Balance of Power (10 page)

“Okay,” said the one who’d struck the match. “All okay. S’ay cool. All o’er soon.”

“What the hell are you
doing?”
I whispered. I had a hundred questions, but that one took precedence.

“Saving you from the savages,” said the human. His voice was dry and flat. I couldn’t tell whether it was a simple statement or whether he was being sarcastic. His eyes were still on my face, staring with the same kind of fascination that I had seen in a dozen pairs of alien eyes during the day.

“They hadn’t harmed us,” I whispered. “They were friendly. We weren’t in any danger.”

The human shook his head. “Forest savages,” he said.

“Stop it!” I said, abandoning the whisper for a normal tone. “If you started this, for God’s sake stop it.”

He looked over my shoulder then. Several more huts had been fired, and there was now a great deal of light illuminating his face. I turned to look as well. The sound was dying, and so was the fight. The figures which were moving in the clearing now were all clothed, though some had loincloths instead of skirts, and some had shirts of lighter material instead of the leathery waistcoats. I couldn’t see any of the forest people except for those lying dead on the ground, who included males, females and children.

“The rest have run into the forest,” said the dry voice. “It’s all over now. You’re safe,”

I saw two figures coming toward us, silhouetted against the fire. One was tall and thin, the other short and stocky. Nieland had been “saved” too.

“S’okay,” said the alien who’d lit the match. “We on yur si’, see.”

I looked back at the human. “Who are you?” I demanded.

“My name’s Verheyden,” he replied. “Jan Verheyden. This is Al’ha.”

The alien with the crossbow dropped the weapon, catching it between his legs, and stuck out his hand. “Pleas’a meetya,” he said.

Too dazed to think straight, I took his hand and let him shake mine.

“I’m Alexis Alexander,” I said. “But you don’t understand. We weren’t being held captive. They didn’t mean us any harm.”

Jan Verheyden, still poker-faced, simply shrugged his shoulders.

“What does it matter?” he said. “Forest savages.”

Al’ha let go of my hand. “Savages,” he echoed, as if that explained everything.

I realized that they very probably did understand. They just didn’t care. To them, the savages were just vermin. Al’ha looked just like they did—even the pattern on his fur, what I could see of it, was indistinguishable from theirs. But he, like the alien who’d cut down the female as we tried to reach the hut, had no difficulty in drawing distinctions.

I felt the anger ebbing away within me, because it was helpless to find any expression.

I watched the expression of utter surprise on Nieland’s face as he came face to face with Jan Verheyden. He had had one hell of a day for surprises. Still, he had built the
New Hope
to come in search of adventure. He was getting a damn good run for his money.

“What now?” he said, in a tone that had gone beyond bewilderment.

I looked from his face to Verheyden’s, and back again. What now, indeed? I wondered,

Jan Verheyden seemed tense and unsure of himself now. His voice was still deliberately flat and emotionless, but I could see now the anxiety that put pressure on the facade. Our arrival was at the root of that unease, but I wasn’t quite sure why

“Bernhard Verheyden must have been your father,” said Nieland, saving me from the worry of not knowing where to start.

“That’s right,” said Jan.

“What happened to the
Floreat
?”

“She was wrecked. A long way north of here. Only eight got away in one of the boats. Two died within a day of reaching shore. My father, my mother...and four others...lived. They’re all dead now. My father died early last year.”

“And now you’re alone?”

“No,” he said, slightly surprised by the question. “There are five of us. Four brothers and a sister. Piet’s the eldest, Charles and Christian are younger than me, and Anna is between them. We’re carrying on his work. Piet took over even during the last year of his life...he was ill for a long time....”

I noticed a curious thing while Jan was answering Nieland’s questions. He kept glancing away, not because of any embarrassment or confusion, but because there was something in the room that continually attracted his attention, drawing his gaze again and again. It was the lantern.

I touched it with my fingertips. “Is it too bright?” I asked. “Or would you like me to turn the heat up a little?”

He shook his head. “That came from Lambda?” he asked, tentatively.

I realized why he had been puzzled. “Oh!” I said. “No. It comes from Earth.”

His facade slipped at last as his face showed total astonishment. “From Earth!” he said, as if the words had been ripped unwillingly from his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling a little pleased by the fact that I’d set him back on his heels. “I should have introduced myself more fully. I came here with a ship—a support ship to give help to the colonies. Mariel is also from Earth.”

His eyes flashed back to Nieland. “I’m from Lambda,” said Nieland. “I built the ship—the
New Hope
—to follow in your father’s footsteps. I thought it important that someone else should try to do what your father tried to do. I’m desperately sorry that it took such a long time. We couldn’t know, you see, that anyone had survived. We
should
have begun again sooner, but perhaps you know something of the colony’s difficulties.”

He looked at us all with new eyes now, and it seemed to me that he looked considerably more favorably at Nieland than at Mariel or me. He had been prepared to take everything about us for granted, just to maintain his own sense of being totally in control of the situation. But now there were questions he had to ask.

“What happened to your ship?” he asked, of Nieland. “Why should they sail away this morning? Are they coming back?”

Nieland blushed. He seemed to lose his voice for a moment. “They...mutinied,” he croaked. Then, recovering his normal tone, he went on: “We’re stranded here. Just as you were...are. The
New Hope
has gone....”

He was about to continue still further, to explain about the small matter of ship’s supplies or the lack of them, but Mariel suddenly cut in with a question: “Your
Ilah
....” She stumbled over the name and gave up. “Is she capable of crossing the ocean?”

I was surprised at first that she’d interrupted—it wasn’t her style at all. It leapt to mind that she’d had some reason for not letting on that the
New Hope
might not have gone far. The fleeting notion was pushed aside, though, when Jan Verheyden answered that question with which she’d intervened.

“She’s a good ship,” he said. “A little smaller than the
Floreat
, carrying a little less sail...but I’d be prepared to tackle the ocean in her. I....”

He stopped, suddenly. He had answered the question as if it were a purely hypothetical one challenging the competence of his ship, and had been quick to defend her. But he realized now that it wasn’t a hypothetical question, but a strictly practical one.

“Then you could take us home!” exclaimed Nieland. He was missing the point, too.

“You haven’t tried to return to the colony?” I prompted, gently. The question was rhetorical, but it subtly invited him to provide an answer, if he was so inclined.

His face became firm again. He exchanged a glance with Al’ha, who sat patiently listening.

“Ak’lehr is my home,” he said. “The Ore’l are my people. This is the only world we know.”

“And your father?” asked Mariel, probing deep into the heart of the matter, as she saw it. “Didn’t he want to return?”

“No,” said Jan, flatly. “Never for a single moment.”

“I don’t understand,” said Nieland.

Jan stood up, suddenly. His voice changed again, this time to the voice of command. “No more questions now,” he stated. “We must all sleep. You three may have this hut. I’ll sleep with my men. In the morning, we return to
Ilah’y’su.
We must return to Ak’lehr without further delay. I have a cargo that must travel immediately.”

“We have to return to the camp first,” I said.

“Why?” he demanded.

“For one thing,” I said, “I had some valuable equipment there, and I want it back, if the mutineers haven’t stolen or destroyed it.” I didn’t bother to list the second reason, which was that I wanted to pick up the stuff Mariel had stashed away upstream of the camp.

“All right,” said Jan. “But we must not delay long.” With that, he went out. Al’ha followed him.

Nieland was about to complain once again that he didn’t understand, but I waved him into silence.

“What’s it all about?” I asked Mariel.

“I’m not entirely certain,” she said. “But I’ll start at the beginning. He was lying when he told that story about hunting. They came out here looking for the
New Hope
—and they cut across the land because they didn’t want to advertise their presence sailing up the river in a big ship—they couldn’t even have approached unseen in a canoe. That was a direct lie. He wasn’t directly lying when he talked about rescuing us from the forest people, but he wasn’t exactly telling the truth either. He was—how shall I put it?—removing us from their charge, for safety’s sake. He’s glad the New Hope’s gone, and it’ll help him be glad if he doesn’t know she’s coming back. You noticed that he wasn’t exactly happy to learn that we come from Earth. That was an unexpected complication so far as he’s concerned, but I’m not exactly sure what it complicates. I suspect he fears that there may be more men from Earth buzzing around his ears looking for us. It might be as well if we forgot to reassure him on that point.

“There was a tremendous emotional rush when he was asked about his father wanting to go home. It was a very touchy subject—but he wasn’t lying when he said ‘Never.’ How we interpret that I’m not sure, but I think that there was some big argument among the survivors of the wreck.
Some
of them wanted to go home. But Verheyden—the father that is—probably overruled them. Maybe even prevented them. If you want my advice, we should all keep quiet about the matter of returning to Lambda. Because he isn’t going to like the idea. Whatever his reasons are for staying there, they’re strong.”

“In a nutshell,” I said, “we weren’t prisoners before we were rescued, but we are now.”

“We could be,” she confirmed, “if we were prepared to make an issue of it.”

“You think we ought to play along with the game?”

“What game?” interrupted Nieland, with sudden exasperation. “What’s going on here?”

He was completely at sea. He didn’t know about Mariel’s talent. It wasn’t something we tended to advertise. Someone with a sensitivity to the meanings that lie behind other people’s words is very useful, but it’s rather undiplomatic to announce her presence.

“Come on,” I said. “This is weird—you must see that. We aren’t out of trouble by a long way. Out of the frying pan and into God knows what. Jan Verheyden may be human, but that doesn’t make him into our guardian angel in this heathenland. Ogburn was human, too. Jan isn’t exactly overjoyed to have us here—he rescued us...or snatched us, if you take a less benevolent view...because given that we’re already here he wanted us under his control. Giving us a lift back to Lambda is the last thing on his mind.”