Ice Dragon rb-10

by Джеффри Лорд

  On shore now was a flurry and alarm visible even at this distance; running figures, lights swiveling around, shouts and alarm sirens wailing. A large boat with a beamer turret mounted amidship was putting out from shore, its deck crowded with armed soldiers. Blade heard the engines of the farthest flier crack and whine into life, then settle down to a swelling roar; he increased his pace. So did the approaching boat; the beamer turret was swinging around now, but the shore-based beamers were holding their fire to avoid hitting it.

  Before the boat could do anything, however, Unionists in the turrets of two of the captured fliers discovered they had a clear field of fire. Two beams chopped into it in the same second; it flew apart in a tremendous blast that sent spray, smoke, flames, bits of debris, and mangled bodies hurtling into the air for a hundred yards in all directions. Then the flier-mounted beamers began picking off the shore mounts, and screams, crashes, and the flare of more explosions ashore told of their accuracy. Blade grinned. For the first time, it seemed that the heavy firepower was on the side of the «good guys.»

  In the middle of the uproar on shore, the bombs he had placed on the first flier went off, a double-barreled whump that sent a painful concussion battering through the water against Blade’s body. The fuel aboard the flier went up in a sheet of green flame, and again pieces of metal splashed down all around Blade.

  Now the second of the captured fliers was firing up its engines; the first was already well out on the lake, turning for its take-off run. As its engines went to full thrust the bombs attached to the second of Blade’s victims went off, and flames once more spewed high. The second captured flier began taxiing out; then Blade’s view of it was cut off by the loom of the third one as he thrashed up to its hatch. Hands-Leyndt’s among them-reached down by the dozen. He seemed to fly out of the water and fall headfirst through the hatch, to sprawl with a thump on the metal floor at Stramod’s feet. He barely had time to sit up and look forward to Pnarr seated at the controls, when the beamer turret above blazed out, and he heard another distant roar as something on shore collapsed or exploded.

  Simultaneously came a much closer roar, as the third and final pair of bombs went off, and fragments pattered and clanged on the fuselage of the flier. Then Pnarr rammed the throttles forward and the engines built up to a roar as the flier came around, heeling over so hard that one wing skipped along the surface of the water. Then it straightened out, the engine roar swelled still further, the acceleration slid him back along the floor into the heap of people huddled dripping against the rear wall of the cabin, and he felt the flier lurch up on its ski. A moment later he felt it lift, and looking forward, saw nothing but sky showing through the windows beyond Pnarr’s hunched head. And a moment after that the soupy blackness of the clouds swept past, and in the windows ahead the stars shone out bright and clean in the black sky as the flier banked around on to its new northbound course.

  Chapter 11

  As soon as all three fliers were well clear of the lake area, Pnarr, the most experienced pilot, took the lead. He led the formation straight toward the coast, crossing it less than twenty minutes after take-off. Looking down, Blade could see the lights of houses and vehicles flash by underneath, then the faint glimmer of the surf as they headed out to sea. The idea was to confuse the radar that was undoubtedly tracking them. Also, over the sea there was less chance of being spotted and reported by ground-based observers.

  They were well away before the floor tilted as Pnarr took the flier up to its most economical cruising altitude. There were no signs of pursuit, although Pnarr kept the beamer turret manned and ready all the way north.

  Three and a half hours later Pnarr turned west again, heading toward the coast and dropping down as he approached. Through the windows Blade saw the mountains south of the lake marching over the horizon and plunging down into the sea in long rocky points. The white of breaking waves skirted their feet; the white of snowcaps crowned their peaks and crests, pink-tinged by the rising sun.

  The fliers raced over the coast less than two thousand feet up and held that altitude, dipping and bobbing to avoid tree-crowned hilltops, until the lake sprawled blue and shimmering across their field of view ahead. Near its northern end, Tengran squatted on its island, as far as Blade could tell unchanged since the last time he had seen it, barely two crowded months ago.

  On Blade’s suggestion Pnarr led the formation well clear of the town on the final approach, to avoid alarming the people unnecessarily or picking up ground fire. Not that Blade had much hope of getting a friendly reception in the town, at least not without a good deal of fast and persuasive talking. He and Nilando had volunteered to go out and meet whoever came out from the town; hopefully the fact that Nilando was Treduk and he himself not Graduk would persuade the townsmen to not shoot first and ask questions afterward.

  Pnarr put the flier down so that it glided to a stop only a few hundred yards from the piers of Tengran. Blade could see boats already putting off and men clustering around the guns of the forts as he peered through the cockpit window. He didn’t entirely like being so close in, where even a well-aimed cannon ball from one of the shore guns could damage the flier. But putting themselves so much at the mercy of Tengran’s guns was a useful gesture of good faith.

  By the time he and Nilando climbed out of the hatch and inflated the life raft that would carry them to shore, the boats were a good deal closer, and Blade could see that they were packed with men and bristling with weapons. Two of the larger boats carried sizable guns both fore and aft, and in general the fleet gave a ready-for-anything impression. They were not concentrated either, but formed a long arc, encompassing all three fliers. Even with beamers, a really hostile force would have had a fight on its hands this time.

  They launched the raft, climbed in, and began to row toward the boats. As they did so, the men in the boats crowded to the railings, lifting muskets and nocking arrows to their bows. The cannon slewed around until Blade could look straight down the black bore of one.

  When they were within easy earshot, Nilando rose to his knees and spread out his empty hands.

  «Hoy, people of Tengran! I am Nilando of Irdna. This is the warrior Blade, who slew a Dragon Master and his Dragon. We are returning from Graduk captivity.»

  There was a long silence in the arc of boats, then a voice called out:

  «We have heard of both of you. But why return you in Graduk warfliers?»

  «There are those among the Graduki who would aid us in fighting the Dragons. Have you not heard of these?»

  «Tales. When was a Graduk ever a friend to us?»

  «Many are. Or were. Those among the Graduki who hate you also are enemies to those who would aid you. They have defeated and slain most of them in a great battle. Some have fled in these fliers, and seek your aid.»

  «Why should we aid any Graduk?»

  «These have much of the high Graduk learning. I know you have heard of it, and I know you have seen it, for I was taken prisoner in the battle where your town lost so many of its fighting men. Would you not like to see two-score or more Graduk aiding you to slaughter the Ice Dragons as their enemies and yours have slaughtered you?»

  That brought the Tengrans in the boats up short; a great buzz of debate and argument arose, but the guns and bows did not waver. Nilando took the chance to mutter to Blade. «I think they will not kill us now. But trusting us-that is another thing.» The debate and argument went on, until Blade began to wonder if the people of Tengran held a town meeting every time some critical question arose, even though it might be in the middle of a battle, or the middle of the lake.

  Then the same voice that had spoken previously called out:

  «We will send boats to you. Let your people come out one at a time, and give us their firethrowers as they do so. We will take them ashore and keep them safe until we decide what to do with them.»

  «We accept.»

  Blade was relieved at not being filled with arrows and musket balls, but far from
satisfied. He needed an intact flier for his plans, and if the three fliers were left anchored in the open lake, they would be sitting ducks for the first Conciliator patrol flier that thought of checking out Tengran. And that patrol might arrive within a matter of hours.

  The Tengrans landed them on the shore of the lake rather than in the town, then took Nilando and Stramod off to the island for further discussion. Having no idea of how long he would have to wait, and being more or less resigned to being unable to affect the proceedings while he was cooling his heels in the forest along with the other refugees, Blade decided to put the time to some use by speaking to Captain Pnarr about a flight north.

  He chose to speak to Pnarr rather than one of the other pilots because, apart from knowing the captain better than any of the others, he was more impressed by his competence, his coolness, and his ability to take «fire, danger, and sudden death» more or less in his stride. The man was a professional. But that still did not make it much less of a gamble to speak to him in terms of aliens-though the alternative was winning Pnarr’s support under false pretenses, and Blade was totally unwilling to do that.

  As it worked out during the hours of sitting under the trees, the gamble paid off. Pnarr had not already concluded that aliens were lurking in the polar wastes, but he had concluded from the number of fliers that had vanished in the area that somebody or something was working to make it highly dangerous to enter. Aliens, if they existed, could hardly affect their chances of coming back safely that much-or so Pnarr said. Blade hoped the pilot wasn’t whistling in the dark, and turned to a discussion of how best to approach the town elders for permission to make the flight. Stramod could permit them to go, but only the town elders’ permission would make it possible to use the fliers.

  In fact, the town elders approached them late in the afternoon, summoning them out to the island. When they reached the town meeting hall, they found Nilando sitting among a dozen men and women, not all of them literally elderly, by any means, around a smoke-grimed table. He rose to greet Blade and Pnarr as their guards escorted them in.

  The looks the «elders» threw at Blade and Pnarr were filled with curiosity now, rather than hostility or suspicion. Apparently Nilando, who sat among them as though it were his birthright to do so, had been doing much talking during the day, and to good purpose. One thing he had apparently done was to persuade the elders to dispense with the formalities Blade knew such bodies usually loved, and plunge directly into business. The head of the council, sparrowlike in appearance, was also sparrowlike in the briskness with which he opened the discussion.

  «Your people,» he said, «will be received among us, for Brother Nilando has convinced us that you are indeed friends. But they must at once withdraw into the forest and do their work there, that they may not be found in Tengran if the enemy’s patrols come down on us.»

  One of the women interrupted. «That will not save the town if the patrols do come. They will burn it for the sheer joy of seeing the flames.» She looked sullenly at Pnarr; Blade gathered she had been one of the last-ditch opposition to aiding the refugees.

  «No, but it will save these people from perishing in those flames. And if they do indeed have ideas of how to fight the Ice Dragons and the weapons for such fighting, then we must save them.»

  «Well and good,» said another man. «But what of their fliers? We cannot very well take them into the woods. And if they lie where they are much longer-«

  Pnarr grinned and took up this perfect cue. «We’re going to do something about that, Blade and I,» he broke in, ignoring the glare at the interruption. «We think we ought to take one of the fliers north to find the Ice Dragons’ home. There must be some place nearer than the glaciers themselves where they stay between raids. If we can find it, we can go there and kill many of the Dragons and Masters at once.» That was the cover story they had worked out together. Mentioning the Ice Master would have been dangerous; mentioning aliens not only dangerous but futile.

  Now the elders were turning to one another, discussing the idea, all except Nilando, who stared at Blade with a gaze that seemed to strip away the cover from the story and penetrate a long way toward the core of truth. Eventually the discussion petered out and the Sparrow looked at Blade and nodded.

  «A wise idea. We have never had a flier before, but now that we do, it is well to get some use out of it before we must destroy it. What you need and what we can give, that you shall have.»

  That was all, except that Nilando drew Blade aside as he was leaving the chamber. The Treduk leader’s wide-set gray eyes bored into Blade’s as he said,

  «There is more to this than you are telling the council, is there not?»

  Blade nodded.

  «You expect to find perhaps more than Ice Dragons during your search?»

  Again, Blade had to nod.

  «Then the High Spirits of the Hills be with you. I do not know whether I should hope that you find what you seek, because I suspect that if you do, you will not be returning. And a man such as you, with the strange wisdom of a Graduk and the strength and courage of the Treduk, is someone we cannot spare without loss. Rena and I will both mourn you.» They clasped hands, and then Nilando was striding away, head up and shoulders back.

  Blade and Pnarr still had many hours’ work before they could take off. The fliers had to be moved to an at least slightly less exposed position in the mouth of a creek; town boats towed them there. The fuel had to be transferred to the flier intended for the mission; Pnarr took care of that, scrambling all over the fliers like an energetic cockroach, sweating, swearing, reeking of fuel and his bare chest and black trousers turning sickly green with the fumes and droplets. Survival gear had to be loaded aboard-rafts, emergency rations, tents, winter clothing, weapons, and so on; Blade took care of that. By nightfall everything necessary had been done, and it was time for both Blade and Pnarr to lie down in soft beds in a forest-screened lakeside cottage and get a sound night’s sleep.

  Pnarr did indeed lie down and sleep soundly the night through, but Blade’s sleep was troubled and tormented by nightmarish visions of the aliens. At times they were insects, man-sized and multi-legged, waving bristling antennas and clicking mandibles and claws in his face, hideous things in garish shades of blue and red and slimy purple. At other times they were enormous bear-like things, but lumbering about on eight legs instead of four, with hairless ears sprouting from far back on their heads and long tentacles waving from sockets in their massive shoulders. And at times they were not even living creatures, but giant silver-shimmering cubes, with a fringe of jointed crab-like limbs sprouting from their lower edges, on which they moved and with which they reached out toward him, beeping and whistling all the while like a radio set gone berserk. Now that the long preliminaries were over and the moment of what he hoped would be a decisive thrust at the heart of the problem had come, the long strain and worry had finally caught up with him. It was only toward morning that he was finally able to get to sleep. It seemed only an hour or so beyond that before Pnarr shook him awake and led him out to the boat waiting to take them to the flier.

  The sun was just breaking the horizon in a blaze of orange and luminous pink when the boat bumped against the flier’s fuselage. The two Union people who had spent a damp and chilly night mounting guard aboard it greeted Blade and Pnarr, then eagerly scrambled down into the boat and shoved off, no doubt dreaming of warm beds and hot drinks. Pnarr pulled the main hatch open, threw in their gear, waited while Blade climbed in, then pulled the hatch shut behind them and sealed it. The pilot then went forward to the cockpit, while Blade headed aft to make a quick inspection and stow the gear. He had just passed the beamer turret when Doctor Leyndt stepped through the door from the rear cabin.

  For a moment Blade could not speak, then he reached up and clamped both hands hard on her shoulders. «What the devil are you doing here?»

  «I’m planning to come with you,» she said calmly, as though she were stating her plan to go into the kitchen f
or a cold drink. «I’m a doctor-remember-and that means I know more about the biological sciences than either you or Pnarr. I’m surprised you didn’t think of that yourself. If there are aliens, you’ll be able to find out much more about them with me along. And that’s the whole purpose of the mission, isn’t it?»

  Blade nodded.

  «If I weren’t going to be useful I wouldn’t have thought of coming along. If I had just come along because I wanted to be with you, you would have been right to send me back. Although,» more quietly, «I do want to be with you. Very much.» For a moment there was a mistiness in her eyes, then she recovered. «I had thought of waiting in hiding until you had taken off. But I realized that might look dishonest, so I came out now.»

  Blade realized that he would probably find it easier to fight the aliens, with all their advanced knowledge and possible super-weapons, than this woman, with nothing but her straightforward honesty and logic. He couldn’t at the moment quite bring himself to say in so many words, «Yes, you may come along,» but he did say:

  «Better get into one of the passenger seats. Did you bring any gear?»

  «Yes.»

  «Good. I’d better go and tell Pnarr we have another person on board. He may need to revise his fuel calculations.»

  Pnarr did, but it was a minor matter, Leyndt’s extra weight being almost negligible aboard the huge flier. Nonetheless, Pnarr grumbled and swore at women in general and Leyndt in particular for another two minutes, then unlocked the throttles and began preparations for take-off.