dawn from where the rafts had dropped them, following Taykor as he led them toward the hills. They were tired, hot, and irritable, and showed it. Hand-picked, but poorly trained; there had been no time for that.

  He said, "You're a pessimist, Ven. All we want to do is to make contact."

  "Let's hope that we don't do it the hard way." Taykor reached up to scratch his face, swore as his fingers met the mask. "Do we have to wear these damn things all the time?"

  There was no wind; the leaves of the lofios all around were still, swollen pods taut beneath the sun. They had worn the respirators continuously, field training to get accustomed to the equipment, but the capacity of the tanks was limited.

  "We'll take a break," decided Dumarest. "Captain Corm, set guards. Respirators to be worn, no firing on any account unless I order. Lieutenant Paran, report."

  He listened as the other relayed details of the situation.

  Rafts, heavily armed, riding high at the edge of the hills, men tense to shoot at anything that moved below. More rafts, deeper in, scanning with electronic sensors.

  "A party has been spotted moving toward the west, sir. About thirty men, as far as can be determined." His voice hardened. "They could have been responsible for the recent attacks."

  "Any other signs of movement?"

  "No, sir. That party, sir, do you wish it destroyed?"

  "No." Dumarest's voice was harsh. "My orders are plain-no firing for any reason unless I give the command. Any man disobeying will be shot. Our objective is to contact the Ayutha. If we start shooting, they will run."

  Run and attack in turn, and the column he commanded was too vulnerable for his liking. As they settled, one of the men complained, "A hell of a thing. Why couldn't we have used rafts to drop us right in the hills? All this walking seems crazy to me."

  His companion, more logical, said, "Use your head, man. Suppose you were one of the Ayutha. You could see a raft coming for miles, right? You'd see it land and armed men get out, and then what? I'll tell you, you'd run and get help and set up an ambush. The marshal knows what he's doing."

  A blind confidence that Dumarest hoped would be justified. Squatting, crouched over a map, he studied the terrain. They were close to the foothills, where a shallow gully wound into the higher regions, heading, so Ven Taykor had said, to one of the Ayutha settlements. It would be deserted now; even primitives would not have remained massed together to offer an easy target, but equally so, they would have remained scattered in the vicinity. If he could reach the area without being attacked, if they were a little curious and held their fire, if the men behind him would control their nervous tension, it was possible that his mission could be a success.

  He said, "Ven, come over here."

  Taykor made no reply. Looking up, Dumarest saw him standing beside one of the lofios plants. He had dropped his respirator and was digging with his thumbnails into one of the blooms. He turned, grinning, oil gleaming on his thumbs.

  "Here, Earl, come and smell what this is all about."

  The scent was incredible. It rose from the oil, catching at the senses, filling the mind with sensations of warm suns and sultry days, of fields of flowers and silken skin. A gourmet would have found in it the succulence of favorite foods, a lover the impact of his woman's flesh. For a moment he stood, confused with a variety of impressions; then Ven Taykor dropped his hands, wiping them on his faded tunic.

  "It gets you, doesn't it? I've known men to become so hooked on the stuff they spend their lives among the lofios just collecting, smelling, drifting into a private world all of their own. Not many, but it happens." He added grimly, "You find them sometimes. Mostly bones. With fruit all around, they sit and starve to death."

  "A narcotic?"

  "No. It isn't habit forming in the sense that it creates a dependency. It's just that a few men like it so much they haven't the will to leave it alone. Mostly you build a tolerance toward it. The marketed stuff, of course, is diluted and refined." Taykor reached up and jerked a fruit from its branch. "Try it, it's good."

  The fruit was round, the size of a clenched hand, the rind easily peeled from the juicy pulp beneath. Dumarest lifted his mask and buried his teeth in the flesh. It held a cool, refreshing tang, tart and yet sweet, devoid of seeds.

  He said, "How do the plants propagate?"

  "By cuttings. They are all from one original hybrid. Even so, the blooms still need pollinating." Taykor lifted his hand and rested it on one of the swollen pods. "See?"

  As he rapped it, the pod opened in a gush of golden grains, tiny motes rising, to drift high into the air, a smokelike cloud which hung over the guide as if a mist.

  Dumarest snapped, "Be careful!"

  "Why?" Taykor frowned. "They're harmless, Earl. The dust is only pollen. It might sting your eyes if you stood too close, and maybe make you sneeze, but that's all." He reached out to gather more fruit. "You'd better let the men eat while they have the chance. From now on the going gets rough."

  Eat and recharge the air tanks and get ready for the next stage of the journey. Dumare
st moved softly around the camp, watching the shadows beneath the plants to either side. He saw nothing, but that meant little. Their progress had been not as silent as he wished; a stray Ayutha could have spotted them, be even now keeping watch. But if so, there was nothing he could do.

  Two hours later they saw the skull.

  It was the fleshless head of some beast mounted on a short stick, facing them with fanged jaws. Ven Taykor looked at it, hand rising to his mask in conditioned reflex as he tried to scratch his jaw.

  "Well, now," he said. "This is something new. I've never seen anything like it before."

  Dumarest looked to either side. The lofios had given way to scrub, matted vegetation covering torn ground. A few of the plants stood in sheltered places, thin and with dulled leaves, ragged beneath the sun, their roots driving deep for the specialized minerals they required. Spined vines pressed against them, yellow flowers bright among the thorns,, red berries hanging in clusters beneath orange leaves.

  He looked again at the skull. It was old, the bone yellowed, fretted, patches of lichen clinging to the underside of the jaw like scales of dried blood.

  A warning. It could be nothing else. Stop! Come no farther! Go back-or else!

  To Ven Taykor he said, "How much longer before we reach the settlement?"

  "A few hours." The guide was uneasy. "That's if they let us get anywhere near it. If they want to stop us, it would be easy. The ground ahead is full of crevasses-a perfect spot for an ambush."

  "Can we bypass it?"

  "I'm not sure." Taykor scratched at his mask. "One man could do it easy, but not if he's a target. A file of men would be conspicuous every step of the way. If you want my advice, Earl, you'll call it a day. Radio up a raft and get out of here."

  "I won't do that."

  "No," said Taykor. "I didn't think you would. But if the Ayutha are gunning for us, you'll wish you had." He glanced up at the sky, where tiny motes drifted, almost lost in the distance. Watching rafts containing enough power to wash the area with destruction. "Maybe you should bring them in close-just in case."

  "No. Is there any sign of peace the Ayutha recognize? If a stranger comes up to others, what does he do?" He said sharply, as Taykor hesitated, "What did you do when meeting them? Hold out your hands? What?"

  "I didn't do anything special. Just walked in slow and quiet and normal. They didn't bother me, and I didn't bother them. They didn't used to be warlike then, remember. Things have changed." Taykor shook his head, baffled. "I just don't know, Earl. From here on, anything can happen."

  A quiet, primitive people suddenly turning to violence, old customs revived, perhaps, memories of other days when life had been hard and only the strong could hope to survive. How would such a people react to the presence of armed men? He could guess, but the chance had to be taken.

  "Take the lead," he said to the guide. "Walk with your hands empty and in full view. If you see anyone watching, do nothing. Captain!" Dumarest turned to Conn. "Single file, rifles slung, hands exposed. You understand?"

  The captain was a tough farmer who had lost his family during the first attack. Scowling, he said, "I don't like it, marshal. You're turning us into sitting targets. If the Ayutha attack, well all be wiped out."

  "You heard my orders, captain!"

  For a moment the man hesitated, on the brink of disobedience; then he shrugged. "Yes, sir, but God help you if you've made a mistake."

  "A threat, captain?" Dumarest didn't pursue the matter. "Never mind. Have the men maintain constant observation. One to look ahead, the two behind him to left and right alternately. Anything seen to be reported immediately. Right, Taykor? On your way!"

  The gully narrowed, widened into a shallow valley, the walls lifting, to close again as they climbed upward. The vegetation grew thicker, thorns tearing at clothing, rubble underfoot making progress difficult. Aside from the rasp of boots and the sound of harsh breathing, there was no sound. The column seemed to be moving into an infinity of emptiness, nothing but the hot sun above, the encroaching scrub, the rocks beneath. An hour later they found a second skull, human this time, and the men skirted it, eyes wary, hands gripping their slung rifles. A crest rose, gave way to a narrow declivity, the ground rising beyond to a steeper gradient.

  They found a hut, deserted, a small garden unkempt, plants choked with weeds. Another that had been burned, gray ash thick on the stone. Two more, roofs sagging, doors open, to reveal naked interiors. The embers of a fire over which stood a tripod of thin metal struts. Dumarest touched them, felt the dead ashes and found them warm. Word of their coming had preceded them; whoever had lived here had taken their possessions and run.

  A man said sharply, "Over there! See?"

  His rifle lifted, aiming. Dumarest reached him and slammed down the weapon. "No firing! You heard my order!"

  "I was just-"

  "You don't need a gun to point What did you see?"

  "Something over on that ridge. It's watching us. There!"

  Dumarest followed the pointing hand and saw nothing but a tree, stunted, branches like arms, a patch of lighter coloring that, to a nervous man, could have looked like a face.

  "There's nothing there. Don't be so quick with that gun the next time. Lieutenant!"

  "Sir?"

  "Any further reports on movement within this area?"

  There were three. Heat-radiating masses, which could have been men, moving invisibly in the vegetation, coming from the north and east.

  "We could have rafts track them, sir," suggested the officer. "So that if they start anything they wouldn't have the chance to get away."

  "If you were of the Ayutha and saw rafts heading in, what would you think? That we were bait to set a trap, maybe?" Dumarest shrugged. "We're here to contact them, not kill them." To the guide he said, "All right, Ven, lead on."

  An hour later they were attacked.

  It happened as the guide topped a rise, standing for a moment silhouetted against the sky, passing on into the valley beyond. Captain Conn followed him, his rifle, despite orders, clenched in his hands. Dumarest saw him pause, the gun lifting, aiming, firing as he shouted.

  "Captain! No!"

  The flat report of the shot rolled from the flanking hills, repeated as the captain fired again. Ven Taykor appeared, running back over the rise, hands lifted, face contorted behind his mask.

  "Earl! We're surrounded! That crazy fool-"?

  Captain Conn dissolved into a pillar of flame.

  It happened almost too fast to see. One moment he was standing firing; the next, something had touched him and turned him into a living torch, Dumarest snatched at his rifle, lifted it, fired, sending a bullet into the shrieking mass. As the captain fell in merciful death, he yelled, "Scatter! Down! Stay under cover! No firing!"

  He caught the guide as he passed and threw him down as something cut the air with a vicious hiss. Together they rolled to the side of the boulder, crouching as more arrows splintered against the stone. To one side a man rose, firing, turning, to fall with a shaft of wood penetrating his chest. Shots blasted, hysterical fingers jammed against triggers, firing at the air, the trees, the rocks all around. More flame burst around diem, ugly patches edged with smoke, filling the air with tiny motes of swirling soot.

  "Flame bombs," gasped Taykor. "They'll burn us alive!"

  Ten yards behind, broken stone formed a rough circle, slabs and fissures giving protection. Dumarest sprang to his feet and raced toward it, shouting orders over the din.

  "Retreat! Form defensive positions. Stop firing. Stop firing, damn you!"

  A man snarled as he tumbled over the rocks. "You killed the captain. One of your own men. Whose damn side are you on?"

  "Would you have left him to roast?" Taykor tried to spit, remembered his mask, tore it free with a savage gesture. "The fool started all this. If he hadn't fired, we could have made contact. They were waiting for us."

  "He still killed the captain."

  There had been nothing else t
o do. Conn had been seared, blinded, already dying; it had been an act of mercy to save him further agony. Dumarest glanced around the crude fort. The stone gave protection only while they hugged the rocks; once they left it, they would be exposed to hidden snipers. Behind them, three men lay where they had fallen. As he watched, another gulped, threw up his hands, and fell backward, a hole between his eyes, blood gushing from the back of his shattered skull.

  "They've got us," said Taykor grimly. "All they have to do is wait. Once we start to move, well be helpless." He lifted his head, squinting. "They must have been following us all along. They're out there now, hidden, waiting until we show ourselves."

  Lieutenant Paran came crawling toward where they crouched. His face was taut, strained, his eyes a little wild.

  "The rafts," he said. "Let me call them in."

  Dumarest was cold. "To do what?"

  "Burn the area. Send those devils running so they can land and take us aloft."

  "Abort the mission, you mean? Lieutenant, we came here to do a job. We'll leave when it's done or when I decide that it is impossible to do. Report on the casualties."

  The snap of his tone restored military obedience. The officer blinked, then said flatly, "Five dead, sir, including the captain. Four injured, two seriously."

  It could have been a lot worse, and Dumarest wondered why it hadn't been. A disciplined force could have almost eliminated them at the first attack, but arrows had been used, not the rifles they must possess, flame bombs instead of the lasers they must have captured.

  He said, "Thank you, lieutenant Tell the men to hold their fire. Have some take care of the wounded-all to remain alert and under cover."

  "He's young," said Taykor as he inched away. "But he'll learn-maybe."

  Dumarest ignored the implication. "Those Ayutha you saw waiting for us. Were they in plain sight?"

  "A score of them at least!"

  "Armed?"