The Continent Makers and Other Tales of the Viagens
Page 30
“They have come!” squeaked Adzik. “We are saved! Warschauer, we can still put it over! The contract is in March’s safe, winch is still in his house even if wet!”
“Hey!” said Sklar, gripping his spear.
The spaceship hovered over the peninsula, drifting this way and that as the pilot sought a patch of level ground. Then down it came on its tail in a burst of steam and dust from the earth beneath. The jet sputtered and died.
The Thothian shrieked: “If we can get my people to destroy these, there will be no more evidence! They are the only ones who know the whole story! Follow me!”
As Adzik dived overboard, Sklar sent a futile jab after it. The raft rocked as Warschauer, too, went over the side.
“Throw the spear!” said Varnipaz.
As Sklar hesitated with the unfamiliar weapon the fugitives drew out of range, Warschauer holding the tail of the powerfully swimming Thothian.
“Grab that oar!” said Graham to Varnipaz.
They started rowing vigorously, but it soon transpired that with the wind against them they were outclassed.
Jeru-Bhetiru said: “Little people like Adzik are getting out of the spaceship.”
“They’re Thothians, all right,” said Sklar. “Look up!”
Overhead appeared six more dots, circling slowly and balancing on their jets.
“The rest of the Thothian colonists,” said Sklar.
Graham said between strokes: “They won’t—land until the—first ones mark—out level spaces—for them. And—that’ll take some time on Ascension.”
Jeru-Bhetiru said: “Adzik and Warschauer have reached the shore. They are standing up. A big wave knocks Warschauer down, but he is getting up . . . The Thothians from the ship are running down to shore . . . They are talking . . .”
Sklar said: “You guys better head out to sea again. They’re settink up some kind of gun.”
The raft spun and headed back northwest, faster because the sail now helped. Again Ascension shrank until the Thothians became mere moving specks. Now that he was facing shoreward, Graham could see that they were indeed setting up some kind of weapon, though it was too far for details. He hoped that, being crowded with colonists, the ship could not have carried anything heavy.
Something went wheep, and there was a loud crack. A column of water rose in the air near the raft.
Wheep-crash! Another, nearer.
“They’ve got us—ranged now,” panted Graham. “The next one’ll get us . . .”
Wheep-crash! But this was farther instead of nearer.
“My God!” said Sklar. “Look!”
A long gray shape had emerged from the waters of the South Atlantic, water running off its decks in sheets, and was now accelerating to full surface speed. As its atomic engines forced it up to sixty knots or more towards Ascension, spray leaped in huge splashes as its pointed nose butted through the waves. The column of water from the last explosion towered in this ship’s wake.
A cupola on the forward deck opened out and a girder structure appeared. With a whoosht a rocket leaped towards Ascension. The missile accelerated to a streak, its path curving as its guiding mechanism led it towards the spaceship.
“Cover your eyes!” cried Graham.
A blinding flash visible even through closed lids came from the island, followed by a tremendous roar and a puff of air blast that carried away the sail and almost upset the raft. When they opened their eyes, a huge cloud of smoke and dust was boiling up from the peninsula. The spaceship had vanished.
They sat half-stunned while the six spaceships overhead filed off to westward out of sight. The warship circled towards them.
Jeru-Bhetiru said: “Will that mean war between your planets?”
Sklar shook his head. “You can’t have real interplanetary war for logistic risens, yonk lady. Besides, the Thothian government will say these were private pipple and they are not responsible. Maybe there will soon be a new government on Thoth.”
The warship drew alongside to windward, the checkered flag of the World Federation flying from its staff. The name Nigeria became visible on the conning tower, and a crew with shiny black faces appeared on deck. A squirt of oil flattened the waves, and the sailors hoisted them aboard.
An African officer with a major’s stripes said: “I’m skipper and my name’s Nwafor. Are you Reinhold Sklar?”
Sklar introduced himself and his companions. Major Nwafor said: “We were out on a routine cruise from Freetown when we got a wireless from General Vasconcellos of the Brazilian Federal Police. He seemed to think there might be trouble at Ascension and asked us to stop by. We ordered that fellow to stop shooting, and when he fired at us we had to defend ourselves.”
Sklar looked up. “Where are the other Thothian ships goink?”
“I ordered them to Bahia, for arrest and internment. Now go below, please. When you get yourselves dried off I should like to hear your stories.”
The whine of turbojets made them look around. Against the western sky a seaplane with the markings of the United States of Brazil was bearing down on them.
“Late as usual,” grumbled Sklar, and led the others below.
IX.
On the airliner for New York, Jeru-Bhetiru sat facing Graham and Varnipaz in an Earthly dress bought in Rio; an enchanting sight even if the costume made less of her mammalian attractions than her native garb. The others’ hair was beginning to grow out again after they had discarded their helmets and wigs for good. She said: “I am so sorry about that poor Mr. Gil. It was not worthwhile rescuing me if he had to get killed in the doing.”
Varnipaz nodded somberly. “He said he wanted to see some action before he died, and he did.” The Krishnan turned to Gordon Graham. “I owe you more than I can pay, Gordon. As in my own world I am a person of some importance, you shall have anything you wish if I can manage it. Name your reward.”
Graham looked up from the engineering report he was writing for the Brazilian Federal Police and exchanged glances with Jeru-Bhetiru. The Krishnan had turned out to be quite as fine a fellow as he had seemed, and you couldn’t very well respond to his offer by telling him you wanted his girl.
“Go ahead,” said Varnipaz. “Anything you desire.”
“Well-uh—” said Graham.
“Be frank.”
Graham took a deep breath and said: “If you r-really w-w-want to know, I’m in love with your fiancée.”
Varnipaz raised his antennae slightly. “Interesting. That however is something for her to decide. What about it, Jeru-Bhetiru?”
“I love Gorodon too,” she said. “Madly. But of course I shall still marry you as planned.”
“What?” said Graham. “How d’you figure that?”
She explained gently: “In my country this state you call being in love has nothing to do with marriage. We think that people who mate on a basis of interest and advantage are happier in the long run than those who do so on a basis of a temporary sexual attraction. While the latter does sometimes happen, we consider the victims to be pitied. This romantic idea of the Earthly Western culture makes no sense to us.
“Now, the engagement of Varnipaz and myself is a stroke of statesmanship, to set up a tie between Katai-Jhogorai, the most cultured state on Krishna, and Sotaspé, the most scientific. We like each other and shall get along well, and we certainly should not spoil such an excellent plan because of a temporary infatuation, especially with an Earthman. You and I, Gorodon, could not even have young.”
“W-we could adopt . . .” began Graham, but she stopped him.
“Adopt what, an Osirian with scales or a Vishnuvan with six legs? No, Gorodon darling, you know as well as I that it would not be the same . . .”
And then they were at the New York Airport. Varnipaz shook hands with Graham and Jeru-Bhetiru kissed him soundly, and off they went, the Krishnan girl on the arm of her betrothed.
Graham turned to Sklar. “How about a drink before we go into town?”
“Sure th
ink,” said the constable, and they walked towards the bar. “Don’t look so sad, pal. After all you’re a hero.”
“I do feel sort of let down,” said Graham. “Of course it’s nice to have the President of Brazil shake your hand, and Souza offer you a permanent job on the Project, and that sort of thing. But I was hoping . . .”
“That the little squid would—uh—make some arrangement, huh? You’ll be glad someday. When you been married as lunk as I have, you take a relaxed view of such thinks. After all you saved the continent for the W.F., didn’t you? What do you want, an egg in your beer?”
“I’m afraid I do.”
“Okus dokus.” Reinhold Sklar turned to the bartender. “A Martian special for me, and for my friend here one stein of lager. Put an egg in it.”