Slowly his racing heartbeat returned to normal. Gradually he became
aware of the stench of decaying plants and of musky taints he knew
instinctively were the scents of underwater animals. Then with a shock
the meaning became clear. He had become a water-breather, cut off from
all other Earthmen, no longer entirely human. His fellows in the colony
were separated from him now by a gulf more absolute than the airless
void between Earth and Venus.
Something slippery and alive touched him near one armpit. He opened
his eyes in the black water and his groping hand clutched something
burrowing into his skin. With a shudder of revulsion he crushed a fat
worm between his fingers.
Then dozens of them--hundreds--were upon him from all sides. He was
wearing only a pair of khaki pants but the worms ignored his chest to
congregate around his face, intent on attacking the tender skin of his
eyelids.
For a minute his flailing hands fought them off, but they came in
increasing numbers and clung like leeches. Pain spread as they bit and
burrowed, and blindly he began to swim.
Faster and faster. He could sense the winding banks of the slough and
kept to midchannel, swimming with his eyes tightly closed. One by one
the worms dropped off.
He stopped, opened his eyes, not on complete darkness this time but on
a faint blue-green luminescence from far below. The water was saltier
here, and clearer.
He had swum down the slough and out into the ocean. He tried to turn
back, obsessed by a desire to be near the colony even though he
could not go ashore without strangling, but he had lost all sense of
direction.
He was still weak and his lungs were not completely adjusted to
underwater life. Again he grew dizzy and faint. The slow movements of
hands and feet that held him just below the surface grew feeble and
ceased. He sank.
Down into dimly luminous water he dropped, and with his respiratory
system completely water-filled there was no sensation of pressure. At
last he floated gently to the bottom and lay motionless.
Shouting voices awakened him, an exultant battle cry cutting through a
gasping scream of anguish. Streaks of bright orange light were moving
toward him in a twisting pattern. At the head of each trail was a
figure. A human figure that weaved and swam in deadly moving combat.
One figure drifted limply bottomward.
Hallucination, Barry told himself. Then one of the figures broke from
the group. Almost overhead it turned sharply downward and the feet
moved in a powerful flutter-kick. A slender spear aimed directly at the
Earthman.
Barry threw himself aside. The spear point plunged deep into the
sticky, yielding bottom and Barry grappled with its wielder.
Pointed fingernails raked his cheek. Barry's balled fist swung
in a roundhouse blow but water resistance slowed the punch to
ineffectiveness. The creature only shook its head and came in kicking
and clawing.
Barry braced his feet against the bottom and leaped. His head butted
the attacker's chest and at the same instant he lashed a short jab to
the creature's belly. It slumped momentarily, its face working.
Human--or nearly so--the thing was, with a stocky, powerful body and
webbed hands and feet. A few scraps of clothing, seemingly worn more
for ornament than covering, clung to the fishbelly-white skin. The face
was coarse and savage.
It shook off the effects of Barry's punch and one webbed hand snatched
a short tube from its belt.
Barry remembered the spring-opening knife in his pocket, and even as
he flicked the blade out the tube-weapon fired. Sound thrummed in the
water and the water grew milky with a myriad of bubbles. Something
zipped past his head, uncomfortably close.
Then Barry struck, felt his knife slice flesh and grate against bone.
He struck again even as the undersea being screamed and went limp.
Barry stared through the reddening water.
Another figure plunged toward him. Barry jerked the dead Venusian's
spear from the mud and raised it defensively.
But the figure paid no attention. This one was a female who fled
desperately from two men closing in from opposite sides. One threw his
spear, using an odd pushing motion, and as she checked and dodged, the
other was upon her from behind.
One arm went around her neck in a strangler's hold, bending her slender
body backward. Together captor and struggling captive sank toward the
bottom. The other recovered his thrown spear and moved in to help
secure her arms and legs with lengths of cord.
One scooped up the crossbow the girl had dropped. The other ripped at
her brief skirt and from her belt took a pair of tubes like the one the
dead Venusian had fired at Barry, handling them as though they were
loot of the greatest value. He jerked cruelly at the slender metallic
necklace the girl wore but it did not break.
He punched the helpless girl in the abdomen with the butt of his spear.
The girl writhed but she did not attempt to cry out.
Barry bounded toward them in a series of soaring leaps, knife and spear
ready. One Venusian turned to meet him, grinning maliciously.
Barry dug one foot into the bottom and sidestepped a spear thrust. His
own lunge missed completely. Then he and the Venusian were inside each
other's spear points, chest to chest. A pointed hook strapped to the
inside of the creature's wrist just missed Barry's throat. The Earthman
arched his body backward and his knife flashed upward. The creature
gasped and pulled away, clutching with both hands at a gaping wound in
its belly.
The other one turned too late as Barry leaped.
Barry's hilt cracked against its jawbone.
* * * * *
Barry bent over the girl and realized with a start that she was
different.
Her skin was a strange blue-brown. Her features were delicate,
intelligent, very different from the savage faces of the males he had
battled. Her dark hair grew further down the back of her neck than was
customary on Earth, forming a short, silky mane between her shoulder
blades.
She was slender of body, except that the muscles running down her sides
from armpit to waist were amazingly well developed. Her high-set,
compactly pointed breasts were uncovered, and he could see that any
sort of upper clothing would interfere with full use of those unusual
swimming muscles. Her skirt was short and close-fitting.
Her eyes, though, were filled with hatred, defiance, terror.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he said, hoping his tone would convey the
meaning.
She seemed more puzzled than grateful as he slid the knife gently
between her ankles to sever the binding cords, and she shrank under his
touch as he rolled her over to reach her wrists.
"There you are," he said, and started to straighten up.
Something struck him from above and many hands clutched at him. Within
seconds he was flat in the mud. Two Venusians held each arm and leg.
Another stood over him with spear poised.
But the girl shouted and grasped the spearman's arm.
The girl spoke with rapid urgency, pointing from Barry to her erstwhile
captors.
Barry could not believe his ears. The sounds were familiar. He could
even understand a word here and there, and in these entirely alien
surroundings the effect was eerie.
A Venusian looked at the pink clouds of diluted blood rising from the
bodies, then gazed apprehensively up into the dimness overhead.
"Kill him quickly and let us go," he suggested. "The torvaks will soon
come."
The girl turned upon him. "He lives!" she snapped. "From what yort he
comes I know not, but assuredly he is no noru!"
Although his right arm was pinioned Barry still clutched his knife.
Now the girl stooped and touched his fist without attempting to pry it
open. Barry surrendered the weapon.
The men allowed him to sit up, but they remained wary. Meanwhile the
girl was examining the knife with intense interest.
Barry smiled at her, and being careful to make no sudden motions that
might be misinterpreted he held out his hand. Hesitantly she laid the
knife on his palm while around him his guards raised their spears and
crossbows.
He closed the blade. Then, showing her exactly how it was done, he
pressed the button that let the five-inch blade snick out. Repeating
the demonstration, he handed it back with a gesture indicating it was a
gift.
The girl smiled and spoke to him, and although most of her words were
unintelligible he gathered she was asking if he wanted to accompany
them. Emphatically he nodded, overcome with a sudden dread of being
left alone on the sea bottom.
Her suggestion created consternation among the others.
"We must consult Komso," one suggested uneasily.
The girl frowned. "We do not consult Komso," she contradicted. "I take
full responsibility."
The man shrugged. "Let us go before the torvaks come," he evaded.
Weapons were slung for carrying and the band leaped from the bottom
and began swimming. Barry followed, keeping close beside the girl.
Although he relied more on power than skill he found himself able to
maintain their fast pace. He soon caught the knack of using the webs
between his fingers and toes.
And muscles trained under Earth gravity and without water support
seemed superior to those of the Venusians.
The men talked as they swam, and Barry remembered where he had heard
those particular combinations of sounds before.
A construction job had once taken him to an almost inaccessible
mountain section of Mexico and there he had picked up a few words of
the dialect used by the native Indian laborers. Aztec? Incan? Mayan?
Something predating all three? He had no idea of its origin, but the
similarity opened astounding trails of speculation.
The girl, he learned from hearing the others address her, was named
Xintel.
* * * * *
An undersea cliff loomed craggy and irregular ahead. As the group
slanted up toward a black hole in its face the voices of the men took
on tones of happy relief.
But the girl was frowning.
The group which had held together compactly during the long swim broke
up, each man heading for the cave mouth at top speed. Barry saw that
huge boulders had been piled one upon another to narrow the entrance
until not more than three abreast could pass.
Xintel motioned to Barry to stay close behind her. She seemed to be
anticipating trouble.
It came as they started to enter. A huge, bull-necked man with a well
fed appearance in marked contrast to the lean muscularity of the other
Venusians, stepped out and barred their passage, arms outflung. Heavy
glittering bracelets jangled on his wrists. Something in the contrived
melodrama of his gestures told Barry that unseen eyes were watching
from the darkness.
"Xintel! What is this thing you bring to the portal of Tana?" the man
asked harshly.