Star Born

by Andre Norton

  6

  TREASURE HUNT

  Raf, squatting on a small, padded platform raised some six inches fromthe floor, tried to study the inhabitants of the room without staringoffensively. At the first glance, in spite of their strange clothingand their odd habit of painting their faces with weird designs, thecity people might have been of his own species. Until one saw theirtoo slender hands with the three equal-length fingers and thumb, orcaught a glimpse, under the elaborate head coverings, of the stiff,spiky substance which served them for hair.

  At least they did not appear to be antagonistic. When they had reachedthe roof top where the Terrans had landed their flitter, they had comewith empty hands, making gestures of good will and welcome. And theyhad had no difficulty in persuading at least three of the exploringparty to accompany them to their own quarters, though Raf had beenseparated from the flyer only by the direct order of Captain Hobart,an order he still resented and wanted to disobey.

  The Terrans had been offered refreshment--food and drink. But knowingthe first rule of stellar exploration, they had refused, which did notmean that the hosts must abstain. In fact, Raf thought, watching thealiens about him, they ate as if such a feast were novel. His twoneighbors had quickly divided his portion between them and made itdisappear as fast, if not faster, than their own small servings.

  At the other end of the room Lablet and Hobart were trying tocommunicate with the nobles about them, while Soriki, a small palmrecorder in his hand, was making a tape strip of the proceedings.

  Raf glanced from one of his neighbors to the other. The one on hisright had chosen to wear a sight-torturing shade of crimson, and thematerial was wound in strips about his body as if he were engulfed inan endless bandage. Only his fluttering hands, his three-toed feet andhis head were free of the supple rolls. Having selected red for hisclothing, he had picked a brilliant yellow paint for his facialmakeup, and it was difficult for the uninitiated to trace what must behis normal features under that thick coating of stuff which fashioneda masklike strip across his eyes and a series of circles outlining hismouth, circles which almost completely covered his beardless cheeks.More twists of woven fabric, opalescent and changing color as his headmoved, made a turban for his head.

  Most of the aliens about the room wore some variation of the samebandage dress, face paint, and turban. An exception, one of threesuch, was the feaster on Raf's left.

  His face paint was confined to a conservative set of bars on eachcheek, those a stark black and white. His sinewy arms were bare to theshoulder, and he wore a shell of some metallic substance as abreast-and back-plate, not unlike the very ancient body armor of Raf'sown world. The rest of his body was covered by the bandage strips, butthey were of a dead black, which, because of the natural thinness ofhis limbs, gave him a rather unpleasant resemblance to a spider.Various sheaths and pockets hung from a belt pulled tight about hiswasp middle, and a helmet of the metal covered his head. Soldier? Rafwas sure that his guess was correct.

  The officer, if officer he was, caught Raf's gaze. His small roundmouth gaped, and then his hands, with a few quick movements which Raffollowed, fascinated, pantomimed a flyer in the air. With thosetalking fingers, he was able to make plain a question: was Raf thepilot of the flitter?

  The pilot nodded. Then he pointed to the officer and forced asinquiring an expression as he could command.

  The answer was sketched quickly and readably: the alien, too, waseither a pilot or had some authority over flyers. For the first timesince he had entered this building, Raf knew a slight degree ofrelaxation.

  The wrinkleless, too smooth skin of the alien was a darkish yellow.His painted face was a mask to frighten any sensible Terran child; hisgeneral appearance was not attractive. But he was a flyer, and hewanted to talk shop, as well as they could with no common speech.Since the scarlet-wound nobleman on Raf's right was completelyengrossed in the feast, pursuing a few scraps avidly about the dish,the Terran gave all his attention to the officer.

  Twittering words poured in a stream from the warrior's lips. Raf shookhis head regretfully, and the other jerked his shoulders in almosthuman impatience. Somehow that heartened Raf.

  With many guesses to cover gaps, probably more than half of which werewrong, Raf gathered that the officer was one of a very few who stillretained the almost forgotten knowledge of how to pilot the remainingairworthy craft in this crumbling city. On their way to the buildingwith the curved roof, Raf had noted the evidences that the inhabitantsof this metropolis could not be reckoned as more than a handful andthat most of these now lived either within the central building orclose to it. A pitiful collection of survivors lingering on in theruins of their past greatness.

  Yet he was impressed now by no feeling that the officer, eagerlytrying to make contact, was a degenerate member of a dying race. Infact, as Raf glanced at the aliens about the room, he was conscious ofan alertness, of a suppressed energy which suggested a young andvigorous people.

  The officer was now urging him to go some place, and Raf, his dislikefor being in the heart of the strangers' territory once more aroused,was about to shake his head in a firm negative when a second ideastopped him. He had resisted separation from the flitter. Perhaps hecould persuade the alien, under the excuse of inspecting a strangemachine, to take him back to the flyer. Once there he would stay. Hedid not know what Captain Hobart and Lablet thought they couldaccomplish here. But, as for himself, Raf was sure that he was notgoing to feel easy again until he was across the northern mountainchain and coming in for a landing close by the _RS 10_.

  It was as if the alien officer had read his thoughts, for the warrioruncrossed his black legs and got nimbly to his feet with a lithemovement, which Raf, cramped by sitting in the unfamiliar posture,could not emulate. No one appeared to notice their withdrawal. Andwhen Raf hesitated, trying to catch Hobart's eye and make someexplanation, the alien touched his arm lightly and motioned toward oneof the curtained doorways. Conscious that he could not withdraw fromthe venture now, Raf reluctantly went out.

  They were in a hall where bold bands of color interwove in patternsimpossible for Terran eyes to study. Raf lowered his gaze hurriedly tothe gray floor under his boots. He had discovered earlier that to tryto trace any thread of that wild splashing did weird things to hiseyesight and awakened inside him a sick panic. His space boots, withthe metal, magnetic plates set in the soles, clicked loudly on thepavement where his companion's bare feet made no whisper of sound.

  The hall gave upon a ramp leading down, and Raf recognized this. Hisconfidence arose. They were on their way out of the building. Here themurals were missing so that he could look about him for referencepoints.

  He was sure that the banquet hall was some ten stories above streetlevel. But they did not go down ten ramps now. At the foot of thethird the officer turned abruptly to the left, beckoning Raf along.When the Terran remained stubbornly where he was, pointing in thedirection which, to him, meant return to the flitter, the other madegestures describing an aircraft in flight. His own probably.

  Raf sighed. He could see no way out unless he cut and ran. And longbefore he reached the street from this warren they could pick him up.Also, in spite of all the precautions he had taken to memorize theirway here, he was not sure he could find his path back to the flyer,even if he were free to go. Giving in, he went after the officer.

  Their way led out on one of the spider-web bridges which tied buildingand tower into the complicated web which was the city. Raf, as a pilotof flitter, had always believed that he had no fear of heights. But hediscovered that to coast above the ground in a flyer was far differentthan to hurry at the pace his companion now set across one of thesenarrow bridges suspended high above the street. And he was sure thatthe surface under them vibrated as if the slightest extra poundagewould separate it from its supports and send it, and them, crashingdown.

  Luckily the distance they had to cover was relatively short, but Rafswallowed a sigh of relief as they reached the door at the other end.They
were now in a tower which, unluckily, proved to be only a waystation before another swing out over empty space on a span whichsloped down! Raf clutched at the guide rail, the presence of whichsuggested that not all the users of this road were as nonchalant asthe officer who tripped lightly ahead. This must explain the other'sbare feet--on such paths they were infinitely safer than his ownboots.

  The downward sloping bridge brought them to a square building whichsomehow had an inhabited look which those crowding around it lacked.Raf gained its door to become aware of a hum, a vibration in the wallhe touched to steady himself, hinting at the drive of motors, thethrob of machinery inside the structure. But within, the officerpassed along a corridor to a ramp which brought them out, after whatwas for Raf a steep climb, upon the roof. Here was not one of thetongue-shaped craft such as had first met them in the city, but agleaming globe. The officer stopped, his eyes moving from the Terranto the machine, as if inviting Raf to share in his own pride. To thepilot's mind it bore little resemblance to any form of aircraft pastor present with which he had had experience in his own world. But hedid not doubt that it was the present acme of alien construction, andhe was eager to see it perform.

  He followed the officer through a hatch at the bottom of the globe,only to be confronted by a ladder he thought at first he could notclimb, for the steps were merely toe holds made to accommodate thelong, bare feet of the crew. By snapping on the magnetic power of hisspace boots, Raf was able to get up, although at a far slower speedthan his guide. They passed several levels of cabins before comingout in what was clearly the control cabin of the craft.

  To Raf the bank of unfamiliar levers and buttons had no meaning, buthe paid strict attention to the gestures of his companion. This wasnot a space ship he gathered. And he doubted whether the aliens hadever lifted from their own planet to their neighbors in this solarsystem. But it was a long-range ship with greater cruising power thanthe other flyer he had seen. And it was being readied now for a voyageof some length.

  The Terran pilot squatted down on the small stool before the controls.Before him a visa plate provided a clear view of the sky without andthe gathering clouds of evening. Raf shifted uncomfortably. Thatsignal of the passing of time triggered his impatience to beaway--back to the _RS 10_. He did not want to spend the night in thiscity. Somehow he must get the officer to take him back to theflitter--to be there would be better than shut up in one of the aliendwellings.

  Meanwhile he studied the scene on the visa plate, trying to find theroof on which they had left the flitter. But there was no point he wasable to recognize.

  Raf turned to the officer and tried to make clear the idea ofreturning to his own ship. Either he was not as clever at the signlanguage as the other, or the alien did not wish to understand. Forwhen they left the control cabin, it was only to make an inspectiontour of the other parts of the globe, including the space which heldthe motors of the craft and which, at another time, would have keptRaf fascinated for hours.

  In the end the Terran broke away and climbed down the thread of ladderto stand on the roof under the twilight sky. Slowly he walked aboutthe broad expanse of the platform, attempting to pick out somelandmark. The central building of the city loomed high, and there wereany number of towers about it. But which was the one that guarded theroof where the flitter rested? Raf's determination to get back to hisship was a driving force.

  The alien officer had watched him, and now a three-fingered hand waslaid on Raf's sleeve while its owner looked into Raf's face andmouthed a trilling question.

  Without much hope the pilot sketched the set of gestures he had usedbefore. And he was surprised when the other led the way down into thebuilding. This time they did not go back to the bridge, which hadbrought them across the canyons of streets, but kept on down rampswithin the building.

  There was a hum of activity in the place. Aliens, all in tight blackwrappings and burnished metal breastplates, their faces barred withblack and white paint, went on errands through the halls or labored attasks Raf could not understand. It now seemed as if his guide wereeager to get him away.

  It was when they reached the street level that the officer did pauseby one door, beckoning Raf imperiously to join him. The Terran obeyedreluctantly--and was almost sick.

  He was staring down at a dead, very dead body. By the stained ragsstill clinging to it, it was one of the aliens, a noble, not one ofthe black-clad warriors. The gaping wounds which had almost torn theunfortunate apart were like nothing Raf had ever seen.

  With a guttural sound which expressed his feelings as well as anywords, the officer picked up from the floor a broken spear, the barbedhead of which was dyed the same reddish yellow as the blood stillseeping from the torn body. Swinging the weapon so close to Raf thatthe Terran was forced to retreat a step or two to escape contact withthe grisly relic, the officer burst into an impassioned speech. Thenhe went back to the gestures which were easier for the spaceman tounderstand.

  This was the work of a deadly enemy, Raf gathered. And such a fateawaited any one of them who ventured beyond certain bounds of safety.Unless this enemy were destroyed, the city--life itself--was nolonger theirs--

  Seeing those savage wounds which suggested that an insane fury haddriven the attacker, Raf could believe that. But surely a primitivespear was no equal to the weapons his guide could command.

  When he tried to suggest that, the other shook his head as ifdespairing of making plain his real message, and again beckoned Raf tocome with him. They were out on the littered street, heading away fromthe central building where the rest of the Terran party must still be.And Raf, seeing the lengthening shadows, the pools of dusk gathering,and remembering that spear, could not resist glancing back over hisshoulder now and then. He wondered if the metallic click of his bootsoles on the pavement might not draw attention to them, attention theywould not care to meet. His hand was on his stun gun. But the officergave no sign of being worried; he walked along with the assurance ofone who has nothing to fear.

  Then Raf caught sight of a patch of color he had seen before andrelaxed. They _were_ on their way back to the flitter! He had comedown this very street earlier. And he did not mind the long climbback, ramp by steep ramp, which brought him out at last beside theflyer. His relief was so great that he put out his hand to draw italong the sleek side of the craft as he might have caressed awell-loved pet.

  "Kurbi?"

  At Hobart's bark he stiffened. "Yes, sir!"

  "We camp here tonight. Have to make some plans."

  "Yes, sir." He agreed with that. To attempt passage of the mountainsin the dark was a suicide mission which he would have refused. On theother hand, to his mind, they would sleep more soundly if they wereout of the city. He speculated whether he dared suggest that they usethe few remaining moments of twilight to head into the open andestablish a camp somewhere in the countryside.

  The alien officer made some comment in his slurred speech and fadedaway into the shadows. Raf saw that the others had already dragged outtheir blanket rolls and were spreading them in the shelter of theflitter while Soriki busied himself at the com, sending back a messageto the _RS 10_.

  "... should not be too difficult to establish a common speech form,"Lablet was saying as Raf climbed into the flitter to tug loose his ownroll. "Color and pitch both seem to carry meaning. But the basicpattern is there to study. And with the scanner to sort out thoserecord strips--did you adjust them, Soriki?"

  "They're all ready for you to push the button. If the scanner can readthem, it will. I got all that speech the chief, or king, or whateverhe was, made just before we left."

  "Good, very good!" In the light of the portable lamp by Soriki's com,Lablet settled down, plugged the scanner tubes in his ears, absentlyaccepting a ration bar the captain handed him to chew on while helistened to the playback of the record the com-tech had made thatafternoon.

  Hobart turned to Raf. "You went off with that officer. What did hehave to show you?"

  The pilot described the glo
be and the body he had been shown and thenadded what he had deduced from the sketchy explanations he had beengiven. The captain nodded.

  "Yes, they have aircraft, have been using them, too. But I think thatthere's only one of the big ones. And they're fighting a war allright. We didn't see the whole colony, but I'll wager that there areonly a handful of them left. They're holed up here, and they need helpor the barbarians will finish them off. They talked a lot about that."

  Lablet pulled the ear plugs from his ears. In the lamplight there wasan excited expression on his face. "You were entirely right, Captain!They were offering us a bargain there at the last! They are offeringus the accumulated scientific knowledge of this world!"

  "What?" Hobart sounded bewildered.

  "Over there"--Lablet made a sweep with his arm which might indicateany point to the east--"there is a storehouse of the original learningof their race. It's in the heart of the enemy country. But the enemyas yet do not know of it. They've made two trips over to bring backmaterial and their ship can only go once more. They offer us an equalshare if we'll make the next trip in their company and help them cleanout the storage place--"

  Hobart's answer was a whistle. There was an avid hunger on Lablet'slean face. No more potent bribe could have been devised to entice him.But Raf, remembering the spear-torn body, wondered.

  _In the heart of the enemy country_, he repeated to himself.

  Lablet added another piece of information. "After all, the enemy theyface is only dangerous because of superior numbers. They are onlyanimals--"

  "Animals don't carry spears!" Raf protested.

  "Experimental animals that escaped during a world-wide war generationsago," reported the other. "It seems that the species have evolved to asemi-intelligent level. I must see them!"

  Hobart was not to be hurried. "We'll think it over," he decided. "Thisneeds a little time for consideration."