"We must get back to the coast," Tchassen said briskly, "through
territory occupied by the enemy. We can scrape together all the
weapons we'll need and the roads are supposed to be passable. Our only
problem, then, is transportation."
"Maybe we'd better stay here," Tynia suggested.
"Sitting ducks for the Earthmen to attack?"
"You said we have weapons."
"Not enough to hold out indefinitely."
"Sir," Corporal Drein intervened, "there's an old, enemy vehicle in the
prison building. We used it sometimes for field inspections."
"Let's look it over."
Captain Tchassen had seen the instructional films which were made
immediately after the occupation. He could identify the sedan--an
inefficient, petroleum-burning machine, typical of a primitive people
who had just reached the threshhold of the Power Age. The original
beauty of design had long since disappeared. Only one window and the
windshield were unbroken; the body paint was peeling away in spreading
patches of rust; the pneumatic tires were in shreds and the vehicle
moved noisily on bent, metal rims.
They fueled the car with gasoline confiscated long ago and stored in
drums in the prison warehouse; Corporal Drein volunteered to do the
driving. In the officers' cottages they found weapons--a portable heat
beam, half a dozen dispersal rays, and a box of recharge cartridges.
In terms of Tchassen's technology such weapons were minor sidearms,
but they were superior to anything yet produced by the Earth people.
Tchassen was sure he had the power to beat off any attack.
The survivors were handicapped in only one respect: all the food on the
post had been destroyed with the commissary. However, Tchassen did not
consider that a serious problem. He was sure they could reach the coast
by the following morning.
Shortly before three o'clock--nearly two hours after the supply robot
crashed--the survivors left the station. They headed west on a highway
unused since the conquest. Tchassen and Tynia sat together in back. The
Captain kept all the weapons. Briggan's warning couldn't be ignored;
one of the other three might be an Earthman. Unless they faced an
actual emergency, Tchassen did not intend to let any of the others
carry arms.
* * * * *
The sedan lumbered over cracked and crumbling asphalt. The tireless
rims made a nerve-wracking din that prevented all conversation.
Tchassen was unused to any sort of surface transportation. The
civilized galaxy had outgrown it centuries ago; the flight beam, safe
and inexpensive, was universally used. With equal ease the beam could
move a one-man runabout or a cargo freighter over any distance--a
few feet or the light years gapping between planets. Twice Tchassen
revised his estimate of the sedan's speed. At this rate, it would be
twenty-four hours or more before they reached the coast. That made
their shortage of food far more significant.
Through the shattered side window Tchassen scanned the arid soil. It
was remotely possible that they might stumble across a native food
cache, but he couldn't count on that. He wasn't even sure the caches
existed, although the theory was a basic factor in the occupation
policy.
The galactic council of scientists estimated that one-tenth of the
Earth people had never been rounded up and resettled in the prison
compounds; bandit raids increased that number steadily. How the rebels
survived no one knew, for any large scale food production would
have been spotted by the patrols and wiped out. One or two crackpot
theorists said the bandits fed themselves by hunting wild game, but
that was absurd. It was common fact throughout the civilized galaxy
that any culture which evolved as far as the Power Age would, in the
normal process of growth, eliminate all planetary animal life. The
accepted explanation was the food cache theory. According to it, the
Earthmen--sometime after the conquest and before the prison compounds
were set up--had raided their own cities and hidden the packaged food
in remote mountain areas. The supply was decidedly limited. When it was
gone, the rebels faced starvation unless they returned voluntarily to
the compounds.
The Sierra range between the Nevada station and the coast had become a
haven for so many escaped Earthmen that the region was marked "enemy
territory" on the occupation maps. Although Tchassen was aware of that,
he knew he could not assume that, because the four survivors had to
pass through a rebel area, they would discover a cache of food. Far too
many organized expeditions, sent out expressly for that purpose, had
returned empty handed.
* * * * *
As the afternoon shadows lengthened and the sedan seemed to be moving
no closer to the snow-capped peaks, the air became colder. Tchassen's
naked chest was studded with gooseflesh. Drein and Briggan were rubbing
their arms to keep warm. Tchassen was accustomed to the controlled
temperatures on the civilized worlds and the comforts of the beam
ships. It hadn't occurred to him that the regular military uniform
might be inadequate.
He felt the subtle pulsing of fear, the crushing loneliness of a
stranger on an alien world. He fingered the barrel of a dispersal
ray, but the weapon gave him no sense of security. He had a terrible
sensation of psychological nakedness. The weapons could drive off
bandits, but what protection did Tchassen have against the unknown
elements of a savage world? We've failed; we have no right to be here:
the words lashed at his mind like an insinuating poison. He could feel
sweat on his face and chest, sweat turning cold in the icy wind.
Now the sedan entered a decaying village nestled close to the
mountains. It was in an amazingly good state of repair--undoubtedly
because it was located so far from the coastal cities that it had
escaped destruction during the invasion. Then, too, the village was too
close to the Nevada compound for the Earth people to have looted it.
Tchassen tapped on Drein's shoulder and ordered him to stop the sedan.
"We need warmer clothing," the Captain explained, "before we start up
the grade."
"I suppose we might pick up something here," Sergeant Briggan conceded.
"This place is called Reno. It was one of the few communities still
intact after the invasion."
"I'm scared," Tynia said. "The prisoners may be hiding here, waiting
for us."
"They have better sense than to face a dispersal ray without any
protection." Tchassen's tone was crisp with an assurance he didn't
feel, but it satisfied her. Drein opened the door and stood on the
sidewalk, waiting for Tchassen to hand out one of the weapons. But
Tchassen couldn't be sure Drein was not an Earthman; nor, on the other
hand, could he ask the Corporal to explore an enemy town unarmed. As a
sort of compromise, Tchassen said,
"We'll stick together; I'll carry all the weapons, Corporal."
It wasn't satisfactory, but both Drein and Briggan were too
well-disciplined to protest. Tchassen felt foolish with six dispersal
rays and a heat beam slung over his shoulders, but he couldn't risk
leaving anything in the sedan, either.
* * * * *
The survivors spent a good part of an hour searching the downtown
stores, but Reno had been stripped of native artifacts; the buildings
were empty shells filled with dust. The only chance they had of finding
clothing was to look in the private homes closer to the outskirts. They
went back to the sedan and drove to a residential street. By that time
the sun was setting. Tchassen did not relish the prospect of being
caught in an enemy town after dark, but the search could be speeded up
only if they separated.
For a second time the Captain compromised. He issued dispersal rays
to the others, but insisted that they work in pairs. If one of them
was an enemy, that arrangement would more or less tie his hands.
Tynia volunteered to go with Drein; Tchassen felt a pang of envy and
jealousy, but he had better sense than to use his authority to force
her to come with him.
Tchassen and the Sergeant searched through half a dozen houses before
they found one that had not been looted. Their luck was unbelievable,
for they found shelves of canned food as well as clothing sealed in
plastic bags. From an open window the Captain fired a dispersal ray
toward the sky, a signal prearranged with the others. As the needle
of light arched above the village, Tchassen heard a distant blast of
explosions and Tynia's shrill scream of terror.
"It's a bandit raid!" Briggan cried. He turned to run toward the
street. Tchassen's hand shot out and caught the Sergeant's shoulder.
"Not so fast. I said we'd stay in pairs."
"But Tynia's in trouble! The Earth people are barbarians, sir. They
give no quarter. They--"
"I'm still in command, Sergeant."