Galactic Odyssey Page 5

  “There may be truth in thy imaginings, Billy Danger,” Milady said. “The vessel’s of a very ancient type; ’tis like to those in use on Zeridajh some seven thousand years since.”

  “That might be long enough for a plant to evolve giant size,” I said.

  “Especially if the local sun puts out a lot of hard radiation. Same for the cats. I guess there were a couple of them aboard-or maybe just one pregnant female. She survived the crash and found water and food-”

  “Nay, Billy Danger. Thy Eureka may sup on such dainties as those he slew in thy defense-but they’d make two snaps of any house-born puss.”

  “I didn’t mean that; a cat can live on beans, if it has to. Anyway, the critters weren’t as big, then.”

  “How now? Knowest thou the history of Gar’s creatures as well as of more familiar kinds?”

  “They aren’t natives, any more than the cats and the peas. They came along on the ship; to be specific, on the cat.”

  “Dost rave? Art feverish?”

  “I’m ashamed to admit it,” I said. “But I know a flea when I see one.”

  We waited until daylight to go into the ship again. The location of the cat bones gave us a pretty good idea of where the boundaries of flea territory were. Apparently they kept to their dark hold and lived long, happy lives sucking juice from the vines, or an occasional lone cat who meandered over the line. Population pressure drove enough of them upstairs to keep the cats supplied; and the cat droppings and their bodies when they died wound up at the bottom of the ravine, to keep the cycle going. The Lady Raire had the idea of trying to locate the ship’s communication section; she finally did-in the smashed nose section. I crawled in beside her to look at the ruins of what had once been a message center that could bounce words and music across interstellar distances at a speed that was a complicated multiple of the speed of light. Now it looked like a junkman’s nightmare.

  “Alack, I deemed I might find here a signaler, intact. ’Twere folly-and yet . .

  .”

  She sounded so downhearted that I had to say something to cheer her up.

  “There’s an awful lot of gear lying around in there,” I said. “Maybe we could salvage something. . . .”

  “Dost know aught of these matters, Billy Danger?” she asked in a lofty tone.

  “Not much,” I said. “I know my way around the inside of an ordinary radio. I’m not talking about sending three-D pictures in glorious color; but maybe a simple signal. . . .”

  She wanted to know more. I explained all I’d learned from ICS one summer when I had the idea of Getting Into Radio Now. I felt like an unspoiled native of Borneo explaining flint-chipping techniques to a designer of H-bombs.

  It took us a week to assemble a transmitter capable of putting out a simple signal that Milady Raire assured me would show up as a burst of static on any screen within a couple of light-years. We led a big cable from the energy cells that powered the standby lighting system, rigged it so that what juice was in them would drain in one final burst. The ship itself would act as an antenna, once we’d wired our rig to the hull. We climbed out of her, dragging a length of coaxial cable, got back a couple of hundred yards in case of miscalculation with the power core, and touched her off. For a couple of seconds, nothing happened; then I felt a tremor run through the ground and a moment later a dull ka-whoom! rumbled up from the chasm, followed by a rapid exodus of cats. For the next hour, there was a lot of activity: cats chasing fleas, fleas bouncing around looking for cover, and the Lady Raire and me trying to stay out of the way of both parties. Then the smoke faded away, the fleas scuttled for cover, the cats went back down to lie under the leaves or wandered off in the direction of the water hole, and Milady and I settled down to wait.

  I made the discovery that by cutting into a vine just below a leaf, I could get a trickle of cool water. The Lady Raire had the idea of hauling a stem out and getting it growing in the direction of the caves; we did, and it grew enthusiastically. By the time we’d been in residence for another month, we had shade and running water on tap right outside the door. I asked the Lady Raire to teach me her language, and along with the new words I learned a lot about her home world, Zeridajh. It was old-fifty thousand years of written history-but the men there were still men. It was no classless Utopia where people strolled in misty gardens spouting philosophy; there was plenty of strife and unhappiness, and although the Lady Raire never talked about herself, I got the impression she had her share of the latter. I wondered how it happened that she was off wandering the far end of the Galaxy in the company of two unlikely types like Lord Desroy and Sir Orfeo, but I didn’t ask her; if she wanted to tell me, she could. But one day I said something that made her laugh.

  “I thought-Sir Orfeo said Lord Desroy had been on Earth three hundred years ago. And you speak the same old-fashioned English-”

  She laughed. “Billy Danger, didst deem me so ancient?”

  “No-but-”

  “I learned my English speech from Lord Desroy, somewhat altered, mayhap, by Sir Orfeo. But ’twas late; indeed, I have but eighteen years, Earth reckoning.”

  “And you’ve been away from home for four years? Isn’t your family worried .

  . .” Then I shut up, at the look that crossed her face. The weather had been gradually changing; the days grew shorter and cooler. The flowers Milady had brought in from the caves dropped their blossoms and turned brown. The cats got restless, and we’d hear them yowling and scrapping, down in their leafy den. And one day, there were kittens everywhere.

  Our diet consisted of beans, fried, baked, sliced and eaten raw, chopped and roasted, mixed with food concentrates to make stews and soups. We used the scissors from the first-aid kit to trim our hair back. Fortunately, I had no beard to trim. The days got longer again, and for a while the ravine was a fairyland of blossoms that filled the air with a perfume so sweet it was almost dizzying. At sunset, the Lady Raire would walk out across the desert and look at the purple towers in the west. I trailed her, with a gun ready, in case any of Sir Orfeo’s dire-beasts wandered this way. And one night the ship came.

  I was sound asleep; the Lady Raire woke me and I rolled out grabbing for my gun and she pointed to a star that glared blue and got bigger as we watched it. It came down in absolute silence and ground in the desert a quarter of a mile from us in a pool of blue light that cast hard shadows across Milady’s face. I was so excited I could hardly breathe, but she wasn’t smiling.

  “The lines of yon vessel are strange to me, Billy Danger,” she said. “’Tis of most archaic appearance. Seest thou the double hull, like unto the body of an insect?”

  “All I can see is the glare from the business end.” The blue glow was fading. Big floodlights came on and lit up the desert all around the ship like high noon.

  “Mayhap . . .” she started, and a whistling, whooping noise boomed out across the flats. It stopped and the echoes bounced and faded and it was silent again.

  “If ’twere speech, I know it not,” Milady said.

  “I guess we’d better go meet them,” I said, but I had a powerful urge to run and hide among the pea vines.

  “Billy Danger, I like this not.” Her hand gripped my arm. “Let’s flee to the shelter of the ravine-”

  Her idea was a little too close to mine; I had to show her how silly her feminine intuition was.

  “And miss the only chance we’ll ever have to get off this dust-ball? Come on, Milady. You’re going home-”

  “Nay, Billy-” But I grabbed her arm and advanced. As we came closer, the ship looked as big as a wasp-waisted skyscraper. Three cars came around from the far side of it. Two of them fanned out to right and left; the third headed toward us, laying a dust trail behind it. It was squat, rounded, dark coppery-colored without windows. It stopped fifty feet away with its blunt snout aimed at us. A round panel about a foot in diameter swung open and a glittery assembly poked out and rotated half a turn and was still.

  “It looks like it’s
smelling of us,” I said, but the jolly note in my voice was a failure. Then a lid on top popped up like a jack-in-the-box and the most incredible creature I had ever seen climbed out.

  He was about four feet high, and almost as wide, and my first impression was that he was a dwarf in Roman armor; then I saw that the armor was part of him. He scrambled down the side of the car on four short, thick legs, then reared his torso up and I got a good look at the face set between a pair of seal flippers in the middle of his chest. It reminded me of a blown-up photo of a bat I’d seen once. There were two eyes, some orifices, lots of wrinkled gray-brown skin, a mouth like a fanged frog. An odd metallic odor came from him. He stared at us and we stared back. Then a patch of rough, pinkish skin centered in a tangle of worms below his face bulged out and a gluey voice came from it. I didn’t understand the words, but somehow he sounded cautious.

  The Lady Raire answered, speaking too fast for me to follow. I listened while they batted it back and forth. Once she glanced at me and I caught my name and the word “property.” I wasn’t sure just how she meant it. While they talked, the other two cars came rumbling in from offside, ringing us in.

  More of the midgets trotted up, holding what looked like stacks of silver teacups, glued together, the open ends toward us. The spokesman took a step back and made a quick motion of his flippers.

  “Throw down guns,” he said in Zeridajhi. He didn’t sound cautious anymore. The Lady Raire’s hand went toward her pistol. I grabbed her arm.

  “I know these hagseed now,” she said. “They mean naught but dire mischief to any of my race-”

  “Those are gunports under the headlights on the cars,” I said. “I think we’d better do what it says.”

  “If we draw and fire as one-”

  “No use, Milady. They’ve got the drop on us.”

  She hesitated a moment longer, then unsnapped her gunbelt and let it fall. I did the same. Our new friend made a noise and batted his flippers against the sides, and his gun-boys moved in. He pointed at the Lady Raire.

  “Fetter this one,” he said. “And kill the other.”

  Two or three things happened at once then. One of the teacup-guns swung my way and the Lady Raire made a sound and threw herself at the gunner. He knocked her down and I charged at him and something exploded in my face and for a long time I floated in a river, shooting the rapids, and each time I slammed against a submerged rock, I heard myself groan, and then I opened my eyes and I was lying on my face with my cheek in a puddle of congealing blood, and the ship and the monsters and the Lady Raire were gone.

  For the first few hours my consciousness kept blinking on and off like a defective table lamp. I’d come to and try to move and the next thing I knew I was coming to again. Then suddenly it was daylight, and Eureka was sitting beside me, yowling softly. This time I managed to roll over and raise my head far enough to see myself. I was a mess.

  There was blood all over me. I hurt all over, too, so that was no clue. I explored with my hands and found a rip in my coverall along my side, and through that I could feel a furrow wide enough to lay two fingers in. Up higher, there was a hole in my right shoulder that seemed to come out in back; and the side of my neck felt like hamburger, medium rare. The pain wasn’t really as bad as you’d expect. I must have been in shock. I flopped back and listened to all the voices around me. I heard Sir Orfeo: She’s your responsibility now, Jongo. Take care of her.

  “I tried,” I said. “I really tried-”

  It’s all right, the Lady Raire was standing by me, looking scared, but smiling at me. I trust you, Billy Danger. The light from the open furnace door glowed in her black hair, and she turned and stepped into the flames and I yelled and reached after her, but the fires leaped up and I was awake again, sobbing.

  “They’ve got her,” I said aloud. “She was frightened of them, but I had to show off. I led her out to them like a lamb to the slaughter. . . .” I pictured her, dragged aboard the dwarfs’ ship, locked away in a dark place, alone and terrified, and with no one to help her. And she’d trusted me. . . .

  “My fault,” I groaned. “My fault! But don’t be afraid, Milady. I’ll find you. They think I’m dead, but I’ll trick them; I won’t die. I’ll stay alive, and find them and take you home. . . .”

  The next time I was aware of what was going on, the cat was gone and the sun was directly overhead and I was dying of thirst. By turning my head, I could see the vines along the edge of the ravine. There was shade there, and water. I got myself turned over on my stomach and started crawling. It was a long trip-nearly a hundred yards-and I passed out so many times I lost count. But I reached the vines and got myself a drink and then it was dark. That meant it had been about seventy-two hours since the slug-people had done such a sloppy job of killing me. I must have slept for a long time, then. When I woke up, Eureka was back, with a nice fresh flea for me.

  “Thanks, boy,” I said when he dropped the gift on my chest and nudged me with his nose. “It’s nice to know somebody cares.”

  “You’re not dead yet,” he said, and his voice sounded like Orfeo’s. I called to him, but he was gone, down into the darkness. I followed him, along a trail of twisted vines, but the light always glimmered just ahead, and I was cold and wet and then the fleas came swarming out on the empty eyes of a giant skull and swarmed over me and I felt them eating me alive and I woke up, and I was still there, under the vines, and my wounds were hurting now and Eureka was gone and the flea with him. I got myself up on all fours to have another drink from the water vine, and noticed a young bean pod sprouting nearby. I was hungry and I tore it open and ate the beans. And the next time I woke up, I was stronger. For five long Garish days I stayed under the vines; then I made the trek to the caves. After that, on a diet of concentrates, I gained strength faster. I spent my time exercising my wounds so they wouldn’t stiffen up too much as they healed, and talking to the cat. He didn’t answer me anymore, so I judged I was getting better. No infections set in; the delousing Sir Orfeo had given me probably had something to do with that, plus the absence of microbes on Gar 28.

  Finally a day came when it was time to get out and start seeing the world again. I slung my crater-rifle, not without difficulty, since my right arm didn’t want to cooperate, and made a hike around the far side of the ravine, with half a dozen rest stops. I was halfway back to the hut and the drink of water I’d promised myself as a reward, when the second ship came.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  This one was smaller, something like Lord Orfeo’s yacht, but with less of a polish. I hid behind the vines with my gun aimed until I saw what were undoubtedly Men emerge. Then I went up to meet them. They were small, yellow-skinned, with round, bald heads. The captain was named Ancu-Uriru and he spoke a little Zeridajhi. He frowned at my scars, which were pretty spectacular, and wanted to know where the rest of the ship’s complement were. I told him there was just me. That made him frown worse than ever. It seemed he had picked up our signal and answered it in the hope of collecting a nice reward from somebody, along with a little salvage. I told him about the ship in the ravine, and he sent a couple of men down who came back shaking their heads. They showed every sign of being ready to leave then.

  “What about me?” I asked Ancu-Uriru.

  “We leave you in peace,” he said in an offhand way.

  “There’s such a thing as too much peace,” I told him. “I want to go with you. I’ll work my way.”

  “I have no need of you; space is limited aboard my small vessel. And I fear your wounds render you somewhat less than capable to perform useful labor. Here you are more comfortable. Stay, with my blessing.”

  “Suppose I told you where there was another ship, a luxury model, in perfect shape-if you can get the doors open?”

  That idea seemed to strike a spark. We dickered for a while, and there were hints that a little torture might squeeze the answers out of me with no need for favors in return. But in the end we struck a deal: My passage to a civilized port
in return for Lord Desroy’s yacht. It took them most of a Garish day to tickle her locks open. Ancu-Uriru looked her over, then ordered his personal effects moved into the owner’s suite. I was assigned to ride on his old tub along with a skeleton crew. Just before boarding time, Eureka came bounding across the flats toward me. One of the men had a gun in his hand, and I jumped in front of him just in time.

  “This is my cat,” I told him. “He saved my life. We used to have long talks, while I was sick.”

  The men all seemed to be cat-lovers; they gathered around and admired him.

  “Bring the beast along,” Ancu-Uriru said. We went aboard then, and an hour later the ship lifted off Gar 28, as nearly as I could calculate, one year after I had landed.

  It wasn’t a luxury cruise. The man Ancu-Uriru had assigned to captain the tub-In-Ruhic, by name-believed in every man’s working his way, in spite of the generous fare I’d paid. Even aboard as sophisticated a machine as a spaceship, there was plenty of coolie labor, as I well remembered from my apprenticeship under Sir Orfeo. The standards he’d taught me carried over here; after my assigned chores were done, I spent long hours chipping and scraping and cleaning and polishing, trying single-handed to clear away grime that had been accumulating since the days of the Vikings-or longer. According to In-Ruhic, the old ship had been built on a world called Urhaz, an unknown number of millenia ago.

  At first, my wounds caused me a lot of pain, until In—Ruhic stopped me one day and told me my groans were interfering with his inward peace. He had me stretch out on a table while he rubbed some vile-smelling grease into the scars.

  “How you survived, untended, is a matter of wonder,” he said. “I think you lost a pound of flesh and bone here, where the pellet tore through your shoulder. And you’ve broken ribs, healed crookedly. And your throat! Man, under the web of scar tissue, I can see the pulse in the great vein each time you lift your chin!” But his hands were as gentle as any girl’s could have been; he gave me a treatment every day for a few weeks. The glop he used must have had some healing effect because the skin toughened up over the scars and the pain gradually faded.