by Hans Kneifel
A bellowing laughter came from the heavily amplified speakers. Then they heard the voice of the ruler of Adjover: “So now you know I am a Kergone, which is something special around here. I am everyone’s master. Come to me and we’ll negotiate!”
Again I had to marvel at Fratulon. He raised his arms and called out: “Sir! Your place is the safest in this rotten hole. May we park our vehicle next to your igloo?”
“Be my guest.”
Fratulon shot me a quick but meaningful glance. He pointed to the snowmobile where a few unkempt children had gathered.
“Fire up the boiler and bring that thing over here next to the entrance. Otherwise they’ll steal what little food we have left and even that no-good ammunition,” Fratulon instructed, deviously.
To make sure of our signals I ventured a double-edged remark: “But… the pressure is down!”
Fratulon put on an act of impatient anger. “Then fire it up like I said, dammit! Are you feeble-minded or something?”
“Alright—so don’t blow a gasket!” I retorted. My choice of words let him know that I understood.
Without unusual haste I returned to the big car, climbed in and shoved all controls to the limit. In the burner chamber the oil jet opened wide and raised an inferno. Since the boiler had not released its pressure due to the faulty relief valve, it had a full head of steam already. But I kept the turbine low as I slowly fed power to the remaining motors. The tractor treads ripped stones from the black volcanic paving. I steered the heavy car carefully along the wide road across the plaza and parked it directly next to the round iron entrance hatch of the igloo. When I got out, I took our weapons with me plus a heavy bag with our most indispensable belongings.
“OK,” said Fratulon. “Stash that junk somewhere.”
The impulse cannons on the roof had a circular radius of action but there was an area of 4 to 5 meters out from the walls of the igloo which was out of the angle of their range. With an apparent air of carelessness I walked around the place and stashed our belongings at a location that was at least 120° from the front where the
snowcar was sitting.
“Wait until I open the door!” boomed the loudspeaker.
Fratulon and I were figuring how much time we still had. It would have to be a surprise attack. I had seen something when I stashed our belongings and it gave me an idea.
“Ice Claw! Farnathia!” I shouted suddenly. “Come over here! There’s a spring here where we can get a drink and wash up!”
I was so urgent about it that they obeyed. Even Fratulon came strolling casually after us after taking a leisurely look around. We went around the edge of the clean springwater outlet, taking off our gloves and pushing back our head cowls.
We waited…
7/ THE PRINCE OF THIEVES
Originally the Kergones had been pseudo-amphibians, creatures which could move on land as well as in water. They were humanoid, approximately human size and were covered from head to foot with a dark scaly skin. They had always seemed to the Arkonides to be like armoured toads with excellent intellects. But how one of them had come to this area remained a mystery. That he had managed through sheer terror to dominate such a brutalized group of Arkonides as this bordered on the miraculous. Be that as it might, the fact remained that here in Adjover was a structure on the top of which rotated an impulse cannon. Of course at the moment its projector was not aimed at the four newcomers.
Ice Claw’s transparent head was reflected in the mirror of the pool as he whispered almost inaudibly: “Why are we washing ourselves here, Atlan?”
I washed and massaged my eyes and then looked through my fingers at the smokestack of our machine, which was nearing its last few seconds of existence.
“Because we have to convince this Kergone,” I replied in equally low tones.
Fratulon grunted in agreement and thought: This Atlan! A very foxy lad… never thought he’d respond so well to an unspoken command. He really has the old Gonozal brains! Such a pupil would be a joy to any teacher.
Now Farnathia whispered to me. “Convince him of what, dear?”
When I saw her face once more, her beautiful hair and her dainty, slender hands, I could understand the reactions of the greedy inhabitants of Adjover as well as the Kergone. Once they had laid eyes on her they recognized her as the one treasure
we had brought with us.
“That he should be more hospitable!” muttered Fratulon.
We didn’t have long to wait.
We deliberately gave the impression of being thirsty and unwashed visitors who had nothing on their minds but to rush to the water which we had so long been lacking but all the while we kept an eye on the snowcar and the igloo.
When it happened we reacted instinctively and threw ourselves to the ground. Nobody saw it but everyone heard it. The heavy pressure boiler of molecular
laminated steel was blown to bits by the accumulated high pressure of steam. There was one hard shock of explosion and then the air was filled with a hail of fragments, wheels, pieces of tractor chains, frame sections, rocks and other parts now reduced to a flying shrapnel of granulated junk, along with rocks and chunks of pavement. While a giant cloud of steam spread out on all sides, we jumped up with our energy weapons.
“Quick—follow me!” said Fratulon.
We ran wildly to the entrance of the igloo. The wall was bent in and the round hatch hung awry and blasted inward, barely supported by twisted hinges on a warped frame that had been ripped out of its stone anchorage. With a single shove Fratulon slammed the useless hatch cover into the interior and then jumped through into the front part of the room. I sprang after him and pointed my small snub-nosed beamer at the being who was in the centre of the large circular chamber.
“Here we are,” said Fratulon with an affected calmness, “and I must say I’m surprised.”
Umman was a cripple!
He crouched in a powered cart contraption made of tubular sections and reinforced steel wires which contained a dozen or so servo-mechanisms. Before the Kergone was a fairly simple control panel where several warning lamps were flashing at him. All view-screens were knocked out of commission, now showing only a blank dull green.
“I am no less surprised,” said the Kergone in a hollow voice. It sounded as though he were speaking to us from under a layer of muddy water.
“Nevertheless you still seem to be holding back, Umman!” said Fratulon.
Ice Claw and Farnathia pressed into the room behind us. We saw some other servo-mechanisms around the place, another door that led somewhere into the interior of the igloo, a bed and all the facilities for making life comfortable.
“I am the Prince here in this settlement!” exclaimed the Kergone while he looked us over. “That explosion—it was your snowcar, wasn’t it?”
“The pressure boiler,” I confirmed. “All we’re after is the right of hospitality that a visitor should expect.”
“I am the Prince. I don’t do any work. The others feed and pamper me because they fear me and also love me. I tell them what to do.”
Fratulon calmly went around the dark-scaled Kergone and wearily scanned his control panel. He snapped off the main switch and the warning lights darkened immediately. “For the next few days,” he announced, “you will give out the instructions we tell you to. Don’t blame us—you asked for it. We came here in peace!”
Umman turned his large dark eyes upon us. They were filled with hate. He screamed at us: “The first chance I get I’ll destroy you!” He gazed at the girl with such a burning desire that I involuntarily touched the hilt of my knife.
“We need food and rest and supplies,” Sawbones told him. “Nothing else. And we aren’t going to steal anything. We’ll pay for everything we get. Also if there are any sick people I’ll treat them.”
Still vicious, the Kergone snarled at him: “The Kralasenes of Sofgart are after you!”
“Even that will not alter the balance of power here, my Prince,” said Fratulon
sarcastically.
“I can’t defend myself!” wailed Umman. “I’m a cripple.”
“Don’t expect any sympathy from us,” I told him. “Where can we sleep?”
The Kergone remained silent while he stared defiantly at Fratulon. Sawbones waited awhile and then shrugged. He aimed his weapon at an open cupboard that was loaded with canned goods and other food items. We could see by the labels that these were costly imports which had somehow found their way here.
“It will make an unpleasant stink in here if I roast all your delicacies,” said Fratulon while he grinned at Umman with a feigned look of friendly concern. His finger tightened on the trigger.
“No—don’t! Go into the house next door opposite the spring! It is empty!”
“Good!” I said. “Fratulon, will you please watch him and get him straightened out on his instructions?”
My friend patted his armour and laughed heartily. “Will do! I’ll give you 3 hours
over there to get settled. I’ll be here and I’ll see to everything we need.”
“OK, come on, Farnathia!”
Still carrying our weapons in hand, we left the igloo. The settlers had collected outside and formed a wall of fur-clad bodies but at a respectable distance. They were looking at the small crater in front of the igloo and all the debris lying about, including some spots where the moss was smouldering under a grey pall of smoke.
“We’re all really tuckered out,” I said. “Let’s hope we find what we need.”
“I want a long hot bath,” muttered Farnathia.
We opened the door of the cubically shaped house, which appeared to have three storeys. Ice Claw turned on an old-fashioned, flickering lighting system. It was comfortably warm inside. Apparently they got their heating from volcanic sources such as a tapped subterranean reservoir of naturally hot water. Although some things were very rustic and untidy, we nevertheless found all the basic necessities one would expect in a simple household.
“First Farnathia…” I started to say but was interrupted by the buzzing of the house communicator.
Fratulon? I turned on the old apparatus and found it to be in surprisingly good working order.
Sure enough, there was the face of our companion. He winked at us. “I’ve arranged some service for you.
A few women will come there and bring you what you need. Also, I’m sending over a few goodies from the scaly Prince’s pantry. Atlan, I’ll take the first watch here and then you spell me off.”
“OK, we’re doing fine. Don’t forget to get us a good, fast team of sled animals.”
“Already on order,” smiled Fratulon.
“Good, but first the problem of hygiene… “And I described our schedule.
About an hour later we had all taken a bath in a walled tub-like enclosure. Clothes had been washed and boots polished. Burst seams in our apparel had been sewed. In various rooms we found beds and just barely clean covers.
When I kissed Farnathia and took hold of her hand before she went to sleep she smiled up at me. “The food and all was good, Atlan. But we haven’t yet reached our destination.”
I patted her and shook my head. “But we have more than half the way behind us and we’ll also manage the rest of it.”
“I think I can believe that, now that I’ve really come to know the three of you,” she said.
“Sleep now.”
I also lay down to sleep. We knew we were being protected by Fratulon, who had demanded cooperation from Umman in forceful terms, but we still bolted the doors and windows before going to rest and we kept our weapons beside us.
Later in the night I received a signal from Fratulon and I took over for him in the ‘palace’ of the dethroned Prince.
* * * *
The sled was just the right design for a swift thrust through this region which offered its many contrasts of heat and snow and ice sheets covered with falling ashes. Five Hr’seecs were harnessed in a span between four long shafts that extended out from a basket cradle, where deep pouches were provided for carrying game or, in our case, our luggage and weapons. The passenger cradle was open at the back but covered with a net that could be fastened to the basket edge with heavy hooks… but the wide sled runners were the feature of the outfit. With a simple lever movement, four reel-like casters could be let down but during a run through snow they could be snapped sidewards like insect legs. They were ideal for operation over solid ground where there wasn’t any snow. This was the fairly
new sled and team that we found in front of the house after Fratulon had relieved me the second time around.
“Tomorrow at dawn!” he whispered to me.
“Nobody should know where we are going. This Kermant Valley…” I stared to say cautiously.
“Is sufficiently unknown,” he interrupted me, “to mislead anybody. Besides, once we’ve gone out through the North gate of this settlement we’ll have a balance of power between us and the Kralasenes. Taking it all in the balance, I’d say it would take a very unusual surprise to catch us napping now!”
Farnathia was considerably astonished by the sight of the exotic-looking vehicle. “I don’t believe it!” she exclaimed. In an unbelievably short time she had become her beaming self again. Whenever she showed herself outside the house I had to constantly watch against any molestations of her by the other men.
Fratulon was explaining: “Any pursuit by airborne vehicles is impossible where we’re going. We are going to reach Kermant Valley, my stronghold on Gortavor, and the Omirgos.”
As to air pursuit, even Ice Claw realized he was referring to the energy barrier zone as the restriction.
We had five Hr’seecs in harness, ungainly and evil-looking beasts with feet that could spread out on snow like the webbed feet of water fowl. Their heavy heads with forward-jutting horns were red as fire, as though they were on the verge of apoplexy, and they bellowed and bleated without any apparent cause. Their fur was long and white but hung down in dirty, matted tufts. They were harnessed by an elastic yoke and guided with reins which passed through ringed bits in their mouths, and when they ate, the rings made a sound like sleighbells. I reflected that visible impressions would not count as much as performance. The important thing was if they could run swiftly and safely.
I grinned at Fratulon. “Someday maybe I’ll write my memoirs—and I’ll really know how to describe an optimist.”
This strange man who was carrying his dangerous weapon around as though it were only a pocket knife continued to be a mystery to me. A fortress in the vicinity of the Pole, of all things! He ranged from being a simple gladiator to a gourmet, art connoisseur and an outstanding surgeon and physician. The spectrum of his capabilities was beyond what I could ever experience or attain to. Who was he, actually? And who was I to have my destiny so interwoven with his? Riddles, mysteries, curiosities.
“I’ve had my sleep,” he said. “Early in the morning I’ll get everything rolling. Before you go to bed, get all of our gear together. We’ll want to get under way as soon as possible.”
We merely nodded at each other and he went into the Prince’s igloo. Ice Claw and I and Farnathia packed, ate plentifully and then went to bed.
* * * *
When Fratulon entered the bunker again he saw that the Kergone was reading from a lighted reading cube. “I see you’re getting yourself an education, Prince,” he muttered. Since the explosion the workmen had installed the door again but as for the rest of it Sachnes had given them strict orders to forget it.
“Is that supposed to be a sin too?” snapped Umman. The creature had reluctantly adjusted himself to the situation but Fratulon did not doubt for one second that he’d strike at him at the first opportunity in a complete rage of vengeance. As the Prince of this community the scaly one had been humbled too deeply. And Fratulon kept the master key to the weapons and observation system in the mysteriously deep pockets of his full-length cloak.
“Not necessarily,” Sawbones admitted. “The deeper the sin the g
reater the chance for virtue. Anyway, have I paid you enough?”
Under his compulsion the Kergone had issued the necessary orders. The best supplies for about a 6-day trek, the best animals and the best kind of sled had been the visible results.
“Yes, that you have!” admitted the Kergone. He shut off the reading cube and turned around in his cart toward Fratulon. By a touch of his hand across optical contacts or just the change of a finger, Umman could cause a number of mechanical responses within the cart and drive it.
“Money talks,” said Sawbones. “But of course you can send out a man after me to follow my trail, I suppose. He could probably catch up to the sled.”
Fratulon looked about him, noting that the Prince’s stock of provisions had visibly diminished. It reminded him somehow of his own condition on Gortavor. He had about run out. In fact he had had it up to his neck with the planet. And sometimes farther. The time was ripe to get off of it.
“Money is the sixth sense, which makes it possible to appreciate the other five, as anyone knows,” said Fratulon. “Incidentally, you don’t seem to be too comfortable with me around.”
The dark-scaled alien laughed humourlessly. “Do I have any other choice?”
“No.”
Fratulon was busy thinking. In spite of every observation or inquiry he had not been able to either see any signs of pursuit by his nemesis or learn even if he were being pursued at all. Of course if the Kralasenes showed up at the present moment he would be able to ward them off with the special armaments at hand. Where were those hired deputies of the tyrant? Undoubtedly out of revenge, Umman would
waste no time in making an alliance with the forces of Sofgart the Blind—or if not, they would handle him the same way that he had. Be that as it might, the girl and I would have to be protected and taken away from Gortavor.
The time for it was ripe. A vital change for me was imminent which would not only give an altered meaning to my life but would also add a new dimension of the mind and spirit. Fratulon was becoming restless. He would have preferred being under way already.