The Defiant Agents Page 18

  18

  They lay along the rim of a vast basin, a scooping out of earth so widethey could not sight its other side. The bed of an ancient lake, Travisspeculated, or perhaps even the arm of a long-dried sea. But now thehollow was filled with rolling waves of golden grass, tossing heavyheads under the flowing touch of a breeze with the exception of a spaceabout a mile ahead where round domes--black, gray, brown--broke theyellow in an irregular oval around the globular silver bead of a spacer:a larger ship than that which had brought the Apaches, but of the sameshape.

  "The horse herd ... to the west." Nolan evaluated the scene with theeyes of an experienced raider. "Tsoay, Deklay, you take the horses!"

  They nodded, and began the long crawl which would take them two miles ormore from the party to stampede the horses.

  To the Mongols in those domelike yurts horses were wealth, life itself.They would come running to investigate any disturbance among the grazingponies, thus clearing the path to the ship and the Reds there. Travis,Jil-Lee, and Buck, armed with the star guns, would spearhead thatattack--cutting into the substance of the ship itself until it was asieve through which they could shake out the enemy. Only when theinstallations it contained were destroyed, might the Apaches hope forany assistance from the Mongols, either the outlaw pack waiting wellback on the prairie or the people in the yurts.

  The grass rippled and Naginlta poked out a nose, parting stems beforeTravis. The Apache beamed an order, sending the coyotes with thehorse-raiding party. He had seen how the animals could drive huntedsplit-horns; they would do as well with the ponies.

  Kaydessa was safe, the coyotes had made that clear by the fact that theyhad joined the attacking party an hour earlier. With Eskelta andManulito she was on her way back to the north.

  Travis supposed he should be well pleased that their reckless plan hadsucceeded as well as it had. But when he thought of the Tatar girl, allhe could see was her convulsed face close to his in the ship corridor,her raking nails raised to tear his cheek. She had an excellent reasonto hate him, yet he hoped....

  They continued to watch both horse herd and domes. There were peoplemoving about the yurts, but no signs of life at the ship. Had the Redsshut themselves in there, warned in some way of the two disasters whichhad whittled down their forces?

  "Ah--!" Nolan breathed.

  One of the ponies had raised its head and was facing the direction ofthe camp, suspicion plain to read in its stance. The Apaches must havereached the point between the herd and the domes which had been theirgoal. And the Mongol guard, who had been sitting cross-legged, thereins of his mount dangling close to his hand, got to his feet.

  "Ahhhuuuuu!" The ancient Apache war cry that had sounded across deserts,canyons, and southwestern Terran plains to ice the blood, ripped just asfreezingly through the honey-hued air of Topaz.

  The horses wheeled, racing upslope away from the settlement. A figurebroke from the grass, flapped his arms at one of the mounts, grabbed atflying mane, and pulled himself up on the bare back. Only a masterhorseman would have done that, but the whooping rider now drove the herdon, assisted by the snapping and snarling coyotes.

  "Deklay--" Jil-Lee identified the reckless rider, "that was one of hisrodeo tricks."

  Among the yurts it was as if someone had ripped up a rotten log toreveal an ants' nest and sent the alarmed insects into a frenzy. Menboiled out of the domes, the majority of them running for the horsepasture. One or two were mounted on ponies that must have been stakedout in the settlement. The main war party of Apaches skimmed silentlythrough the grass on their way to the ship.

  The three who were armed with the alien weapons had already tested theirrange by experimentation back in the hills, but the fear of exhaustingwhatever powered those barrels had curtailed their target practice. Nowthey snaked to the edge of the bare ground between them and the ladderhatch of the spacer. To cross that open space was to provide targets forlances and arrows--or the superior armament of the Reds.

  "A chance we can hit from here." Buck laid his weapon across his bentknee, steadied the long barrel of the burner, and pressed the firingbutton.

  The closed hatch of the ship shimmered, dissolved into a black hole.Behind Travis someone let out the yammer of a war whoop.

  "Fire--cut the walls to pieces!"

  Travis did not need that order from Jil-Lee. He was already beamingunseen destruction at the best target he could ask for--the side of thesphere. If the globe was armed, there was no weapon which could bedepressed far enough to reach the marksmen at ground level.

  Holes appeared, irregular gaps and tears in the fabric of the ship. TheApaches were turning the side of the globe into lacework. How far thoserays penetrated into the interior they could not guess.

  Movement at one of the holes, the chattering burst of machine-gun fire,spatters of soil and gravel into their faces; they could be cut topieces by that! The hole enlarged, a scream ... cut off....

  "They will not be too quick to try that again," Nolan observed with coldcalm from behind Travis' post.

  Methodically they continued to beam the ship. It would never bespace-borne again; there were neither the skills nor materials here torepair such damage.

  "It is like laying a knife to fat," Lupe said as he crawled up besideTravis. "Slice, slice--!"

  "Move!" Travis reached to the left, pulled at Jil-Lee's shoulder.

  Travis did not know whether it was possible or not, but he had a headyvision of their combined fire power cutting the globe in half, slicingit crosswise with the ease Lupe admired.

  They scurried through cover just as someone behind yelled a warning.Travis threw himself down, rolled into a new firing position. An arrowsang over his head; the Reds were doing what the Apaches had known theywould--calling in the controlled Mongols to fight. The attack on theship must be stepped up, or the Amerindians would be forced to retreat.

  Already a new lacing of holes appeared under their concentrated efforts.With the gun held tight to his middle, Travis found his feet, zigzaggedacross the bare ground for the nearest of those openings. Another arrowclanged harmlessly against the fabric of the ship a foot from his goal.

  He made it in, over jagged metal shards which glowed faintly and reekedof ozone. The weapons' beams had penetrated well past both the outershell and the wall of insulation webbing. He climbed a second andsmaller break into a corridor enough like those of the western ship tobe familiar. The Red spacer, based on the general plan of the alienderelict ship as his own had been, could not be very different.

  Travis tried to subdue his heavy breathing and listen. He heard aconfused shouting and the burr of what might be an alarm system. Theship's brain was the control cabin. Even if the Reds dared not try tolift now, that was the core of their communication lines. He startedalong the corridor, trying to figure out its orientation in relation tothat all-important nerve center.

  The Apache shoved open each door he passed with one shoulder, and twicehe played a light beam on installations within cabins. He had no idea oftheir use, but the wholesale destruction of each and every machine waswhat good sense and logic dictated.

  There was a sound behind. Travis whirled, saw Jil-Lee and beyond himBuck.

  "Up?" Jil-Lee asked.

  "And down," Buck added. "The Tatars say they have hollowed a bunkerbeneath."

  "Separate and do as much damage as you can," Travis suggested.

  "Agreed!"

  Travis sped on. He passed another door and then backtracked hurriedly ashe realized it had given on to an engine room. With the gun he blastedtwo long lines cutting the fittings into ragged lumps. Abruptly thelights went out; the burr of the alarms was silenced. Part of the ship,if not all, was dead. And now it might come to hunter and hunted in thedark. But that was an advantage as far as the Apaches were concerned.

  Back in the corridor again, Travis crept through a curiously lifelessatmosphere. The shouting was stilled as if the sudden failure of themachines had stunned the Reds.

  A tiny sound--pe
rhaps the scrape of a boot on a ladder. Travis edgedback into a compartment. A flash of light momentarily lighted thecorridor; the approaching figure was using a torch. Travis drew hisknife with one hand, reversed it so he could use the heavy hilt as asilencer. The other was hurrying now, on his way to investigate theburned-out engine cabin. Travis could hear the rasp of his fastbreathing. Now!

  The Apache had put down the gun, his left arm closed about a shoulder,and the Red gasped as Travis struck with the knife hilt. Not clean--hehad to hit a second time before the struggles of the man were over.Then, using his hands for eyes, he stripped the limp body on the floorof automatic and torch.

  With the Red's weapon in the front of his sash, the burner in one handand the torch in the other, Travis prowled on. There was a good chancethat those above might believe him to be their comrade returning. Hefound the ladder leading to the next level, began to climb, pausing nowand then to listen.

  Shock preceded sound. Under him the ladder swayed and the globe itselfrocked a little. A blast of some kind must have been set off at or underthe level of the ground. The bunker Buck had mentioned?

  Travis clung to the ladder, waited for the vibrations to subside. Therewas a shouting above, a questioning.... Hurriedly he ascended to thenext level, scrambled out and away from the ladder just in time to avoidthe light from another torch flashed down the well. Again that call ofinquiry, then a shot--the boom of the explosion loud in the confinedspace.

  To climb into the face of that light with a waiting marksman above wassheer folly. Could there be another way up? Travis retreated down one ofthe corridors raying out from the ladder well. A quick inspection of thecabins along that route told him he had reached a section of livingquarters. The pattern was familiar; the control cabin would be on thenext level.

  Suddenly the Apache remembered something: On each level there should bean emergency opening giving access to the insulation space between theinner and outer skins of the ship through which repairs could be made.If he could find that and climb up to the next level....

  The light shining down the well remained steady, and there was theechoing crack of another shot. But Travis was far enough away from theladder now to dare use his own torch, seeking the door he needed on thewall surface. With a leap of heart he sighted the outline--his luck wasin! The Russian and western ships were alike.

  Once the panel was open he flashed his torch up, finding the climbingrungs and, above, the shadow outline of the next level opening. Securingthe alien gun in his sash beside the automatic and holding the torch inhis mouth, Travis climbed, not daring to think of the deep drop below.Four ... five ... ten rungs, and he could reach the other door.

  His fingers slid over it, searching for the release catch. But there wasno answering give. Balling his fist, he struck down at an awkward angleand almost lost his balance as the panel fell away beneath his blow. Thedoor swung and he pulled through.

  Darkness! Travis snapped on the torch for an instant, saw about him therelays of a com system, and gave it a full spraying as he pivoted,destroying the eyes and ears of the ship--unless the burnout he hadeffected below had already done that. A flash of automatic fire from hisleft, a searing burn along his arm an inch or so below the shoulder--

  Travis' action was purely reflex. He swung the burner around, even ashis mind gave a frantic No! To defend himself with automatic, knife,arrow--yes; but not this way. He huddled against the wall.

  An instant earlier there had been a man there, a living, breathingman--one of his own species, if not of his own beliefs. Then because hisown muscles had unconsciously obeyed warrior training, there was this.So easy--to deal death without really meaning to. The weapon in hishands was truly the devil gift they were right to fear. Such weaponswere not to be put into the hands of men--any men--no matter how wellintentioned.

  Travis gulped in great mouthfuls of air. He wanted to throw the burneraway, hurl it from him. But the task he could rightfully use it for wasnot yet done.

  Somehow he reeled on into the control cabin to render the ship truly adead thing and free himself of the heavy burden of guilt and terrorbetween his hands. That weight could be laid aside; memory could not.And no one of his kind must ever have to carry such memories again.

  * * * * *

  The booming of the drums was like a pulse quickening the blood to arhythm which bit at the brain, made a man's eyes shine, his musclestense as if he held an arrow to bow cord or arched his fingers about aknife hilt. A fire blazed high and in its light men leaped and whirledin a mad dance with tulwar blades catching and reflecting the red gleamof flames. Mad, wild, the Mongols were drunk with victory and freedom.Beyond them, the silver globe of the ship showed the black holes of itsdeath, which was also the death of the past--for all of them.

  "What now?" Menlik, the dangling of amulets and charms tinkling as hemoved, came up to Travis. There was none of the wild fervor in theshaman's face; instead, it was as if he had taken several strides out ofthe life of the Horde, was emerging into another person, and thequestion he asked was one they all shared.

  Travis felt drained, flattened. They had achieved their purpose. Thehandful of Red overlords were dead, their machines burned out. Therewere no controls here any more; men were free in mind and body. Whatwere they to do with that freedom?

  "First," the Apache spoke his own thoughts--"we must return these."

  The three alien weapons were lashed into a square of Mongol fabric,hidden from sight, although they could not be so easily shut out ofmind. Only a few of the others, Apache or Mongol, had seen them; andthey must be returned before their power was generally known.

  "I wonder if in days to come," Buck mused, "they will not say that wepulled lightning out of the sky, as did the Thunder Slayer, to aid us.But this is right. We must return them and make that valley and what itholds taboo."

  "And what if another ship comes--one of _yours_?" Menlik asked shrewdly.

  Travis stared beyond the Tatar shaman to the men about the fire. Hisnightmare dragged into the open.... What if a ship did come in, one withAshe, Murdock, men he knew and liked, friends on board? What then of hisguardianship of the towers and their knowledge? Could he be as sure ofwhat to do then? He rubbed his hand across his forehead and said slowly:

  "We shall take steps when--or if--that happens--"

  But could they, would they? He began to hope fiercely that it would nothappen, at least in his lifetime, and then felt the cold bleakness ofthe exile they must will themselves into.

  "Whether we like it or not," (was he talking to the others or trying toargue down his own rebellion?) "we cannot let what lies under the towersbe known ... found ... used ... unless by men who are wiser and morecontrolled than we are in our time."

  Menlik drew his shaman's wand, twiddled it between his fingers, andbeneath his drooping lids watched the three Apaches with a new kind ofmeasurement.

  "Then I say to you this: Such a guardianship must be a double charge,shared by my people as well. For if they suspect that you alone controlthese powers and their secret, there will be envy, hatred, fear, adivision between us from the first--war ... raids.... This is a largeland and neither of our groups numbers many. Shall we split apartfatally from this day when there is room for all? If these ancientthings are evil, then let us both guard them with a common taboo."

  He was right, of course. And they would have to face the truth squarely.To both Apache and Mongol any off-world ship, no matter from which side,would be a menace. Here was where they would remain and set roots. Thesooner they began thinking of themselves as people with a common bond,the better it would be. And Menlik's suggestion provided a tie.

  "You speak well," Buck was saying. "This shall be a thing we share. Weare three who know. Do you be three also, but choose well, Menlik!"

  "Be assured that I will!" the Tatar returned. "We start a new life here;there is no going back. But as I have said: The land is wide. We have noquarrel with one another, and perhaps our two peoples s
hall become one;after all, we do not differ too greatly...." He smiled and gestured tothe fire and the dancers.

  Among the Mongols another man had gone into action, his head thrown backas he leaped and twirled, voicing a deep war cry. Travis recognizedDeklay. Apache, Mongol--both raiders, horsemen, hunters, fighters whenthe need arose. No, there was no great difference. Both had been trickedinto coming here, and they had no allegiance now for those who had sentthem.

  Perhaps clan and Horde would combine or perhaps they would driftapart--time would tell. But there would be the bond of the guardianship,the determination that what slept in the towers would not be roused--intheir lifetime or many lifetimes!

  Travis smiled a bit crookedly. A new religion of sorts, a priesthoodwith sacred and forbidden knowledge ... in time a whole new life andcivilization stemming from this night. The bleak cold of his earlythought cut less deep. There was a different kind of adventure here.

  He reached out and gathered up the bundle of the burners, glancing fromBuck to Jil-Lee to Menlik. Then he stood up, the weight of the burden inhis arms, the feeling of a greater weight inside him.

  "Shall we go?"

  To get the weapons back--that was of first importance. Maybe then hecould sleep soundly, to dream of riding across the Arizona range at dawnunder a blue sky with a wind in his face, a wind carrying the scent ofpinon pine and sage, a wind which would never caress or hearten himagain, a wind his sons and sons' sons would never know. To dreamtroubled dreams, and hope in time those dreams would fade and thin--thata new world would blanket out the old. Better so, Travis told himselfwith defiance and determination--better so!