by Alan David
Clark gazed into the beady eyes of the Avic, and took in the expressionless face. He inhaled slowly, held his breath for an interminable moment while his mental processes sought for a decision, and then he nodded.
‘We’ll go along with them,’ he said. ‘Let’s take as much of the survival gear as possible, and destroy the shuttle before moving out.’
‘That’s kind of burning our boats behind us, isn’t it?’ Balfin asked quietly.
‘We can leave it intact, but if the Brutans find it they will probably set a trap in the hope of catching anyone who is tempted to come back to it,’ Clark said. ‘Okay, I guess it would be good sense to leave it. I’ll time-lock it, and with any luck it will remain intact in case we need it later.’
‘Please hurry!’ Pacian was hopping from one scaly leg to the other, and the feathers covering the lower part of his body were rustling in agitation. ‘We have extremely well developed ears, and already I detect the note of a Brutan aircraft. If we are not clear of this place by the time they return we shall be unable to escape.’
Clark turned to the hatch and called to Mallory.
‘Pass out four survival kits,’ he ordered. ‘Kill all power and circuits and bring extra weapons. We’re leaving the shuttle here.’
There was an immediate protest from Rip Mallory, and his pale face appeared in the hatchway.
‘You’re crazy if you’re planning on leaving the ship,’ the Lieutenant retorted.
‘You’ve been given a direct order, Mister!’ Clark rapped. ‘Get on with it.’
Four survival packs came tumbling through the hatch, and a moment later Magenta came dropping through to earth. The woman straightened, her face still pale, although she was beginning to recover from the shock she had received. She came scrambling away from the hatch.
‘Look out!’ she cried, and as Clark started forward the hatch was slammed and sealed.
‘Get back!’ Balfin snapped. ‘Mallory is gonna take off.’
They hurriedly retreated as the power was switched on in the shuttlecraft, but even so they were lashed by the blast that came from the rockets as they ignited. Clark managed to get an arm around Magenta’s slim shoulders as they went staggering, and they rolled on the soft ground together as the force of the rising craft struck them. By the time they regained their feet the shuttlecraft was forty feet above the tree tops and racing away.
‘The fool!’ Clark clenched his hands in sharp anger.
‘Quickly,’ Pacian said in his reedy tones. ‘The Brutans are returning.’
Balfin ran back to the spot where their survival kits lay and snatched them up, tossing one of the packs at Clark. They hurried after the Avics, who were retreating among the trees, and as they reached cover Clark glanced back and saw two skyrafts sweeping into view across the clearing.
‘I hope the shuttle is a match for those rafts,’ Balfin said as they followed the swiftly moving Avics.
‘The shuttle should be, but is Mallory?’ Clark said …
They soon found that travelling through the forest was a nightmare. The fronds and undergrowth of the dark black forest made travelling difficult. There was little light amongst the trees when they got away from the clearing, and the ground was boggy under their feet. The air was heavy, oppressive, aromatic with heady perfumes and the scent of strange resins and oils. The boles of the twisted trees were more black than brown, and the foliage was brittle, thorny.
The Avics travelled easily on the ground, their ostrich-like feet taking their light weight whenever they found soft ground, and they were not heavily laden. A group of a dozen of the creatures accompanied Clark and his two companions, and they were deployed to give protection.
Clark found himself wondering about these creatures. They appeared friendly, and this was exactly what was needed at this particular time. But Clark could not dwell upon his personal aspects of the situation. He was concerned about Rip Mallory. The fool should never have been selected to join the advance landing party. He was not mentally equipped to face the shocks and rigours of alien confrontation.
But in the background of Clark’s mind was the hope that his brother Vern was one of the survivors that had been mentioned. Impatience filled his mind and he made stronger efforts to move faster. The Avics could travel twice the rate of their present progress, and it was the Earth party holding them back.
Magenta was the first to crack under the strain of the fast pace. She was following Clark, with Balfin bringing up the rear, and Balfin suddenly called to Clark, who turned and saw the woman leaning against a tree in a half fainting condition. He in turn called to Pacian, the Avic, and went back to Magenta.
Pacian came back, looking like something out of delirium. His beady eyes were blinking furiously, his bat-like face working.
‘We cannot stop here,’ Pacian declared, his tones coming through reedy on the transmuter. ‘We are in the area where the Ogrins hunt.’
‘What are Ogrins?’ Balfin demanded.
Before Pacian could reply there was a commotion nearby, a chaotic twittering and an immense roaring like an animal in pain. Pacian turned away instantly, producing a hand gun, and Clark looked swiftly at Balfin, who was staring in the direction the sounds were emanating.
‘This is what I feared,’ Pacian called thinly. ‘We have made contact with an Ogrin hunting party.’ He did not stop, and Clark dropped his gear and glanced once more at Balfin.
‘Stay put with Magenta,’ he ordered. ‘I’ll go take a look and find out what’s doing.’
Balfin nodded, shaking his phaser from its holster, and his heavy face was set in grim lines as he crouched at the woman’s side.
Veering right, Clark hurried after the fast moving Avic, and it struck him that this was the most incongruous situation he had ever encountered. He was acting in concert with strange aliens that looked more bird-like than human, and he was in the midst of a hostile environment. He dared not let his thoughts rest upon their ultimate fate. In the back of his mind was the certain knowledge that he wanted to get off this planet and return to his own kind, but that really was in the background. There seemed to be a great deal to be done before that eventuality took precedence over all considerations.
The next moment he was startled out of his thoughts, coming to a halt behind the crouching Pacian. There was a small clearing ahead, and standing in it were two of the biggest creatures he had ever set eyes upon.
Clark stared at the monsters, and that was the only way to describe them. They were roughly anthropoid, standing around twelve feet tall, with bodies roughly proportionate — two-armed with tremendous hands. Their limbs were long and thick, and apart from a rough skirt around their loins they were naked, their flesh dark, mainly covered with a mahogany fur rather than hair. In a broad leather belt they carried a variety of weapons, including sophisticated energy guns, Clark noted instantly. But he let his gaze sweep upwards to their heads, and he felt a pang of wonder at the bestial expressions on the bearded faces. Their heads were blocky, looking as if they’d been carved from rock, and they had pendulous ears. The face was jutting, with long jaws, and sharp teeth showed plainly in the midst of the hair that covered the lower part of the features, while the nose was porcine, flat at the end with breathing apertures dilating rapidly and contracting to mere slits.
Pacian turned and spoke quietly to Clark, his beady eyes blinking. Clark fancied that he had awakened to some kind of a nightmare, but he took a grip of his faltering nerve.
‘Our weapons are next to useless against the Ogrins,’ the birdman twittered. ‘They hunt us for food.’
Clark shook his head in disbelief, but there was movement in the small clearing and his glance was quickly attracted to it. He saw one of the Ogrins lumber sideways surprisingly fast, then reach into the undergrowth with a long, powerful arm. When the arm was withdrawn Clark saw an Avic clutched in the cruel fingers, and before he could move the Ogrin had bitten off the head of the birdman!
Pacian uttered a shrill twitter
of anger and despair, and began using his weapon. Clark saw the Ogrins struck by the beams, and although they staggered under the impact, neither giant was seriously hurt. The one nearest them turned swiftly and came in to attack, and Clark unlimbered the Laser on his hip. He was being drawn into the fight whether he wanted it or not …
Chapter Three
Mallory blasted up out of the clearing in a blind panic, his nerves strained to breaking point. He looked around wildly as he cleared the trees, and realized he’d made a mistake the instant he spotted four dots in the sky, rapidly approaching and taking the shape of skyrafts. He glanced back at the clearing, but it was dropping back out of sight, and he compressed his lips as he boosted the drive, intent upon escaping the trap into which they seemed to have fallen. He checked instruments and dials, and erected the deflector screens, wondering what type of weapons would be turned against him. It was useless now to try and hunt cover, and when he glanced backwards to check the position of the skyrafts he was shocked to find them effortlessly closing the distance.
He gunned the motor and shot ahead, but the rafts followed him as if joined to the shuttlecraft by invisible wires. His teeth clicked together when he saw he couldn’t outrun them, and he clicked in the auto-pilot and moved into the observer’s seat, depressing buttons, arming the ship’s weapons, and tension began to fill him as he tried to prod himself into fighting.
There seemed to be no alternative, he thought remotely. He was unable to gain height for fear that the type of weapon that had destroyed Probe 2 might be used against him. He figured it would be useless trying to make a run for it. These strange craft had the edge on him for speed. He began to wonder what kind of a situation Clark had landed them in.
When he thought of his companions his lips tightened and a harsh expression settled upon his boyish features. He had begged Clark not to land anywhere near the habitations. He had warned of trouble, but Clark had been intent upon finding out what he could about the destruction of Probe 2, as if it would make any difference to the crew that had died aboard it.
He glanced out of the rear viewport and saw three of the rafts gaining on him. There was little to see aboard the alien craft. It was not frightening to stare at seemingly deserted ships, but suddenly beams of light winked at him from the cupolas on the craft, and the shuttlecraft juddered under the impact of the attack. He checked dials and satisfied himself that the screens were taking it, but he knew constant use of them would drain his power quickly, and when the screens became useless he would be at the mercy of these aliens.
Flight seemed to be the only answer and he channelled the power into the drive. He moved back to the pilot’s seat and gave the shuttlecraft everything it could take. When he glanced out the rear viewport once more he was gratified to see that the skycraft had fallen back, and for the first time since he’d left Probe 2 he could smile.
His smile faded, however, when he checked his radar screens and discovered that other craft were in the sky ahead of him. He stared ahead, unable to spot anything, and tried to work out what next to do. A bleeper sounded then, warning him of attack, and he peered upwards through the astral viewport and saw a skyraft dropping down at him at incredible speed.
Mallory gave the computer control of the armament, and the next instant the Phaser banks were blasting at the intruder. He stared upwards, fascinated by the streaks of brilliance that cleaved the air, and the skyraft exploded in a mass of disintegrated molecules.
The shuttlecraft juddered again, but the screens held, and Mallory looked around. The ship’s weapons were being controlled by the computer, and a battle was raging without his help. For the moment he seemed to be winning, and he clenched his hands and half wished he had remained with Clark and the others. His eyes glinted when he thought of Magenta, and a pang of frustration stabbed through him. But it was too late to think of going back.
He realized that the shuttlecraft was gaining height, and when he looked through the various viewports to check on his position he was astounded to see no less than a score of skyrafts after him. He was approaching a coastline, and he figured that once he was over the sea the skyrafts would close in to try and finish him off. He took over control of the ship, dived to get closer to the ground and make his target area more difficult to hit, and slammed the controls for as much power as possible. He sped across a large township, and could see figures running along the wide streets, many of them looking up at him. But everything passed by in a blur of speed, and he was trying to work out what to do. It was obvious he could not shake the skyrafts, and no matter how many he destroyed, there would be more to replace them.
A remote desperation seized hold of him. He was afraid to die. He had fled from Clark and the others because his nerve had been upset by the shock of what had happened to Probe 2. He had not recovered his mental poise, and now he seemed to be in a worse situation than before.
He wondered if he could get back to Clark. This was a matter of survival! If he could lose contact with these persistent aliens he might be able to locate Clark later.
He increased speed and swung in an arc, keeping as close to the ground as he dared. He used maximum-plus in his effort to evade the trap that was closing in about him. Sweat stood out on his brow and his hands shook as he handled the craft. His handling was a little rusty, because there had been few opportunities for practice during the long flight they’d made from Earth.
But the aliens were reluctant to shoot at him over the land he soon discovered, and for several minutes he began to figure he was pulling away from them. But he saw more and more of them arriving to join in the hunt and he fought off his despair. He kept the shuttlecraft moving at maximum while he considered what to do.
It was slowly coming home to him that by taking off as he had done he’d jeapordized the lives of the others by depriving them of their only means of escape from the surface of the planet. He narrowed his dark eyes and clenched his teeth. He had to get back to them. If he was meant to die on this expedition then he didn’t want to die alone.
He swept back over the jungle in which Clark and the others had disappeared, but he had no way of knowing what clearing they had landed in. When he checked from the viewports he saw more than fifty skyrafts around him, all at a great distance, but appearing from all directions, and he could see that he was boxed in and completely trapped.
His one chance seemed to be in the jungle. If he could lose himself amongst the trees then he would stand a better chance of survival down there than obviously apparent in the sky. He began to watch for a suitable landing area, his mind filled with intolerable tension.
He swept over a clearing that looked at first glance as if it might be suitable, and he prepared to swing around in a tight arc to attempt a reckless landing. He dared not slacken speed until the last possible moment, and if he misjudged distance and speed he would crack up and probably kill himself.
Sweat beaded his forehead as he came around, and he saw some of the skyrafts closing in on him like angry bees disturbed from their hive. He swept lower, braced in his seat, nerve summoned for a last desperate effort, and he fired the retractor rockets at precisely the right moment. He sagged against his straps as deceleration hit him.
Too late he realized that he would overshoot. He clenched his teeth and opened up the booster once more, straining the craft in every inch of its frame with the powerful surge. The craft tremored violently, began to lift in answer to the controls, then sideslipped, and Mallory caught his breath as he realized what was coming. But before he was fully aware of the situation the underside of the shuttlecraft hit the tree tops and upended. Mallory saw the dark foliage rushing up towards him, and then a black curtain fell before his eyes, blotting out sight and sound …
*
Clark realized he was in dire danger as the nearer of the two Ogrins lumbered towards him. He lifted the Laser and prepared to fight, and his attention was almost distracted by the familiar sound of the shuttlecraft roaring overhead, invisible beyond the
tree tops. Pacian was squawking angrily, but ready to retreat as the Ogrin came on despite the impact of the energy bolts the Avic was firing. Clark stepped around Pacian and levelled the Laser, and when he fired the deadly beam struck the giant and blasted him off his feet. Pacian twittered with delight, and Clark pressed forward to get a clear shot at the second of the two monsters.
In the background of his mind, Clark heard the sound of a terrific crash, and his teeth clenched together on his bottom lip as he fancied that Mallory had brought down the shuttlecraft. He stopped his concentration faltering and fired at the second Ogrin, knocking it down instantly.
Pacian flapped his wings and reached out a large, claw-like hand to grasp at Clark’s shoulder. The Avic was in a ferment of excitement.
‘We have never possessed weapons powerful enough to harm the Ogrins,’ he cried in his reedy voice. ‘None of your friends had this weapon along with them when they landed. You will do well against the Ogrins. They will no longer be a threat to us.’
‘I haven’t come prepared to fight a whole species of aliens,’ Clark said. ‘Are there many Ogrins in this area?’
‘They do not live here. They only come into the forest to hunt us. They live to the south, beyond the trees. But we must go on quickly. There will be more in this hunting party, and they will come for us.’
Clark was considering the crash he’d heard, and his eyes narrowed as he looked around. Balfin was coming forward once more, helping Magenta, almost lifting the slight feminine figure off the ground in his haste.
‘I heard the fight,’ the Major retorted, ‘but there’s more trouble coming up from the rear, I fancy. I can hear sounds of someone coming through the trees, and they don’t have any care for stealth’ He caught sight of the fallen Ogrins then, and Clark saw his face pale as he took in the monstrous proportions of the aliens.
‘What the hell are they?’ Balfin gasped.