by Andre Norton
They had all three from the flitter under control. But they had not brought out the pack with the brach! Didn’t they know about the animal, or didn’t they consider the alien important?
The jelly, once exposed to the air, would disappear as the strips pulled from the prisoners were already doing, so that the brach would be freed shortly by himself. But the alien might be so terrorized by the crash and the jellied foam that—Dane did not know what he expected of—or for—the brach. Then he heard the crashing of what could only be a crawler in progress toward them, and he hoped the alien would escape notice.
A line snaked out of the dark into the path of the beamer, was hooked fast to the fore of the flitter, and that mass of wreckage began to move, complainingly, under the steady pull of the crawler. Dane was not to see its eventual destination. A hand caught his shoulder, dragged him away from his support, but continued to
push him along over a very rough path, where he stumbled and would have gone down several times if the unseen guard and guide had not kept his hold.
They came at last into a clearing, where a rock ledge jutted out to make a roof over a camp. There was a portable cooker there and other gear piled under the overhang, enough to suggest their captors had been there for some time and were well equipped.
There was also a diffuse lamp, which gave a subdued light. It had been set on lowest level, as if the campers begrudged the need for it at all.
In that glow Dane was able to see the three men who had brought them in. They wore regulation one-piece hunting suits with the instrument- and tool-hung belts of those venturing into the wild on a planet not native to them. All three were Terran or Terran colonial stock. But the one who rose from beside the lamp at their coming was not.
He was of a species strange to Dane, very tall, so that he had to hunch his shoulders and incline his head under that roofing ledge. In the light his skin was yellow (not brown-yellow, as one of ancient Terran Oriental stock might be, but a brighter hue). And his eyes and his teeth as he opened his mouth gave off fluorescence—the eyes being ringed with some glowing substance.
His hair was scant and grew in ring patches, with even spaces between, about a skull that rose to a cone- dome at the top. But his body, save that his arms and legs appeared too long for the size of his torso, was like that of a Terran and covered also by a hunter’s suit.
Dane wondered if Tau, with his greater knowledge of X-Tees, could name the species. From whatever world he came, it was plain that the alien was in command of the camp. He did not speak but gestured, and the three from the flitter were shoved on, back against the rock wall, then pushed down, to sit facing out into the night, while the tall alien hunkered down beside the lamp. What he held in his hands, curiously limber hands—his fingers moved as if they were boneless tentacles—was a com. But he did not speak into it. Instead, he used the tips of two of those squirming fingers to beat against the mike in a swift clicking.
None of the men spoke to the prisoners, nor did Meshler ask questions. When Dane glanced at the ranger, he saw that the man was studying the scene with an intentness that suggested he was making a mental listing.
The strangers wore hunters’ clothing. Their equipment was that Dane had seen used by sport hunters on other worlds. But if they had legitimately entered the wilderness on Trewsworld with that excuse, they would have been licensed and had with them a guide. There was no sign of any guide. Nor did they hear again the crawler that had dragged away the flitter. Dane deduced that the party was larger, and there might be a reason for the others to keep out of sight.
Having sent his click message, the tall alien brought out a long, hooded cloak, wrapping it well about him, and went to curl up at the other end of the camp under the ledge. He was followed shortly afterward, not to the same place, but into slumber, by two of the three Terrans, none of whom had so much as glanced at their prisoners since they had herded them in. The third man remained by the fire and held an unholstered tangler across his knee.
Dane knew little of electronics, but in this camp he saw nothing like the box from the Queen. Nor was there anything to suggest that the powerful force that had brought down the flitter had its source here. The puzzle that had enmeshed the Queen gave hope of clue now and then, but none such led anywhere.
He was tired, but in his present uncomfortable position he was not so fatigued that sleep came. Nor, when he looked at Tau and Meshler, had they succumbed either. The sentry by the fire now and then arose to walk back and forth, dividing his attention between a quick glance at the captives and a longer look into the dark beyond the very limited light of the lamp.
He was on one such beat when Dane caught a flicker at the other end of the campsite. Something moved there, and with caution. It was far too small for even a creeping man. The brach! Though why he expected the alien to have tracked them here, Dane could not say. The creature would be more likely to run away from the threat of a party who had so easily taken men prisoners.
The sentry turned, and now Dane could see nothing at all. When the man came back to the lamp, Dane was not quite sure he had ever seen anything.
Yet he kept stealing glances in that direction, being careful not to turn his head, to attract in any way the attention of the sentry. And he was rewarded seconds later by the sign of another flitting, this time from the protection of brush to a second cover behind a couple of supply boxes. There was no mistaking that silhouette—the long horned snout of the brach.
What the alien proposed to do (unless he had merely followed to cling to the proximity of the three from the flitter because their familiarity was a forlorn feeling of security), Dane could not guess. He had seen the brach use a stunner. But those who had stripped them out of the safe-foam had disarmed them. And, unless there had been some weapons in the flitter that the brach had located, he had no chance if discovered.
There was no way of communication possible, yet Dane found himself thinking a warning over and over— not that that would carry.
The sentry got up for another of those periodic prowls, and as he turned his back, the brach scuttled out into the open, as soundless in his passing as if he were a shadow. Making a quick dash, the alien was now crouched beside Tau, his head stretched at an uncomfortable angle. The horn—he was using his horn on the cords of the tangle!
Being what they were, those spun restrainers could not be easily cut or broken. They were ultra elastic on the surface, yielding under pressure of knife blade but not allowing their thick surfaces to be cut.
Yet Dane could see the small movements of the brach’s head. He must be tearing at those ties. Tau winced as if those efforts were painful, but he did not move and held steady.
Then Tau’s arms flexed a fraction, and Dane knew a spurt of excitement. Somehow the brach had broken the tangle strand. Tau was free, though he made no move to act upon that freedom.
However, the medic leaned forward slowly, holding his body as far as he could away from the wall, and Dane knew that the brach was wriggling through to come to Dane’s own assistance. He was right, for shortly thereafter he felt the fluffy warmth of the creature pressed tightly to him, the jerk and tug on the tangle as the alien sawed away with the horn. Then, too, he was freed, edging away from the wall, in turn, to give the brach a chance to reach Meshler.
The guard had completed his sentry beat and settled down again by the lamp, though he continued to divide his watch between the prisoners and the outer dark. He was too alert for unarmed men to make any plan not well thought out.
At last he got to his feet and went to one of his sleeping comrades to shake him awake. Oddly enough the roughly aroused man said nothing, only accepted the tangler and the post by the lamp, while the first rolled up in the same coverings from which the other had just crawled. Their silence struck an odd note—it was almost as if they could not talk.
The brach had wriggled from behind Meshler, and Dane knew that the ranger must also be free. The alien worked his way along, using the men and sha
dows for cover, finally hunkering down behind the pile of boxes that had been his first goal upon entering the camp. The guard by the lamp was on sentry go now. Just as he reached the most outward point of his beat, the brach moved. Dane could not quite make out
what the creature had loosened and pushed, but it rolled with a clatter for the lamp. In the last few seconds before it struck, Dane made ready.
It had impact enough to overbalance the lamp, and the light went out. Dane and the others threw themselves forward, out of range, or so they hoped, of any tangle discharge. Nor did Dane try to get to his feet, but scuttled, keeping as belly-down as he could, heading for the open. Sounds told him that his companions must be following the same tactics.
He expected to hear a shout from the sentry, some outcry to awaken the sleepers. There was a scuffling, and he heard the hiss of what could only be a tangler discharged. But if that touched anyone, it was not him.
Then he was out, getting to his feet. He brushed against another body, flailed out with his arm, and felt the slick surface of a thermo jacket. A hand caught his, linked fingers, and together they made what speed they could into the thick brush lying to the right of the ledge. That vegetation would deflect any tangler. But surely their captors had more dangerous weapons—
“Tau?”
“Yes!” The whisper was from his side.
“Meshler?”
“I don’t know,” the medic whispered.
They had no way of keeping their forced entry into the brush silent. The crackle of their passing must be a loud announcement of their path to their late captors. Then Dane was brought up short as a pair of hands seized him, and he swung about, aiming a blind blow at his assailant.
“Quiet!” There was no mistaking the ranger’s voice. “Take it smooth—easy!”
He tugged Dane along, and Dane’s own hold on the medic drew him in turn. The ranger certainly had, Dane decided, an extraordinary degree of night sight, for they were no longer threshing about in brush, though that did beat at them as they threaded a way along, either following a winding path or going through a thinner area of growth.
Their best pace was not a good one. Dane still wondered why there had been no sounds of alarm from the camp. Then came a sudden spring of light. The diffuse lamp must not only be working again but also turned higher. Only the fugitives were screened by the growth in between.
The plates in their space boots clicked on a more solid surface, and the brush was gone. Walls of some kind rose dark and solid on either hand. Dane looked up. He could see a narrow strip with a star or two emblazoned in it.
Something brushed his knee. He broke his hold on his two companions and stooped to feel the brach. The alien was shivering, and Dane held him close while he unsealed the seal of his thermo jacket and pulled it around them both.
“What is it?” whispered Meshler.
“The brach—he’s cold.” Dane wondered how long the creature had suffered the cruel night air.
“Does it—he—know where the flitter is?” Meshler’s whisper was urgent.
In handling the brach, Dane had discovered the alien still wore the translator. Now he pulled at his hood and whispered into the mike, “The flying thing—where is it?”
“In a hole—in the ground.” To his relief the alien answered promptly. Dane had thought that he might be half conscious from cold.
“Where?”
The brach wriggled in his hold and Dane felt his head bump against his chin as it turned, pointing left. “Left—in a hole, he says,” Dane reported to the ranger.
Meshler started so confidently in that direction that it was as if he could see clearly. But when the Terrans stumbled and lagged, he came back.
“Hurry!”
“Do us no good to hurry if we get broken bones for it,” Tau returned reasonably.
“But,” Meshler began, “this is open ground.”
“In the dark,” countered Tau, “it could be anything.”
“Dark? You mean you can’t see?” Meshler sounded honestly surprised, almost shocked.
“Not at night, not well enough to go charging along through this,” Tau answered.
“I did not know. Wait then!” Meshler’s indistinct figure twisted about. Then the end of a belt flapped into Dane’s reach. “Link together—I’ll lead.”
As soon as Dane caught the belt and Tau’s hand was set on his shoulder, the ranger stepped out as confidently as if he held a beamer focused on the path ahead.
“Still this way?” he asked a moment later.
“This way?” Dane relayed through the translator to the brach.
“It is so. Soon big hole—”
Dane supplied that information. And soon indeed did they come to a big hole—a break from the height on which they stood, leading to an unknown dark plunge.
“You see anything?” he asked.
“They’ve finished off the flitter,” Meshler returned bleakly. “But we’ll need supplies—if they’ve left any.”
The belt was suddenly hanging limp and loose in Dane’s grasp, and he heard sounds that must mean that Meshler was descending to the flitter.
10.THE TRAP
This was no time to stop to explore wreckage, Dane protested silently. With that lamp blazing behind, the hunt must be up. And who piloted the crawler that had dragged the flitter here? Those extra members of the enemy party might well be closing in on them now!
He remembered the brach’s ability to trace by reading emotions. Surely that cast off by a hunting party would be strong enough for the alien to detect.
“Do others come?” he murmured into the translator. Dane felt the brach shift its position against him and knew that the alien was turning his head as if the long nose were the pickup of some super radar.
“Behind, not elsewhere—”
Rocket blast and beam burn Meshler! They had to get out of here, and the ranger had left them more or less trapped while he went nosing around the useless wreck. It was a fact—it must be—that those who had taken them captive would not have left weapons down there. Or would they? Suppose they were trying to make the whole mess seem an accidental wreck. Then surely they would not have looted it. But a wreck needed bodies—
A chill threaded along Dane’s spine. Bodies had been to hand, ready for when they were needed to complete that cover-up. Perhaps they had wanted information first, before they were ready to turn live captives into dead bodies. And the longer the three lingered here—the four, Dane reminded himself (for the brach had proved so far the most useful member of their party)—the more certain it was that the plan on the part of the enemy might just be successful.
“We’ve got to get out of here!” He stated the obvious to Tau. “What’s the use of his prowling around down there? They’ll catch up with us soon.”
“Do you want to try it on your own?” queried the medic. “It’s apparent Meshler has night sight to a surprising degree. Unless those jacks share it, he can cut a trail they can follow only slowly.”
“Jacks?” Dane caught the one word that should not have surprised him as much as it momentarily did, for this was plainly an illegal group operating under cover, though jacks did not usually go in for elaborate planning. Strike and get away was their general pattern.
“What would they want here?”
“Who knows? Maybe Meshler does, or he ought to. Listen!”
They froze. Dane felt the medic tense as they stood, shoulder touching shoulder. That sound did not come from behind; it was from below. Meshler climbing up? Dane hoped fervently that was true.
“Let us go.” Meshler’s voice sounded from almost at Dane’s feet. The Terran started back and felt the belt jerk and tauten in his hand. And then, towed as he had been before, Tau’s hand on his shoulder, Dane followed the ranger. At intervals, Meshler whispered some terse direction to follow, but he did not say what he had found at the wreck, though a bundle slung over his shoulder now and again bumped against the hand with which Dane held the belt.
Time meant nothing. At intervals Meshler halted to give them a breather. Dane and Tau took turns carrying the brach inside their jackets. The small alien no longer shivered but felt warm and relaxed when it was Dane’s turn to assume his weight again, so the Terran hoped he had taken no ill from his period in the night’s cold.
Dawn found them in a place of rocks, which were wind and erosion carved into weird and amazing shapes. Block masses of apparently great weight were supported on conical pillars. All of the large outcrops were riddled with holes and crevices, some almost the size of a small cave. It was an excellent place to take cover for longer than a breathing halt, and apparently Meshler selected it for that very reason.
Dane had not realized how tired he was until he hunkered down in the place the ranger chose, a niche between several rocks. Tramping in space boots was not an exercise he would recommend. While there was no more tough and sturdy footware to be found on any world, the weight of their magnetic sole plates made tired feet feel as if they had a massive bracelet of iron soldered about the ankles.
“Loosen the seals.” Tau leaned forward to snap up those on his own as he spoke. “But don’t take them off—not if you want to get them on again in a hurry.”
Even the loosening of the tight seals gave a measure of relief that made Dane sigh. Meshler opened the bag he had brought from the flitter. Now he drew from it a single ration tube. Dane could have squeezed all its contents into his own mouth, but good sense told him that Meshler was right as the ranger measured it in fours, carefully sucking only the first quarter before he passed it to Tau. The medic squeezed the second portion out on a rock, from which the brach, shooting out a long, pale tongue, licked it in two passes. And having taken his own part, Tau passed the now almost flat tube to Dane, who finished it off as slowly as possible, hoping to feel less hungry when it was down.