The Asutra (19 page)

The base was a silent crater. The problem now was halting the lizard-cars. Etzwane experimented with the various controls, to no avail. He threw open the entry hatch, to actuate a cut-off switch. The motor died, the car slid to a halt. Etzwane jumped out and stood on the black velvet moss. If he were to be killed in the next minute, he would have died exultant.

The other men halted their cars as Etzwane had done and stepped to the ground. Of the hundred and forty who had set forth, half had returned. The drug still worked its effect; faces were flushed, with eyes prominent and brilliant, and each individual's personality seemed more concentrated, more distinct and powerful than before. They guffawed and stamped and recounted their exploits: "—outlaws at last, with our lives not worth a twig — " "So, then: it's over the hills; into the far places! Let them follow if they dare! " "Food? Of course there's food! We'll rob the Ka! " "—vengeance! They won't accept our triumph; they'll drop down from the skies— "

Etzwane spoke: "A moment; listen to me! Over the hill are the black spaceships. The crews are men like ourselves, from an unknown world. Why should we not go to greet them like friends and trust in their goodwill? We have nothing to lose."

A brawny, black-bearded man known to Etzwane only as Korba, demanded, "How do you know there are men aboard these ships?"

"I saw a similar ship broken up," said Etzwane. "The bodies of men were expelled. In any event, let us reconnoiter; we have nothing to lose."

"Correct," declared Korba. "We live now from minute to minute."

"One further matter," said Etzwane. "It is important that we act as a group, not a gang of wild men. We need a leader, to coordinate our actions. What of Korba here? Korba, will you undertake to be our leader?"

Korba pulled at his black beard. "No, not I. You asserted the need and you are the man for the job. What is your name then?"

"I am Gastel Etzwane, I will take the responsibility unless someone objects."

No one spoke.

"Very well," said Etzwane. "First, let us repair the cars, so that we may manage them more easily."

"Do we need cars? " demanded a hot-eyed old man named Sul, who bore a reputation for disputatiousness. "Why not move on our own feet and go where the cars cannot go?"

"We may have to range far for food," said Etzwane. "We know nothing of the country; the waste may extend a thousand miles. In the cars we have a greater chance of survival, and also the cars are equipped with weapons. We are dangerous warriors in the cars; without them we are a gang of starving fugitives."

"Correct," said Korba. 'If the worst occurs, as no doubt it will, we will make them remember us."

The engine panels were lifted and the clamps removed from the speed controls. Etzwane held up his hand. "Listen. " Faintly from beyond the hill came a fluctuating wail, of a weird, wild timbre to set the teeth on edge.

The men gave various opinions. "A signal I " "No signal; a warning! " "They know we are here; they are waiting for us. " "It is a ghost sound, I have heard it near lonesome graves."

Etzwane said, "In any case we now set forth. I will lead. At the crest of the hill, we will halt. " He climbed into his car, pulled down the hatch, and set off; the cars slid over the velvet moss like a troop of great black rats.

The hill swelled above them, then flattened, and here the cars halted. The men alighted. Behind them the moor swept down to the crater of the destroyed base and the distant morass; ahead spread the valley, with the pond, the spaceships, and the forts surrounding. About the pond stood a group of twenty men, performing some sort of work. The distance was too great to pick out their features or the nature of their business, but their motions conveyed a sense of urgency. Etzwane became uneasy; the air of the valley was heavy with imminence.

From the spaceships came another wailing call. The men at the pond jerked around, stood rigid a few seconds, then ran back to the ships.

On the hill Korba suddenly called out in awe; he pointed to the south where misty hills loomed up across the dark overcast. Sliding into view from behind these hills came three copper-bronze disk-ships. The first two were of the ordinary sort; the third, an enormous construction, drifted up over the horizon like a copper moon. The first two slid forward with menacing purpose; the large ship drifted more slowly, low to the ground. From the conical forts around the lake came chattering white bolts of light, all striking the leading disk-ship. It gave off a blue coruscation, then bounded high into the sky and was lost to sight in an instant. The second disk-ship stabbed a bar of purple energy at one of the black ships. The forts threw out new energy bolts, but the black ship glowed red, then white, and slumped into an irregular molten mass. The bronze disk then dropped quickly behind a rise of the moor, apparently undamaged. The large disk settled upon the surface nearby; its ports snapped open and ramps struck down to the moss. Out surged lizard-cars —twenty, forty, sixty, a hundred. They slid off toward the forts, streaks of black over the black moss, almost invisible and offering no target. The forts moved back toward the globe-ships, but the lizard-cars darted down the black velvet hillside and into torpedo range. The forts discharged bolts of white force; lizard-cars were shattered and flung high into the air. Others discharged torpedoes, and one after another the forts became fragments of torn metal. The lizard-cars hurled torpedoes at the black globe-ships, without effect; the impacts produced only spatters of angry red light. The two bronze disk-ships, the large and the small, lifted into the air and launched thick rods of purple incandescence toward the black globes. Overhead, assistance had arrived. Eight silver-and-white ships of complicated construction, long and slender, dropped down to hang over the black globes. The air flickered and vibrated; the purple bolts became a smoky amber-yellow; they dimmed and died as if the source of their power had failed. The black globes rose into the air and sped off into the sky. They became dark spots on the gray clouds, then plunged through and were gone. The silver-and-white ships hung motionless for three minutes, then plunged away through the clouds.

The lizard-cars slid back to the large disk-ship. They mounted the ramps and disappeared within. Five minutes later, both copper disk-ships rose into the air and departed across the southern hills.

Except for the men on the moor, the panorama was empty of life. Beside the pond remained the exploded forts and the still molten black ship.

The men entered the lizard-cars and gingerly descended the slope to the pond. The forts were tangles of useless metal; the slumped black globe radiated so much heat that no approach could be made. There would be no food taken from this hull. Water however was near at hand. They went down to the edge of the pond. An unpleasant odor arose, which became more intense as they approached. "Stink or not," said Korba, "I will drink; I have forgotten nicety. " He bent to lift up a handful of water, then jerked back. "The water is full of swimming things."

Etzwane leaned over the pond. The water swirled with the motion of numberless insect-like creatures, ranging in size from specks to things the length of his hand. From the pinkish-gray torsos grew six small legs, each ending in three tiny fingers. At one end black eye-specks peered from hairy cavities. Etzwane straightened up in disgust. He would drink none of this water. "Asutra," he said. "Asutra by the millions.''

He looked around the sky. Black clouds swept low under the overcast, trailing skeins of rain. Etzwane shivered. This is a dire place; the sooner we are gone the better."

One of the men said dubiously, "We will be leaving water and food."

"The asutra? " Etzwane grimaced. "I'll never be so hungry. In any event they are alien life-stuff and probably poisonous. " He turned away. "The spaceships may be back; we had better be gone before that time."

"All very well," complained old Sul, "but where is our destination? We are doomed men; why make haste nowhere?"

"I can propose a destination. South beside the morass is the camp, the closest place for food and water."

The men squinted at him in doubt and puzzlement. Korba demanded somewhat truculently: "You want us to go back to the camp, when we are free at last?"

Another man grumbled, "First I'll eat asutra and drink their filth. I was born a Graythorn of the Bagot race, and we are not the sort to enslave ourselves for food."

"I said nothing of enslaving ourselves," said Etzwane. "Have you forgotten the weapons we carry? We do not go to eat slave food; we go to take what we want and to pay off some old debts. We follow the shore south, until we find the camp, then we shall see."

"It is a far way," muttered someone.

Etzwane said, "We came by transport ship in two hours. To return we will ride two days, or three, or four, but there is no help for it."

"Precisely right," Korba declared. "We may be killed by asutra lightning, but none of us expects long life! Let us go seek death on our own terms! "

"Into your cars, then," said Etzwane. "We drive south."

They circled the pond and the smoldering globe-ship, then drove up over the black moor, where rows of glossy tracks indicated the way they had come. Down the long slope they slid, past the exploded base. Somewhere under the rubble, thought Etzwane, lay Polovits, his tyranny completed, his face pressed into the mold. Etzwane felt a grim compassion, in which was mingled outrage for the wrongs done to himself and the human folk. He looked back at the lizard-cars; he and his fellows were as good as dead, but first they would harm their enemies.

The morass was close at hand: a limitless expanse of ooze, blotched with chalk-green scum. The cars swung south and proceeded along the edge of the moor. Clouds hung heavy and low; in the distance moor, morass and sky blurred together without discernible line of conjunction.

South slid the cars, a supple, sinister train, the men never looking back. During the afternoon they came to a slough of brackish dark water, of which they drank, despite a bitter aftertaste, and filled the receptacles within the cars; then, fording the slough at the very brink of the morass, they continued south.

The sky darkened; the evening rain fell, to be instantly absorbed by the moss. The cars proceeded through the dusk, which presently became darkness. Etzwane brought the column to a halt and the men climbed out upon the moss, groaning for their sore muscles and hunger. They stretched and hobbled back and forth along the line, muttering in gruff, hoarse voices. Some, noting how distinct was the division between the luminous ooze of the morass and the dead blackness of the moor, wanted to drive on through the night. "The sooner we come to the camp the sooner we make an end to the matter; we will eat or be killed."

"I am also in haste," said Etzwane, "but the dark is too dangerous. We have no lights and cannot stay together. What if someone becomes torpid and goes to sleep? Hungry or not, we must wait for day."

"In the light we are visible to skycraft," argued one of the men. "There are dangers in both directions, but our bellies howl for food regardless."

"We'll start as soon as the dawn gives light," said Etzwane. "To travel through the black night is folly. My belly is as slack as anyone's; for lack of anything better I plan to sleep. " He troubled to talk no further, and went down to the shore to look out over the morass. The ooze glowed blue in lines and reticulations, these slowly moving and forming new patterns. Flickers of pale light hung in the reeds and moved in wisps across the open spaces. ... At Etzwane's feet something scuttled across the mud; by its outline he saw it to be a large, flat insect, walking on a dozen pads across the ooze. He peered close. An asutra? No, something different, but perhaps in just some similar swamp had the asutra evolved. Perhaps even on Kahei, though the first cantos of the Great Song made no reference to asutra.... Others of the group walked by the shore, marveling at the lights and the eerie solitude. . . . Along the shore someone struck a tiny fire, using dried bits of moss and reed for fuel. Etzwane saw that several men had captured insects and were preparing to toast and eat them. Etzwane gave a fatalistic shrug. He was leader by the most tenuous of contracts.

The night was long in passing. Etzwane tried to find room to sleep within the lizard-car, then came forth and lay down upon the moss. A cold wind blew through the night, allowing him no real comfort. He dozed. . . . Sounds of anguish awakened him. He rose to his feet and felt his way along the line of cars. Three men lay on the ground, retching convulsively. Etzwane stood a moment, then went back to his car. He could offer neither comfort nor help; indeed so close about them hung doom that the death of three men seemed of no great import. ... A misty rain slanted down on the wind. Etzwane once more entered the car. The groans of the poisoned men became less distinct, and presently were heard no more.

Dawn finally arrived, and three men lay dead upon the spongy black turf: the three who had eaten insects. Without comment Etzwane went to his car, and the column proceeded south.

The moors seemed endless; the men drove the cars in a semi torpor. At noon they came upon another slough, and drank of the water. The reeds surrounding carried clusters of waxy fruit, which one or two of the men gingerly examined. Etzwane said nothing, and the men turned reluctantly away.

Korba stood looking along the moors to the south. He pointed to a far shadow which might be either a cloud or a jutting mountain. "North of the camp rose a crag," said Korba, "perhaps that which lies ahead."