Raf leaned back against the wall. Long since the actions of the aliens
in the storage house had ceased to interest him, since they would not
allow any of the Terrans to approach their plunder and he could not
ask questions. Lablet continued to follow the officer about, vainly
trying to understand his speech. And Hobart had taken his place by the
upper entrance, his hand held stiffly across his body. The pilot knew
that the captain was engaged in photographing all this activity with a
wristband camera, hoping to make something of it later.
But Raf's own inclination was to slip out and do some exploring in
those underground corridors beyond. Having remained where he was for a
wearisome time, he noticed that his presence was now taken for granted
by the hurrying aliens who brushed about him intent upon their
assignments. And slowly he began to edge along the wall toward the
other doorway. Once he froze as the officer strode by, Lablet in
attendance. But what the painted warrior was looking for was a crystal
box on a shelf to Raf's left. When he had pointed that out to an
underling he was off again, and Raf was free to continue his crab's
progress.
Luck favored him, for, as he reached the moment when he must duck out
the portal, there was a sudden flurry at the other end of the chamber
where four of the aliens, under a volley of orders, strove to move an
unwieldy piece of intricate machinery.
Raf dodged around the door and flattened back against the wall of the
room beyond. The moving bars of sun said that it was midday. But the
room was empty save for the despoiled carcass, and there was no sign
of the aliens who had been sent out to scout.
The Terran ran lightly down the narrow room to the second door, which
gave on the lower pits beneath and the way to the arena. As he took
that dark way, he drew his stun gun. Its bolt was intended to render
the victim unconscious, not to kill. But what effect it might have on
the giant reptiles was a question he hoped he would not be forced to
answer, and he paused now and then to listen.
There were sounds, deceptive sounds. Noises as regular as footfalls,
like a distant padded running. The aliens returning? Or the things
they had gone to hunt? Raf crept on--out into the sunshine which
filled the arena.
For the first time he studied the enclosure and recognized it for what
it was--a place in which savage and bloody entertainments could be
provided for the population of the city--and it merely confirmed his
opinion of the aliens and all their ways.
The temptation to explore the city was strong. He eyed the grilles
speculatively. They could be climbed--he was sure of that. Or he could
try some other of the various openings about the sanded area. But as
he hesitated over his choice, he heard something from behind. This was
no unidentifiable noise, but a scream which held both terror and pain.
It jerked him around, sent him running back almost before he thought.
But the scream did not come again. However there were other
sounds--snuffing whines--a scrabbling--
Raf found himself in the round room walled by the old prison cells.
Stabs of light shot through the gloom, thrusting into a roiling black
mass which had erupted through one of the entrances and now held at
bay one of the alien warriors. Three or four of the black creatures
ringed the alien in, moving with speed that eluded the bolts of light
he shot from his weapon, keeping him cornered and from escape, while
their fellows worried another alien limp and defenseless on the floor.
It was impossible to align the sights of his stun gun with any of
those flitting shadows, Raf discovered. They moved as quickly as a
ripple across a pond. He snapped the button on the hand grip to
"spray" and proceeded to use the full strength of the charge across
the group on the floor.
For several seconds he was afraid that the stun ray would prove to
have no effect on the alien metabolism of the creatures, for their
weaving, tearing activity did not cease. Then one after another
dropped away from the center mass and lay unmoving on the floor.
Seeing that he could control them, Raf turned his attention to the
others about the standing warrior.
Again he sent the spray wide, and they subsided. As the last curled on
the pavement, the alien moved forward and, with a snarl, deliberately
turned the full force of his beam weapon on each of the attackers. But
Raf plowed on through the limp pile to the warrior they had pulled
down.
There was no hope of helping him--death had come with a wide tear in
his throat. Raf averted his eyes from the body. The other warrior was
methodically killing the stunned animals. And his action held such
vicious cruelty that Raf did not want to watch.
When he looked again at the scene, it was to find the narrow barrel of
the strange weapon pointed at him. Paying no attention to his dead
comrade, the alien was advancing on the Terran as if in Raf he saw
only another enemy to be burned down.
Moves drilled in him by long hours of weary practice came almost
automatically to the pilot. The stun gun faced the alien rifle sight
to sight. And it seemed that the warrior had developed a hearty
respect for the Terran arm during the past few minutes, for he slipped
his weapon back to the crook of his arm, as if he did not wish Raf to
guess he had used it to threaten.
The pilot had no idea what to do now. He did not wish to return to the
storehouse. And he believed that the alien was not going to let him go
off alone. The ferocity of the creatures now heaped about them had
been sobering, an effective warning against venturing alone in these
underground ways.
His dilemma was solved by the entrance of a party of aliens from
another doorway. They stopped short at the sight of the battlefield,
and their leader descended upon the surviving scout for an
explanation, which was made with gestures Raf was able to translate in
part.
The alien had been far down one of the neighboring corridors with his
dead companion when they had been tracked by the pack and had managed
to reach this point before they were attacked. For some reason Raf
could not understand, the aliens had preferred to flee rather than to
face the menace of the hunters. But they had not been fast enough and
had been trapped here. The gesturing hands then indicated Raf, acted
out the battle which had ensued.
Crossing to the Terran pilot, the alien officer held out his hand and
motioned for Raf to surrender his weapon. The pilot shook his head.
Did they think him so simple that he would disarm himself at the mere
asking? Especially since the warrior had rounded on him like that only
a few moments before? Nor did he holster his gun. If they wanted to
take it by force just let them try such a move!
His determination to resist must have gotten across to the leader, for
he did not urge obedience to his orders. Instead he waved the Terran
to join his own party. And since Raf had no reason not to, he did.
Leaving the dead, both alien and enemy, where they had fallen, the
warriors took another way out of the underground maze, a way which
brought them out into a street running to the river.
Here the party spread out, paying close attention to the pavement, as
if they were engaged in tracking something. Raf saw impressed in one
patch of earth a print dried by the sun, left by one of the reptiles.
And there were smaller tracks he could not identify. All were
inspected carefully, but none of them appeared to be what his
companions sought.
They trotted up and down along the river bank, and from what he had
already observed concerning the aliens, Raf thought that the leader,
at least, was showing exasperation and irritation. They expected to
find something--it was not there--but it had to be! And they were fast
reaching the point where they wanted to produce it themselves to
justify the time spent in hunting for it.
Ruthlessly they rayed to death any creature their dragnet drove into
the open, leaving feebly kicking bodies of the furry, long-legged
beasts Raf had first seen after the landing of the spacer. He could
not understand the reason for such wholesale extermination, since
certainly the rabbitlike rodents were harmless.
In the end they gave up their quest and circled back to come out near
the field where the flitter and the globe rested. When the Terran
flyer came into sight, Raf left the party and hurried toward it.
Soriki waved a welcoming hand.
"'Bout time one of you showed up. What are they doing--toting half the
city here to load into that thing?"
Raf looked along the other's pointing finger. A party of aliens towing
a loaded dolly were headed for the gaping hatch of the globe, while a
second party and an empty conveyance passed them on the way back to
the storehouse.
"They are emptying a warehouse, or trying to."
"Well, they act as if Old Time himself was heating their tails with a
rocket flare. What's the big hurry?"
"Somebody's been here." Swiftly Raf outlined what he had seen in the
city, and ended by describing the hunt in which he had taken an
unwilling part. "I'm hungry," he ended and went to burrow for a ration
pack.
"So," mused Soriki as Raf chewed the stuff which never had the flavor
of fresh provisions, "somebody's been trying to beat the painted lads
to it. The furry people?"
"It was a spear shaft they found broken with the dead lizard thing,"
Raf commented. "And some of those on the island were armed with
spears--"
"Must be good fighters if, armed with spears, they brought down a
reptile as big as you say. It was big, wasn't it?"
Raf stared at the city, a square of half-eaten concentrate in his
fingers. Yes, that was a puzzler. The dead monster would be more than
_he_ would care to tackle without a blaster. And yet it was dead, with
a smashed spear for evidence as to the manner of killing.
All those others dead in the arena, too. How large a party had invaded
the city? Where were they now?
"I'd like to know," he was speaking more to himself than to the
com-tech, "how they _did_ do it. No other bodies--"
"Those could have been taken away by their friends," Soriki
suggested. "But if they're still hanging about, I hope they won't
believe that we're bigger and better editions of the painted lads. I
don't want a spear through me!"
Raf, remembering the maze of lanes and streets--bordered by buildings
which could provide hundreds of lurking places for attackers--which he
had threaded with the confidence of ignorance earlier that day, began
to realize why the aliens had been so nervous. Had a sniper with a
blast rifle been stationed at a vantage point somewhere on the roofs
today none of them would ever have returned to this field. And even a
few spacemen with good cover and accurate throwing aim could have cut
down their number a quarter or a third. He was developing a strong
distaste for those structures. And he had no intention of returning to
the city again.
He lounged about with Soriki for the rest of the afternoon, watching
the ceaseless activity of the aliens. It was plain that they were
intent upon packing into the cargo hold of their ship everything they
could wrest from the storage house. As if they must make this trip
count double. Was that because they had discovered that their treasure
house was no longer inviolate?
In the late afternoon Hobart and Lablet came back with one of the work
teams. Lablet was still excited, full of what he had seen, deduced, or
guessed during the day. But the captain was very quiet and sober, and
he unstrapped the wrist camera as soon as he reached the flitter,
turning it over to Soriki.
"Run that through the ditto," he ordered. "I want two records as soon
as we can get them!"