Liberator Of Jedd rb-5

by Джеффри Ллойд

  «We know that in our own dimension, Home Dimension, our world,» the old man continued, «that evolution develops along parallel lines, but at a slower or faster pace in remote and unconnected parts of the world. So, to get started at all, I must have a model, an abstract and theoretical model for guidance. I have chosen one. I have, a priori, chosen to think along the lines that Ogar here came from a dimension, a world, that is much like our own, but in a much earlier stage of development. Put it like this — when the computer malfunctioned and Ogar was snatched from his world, his dimension, he left behind a world similar to our own — half a million years ago.»

  J, practical man, and with the Prime Minister and committee to keep happy, relished this. Would there not, in such a dimension, be gold and oil and all the rest? Untold and untouched, wealth to be exploited by England when teleportation was perfected. It made a strong talking point.

  Lord L tapped the creature’s flattened skull with the ruler. «A puzzle,» he admitted. «Not Pithecanthropus. Far short of Cro-Magnon, though he did walk upright in the, er, short time we saw him move of his own volition. The braincase is flat and the brow ridges very heavy. Yet the arms and legs are sum and well developed, the body protected by hair with an undercoat for additional protection from cold. That itself is totally unknown to us — a subhuman species with an undercoating of hair like some dogs have.»

  Blade said, with a faint smile, «What makes him smell like that, sir?»

  J tried not to laugh. His Lordship scowled but answered the question.

  «Pure animal odor. Ogar never took a bath in his life. Over the years a protective coating of dirt and grease build up. It would come in very handy in bad weather.»

  Ogar turned on the cot. Despite the heavy dosage of drugs he was given to tossing and turning and had several times fallen off the cot. Each time, Blade, the only one strong enough to lift him, had been summoned for the duty. And had taken a shower immediately to get the stink off him.

  Now Ogar showed his teeth and snarled in his sleep. «Ogarrrrrr — rrrrrr — Ogarrrrrrrrrr—»

  «Having a bad dream,» said Blade.

  His Lordship tapped the hairy jaw. «Teeth much the same as ours, but larger and lacking any wisdom teeth. The canines are long and fang-like, as you can see.»

  Blade was still healing from the bites inflicted by Ogar in their brief scuffle.

  Lord Leighton moved closer to the cot. He seized a handful of hair at the back of Ogar’s neck and raised the head. He poked with the ruler at the nape of Ogar’s neck. «The amazing thing is the foramen magnum. Identical with our own, or so close to being as makes no difference. So he walks upright and his brain stalk is vertical. Ogar, my dear fellows, is a human being. Or very close to being one. I only wish it were possible to work out a lineal descent pattern, a phylogeny, but that is impossible since he is not of our dimension.»

  His Lordship lectured them for two hours on Ogar. Blade was patient, abiding the smell and wondering what J was up to. That his chief was up to something Blade did not doubt — he had known J a long time and had come to know the meaning of that covert smile.

  But it was Lord L who exploded the first bombshell. Two days later Blade awoke to the sound of jackhammers chipping away at stone. The sound was remote, in some far off sub-basement, but there was no mistaking the source. J, over breakfast, explained it.

  «From our viewpoint,» he said over the sausage and eggs, «the old boffin may have gone around the bend, but from his viewpoint it makes good sense. He is having a cave built for Ogar.»

  Blade halted his fork in upswing. «A cave?»

  J speared the last sausage. «Yes, dear boy, a cave. Ogar is going to live in it when he comes out of the drug. So are you.»

  «So am I what?»

  «Going to live in the cave,» said J cheerfully. «With Ogar.»

  Blade dropped his knife and fork. «Like bloody hell I am!»

  J nodded. «So right. You are. I am going to order you to do it. I’m sorry, Dick, but it has to be done. I have to humor him and I have to keep him working on the computer. He can finish repairing it in a week if I can keep him at it, but not if he gets a case of the sulks. You must be a good fellow and go along.»

  Blade groaned and choked back the obscenity he felt like voicing. «But why? Why in hell does he have to have a cave and why do I have to live in it with that — that whatever it is?»

  J, though usually a taciturn and humorless man, was not without his moments. He said, «You mean Ogar? Our guest?»

  Blade scowled at him. He tried to think of women. Tender-limbed, sweet-smelling, soft-breasted women. This monkish life was steadily taking its toll.

  J shattered all that. «Lord L has deduced that Ogar, in his own dimension, lived in a cave. Probably he is right So he is going to give Ogar a cave. And a fire — he is having special ventilation installed — and he is going to play tapes that simulate the night sounds Ogar must have been used to hearing. There will be meat, raw meat — he can hardly wait to see if Ogar eats it raw or cooks it — and of all this he is going to make moving pictures and sound tapes. In other words, he wants a record of Ogar living in his own natural environment. Or what Lord L thinks must have been his environment. It really isn’t a bad idea, you know.»

  «It’s a miserable idea,» said Blade crossly. «That thing is dangerous, for God’s sake. I should know.»

  J tutted that. He knew his Blade. «You’re not afraid, Dick. Don’t try to have me on. You’re bored and restless and missing your totsies. But this thing you have got to do — it fits in exactly with my plans.»

  And J revealed his plan to Blade, who had to laugh. Lord L was in for a rude shock.

  «Besides which,» said J, «you will have a club and Ogar won’t. You will be dressed in animal skin of some sort and Ogar will be, as usual, stark naked. That in itself should give you an overwhelming psychological advantage. Even a creature like Ogar is at a disadvantage without pants.»

  Blade left the table. He did not feel like eating.

  A good-sized cave had been bored out of the bedrock. Noiseless ventilators kept a current of cool air moving through it. A small fire was built in the center of the cave, a crude jar of water provided, and Lord L installed his movie cameras and recording equipment in secret crannies. Ogar was still drugged in his cell.

  Lord Leighton, waxing more ecstatic by the moment, talked incessantly as he puttered about making final arrangements.

  «Ogar will be terrified when he comes out of the drug,» he explained. «That will be the critical moment. And most interesting, too. I am counting on the night noises to keep him in the cave. If I am right he will not venture out of the cave at night. He will use the cave as a shelter and the fire as protection from the beasts. My guess is that he will remain very quiet and huddle by the fire.»

  «And if he doesn’t, sir?»

  The old man touched Blade’s arm and smiled. «Then you will have to handle him, my dear boy. It is, after all, your job. You did it before. No, I anticipate no difficulty there.»

  Blade did not share his confidence. «Ogar is bound to be hungry,» he pointed out. «For meat. Probably raw meat. That just might make him forget his manners, sir. He might toss the script away.» He did not think it necessary to add that he, Blade, represented 210 pounds of good firm meat on the hoof.

  «Meat he shall have,» said Lord L. «Fresh raw meat. I ordered a freshly killed beef yesterday. You, Richard, are going to offer him the meat as a gesture of friendship. Now let us go and fetch him.»

  Blade carried Ogar to the cave and stretched him out by the fire. Leighton was testing his tapes and the night noises began to filter into the cave. Blade, alone with the sleeping Ogar, felt a chill creep up his spine. It was all very realistic. And atavistic. The flickering firelight brought shadows alive. Ogar slept on, his brute face cushioned on a hairy forearm. In the darkness outside, the roars and bellows and death cries of great mammals and reptiles came from the tapes in eerie authenticity. For a moment
time slid back and it was a million years ago and Richard Blade stood naked and alone in a primeval night.

  The hours passed. They watched Ogar through cleverly placed peepholes. Blade, naked now but for a skin about his loins, and carrying a club, began to be caught up in the thing. In a rawhide pouch he carried several chunks of raw and slightly gamey meat. He waited patiently for the game to begin, his handsome face impassive, his great muscles relaxed.

  J, watching Blade closely, marveled at the change in his top operative. He began to understand better why Blade had survived four trips into Dimension X. A faculty for absolute adaptation. Blade was like a chameleon in that. To look at him now, J thought with a sense of awe, he is living a million years ago. He is a caveman.

  At last Ogar stirred. Lord Leighton made frantic signs. It had all been rehearsed beforehand and each man knew what to do. The old man flicked a switch and the night noises began. First a hideous bellowing, then a hissing, then sounds of deadly struggle and, at last, a high screech of triumph and a death groan.

  Ogar opened his eyes. He rolled on his side, got to his knees and glared around the cave. He cocked his head to listen. He snarled, an ominous guttural chest sound, and showed his fangs. He fell to all fours and stared into the fire.

  Blade, from a corner of his eyes, saw Lord L rubbing his hands together and grinning like an idiot. J watched in silence, without expression on his long horsey face.

  Ogar was on his feet now, walking upright but with his shoulders hunched forward and his long arms dangling to his knees. He was plainly puzzled. He began to walk about the cave, examining it, all the time making sounds in his throat. Now and again he would pause and listen to the sounds from outside.

  A pile of faggots had been placed in one corner of the cave. Ogar stared at them, snarled, then picked up several and placed them on the fire. The flames leaped higher. Ogar then began to search around on the floor of the cave. He was annoyed and angry. Several times he thumped his chest and growled.

  The stone axe! Ogar was looking for his axe.

  Lord L, unable to contain himself any longer, dying to share his triumph, sidled in beside Blade, whispering.

  «I’ve got it. I do believe I’ve got it — or as close as is possible. Ogar is Australopithecine. Or what would correspond to austral-P in our scale and in our world. Six hundred thousand years ago! I—»

  Blade put a finger to his lips. They shared the peephole. Ogar, even over all the hideous night sounds, appeared to have heard the whispering. He scampered to the far side of the fire and crouched there, fangs bared, his little eyes fixed on the cave entrance. His hands beat a slow tattoo on his chest, and from his throat came a steady snarling— Groooorrrr — rrrr — grin—

  Lord Leighton touched Blade’s arm and smiled.

  «Better go in now, Richard. He’s expecting you.»

  Chapter Five

  Blade had planned it well, diagramming his every movement beforehand. If only Ogar would cooperate.

  Ogar knew that Blade was coming long before he stepped into the cave. He retreated to the farthest corner of the cave and crouched, fangs bared, snarling softly in his throat. The slim, hairy body quivered with fear, but the great macrocephalic head wove back and forth, jutting and staring in defiance.

  Blade stepped into the circle of firelight and stopped. He let the club hang lax in his right hand. He wanted Ogar to get a good look at it.

  Ogar peered at him from small reddened eyes. The flattened brute head moved back and forth, back and forth. The splayed nostrils quivered and Ogar made a new sound as he scented the raw meat in Blade’s pouch.

  Blade tried to pitch his voice exactly right. He felt certain that he would get only one chance. If Ogar feared him too much he would attack. If Ogar felt contempt, thought he was strong enough to win, he would attack. A fine line must be drawn and in those first few seconds matters balanced on the razor’s edge.

  Blade tossed the club away. He patted his own chest gently and said, very softly, «Ogar— Ogar— Ogar— Ogar—» It was nonsense, but reassuring sounds must be made and Blade crooned as he would to a baby. He hummed, nearly sang, «Ogar— Ogar— Ogar— Ogar—»

  Ogar remained in his corner. His glance followed the club, rested there for a moment, then came back to Blade. He snarled softly.

  Blade made a slow motion of conciliation with his hand. He smiled. He kept talking all the while, a jumble of softly intoned nonsense words. After a moment of this he reached into the pouch and brought out a hunk of the raw meat. Ogar’s nostrils quivered. Saliva dripped from the corners of his mouth.

  Blade held the meat on high and waited. Ogar watched the piece of meat in Blade’s hand. Blade kept talking, lulling, soothing, coaxing. And watching.

  Suddenly Ogar held out a hand. He ceased to snarl. From his throat came a sound that was, quite possibly, a fully formed word. To Blade it sounded like—“Owwwnowwah.» Ogar repeated the sound—“Owwwnowwah.»

  There was no mistaking the entreaty. Ogar was asking for the meat.

  Blade smiled and nodded and tossed the meat through the air. Ogar caught it deftly, smelled it, growled and slouched to the pile of faggots. He selected a stick, the sharpest of the lot, and thrust it into the meat. He took it to the fire and poked it into the flames.

  Blade, now as fascinated as Lord L, did not move. He crooned a soft little song in his throat.

  Ogar was careful to keep the fire between himself and Blade. He left the meat in the fire barely long enough to sear it, then wolfed it down in two bites, tearing and rending the charred flesh. His little eyes never left Blade.

  Blade tossed him another piece of meat. The process was repeated. This time Ogar made three bites of it, rubbed his belly and said something like—“Gooo-nah — nah—»

  Blade nodded and smiled and said, «Gooo-nah — nah—»

  Ogar looked puzzled. He cocked his head to one side, stared at Blade in a different manner, shook his head in some mysterious negation, scratched his chest hair vigorously, found something alive and popped it into his mouth. Then he settled on all fours by the fire and stared at Blade again.

  Blade kept talking. And smiling. Ogar kept staring and scratching. From outside the cave came a sudden terrible roaring. Ogar stared past Blade at the cave entrance. He clutched himself and rocked back and forth making whimpering sounds. Ogar was terrified of what was out there in the night. For the moment he appeared to have forgotten Blade, who was remembering what Lord L had said about Ogar’s attention span.

  «Probably not long,» the old man had said. «Very likely that of a three-or four-year-old child.»

  Blade went into the next part of his act. He walked to the cave entrance. He shook his fist. He let out his very best bellow of defiance. It was a fine effort and he was rather proud of it. Let the current Tarzan match that!

  When he glanced at Ogar again he was clapping his hairy, long-knuckled hands softly together and, Blade would have sworn, smiling, even laughing. The big mouth opened, fangs flashed, and there emerged a sound that was half hyena and half jackass.

  «Arrhhh-ahh-ahhhhh-ahhhh-ahhh—»

  Ogar was applauding.

  Blade kept up the patter. «That’s a good chap,» he said sweetly. «A fine chap you are, too. I am glad to see that we are going to get along. We will, you know. We’re going to be friends, Ogar, real bosom pals. And do you know, Ogar, you remind me of one of my old profs at Oxford. Professor Abernathy, I think. Yes, it was he. You are alike as two peas, you and the prof. Taught the classics, he did, and failed me once. Said I didn’t know how to study properly. May have had something there, you know. Anyway I had to do the bloody course twice over.»

  Ogar was not listening. He was picking at his body hair again, searching for dessert.

  Blade moved slowly toward the club. It lay about ten feet from where he stood. Ogar came instantly alert. He watched and the snarl began to build in his throat. Blade kept moving slowly toward the club.

  «Nothing to be afraid of, o
ld fellow. No need for alarm. I’m your friend, remember? I just want to prove it. You watch now, Ogar. You watch me very carefully.»

  Ogar was doing just that. As Blade stooped to pick up the club, Ogar growled and thumped his chest. Blade turned to show the club, to show that his intentions were pure, but Ogar was gone from the fire. He was back in his corner, terrified and blustering, snarling and raging and leaping up and down as he pounded his chest. Pure bluff, as Blade now understood. It would take a lot to make Ogar attack him now. Ogar was no fool. Blade had the club and Blade was the larger and stronger of the two. That sort of thing Ogar could understand. There should be no trouble now unless Blade did the attacking.

  Blade did not forsake caution. He moved slowly, deliberately, smiling and talking all the time. He broke the club over his knee and tossed it into the fire. Ogar stopped snarling to stare.

  Blade ignored him. He went to sit cross-legged by the fire. He took a chunk of meat from the pouch, found the same stick Ogar had dropped and poked the meat into the fire. Juice dripped. The smell filled the cave. Outside the horrendous noises continued.

  Blade did, in fact, like his steaks on the red side. After letting it cool for a moment, he sank his strong white teeth into the meat and enjoyed it. He had not known he was so hungry. From a corner of his eye he watched Ogar.

  Ogar was drooling again. He made word sounds and began to creep slowly toward the fire. Blade ignored him and went on eating. When the body smell told him that Ogar was close he looked up, smiled, reached into his pouch for a piece of meat and extended it across the fire. This time Ogar must take it from his hand.

  Ogar was dubious. He stared at Blade and said, «Ruuurr — uuu — gruuuuu-unah — unah—»

  Blade laughed and waved the meat back and forth. «That is exactly what I told the boys at the club, Ogar, but they wouldn’t believe me. I am happy to see that you think as I do. As a matter of fact, old man, I seriously intend to propose you for membership. You are precisely what St James Square needs. Liven matters up a bit, you know.»