by Dan Donoghue
As they stopped at the door of the house, a number of people converged on the car. Wolf climbed stiffly out, glad to escape the cramped confines of the vehicle that had not been designed for such as he.
“Well Space me! It's the jolly convict,” said a voice he recognised. Wolf turned. One of the young university graduates who had travelled home on the Star-bird stood by the stairs with an arm about the shoulders of a girl. They had come from the swimming pool for he was dressed only in a brief pair of swimming trunks, with an ornately tooled leather blaster belt incongruously fastened above them. The girl wore a similar outfit, but apparently did not feel the need of weapons. She shrugged from under the arm of her companion, and stepped forward.
“Mr. Carthar is not a convict, and he shall not be addressed as one,” Cort stated grimly from the other side of the car.
“Sorry Dad. My apologies, Mr. Carthar.” The youth's tone and grin bordered on the insolent, and brought a further frown to his father's brow.
“Mr. Carthar will be our guest for a week or two. My son, Brian, and my daughter, Margaret—you could be more fitly dressed, young lady.”
The girl coloured slightly. “Sorry Daddy. We didn't know you were bringing a guest. How do you do, Mr. Carthar?” She reached up a hand and smiled. Though tall for an ordinary human, her head reached only to the centre of his chest.
Wolf took the hand, and pressed it in the manner of his people. “My given name is Wolf,” he said. “I have seldom been called Mr. Carthar.”
“Wolf? It's a strange name for a man. It is an Earth animal isn't it?”
“Yes. My people named their children for animals. It was hoped that they would gain some of the strengths therefrom.”
“How strange. But you must come inside. You must be tired after travelling in that slow old thing all day.”
She turned, and led the way as though accustomed to being obeyed. The group fell in beside Wolf, and they climbed the stairs to the great hall. There she left them. Wolf was not conscious of the fact that his eyes followed the long-limbed, graceful figure until she was out of sight, but the two men were.
For five days, Wolf was ill from the effects of the vaccinations. It did not keep him in bed, but it did confine him to the house and gardens. For much of the time, he studied maps, and specimens of plants and animals, and learned as such as he could of the history of the colony. Margaret became his chief tutor when her father was busy, which appeared to be most of the time.
He soon found that the daughter of the household was more interested in the land and its production than was the son. Brian, as Wolf knew from the reading on the Star-bird, was at odds with his father for he wanted to live in the city, and to work his way into politics. He held strong views as to the future that should be planned for High America, and was impatient with Courteau's administration for its lack of vision. Cort had little interest in politics apart from those aspects that directly affected his holding, but he was one of Courteau's oldest friends, and supported him because of that. He wished Brian to establish himself on the holding first, and take up politics, if he so wished, later in life. Brian hid any interest he did feel in the holding, and Wolf soon discovered that a special antagonism had developed since Brian's return from Earth with a whole new set of ideas and values. Father and son were barely on speaking terms.
Margaret, envious of her brother's sojourn on Earth, and fascinated by the concept of a Mother planet, turned to Wolf for information, and they taught each other. Cort, after being the cause of their companionship initially, later began to look on the association with anxiety. His knowledge of Wolf was not comforting for a father who sees his only daughter attracted. His wife was dead, and, though ringed with friends and employees, he had no one but his son close enough to turn to. There, at least, the two found common ground. Brian agreed that one from so strange a culture, and a sensie to boot, was no fit suitor for Margaret. What he didn't point out to his father was his reservation that if the fellow did kill the thing, and did return to collect the reward and the land Courteau had promised him, and did live as the only Sensie in the colony, then he might make a very useful brother-in-law indeed. He agreed with his father, but he also saw to it that Wolf and Margaret spent a considerable amount of time alone together.
On the fourth day an incident occurred to heighten Cort's anxiety. Margaret was showing Wolf over the cultivated lands, and explaining the history and use of the various crops. It was a hot day with clear air and skies, and the light was brilliant, and the shadows black. They walked slowly, and Wolf used the hunting spear he had fashioned somewhat ignobly as a walking stick, though the worst of his illness had passed.
Free men and convicts were working side by side. It was time for the morning break, and, as was the custom, the children of free workers brought cool drinks out to all. It was one of the few times when the smaller children were allowed out of the house enclosure, but the older children were at lessons, and the young were well watched as the workers moved in from the outfields. On this occasion a group of men were having trouble with a blocked pipe line when the children started to come out.
Instead of leaving it, and moving in to the safer regions, they continued to struggle with it, and Wolf and Margaret began to move towards them. One of the children, seeing his father at the pipe, ran towards him. Suddenly Wolf yelled a warning, and sprinted with an almost incredible burst of speed towards the boy. At the same time a kerry leapt from a high standing crop, and bounded towards the same target.
For an instant it became a race with the child's life as prize, but then the startled watchers saw the man sweep back his arm, and, though they scarcely saw its flight, the great animal sprang high in the air transfixed by the long slender shaft.
It had started as an incident common enough in the colony. The kerries often stalked the workers, and a moment's carelessness was all too often followed by violent death, so quick, and unexpected that blasters could only hope to avenge, and not prevent. That a kerry could be detected and beaten to its prey was startling enough; that it could be killed by a spear, was almost beyond belief.
There was a new respect in the eyes and voices of the men as they greeted Wolf that evening, and he became the object of hero worship for some dozen or more young boys, especially when he presented the still dripping pelt of the animal to its intended victim, a prize beyond all measure in the hearts of the holding boys. All of which was natural enough, but what worried Cort was that Margaret stopped talking of Wolf as a transitory guest, but instead, seemed to assume a more permanent status. He decided that it was time they set out on the familiarisation expedition. After that, he would leave, and his future was so uncertain as to be able to be left in abeyance.
Cort, Wolf, and two of the young men of the holding made up the party. They struck south, for the simple reason that the danger was north, north-east. It was a leisurely trip. Cort was interested in searching for minerals and new specimens of plants and animals. They visited every type of landform, climatic region, and vegetation type as they could. Wolf learned much, and thought much. Margaret was much in his thoughts, and had penetrated into his dreams, not with the fierce glow of desire that Leeli Pa'Lar had engendered, but with a quieter, gentler desire. It worried him. Sensitive, and nonsensitive—they did not match well.
For ten days they travelled a zigzagged path which touched mountains, plains, and valleys. They clambered through jungle, strolled beneath great stands of stately trees, and waded through harsh grasses taller than themselves. Always Wolf carried the spear, and his quiet words of warning told always of the lurking kerries before they could endanger the party. Cort was a bushman, proud of his skill, and confident of his knowledge of the country, but in the thicknesses of vegetation even he had need of instruments to find his way. Not so his guest. Never did Wolf refer to mechanical aide, and never did he seem uncertain of his direction. One of the men commented on it first, and Cort puzzled over it, until careful questioning elicited the facts that Wolf's memo
ry retained an almost photographic history of their steps, of the lay of the land, of the fall of shadow, of the growth of moss on the sides of trees, of the drift of leaves, and the slant of grass. In his mind was a map with their path clearly marked. In other things too, he showed a bushman's skill. A tree or plant once named was never again mistaken or unknown, no camouflage could hide insect or animal from his view. Cort's collection of specimens rose so quickly that he soon had no means of carrying more, and was forced to rely on notes and sketches only. His respect for Wolf grew as the days passed.
At night they sat about campfires, and talked the hours of evening away, staring into the hypnotic flicker of the coals, talking in short bursts of conversation interposed between long comfortable silences, as is the way of the forest, and the fire, and tired and contented men. Wolf told of the hunts of the Out-people, of their thoughts and ideas, his companions spoke of the history of the colony, of its struggle to survive, and of their own holding. In those quiet hours, the High Americans forgot that Wolf was a stranger, an alien in their ranks, and a bond of friendship grew.
They travelled far to the south. Wolf continually tested the strength of the power that played on his mind. It definitely decreased as they went, and when they crossed a line of limestone hills, and visited a cave, he found it gone. It was a discovery that cheered him. They had almost reached the southern coast. The ocean could be plainly seen from the top of the hills, but there was a strip of land between the hills and the shore that could be cleared, and possibly used to raise cattle. It could be very valuable land indeed if he failed to destroy the thing. He said nothing about it at the time, but decided to leave a message with Margaret to be given to Cort if he did not return. It would make rich return for his hospitality.
On the homeward route they travelled quickly. They had come to depend on Wolf's ability to detect the kerries, so were not slowed by the need of caution, nor were they slowed by the need to take frequent bearings. On the evening of the twelfth day, Wolf led them out onto the plateau road only a few hundred metres from the spot where they had initially entered the jungle. It was an achievement worthy of the best bushmen of the Outpeople.
It was almost dark when they hailed the gate keeper from his lodge, and a little crowd rapidly gathered on the lawns to welcome them. Brian came forward rapidly, however, and took his father aside. “Courteau's here,” he said. “I think there's trouble.”
“What sort of trouble?” Cort demanded
“He's not saying, but a strange ship landed the other day. I think it's got something to do with it.”
“What in Space would it have to do with us?” Cort asked.
“Not us—him,” Brian gestured to Wolf.
“Well, we're going to get cleaned up. If it's waited this long, no doubt it can wait a bit longer, and, if it's got something to do with Carthar, I'd say he'll handle it.” He stopped and nodded a couple of times. “Yes, I reckon he'll handle it.” He left to join Wolf and steer him through the crowd. Brian stood gazing thoughtfully after them.
When Wolf came down from his rooms Margaret and Courteau were waiting at the bottom of the stairs. “Mr. Courteau wants to talk to you,” Margaret said, and he had no need of mind powers to sense the worry in her tone. Courteau nodded and led the way into a corner of the lounge. Margaret left.
“We've got troubles, Son,” Courteau said.
“Trouble?” Wolf asked.
“That's right. Your old girl friend spaced in with a bunch of goons, and the thing got her. I think the goons are waiting to get you.”
“My girl friend? You mean Leeli Pa'Lar?”
“Leeli Pa'Lar in person. They're on to you, Son. They know you're shielded. They've got a pretty pardon all done out. Quite put out to find that you'd already got off so to speak. They want you home, or, if they can't have you, I'd say they'd want you dead. Now that Leeli's gone north, my guess is they'll try to grab you or kill you.”
“Gone north—like the other sensitives?”
“That's right. They had twenty picked men to guard her. It's against the law to allow sensitives to land, but the idiots just can't get it out of their heads that the thing is some sort of dragon that you can hit with a blaster. They kept her in the ship, and had armed guards all round. She told them she felt wonderful, no trouble at all, then on the third night she wanders down, hits a guard over the head, and strolls off into the jungle. They saw her go, but you know what soldiers are. They weren't allowed to blast her down, so they stood looking stupid. When they woke up enough to get going, they blundered straight into a kerry that takes out two of them, and leaves the others burning the bush like foundation night fireworks. Another bunch went out as soon as it got light, but only half of them got back. They're bloody useless in the jungle. Some of my people went in, but they can't find any trace of her. The goons reckon they're afraid to go home, and from what I've heard of old Pa'Lar, I'd say they've got good cause to be. On the other hand, if they go with mission accomplished—”
“But why did Leeli come? Why didn't they just send soldiers or a nonsensitive at least?”
“Space knows! But remember they expected to find you slaving away on some holding or other. They probably reasoned you might be still struck on her, and if she came as a rescuing angel, you'd fall into her arms, and be too besotted to read her. Not until she got you on board ship, or, at least, got hold of some of your semen anyway.”
Wolf nodded slowly. “How dangerous do you think it is?”
“Very dangerous in town. Remember, they've got money to burn, and the means to take people back to Earth. There's plenty of people on Hi’ that would sell their souls for either one. I'd even watch it here. They know you'll be back here, and there's convicts here that would give a lot to get a ride back to home.”
Wolf nodded again. “Thank you for warning me, Governor. I shall be careful, but I will not be here long. Tomorrow I'll go after Leeli Pa'Lar.”
“You still want her that much? Listen, she's almost certainly dead by this, and you need a couple of days rest surely.”
Wolf shook his head. “No. You have it wrong. I no longer want Leeli Pa'Lar, but this thing has got to be faced. I'm as ready now as I'll ever be. I'll go north, north-east tomorrow. If I wait, there could be complications.”
“Complications? What—You mean with Margaret?”
“Yes.”
“I thought that was the way things were shaping. What does Cort think?”
“I haven't asked him, and I haven't read him, though I've been sorely tempted to. Off hand, I'd say that Mr. Cort would be anxious to get rid of me, wouldn't you?”
“More than likely. What do you intend doing? I know it's none of my business, but I asked Cort to bring you here, and, well—Margaret has been like my own daughter.”
“Nothing tonight. If I return, I might be able to offer a somewhat more secure future.”
Courteau smiled grimly. “That's good enough. Come on. I think we're keeping them waiting, and you must be hungry. They tell me you killed a kerry with that spear—”
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Chapter 9
It was not a jolly meal. Cort and Courteau talked almost entirely about the new plants, and animal life that had been discovered, and they argued over classification, and species, and subspecies. Margaret said little, but watched Wolf, Brian watched Margaret, and Wolf studied his plate. It was a relief to all when the meal came to an end.
Wolf took the first opportunity to beg fatigue, and the need for an early start, and bade them good night. Margaret watched him out of the room, but said nothing. Cort and the governor sat for an hour or two, then the Governor left for the city by helicopter, and Cort retired.
In her room, Margaret paced restlessly. Twice she drew back the covers of the bed, and twice she turned away. Her mind was in a turmoil of indecision. At first she had looked upon Wolf as some sort of freak, and had been careful to try to avoid thoughts that seemed embarrassing, only to fin
d them popping into her head for the very reason that she tried to stop them. Then she had felt the terrible flush of embarrassment which brought more unwelcome thoughts. She had avoided Wolf as much as possible.
With the vaccination sickness confining him to the buildings, however, and her father's careless assumption that she could teach him much that he did not have the time to do himself, she was thrown more and more into his company. She found teaching him fairly easy. He was quick to learn, and showed a great respect for her knowledge. There was a set topic of conversation and thought, and she could stick to it, but at times he compared things with those he had known, and when he spoke of Earth she forgot her fears, and hung upon his words.
For a while, she told herself that the pleasure she felt in his company was only this fascination of things of Earth that had been with her as far back as her memories could reach, but soon she found herself listening for the strange cadences of his voice, she found her body flushing hotly at the sight of the gentle welcome in his eyes when they met, and she found herself making excuses, even to herself, to be with him. At no time did he show any signs of knowing her thoughts, and gradually it seemed less important that he might.
All this time, however, she did not lose sight of the facts that he was different—he was a sensitive—a stranger to everything she knew, only staying for a brief time, and unlikely ever to return. That he was doomed to die, she could not doubt, and her sympathy swelled the blossoming love into something she could constrain only with a constant awareness of the hopelessness of it.
It had reached a stage when she had begun to avoid him once more, for the pain of seeing him, and knowing she must lose him, fought the pleasure inside her, so that she seemed to be a battlefield of warring emotions. Then he had sought her out to ask if he might see over the holding. She could not refuse, and they had wandered out into the fields with him idly using the strange spear that had caused so much sly humour amongst the men, as a walking stick. She had felt embarrassed for him as she saw the expressions on the faces of the workers they passed, and had even thought of asking him to leave it at one of the sheds, but she knew the pride he felt in his skill with it, and she could not do it.