Balance of Power

by Stableford, Brian

  My mouth was dry.

  “We’ll put her ashore before we leave,” said Malpighi. There was a note of relish in his voice—not because he was sadistically contemplating raping Mariel, but because he was in control and I couldn’t do anything and he wanted me to know it.

  “Where are you going to go?” I asked him.

  “Home,” he said. “We got water. We got all the rations you piled up for your stay here. We don’t need no roots or meat. We just want to get out of here. We don’t see any reason why any more of us should get killed. You promised us a lot of money for this trip, but you didn’t say nothing about people getting killed. We don’t want to end up like the others—Verheyden and his crew. We’re going home. Now.”

  “And when you get back home?” I said. “What do you tell them?”

  “We tell them you all got carried off,” he said. “You went out to look for natives an’ you never came back. We waited, we hunted, but two of our best men were shot. There was a fight. We had to retreat or we’d ha’ been slaughtered to a man. We’ll make ourselves heroes. An’ we’ll collect our money, too.”

  I said: “Someone will talk. You lot don’t like one another any better than you like us. Someone will blow the whole thing to spite someone else. Half of the poor sods don’t know what’s happening, do they? Just Ogburn and you, hey? You’ve left them all an excuse. It wasn’t me, they’ll say, it was Ogburn and Malpighi. I had to go along. Someone will say it. Someone always does. What’s the penalty for a crime like this back in the colony, hey? But suppose Thayer there has a change of heart, Malpighi? Suppose he shoots you instead of me? He can be a hero. You can all be heroes, boys. Just shoot the right man....”

  I never thought it would work.

  It didn’t.

  The dart took me in the shoulder. I tried to look over the shoulder to see where it had gone in, but the angle was impossible.

  I remained kneeling, waiting for the drug to black me out. I didn’t try to fight it. I keeled over slowly. I didn’t want to hurt myself, or make him fire again.

  The world spun around me, like a black whirlpool, and I seemed to continue falling, through the ground...a long, long way.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  I became slowly conscious of the fact that someone was slapping my face.

  Under the circumstances, it seemed to be something of a lousy thing to do. It was taking advantage of my helplessness. I was a sick man, and very tired. I was also dreaming, and though the slaps were driving the substance of the dream away from the clutches of consciousness I had the strong impression that it had been a fairly pleasant dream.

  I felt the collar of my one-piece gripped and my head was yanked from its resting place. I didn’t seem to have any alternative but to wake up.

  I woke up.

  “Come on, Alex!” she was saying, through gritted teeth. I looked at her, and remembered.

  “Mariel!”

  “Who were you expecting—the Virgin Mary?”

  She let my head sink back to the ground. Beside me was a body. I rolled over, away from it, and got to my knees. I peered at Ling, and reached out to take his wrist. He was cold. The bastards had cracked his skull. I realized that it was still the middle of the night, but that Mariel was holding a bright lantern.

  “Where’s Nieland?” I asked.

  “How should I know?”

  “They said they left him behind a bush—tied up but loose enough to get free. They were very scrupulous about murder—at least, the way they talked....” I remembered something else about the way they had talked. “How did you get here?” I asked.

  “Followed the trail blazed on the trees,” she replied.

  “No, I don’t mean how, I mean how? When I got shot you were scheduled for a gang rape. You don’t look as if you’ve been raped. Or shot by anesthetic darts.”

  “I was bringing the last of the stuff from the ship’s hold,” she said. “Lanterns and extra equipment—mostly spare stuff, but you weren’t in a very good mood and I thought I might as well pretend to be useful. I met Ogburn. He offered to help me. I don’t know what he said after that—I was too busy being scared of what he wasn’t saying. I couldn’t get back in time to warn you, so I just bluffed until Ogburn went back into his cabin. I got all the remaining food concentrates out of the hold and put them in the rowboat. Then I went to Nieland’s cabin and took the navigational stuff. Then I went to the armory and got the remaining guns. The boat was a bit full by then so I dumped those over the side. I stole the needle from the compass. I would have drilled a couple of holes in the side or something, but I didn’t have the time and I’d chucked the only remaining tools over the side with the guns.

  “I got into the rowboat and started upriver. I had to lighten the load a bit more, so some of the heavy stuff went over, but I managed to get away all right. It was dark, of course, and the boat was moored on the far side of the ship, so no one could see what I was doing. I found a place to land and unloaded all the food and such into a crack in the rock. Then I pushed the boat out into midstream again so it would float back to the ship and maybe past it and all the way down to sea. I transferred the food bit by bit to the top of the slope, and then hid it in the trees.

  “I sat tight for a while, then wormed my way back to see what was going on. They’d packed up for the night. I skirted the stockade and set off in the direction the foraging party had gone. There were no lights ashore, so I presumed there were no lookouts, and I put the lamp on low until I found a scored tree. Then I followed the trail, turning up the light as I came. I think we’re safe, though—I’m pretty sure they’re all back on the ship. They’ll probably take off first thing in the morning...unless, of course, they start checking supplies.”

  “Jesus,” I said, softly.

  “The only problem is,” she said, “what do we do next. We’ve got the bulk of the food—except for the stuff that had already come ashore—and we have some of your equipment, though not the most important stuff. We don’t have any guns, and they have six plus your dart rifle. On balance, I’d say we’re in a bit of a spot and so are they. They could navigate their way across the ocean without the instruments or the compass, but will they try without supplies they can trust? You’ve tested a lot of the local produce, but will they be able to make anything of your notes? I sure as hell never can.”

  I shook my head wonderingly.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I said. “If they find out what you’ve done they’ll come looking for us. They must have noticed your absence—we’re just bloody lucky they haven’t looked in the hold. We’d best make our way upriver. Get ourselves lost, for the time being. I’m not risking going back to the stockade.”

  I got up, and started looking round bushes. There was no sign of Nieland, but I did find a patch of squashed grass where he might have lain.

  “Malpighi said he’d get loose,” I muttered. “Damn fool must have tried to wake me, failed, and set off on his own. God only knows what he’ll try to do. He surely won’t have gone back to the stockade.”

  The possibilities, while not exactly endless, did not seem to warrant any more in the way of analytical commentary.

  “Okay,” I said, “let’s go.”

  I took the lantern from her hand, and then grabbed her hand to make sure we stayed together.

  We had gone some distance before I spoke again. “In your shoes,” I said, “I’d have run.”

  “I wanted to get a little of my own back,” she said. “They were very nasty thoughts that Ogburn was thinking.”

  “Did you have to throw all the guns over the side?” I asked.

  “I thought you didn’t approve of guns.”

  “They have their uses. But we’ll get by. You did one hell of a job. I don’t know how we’re going to put Humpty Dumpty together again, but you did a hell of a job.”

  “I thought we could negotiate,” she said. “We have the food.”

  “Yeah,” I said, without enthusiasm. She’d got some of
her own back on the crew, all right—and maybe a bit for me, too. But she hadn’t quite marooned them as finally as they’d marooned us. And we both knew, deep down, that there wasn’t a hope in hell of negotiating our way back home on the New Hope. Even if we patched up the quarrel and somehow gained a little leverage to preserve our lives during the long journey home it would be a long, long trip. Accidents can happen at sea. Not to mention stranger things.

  As we made our way westward in the starry night, I couldn’t quite see how we were ever going to get off Delta.

  CHAPTER NINE

  We didn’t go far—just far enough to get ourselves thoroughly lost. We could always find ourselves again by heading back to the river. What mattered was that they shouldn’t be able to find us.

  We rested underneath a tree, not really intending to doze off—sleeping in subtropical forests can be dangerous. But the aftereffects of the drug made me far too drowsy to resist the pull of sleep, and I succumbed. I assume that Mariel must have done likewise, but at least she woke up when things began to happen.

  I woke up when she began shaking my arm.

  Day had dawned, and the cool morning was all about us. There was a heavy dew. There were also five aliens standing round in a semicircle contemplating our prostrate forms. I sat up very suddenly.

  They were all males—one very large, the others in assorted sizes, presumably in varying stages of maturity. They were naked except for belts slung over their shoulders, with little pouches and pockets hung therefrom. The biggest one was carrying a spear with an iron blade. Two of the others had big knives, also of iron. All the ones with weapons were fingering them nervously while they watched us. Their fur was dark, with a pattern (black on brown) that was halfway between random blotches and vertical stripes. They looked like anthropomorphized versions of giant tabby cats.

  The big male studied me carefully. He had dark brown eyes with wide pupils—not catlike pupils, but humanoid circular ones. He wrinkled his nose as if he didn’t take too kindly to the way I stank. His lower jaw moved a little, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t think of an apposite remark.

  Who could blame him?

  I put up my hands, palms outward, to show that there was nothing in them. The lamp lay beside me—I ignored it.

  I got slowly to my feet.

  The big one said something. The sounds he made were not unlike one of the more fluid human languages—Japanese, perhaps. But some consonants were missing, others blurred.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, inadequately. “I don’t understand.”

  I looked down at Mariel, helplessly appealing for her to take over. This was her show. But as she struggled to her feet the big one ignored her. He said something else to me, in a tone that suggested he was asking a question.

  “He’s talking to you because you’re the biggest,” she said. I forgave her for not saying “bigger”—it was a stressful moment and she could be excused the slip.

  “Look,” I said, trying to sound pleasant and reassuring. “I wish I knew what you were talking about, but I don’t. I can assure you, though, that I feel nothing but goodwill toward you and yours.”

  It wasn’t much, but it beat Me Alex, Who You? He didn’t look angry. I couldn’t tell whether he looked puzzled or not—his brow wasn’t built for furrowing.

  He said something to the next in line, who answered monosyllabically. Then he said something else to me.

  Affably, I said: “Don’t just lie there, help me!” I didn’t take my eyes off the alien while I said it.

  Mariel said: “You’re doing fine,” and giggled. It didn’t seem to me to be any time for merriment. I hoped that she wasn’t showing her teeth—it’s rumored that that’s one of the most dangerous things to do when trying to chat to other species. Not that the guy who started the rumor had any practical experience in the matter.

  Then the big one came to a decision. He dropped his spear, reached out his long furry arms and gripped both my wrists. The way he did it brought my own fingers round into contact with his wrists, and it seemed natural to join the clasp. I did. He let go a long sound that was halfway between a purr and a muffled war-whoop. The other four began chattering. The whole atmosphere seemed much more relaxed.

  “Congratulations,” said Mariel.

  My new friend let got of my left arm but transferred grip on the other to take me by the elbow and guide me away. I let him guide me. Mariel picked up the lantern. One of the younger aliens picked up the leader’s weapon. And off we went—heading west.

  At the first opportunity, I asked Mariel what had happened.

  “I’m not sure,” she said. “They obviously decided that we’re worth getting to know. They haven’t captured us...they’re just taking us home to meet the folks. What I can’t understand is why the big one seemed so very pleased when he decided to be friends.”

  “You think he’s seen humans before?”

  “Maybe. I can’t tell.”

  We were all walking as a group, now. All friends together, following our leader. I swapped curious glances with the younger aliens. They talked—presumably about us—and we talked about them. It was all very amicable. I had difficulty keeping it in mind that we didn’t know what the hell was happening. It all seemed so natural.

  “Well,” I said, “you got your chance. Whatever else happens you met your aliens. You have time to get to know them. Maybe all the time in the world.”

  “Count your blessings,” she said. “They’re friendly. And they have fishing boats. It could be we’ve got a better chance of ultimately getting home than Ogburn’s pirates.”

  “Whoever built that dhow,” I said, “it wasn’t this lot. These are swidden farmers...forest people. They migrate from place to place, burning out areas of forest and cultivating the ashy soil. They can only stay in one place for a couple of years—then the soil begins to become exhausted and they move on, letting the forest grow back. They aren’t the kind of people who build boats.”

  “They aren’t the kind of people who make steel, either,” she said. “But look at those knives.”

  I looked at the knives carried by the younger men. I had assumed that they were beaten iron, but now they’d been called to my attention I saw that they were strangely smooth. Not rusted. Their edges looked good and sharp. I checked the spear that the big one had been carrying when first we saw him. That was iron, and rusted. It had been hammered out, and carried no edge at all—just a blunt point.

  “They trade,” I said, stating what was now the obvious. “And what’s more, they trade with someone who has a fairly sophisticated knowledge of metalwork.”

  “The dhow builders,” she said.

  I wondered. We had no dependable information about the accomplishments of the more civilized aliens to the north, but dhows and stainless steel struck me as being pretty advanced. More advanced than we could possibly have anticipated.

  While we marched, they made no attempt to open communication. They didn’t attempt to exchange names, or teach us words of any kind. But they talked to one another, and Mariel watched. I didn’t expect her to begin picking up the language until they actually began to teach us, but I knew that when that time came she’d be all geared up to master it at superhuman speed. She’d know all the sounds, and she’d know the tones and the rhythms. It all came naturally to her. And learning it wouldn’t be just a matter of memorizing the labels—not for her. She’d actually get to grips with the feelings behind it, the ways of thinking implicit in it. She had a very flexible world view, an elastic mind. It was the necessity of keeping that elasticity which really set the limit on her ability. Talents dwindle not for any of the quasi-supernatural reasons she’d quoted aboard the ship, but for the simple reason that children growing up inevitably settle into the world view of their own kind. Their minds crystallize out, their ways of thinking become fixed. If Mariel hadn’t come out with the Daedalus she might already have lost her “gift of tongues.” A ceaseless supply of new worlds and new cultur
es is one way to help maintain elasticity.

  Despite the fact that the situation as a whole was clouded by every possible uncertainty, I couldn’t help feeling glad that she had, whatever else might happen, got her chance with the natives of Delta.

  CHAPTER TEN

  We reached the village late in the day. It was in a little gully between two slopes, one of which was steep enough for bare rock to show through here and there. The rock had been worked by metal tools. There was a stream cutting through the gully, and they had built a small dam to contain a sizable pool at the lower neck of the cleft. There were about forty huts, made mostly from thin laths of wood, matted leaves that resembled fern or bracken, and mud-caked straw. There were a lot of small children and a lot of small animals running loose between the huts on the cleared, stony ground. The burnt-out enclaves where the various families cultivated their plots were scattered on both sides of the stream downstream of the village itself. There were two or three fires set close together in the center of the living area.

  A great deal of curiosity was aroused by our arrival, but not much commotion. Everyone stared, but no one crowded close to get a better look at us. We went first to the pool, where our escorts drank their fill after a thirsty day’s marching. We drank too, a little more modestly. The leader of our little group was approached by a group of natives his own size, and they indulged in an animate conversation. They were obviously discussing us, but there was no attempt at formal introduction.

  “The one who made friends with us is trying to explain himself,” said Mariel. “There doesn’t seem to be one among the others who has special authority. If they have a chief, he’s not out here. One or two of the others don’t seem very pleased with him, but our friend is trying to mollify them. They don’t seem particularly hostile to us—if I had to guess I’d say they want to know why he didn’t follow through with whatever the original purpose of his expedition was. He’s trying to tell them that we’re more important.”