Brown's rat-trap mouth clamped tight. "That so? Sampson shoots off his
mouth too much. What's the angle?"
"I think they want to go back."
Garth, dipping up water in the canvas buckets, said, "We've only three
more days to go, unless we run into bad country."
"I know. But--they're armed."
"I'll talk to 'em," Brown said quietly. He lifted two of the pails
and started up the path, Paula and Brown trailing him. Presently they
reached the clearing where camp had been made.
The men weren't cooking. Instead, they were gathered in a knot around
Sampson, whose blazing red hair stood up like a beacon. Brown put down
his burden and walked toward them.
They broke up at sight of him, but didn't scatter. Sampson's hand crept
imperceptibly toward his holster.
"Trouble?" Brown asked.
Sampson squinted at him. "No trouble. Except we didn't know the Forest
would be as bad as it is."
"So you want to go back?"
"You can't blame us for that," Sampson said, hunching his heavy
shoulders. "It's only dumb luck that's kept us alive so far. We didn't
bargain for this, Captain."
"I told you what to expect."
"All you said was that it'd be dangerous. None of us knew the Forest.
Those damn bloodsucker plants are the worst. They reach out at a guy
everywhere he turns. And the other things--we can't get through,
Captain! You ought to be able to see that yourself!"
"Nobody's been killed so far."
"Blind luck. And Garth, too. He knows this country. If we didn't have
him, we wouldn't have lasted a day."
"We've got him," Brown said crisply. "So we're going on. Only three
more days, anyhow. That's enough. Start cooking your rations." He
turned his back on Sampson and walked away. The red-haired giant
hesitated, scowling. Finally he shrugged and glanced around at the
others.
That broke the tension. One by one the men scattered to prepare food.
Only Garth was gnawed by a persistent, deep-rooted fear. He didn't
admit it, even to himself. But he watched Brown closely that night,
and finally unpacked his medical kit and carefully searched it for
something he knew wasn't there.
He was dreading the next morning.
V
Slow reddish dawn brightened over the Forest. Garth felt someone
shaking him. He grunted, stirred, and opened his eyes to see Paula's
white face, and, behind her, Sampson.
"Yeah. What's wrong?" He scrambled out of his blankets, blinking. The
girl, pale to the lips, pointed toward a recumbent figure.
"Carver. Captain Brown. He's--I don't know!"
Sampson said gruffly, "Looks like he's dead. The men on guard duty said
he didn't move once all night."
Icy bands constricted suddenly around Garth's heart. Without answering
he got his kit and went over to examine Brown. The man lay motionless,
his breathing normal, but a deep flush on his brown cheeks.
"It isn't the Plague, is it?" Sampson asked, his voice not quite under
control.
Garth shook his head. "Hell, no! It's--" He hesitated.
Paula caught his arm. "What? Some insect poisoned him--one of those
butterfly-things?"
Garth carefully repacked his kit. He didn't look up.
"He's got a dose of the Noctoli pollen. That's all. It's not fatal.
He'll come out of it after he leaves the Forest, or after he builds up
immunity."
"How long would that take?"
"A month or more."
Garth bent over the apparently sleeping man. "Get up, Brown," he said
insistently. "Hear me? Get up?"
The Captain stirred. His eyes opened, blank and unseeing. He drew
himself from his blankets and rose, looking straight ahead. Paula
shrank back with a little gasp. There was a flurry of movement among
the men in the background.
"He'll be all right tonight. The poison only works in the daytime--I've
told you that."
"We can't march at night," Paula said. "Not--here!"
"I know. It's impossible. Our lights would attract the butterflies--and
plenty of other things."
Sampson whirled on the others. "Pack your equipment! We're getting out
of here, fast!"
They hurried to obey. Paula got in front of Sampson as he turned, and
the giant stopped, blinking at her.
"You can't leave the Captain here, Sampson."
"We'll carry him, then. But we're getting out."
Garth moved to Paula's side. "You won't need a litter. He can walk.
Noctoli poison works like hypnotism. You're semi-conscious, but your
will's in abeyance. If anyone tells Brown to follow us, he'll do it."
Paula was biting her lip. "We can't go back now. We've only three days
to go."
"Look," Sampson said grimly, "why in hell should we commit suicide?
Suppose we head on for three days. We reach this lost city of yours,
or whatever it is. What then? We're in the middle of the Black Forest.
Another thirteen days to get out! It's too much of a gamble. We're
leaving now, and you can come along or stay here--suit yourself!" He
turned away.
* * * * *
Left alone, Paula looked helplessly from the motionless, staring figure
of Brown to Garth.
"Carver!"
He didn't move. Garth grinned wryly.
"He'll obey commands, that's all. He won't wake up till tonight."
Paula clenched her hands. "We've got to go on! We've got to! If we go
back now--"
"Commander Benson will clap us in the brig, eh?"
She looked at him angrily. "It isn't only that. We'd lose our chance.
You were right, Garth--we're after the power-source of the Ancients.
The secret's hidden here, in the Black Forest. That cipher from Chahnn
proved that--to me, anyway. Earth needs power, more than you can
imagine. Without it, civilization will collapse--soon, too."
"Suppose we go on," Garth said slowly. "I didn't tell you this, but the
reason the poison hit Brown was because my antitoxin was too old. He
had a short dose, too. The other men--well, they'll go under themselves
in a day or so. You, too."
Blue smudges showed under the girl's eyes. "Oh," she said after a
moment. "So it's like that."
"Just like that."
Paula's stubborn chin tilted up. "I don't care--there's still a way.
We'll be all right at night, you said. Well, we'll do our traveling and
fighting by night."
"Fighting?"
"The Zarno. Garth, we've got to do it, somehow. Once we find that
power-source, we can use it! There'll be weapons the Ancients left, I'm
sure of it. The murals at Chahnn showed they had weapons, strong enough
to conquer the Zarno. If we can get those--"
"You're crazy," Garth said. "Plain crazy. What the hell do you expect
me to do about it? Sampson would knock my block off if I tried to stop
him now."
But he was thinking: we're losing more than a chance to find the
Ancient's power-source. I'm losing my chance to find the cure for the
Silver Plague.
"No," he said stubbornly.
Paula's lip curled. "I should have known better than to ask you for
help. I'll handle this myself." She unholstered her gun.
Garth looked at her. She'd fail. She couldn't handle these ten
hard-shelled fighters, headed by Sampson. She'd fail. And, in the end,
she'd go back to Earth, in the brig, back to the certain death of the
Silver Plague. Oh, it might miss her, of course. But it might not.
Paula would die as Moira had done, years ago.
Garth shrugged and slapped the girl's weapon down. "Stay out of this,"
he commanded, and turned away, walking across the clearing to where
Sampson and the others were shouldering their kits.
The red-haired giant looked up at Garth's approach. "Step it up," he
said. "We're in a hurry."
"I'm not going."