"Identify yourself, please." The quiet words from the speaker in no way
appeared to coincide with the picture on the screen. The spacer that had
matched their orbit over Dis had recently been a freighter. A quick
conversion had tacked the hulking shape of a primary weapons turret on
top of her hull. The black disk of the immense muzzle pointing squarely
at them. Ihjel switched open the ship-to-ship communication channel.
"This is Ihjel. Retinal pattern 490-Bj4-67--which is also the code that
is supposed to get me through your blockade. Do you want to check that
pattern?"
"There will be no need, thank you. If you will turn on your recorder, I
have a message relayed to you from Prime-four."
"Recording and out," Ihjel said "Damn! Trouble already and four days to
blowup. Prime-four is our headquarters on Dis. This ship carries a cover
cargo so we can land at the spaceport. This is probably a change of plan
and I don't like the smell of it."
There was something behind Ihjel's grumbling this time, and without
conscious effort Brion could sense the chilling touch of the other man's
_angst_. Trouble was waiting for them on the planet below. When the
message was typed by the decoder Ihjel hovered over it, reading each
word as it appeared on the paper. He only snorted when it was finished
and went below to the galley. Brion pulled the message out of the
machine and read it.
IHJEL IHJEL IHJEL SPACEPORT LANDING DANGER NIGHT LANDING PREFERABLE
CO-ORDINATES MAP 46 J92 MN75 REMOTE YOUR SHIP VION WILL MEET END END
END
Dropping into the darkness was safe enough. It was done on instruments
and the Disans were thought to have no detection apparatus. The
altimeter dials spun backwards to zero and a soft vibration was the
only indication they had landed. All of the cabin lights were off
except for the fluorescent glow of the instruments. A white-speckled
gray filled the infrared screen, radiation from the still-warm sand and
stone. There were no moving blips on it, nor the characteristic shape of
a shielded atomic generator.
"We're here first," Ihjel said, opaquing the ports and turning on the
cabin lights. They blinked at each other, faces damp with perspiration.
"Must you have the ship this hot?" Lea asked, patting her forehead with
an already sodden kerchief. Stripped of her heavier clothing she looked
even tinier to Brion. But the thin cloth tunic--reaching barely halfway
to her knees--concealed very little. Small she may have appeared to
him--unfeminine she was not. In fact she was quite attractive.
"Shall I turn around so you can stare at the back, too?" she asked
Brion. Five days' experience had taught him that this type of remark was
best ignored. It only became worse if he tried to answer.
"Dis is hotter than this cabin," he said, changing the subject. "By
raising the interior temperature we can at least prevent any sudden
shock when we go out--"
"I know the theory--but it doesn't stop me from sweating," she snapped.
"Best thing you can do is sweat," Ihjel said. He looked like a
glistening captive balloon in shorts. Finishing a bottle of beer he took
another from the freezer. "Have a beer."
"No thank you. I'm afraid it would dissolve the last shreds of tissue
and my kidneys would float completely away. On Earth we never--"
"Get Professor Morees' luggage for her," Ihjel said. "Vion's coming,
there's his signal. I'm sending this ship up before any of the locals
spot it."
* * * * *
When he cracked the outer port the puff of air struck them like the
exhaust from a furnace. Dry and hot as a tongue of flame. Brion heard
Lea's gasp in the darkness. She stumbled down the ramp and he followed
her slowly, careful of the weight of packs and equipment he carried. The
sand burned through his boots, still hot from the day. Ihjel came last,
the remote-control unit in his hand. As soon as they were clear he
activated it and the ramp slipped back like a giant tongue. As soon as
the lock had swung shut the ship lifted and drifted upwards silently
towards its orbit, a shrinking darkness against the stars.
There was just enough starlight to see the sandy wastes around them, as
wave-filled as a petrified sea. The dark shape of a sandcar drew up
over a dune and hummed to a stop. When the door opened Ihjel stepped
towards it and everything happened at once.
Ihjel broke into a blue nimbus of crackling flame, his skin blackening,
charred, dead in an instant. A second pillar of flame bloomed next to
the car and a choking scream, cut off even as it began. Ihjel died
silently.
Brion was diving even as the electrical discharges still crackled in the
air. The boxes and packs dropped from him and he slammed against Lea,
knocking her to the ground. He hoped she had the sense to stay there and
be quiet. This was his only conscious thought, the rest was reflex.
Rolling over and over as fast as he could.
The spitting electrical flames flared again, playing over the bundles of
luggage he had dropped. This time Brion was expecting it, pressed flat
to the ground a short distance away. He was facing the darkness away
from the sandcar and saw the brief, blue glow of the ion-rifle
discharge. His own gun was in his hand. When Ihjel had given him the
missile weapon he had asked no questions, just strapped it on. There had
been no thought that he would need it this quickly. Holding it firmly
before him in both hands he let his body aim at the spot where the glow
had been. A whiplash of explosive slugs ripped the night air. They found
their target and something thrashed voicelessly and died.
In the brief instant after he fired a jarring weight landed on his back
and a line of fire circled his throat. Normally he fought with a calm
mind, with no thoughts other than the contest. But Ihjel, a friend, a
man of Anvhar, had died a few seconds earlier and Brion found himself
welcoming this physical violence and pain.
There are many foolish and dangerous things that can be done, such as
smoking next to high octane fuel and putting fingers into electrical
sockets. Just as dangerous, and equally deadly, is physically attacking
a Winner of the Twenties.
Two men hit Brion together, though this made very little difference. The
first died suddenly as hands like steel claws found his neck and in a
single spasmodic contraction did such damage to the large blood vessels
there that they burst and tiny hemorrhages filled his brain. The second
man had time for a single scream, though he died just as swiftly when
those hands closed on his larynx.
Running in a crouch, partially on his knuckles, Brion swiftly made a
circle of the area, gun ready. There were no others. Only when he
touched the softness of Lea's body did the blood anger seep from him. He
was suddenly aware of the pain and fatigue, the sweat soaking his body
and the breath rasping in his throat. Holstering the gun he ran light
fingers over her skull, finding a bruised spot on one temple. Her chest
was rising and falling regularly. She had struck her head when he pushed
her. It had undoubtedly saved her life.
Sitting down suddenly he let his body relax, breathing deeply.
Everything was a little better now, except for the pain at his throat.
His fingers found a thin strand on the side of his neck with a knobby
weight on the end. There was another weight on his other shoulder and a
thin line of pain across his neck. When he pulled on them both the
strangler's cord came away in his hand. It was thin fiber, strong as a
wire. When it had been pulled around his neck it had sliced the surface
skin and flesh like a knife, halted only by the corded bands of muscle
below. Brion threw it from him, into the darkness where it had come
from.
He could think again and he carefully kept his thoughts from the men he
had killed. Knowing it was useless he went to Ihjel's body. A single
touch of the scorched flesh was enough.
Behind him Lea moaned with returning consciousness and he hurried on to
the sandcar, stepping over the charred body outside the door. The
driver was slumped, dead, killed perhaps by the same strangling cord
that had sunk into Brion's throat. He laid the man gently on the sand
and closed the lids over the staring horror of the eyes. There was a
canteen in the car and he brought it back to Lea.
* * * * *
"My head--I've hurt my head," Lea said groggily.
"Just a bruise," he reassured her. "Drink some of this water and you'll
soon feel better. Lie back. Everything's over for the moment and you can
rest."
"Ihjel's dead!" she said with sudden shocked memory. "They've killed
him! What's happened?" She tensed, tried to rise, and he pressed her
back gently.
"I'll tell you everything. Just don't try to get up yet. There was an
ambush and they killed Vion and the driver of the sandcar, as well as
Ihjel. Three men did it and they're all dead now, too. I don't think
there are any more around, but if there are I'll hear them coming. We're
just going to wait a few minutes until you feel better then we're
getting out of here in the car."
"Bring the ship down!" There was a thin edge of hysteria in her voice.
"We can't stay here alone. We don't know where to go or what to do. With
Ihjel dead the whole thing's spoiled. We have to get out--"
There are some things that can't sound gentle, no matter how gently they
are said. This was one of them. "I'm sorry, Lea, but the ship is out of
our reach right now. Ihjel was killed with an ion gun and it fused the
control unit into a solid lump. We must take the car and get to the
city. We'll do it now. See if you can stand up--I'll help you."
She rose, not saying anything, and as they walked towards the car a
single, reddish moon cleared the hills behind them. In its light Brion
saw a dark line bisecting the rear panel of the sandcar. He stopped
abruptly. "What's the matter?" Lea asked.
The unlocked engine cover could have only one significance and he pushed
it open knowing in advance what he would see. The attackers had been
very thorough and fast. In the short time available to them they had
killed the driver and the car as well. Ruddy light shone on torn wires,
ripped out connections. Repair would be impossible.
"I think we'll have to walk," he told her, trying to keep the gloom out
of his voice. "This spot is roughly a hundred and fifty meters from the
city of Hovedstad, where we have to go. We should be able to--"
"We're going to die. We can't walk anywhere. This whole planet is a
death trap. Let's get back in the ship!" There was a thin shrillness of
hysteria at the edge of her voice, as well as a subtle slurring of the
sounds.
Brion didn't try to reason with her or bother to explain. She had a
concussion from the blow, that much was obvious. He made her sit and
rest while he made what preparations he could for the long walk.
Clothing first. With each passing minute the desert air was growing
colder as the day's heat ebbed away. Lea was beginning to shiver and he
took some heavier clothing from her charred bag and made her pull it on
over her light tunic. There was little else that was worth carrying. The
canteen from the car and a first-aid kit he found in one of the
compartments. There were no maps or radio. Navigation was obviously done
by compass on this almost-featureless desert. The car was equipped with
an electrically operated gyro-compass, of no possible use to him. He did
use it to check the direction to Hovedstad, as he remembered it from the
map, and found it lined up perfectly with the tracks the car had cut
into the sand. It had come directly from the city. They could find their
way by back-tracking.
Time was slipping away. He would like to have buried Ihjel and the men
from the car, but the night hours were too valuable to be wasted. The
best he could do was put the three corpses in the car, for protection
from the Disan animals. Locking the door he threw the key as far as he
could in the blackness. Lea had slipped into a restless sleep and he
carefully shook her awake.
"Come," Brion said, "we have a little walking to do."