Star Born Page 18

  18

  NOT YET--

  Raf lay on his back, cushioned in the sand, his face turned up to thesky. Moisture smarted in his eyes, trickled down his cheeks as hetried to will himself to _see_! The yellow haze which had been his dayhad faded into grayness and now to the dark he feared so much that hedared not even speak of it. Somewhere over him the stars were icypoints of light--but he could not see them. They were very far away,but no farther than he was from safety, from comfort (now the spacerseemed a haven of ease), from the expert treatment which might save,save his sight!

  He supposed he should be thankful to that other one who was a slowvoice speaking out of the mist, a thought now and then when his innerpanic brought him almost to the breaking point. In some manner he hadbeen carried out of the reach of the aliens, treated for his searingwounds, and now he was led along, fed, tended--Why didn't they go awayand leave him alone! He had no chance of reaching the spacer--

  It was so easy to remember those mountains, the heights over which hehad lifted the flitter. There wasn't one chance in a million of hiswinning over those and across the miles of empty plains beyond towhere the _RS 10_ stood waiting, ready to rise again. The crew mustbelieve him dead. His fists clenched upon sand, and it gritted betweenhis fingers, sifted away. Why wasn't he dead! Why had that barbariandragged him here, continued to coax him, put food into his hands,those hands which were only vague shapes when he held them just beforehis straining, aching eyes.

  "It is not as bad as you think," the words came again out of the fog,spoken with a gentleness which rasped Raf's nerves. "Healing is notdone in a second, or even in a day. You cannot force the return ofstrength--"

  A hand, warm, vibrant with life, pressed on his forehead--a human,flesh-covered hand, not one of the cool, scaled paws of the furredpeople. Though those hands, too, had been laid upon him enough duringthe past few days, steadying him, leading him, guiding him to food andwater. Now, under that firm, knowing touch he felt some of theever-present fear subside, felt a relaxation.

  "My ship--They will take off without me!" He could not help but voicethat plaint, as he had so many times before during that foggy,nightmare journey.

  "They have not done so yet."

  He struggled up, flung off that calming hand, turned angrily towardwhere he thought the other was. "How can you be sure?"

  "Word has come. The ship is still there, though the small flyer hasreturned to it."

  This assurance was something new. Raf's suspicions could not stand upagainst the note of certainty in the other's voice. He got awkwardlyto his feet. If the ship was still here, then they must still thinkhim alive--They might come back! He had a chance--a real chance!

  "Then they are waiting for me--They'll come!"

  He could not see the soberness with which Dalgard listened to that.The star ship had not lifted, that message had found its way south,passed along by hopper and merman. But the scout doubted if theexplorers were waiting for the return of Raf. He believed that theywould not have left the city had they not thought the pilot alreadydead.

  As to going north now--His picture of the land ahead had been built upfrom reports gained from the sea people. It could be done, but withRaf to be nursed and guided, lacking even the outrigger Dalgard hadused in home waters, it would take days--weeks, probably--to coverthe territory which lay between them and the plains where the starship had planeted.

  But he owed Raf a great deal, and it was summer, the season of warmcalms. So far he had not been able to work out any plan for a returnto his own land. It might be that they were both doomed to exile. Butit was not necessary to face that drear future yet, not until they hadexpended every possible effort. So now he said willingly enough, "Weare going north."

  Raf sat down again in the sand. He wanted to run, to push on until hisfeet were too tired to carry him any farther. But now he fought thatimpulse, lay down once more. Though he doubted if he could sleep.

  Dalgard watched the stars, sketched out a map of action for themorning. They must follow the shore line where they could keep intouch with the mermen, though along this coast the sea people did notcome to land with the freedom their fellows showed on the easterncontinent--they had lived too long in fear of Those Others.

  But since the war party had reached the coast, there had been no signof any retaliation, and as several days passed, Dalgard had begun tobelieve that they had little to fear. Perhaps the blow they had struckat the heart of the citadel had been more drastic than they had hoped.He had listened since that hour in the gorge for the shrilling of oneof the air hounds. And when it did not come the thought that maybe itwas the last of its kind had been heartening.

  At last the scout lay down beside the off-world man, listening to thesoft hiss of waves on sand, the distant cluttering of night insects.And his last waking thought was a wish for his bow.

  There was another day of patient plodding; two, three. Raf, led by thehand, helped over rocks and obstacles which were only dark blurs tohis watering eyes, raged inwardly and sometimes outwardly, against theslowness of their advance, his own helplessness. His fear grew untilhe refused to credit the fact that the blurs were sharpening inoutline, that he could now count five fingers on the hand he sometimeswaved despairingly before his face.

  When he spoke of the future, he never said "if we reach the ship" butalways "when," refusing to admit that perhaps they would not be intime. And Dalgard by his anxiety, tried to get more news from thenorth.

  "When we get there, will you come back to earth with us?" the pilotasked suddenly on the fifth day.

  It was a question Dalgard had once asked himself. But now he knew theanswer; there was only one he dared give.

  "We are not ready--"

  "I don't understand what you mean." Raf was almost querulous. "It isyour home world. Pax is gone; the Federation would welcome youeagerly. Just think what it would mean--a Terran colony among thestars!"

  "A Terran colony." Dalgard put out a hand, steadied Raf over a stretchof rough shingle. "Yes, once we were a Terran colony. But--can you nowtruthfully swear that I am a Terran like yourself?"

  Raf faced the misty figure, trying to force his memory to put featuresthere, to sharpen outlines. The scout was of middle height, a littleshorter in stature than the crewmen with whom the pilot had lived solong. His hair was fair, as was his skin under its sun tan. He wasunusually light on his feet and possessed a wiry strength Raf couldtestify to. But there was that disconcerting habit of mind reading andother elusive differences.

  Dalgard smiled, though the other could not see that.

  "You see," deliberately he used the mind touch as if to accent thosedifferences the more, "once our roots were the same, but now fromthese roots different plants have grown. And we must be left toourselves a space before we mingle once more. My father's father'sfather's father was a Terran, but I am--what? We have something thatyou have not, just as you have developed during centuries ofseparation qualities of mind and body we do not know. You live withmachines. And, since we could not keep machines in this world, havingno power to repair or rebuild, we have been forced to turn in otherdirections. To go back to the old ways now would be throwing awayclues to mysteries we have not yet fully explored, turning aside fromdiscoveries ready to be made. To you I am a barbarian, hardly higherin the scale of civilization than the mermen--"

  Raf flushed, would have given a quick and polite denial, had he notknown that his thoughts had been read. Dalgard laughed. His amusementwas not directed against the pilot, rather it invited him to share thejoke. And reluctantly, Raf's peeling lips relaxed in a smile.

  "But," he offered one argument the other had not cited, "what if youdo go down this other path of yours so far that we no longer have anycommon meeting ground?" He had forgotten his own problem in theother's.

  "I do not believe that will ever happen. Perhaps our bodies maychange; climate, food, ways of life can all influence the body. Ourminds may change; already my people with each new generation arebetter equipped to use th
e mind touch, can communicate more clearlywith the animals and the mermen. But those who were in the beginningborn of Terra shall always have a common heritage. There are and willbe other lost colonies among the stars. We could not have been theonly outlaws who broke forth during the rule of Pax, and before theblight of that dictatorship, there were at least two expeditions thatwent forth on Galactic explorations.

  "A thousand years from now stranger will meet with stranger, but whenthey make the sign of peace and sit down with one another, they shallfind that words come more easily, though one may seem outwardlymonstrous to the other. Only, _now_ we must go our own way. We areyouths setting forth on our journey of testing, while the Elders wishus well but stand aside."

  "You don't want what we have to offer?" This was a new idea to Raf.

  "Did you truly want what the city people had to offer?"

  That caught the pilot up. He could remember with unusual distinctnesshow he had disliked, somehow feared the things they had brought fromthe city storehouse, how he had privately hoped that Hobart and Labletwould be content to let well enough alone and not bring that knowledgeof an alien race back with them. If he had not secretly known thataversion, he would not have been able to destroy the globe and thetreasures piled about it.

  "But"--his protest was hot, angry--"we are not _them_! We can do muchfor you."

  "Can you?" The calm question sank into his mind as might a stone intoa troubled pool, and the ripples of its passing changed an idea ortwo. "I wish that you might see Homeport. Perhaps then it would beeasier for you to understand. No, your knowledge is not corrupt, itwould not carry with it the same seeds of disaster as that of ThoseOthers. But it would be too easy for us to accept, to walk a softerroad, to forget what we have so far won. Just give us time--"

  Raf cupped his palms over his watering eyes. He wanted badly to seeclearly the other's face, to be able to read his expression. Yet itseemed that somehow he _was_ able to see that sober face, as sincereas the words in his mind.

  "You will come again," Dalgard said with certainty. "And we shall bewaiting because you, Raf Kurbi, made it possible." There was somethingso solemn about that that Raf looked up in surprise.

  "When you destroyed the core of Those Other's holding, you gave us ourchance. For had you not done that we, the mermen, the other harmless,happy creatures of this world, would have been wiped out. There wouldbe no new beginning here, only a dark and horrible end."

  Raf blinked; to his surprise that other figure standing in the directsunlight did not waver, and beyond the proudly held head was a stretchof turquoise sky. He could see the color!

  "Yes, you shall see with your eyes--and with your mind," now Dalgardspoke aloud. "And if the Spirit which rules all space is kind, youshall return to your own people. For you have served His cause well."

  Then, as if he were embarrassed by his own solemnity, Dalgard endedwith a most prosaic inquiry: "Would you like shellfish for eating?"

  Moments later, wading out into the water-swirled sand, his bootskicked off, his toes feeling for the elusive shelled creatures no onecould see, Raf felt happier, freer than he could ever remember havingbeen before. It was going to be all right. He could _see_! He wouldfind the ship! He laughed aloud at nothing and heard an answeringchuckle and then a whoop of triumph from the scout stooping to clawone of their prey out of hiding.

  It was after they had eaten that Dalgard asked another question, onewhich did not seem important to Raf. "You have a close friend amongthe crew of your ship?"

  Raf hesitated. Now that he was obliged to consider the point, did hehave any friends--let alone a close one--among the crew of the _RS10_? Certainly he did not claim Wonstead who had shared hisquarters--he honestly did not care if he never saw him again. Theofficers, the experts such as Lablet--quickly face and character ofeach swept through his mind and was as swiftly discarded. There wasSoriki--He could not claim the com-tech as any special friend, but atleast during their period together among the aliens he had come toknow him better.

  Now, as if Dalgard had read his mind--and he probably had, thoughtRaf with a flash of the old resentment--he had another question.

  "And what was he--is he like?"

  Though the pilot could see little reason for this he answered as besthe could, trying to build first a physical picture of the com-tech andthen doing a little guessing as to what lay under the other'sspace-burned skin.

  Dalgard lay on his back, gazing up into the blue-green sky. Yet Rafknew that he was intent on every word. A merman padded up, settleddown cross-legged beside the scout, as if he too were enthralled bythe pilot's halting description of a man he might never see again.Then a second of the sea people came and a third, until Raf felt thatsome sort of a noiseless council was in progress. His words trailedaway, and then Dalgard offered an explanation.

  "It will take us many, many days to reach the place where your shipis. And before we are able to complete that journey your friends maybe gone. So we shall try something else--with your aid."

  Raf fingered the little bundle of his possessions. Even his helmetwith its com phone was missing.

  "No," again Dalgard read his mind. "Your machines are of no use to younow. We shall try _our_ way."

  "How?" Wild thoughts of a big signal fire--But how could that besighted across a mountain range. Of some sort of an improvised comunit--

  "I said _our_ way." There was a smile on Dalgard's face, visible toRaf's slowly clearing vision. "We shall provide another kind ofmachine, and these"--he waved at the mermen--"will give us the power,or so we hope. Lie here," he gestured to the sand beside him, "andthink only of your friend in the ship, in his natural surroundings.Try to hold that picture constant in your mind, letting no otherthought trouble it."

  "Do you mean--send a message to him mentally!" Raf's reply was halfprotest.

  "Did I not so reach you when we were in the city--even before I knewof you as an individual?" the scout reminded him. "And such messagesare doubly possible when they are sent from friend to friend."

  "But we were close then."

  "That is why--" again Dalgard indicated the mermen. "For them this isthe natural means of communication. They will pick up your reachingthought, amplify it with their power, beam it north. Since your frienddeals with matters of communication, let us hope that he will besensitive to this method."

  Raf was only half convinced that it might work But he remembered howDalgard had established contact with him, before, as the scout hadpointed out, they had met. It was that voiceless cry for aid which hadpulled him into this adventure in the first place. It was only fittingthat something of the same process give _him_ help in return.

  Obediently he stretched out on the sand and closed his dim eyes,trying to picture Soriki in the small cabin which held the com,slouched in his bucket seat, his deceptive posture that of a laxidler, as he had seen him so many times. Soriki--his broad face withits flat cheekbones, its wide cheerful mouth, its heavy-lidded eyes.And having fixed Soriki's face, he tried to believe that he was nowconfronting the com-tech, speaking directly to him.

  "Come--come and get me--south--seashore--Soriki come and get me!" Thewords formed a kind of chant, a chant aimed at that familiar face inits familiar surroundings. "South--come and get me--" Raf struggled tothink only of that, to allow nothing to break through that chant ordisturb his picture of the scene he had called from memory.

  How long that attempt at communication lasted the pilot could nottell, for somehow he slipped from the deep concentration into sleep,dreamless and untroubled, from which he awoke with the befoggedfeeling that something important had happened. But had he gottenthrough?

  The ring of mermen was gone, and it was dawn, gray, chill with theforewarnings of rain in the air. He was reassured because he wascertain that in spite of the gloom his sight was a fraction clearerthan it had been the day before. But had they gotten through? As hearose, brushing the sand from him, he saw the scout splashing out ofthe sea, a fish impaled on his spear.

  "Did
we get through?" Raf blurted out.

  "Since your friend cannot reply with the mind touch, we do not know.But later we shall try again." To Raf's peering gaze Dalgard's facehad a drawn, gaunt look as if he had been at hard labor during thehours just past. He walked up the beach slowly, without the springingstep Raf had come to associate with him. As he settled down to gut thefish with one of the bone knives, the scout repeated, "We can tryagain--!"

  Half an hour later, as the rain swept in from the sea, Raf knew thatthey would not have to try. His head went up, his face eager. He hadknown that sound too long and too well ever to mistake it--the droneof a flitter motor cutting through the swish of the falling water.Some trick of the cliffs behind them must be magnifying and projectingthe sound, for he could not sight the machine. But it was coming. Hewhirled to Dalgard, only to see that the other was on his feet and hadtaken up his spear.

  "It is the flitter! Soriki heard--they're coming!" Raf hastened toassure him.

  For the last time he saw Dalgard's slow, warm smile, clearer than hehad ever seen it before. Then the scout turned and trotted away,toward a fringing rock wall. Before he dropped out of sight behindthat barrier he raised the spear in salute.

  "Swift and fortunate voyaging!" He gave the farewell of Homeport.

  Then Raf understood. The colonist meant just what he had said: hewanted no contact with the space ship. To Raf he had owed a debt andnow that was paid. But the time was not yet when the men of Astra andthe men of Terra should meet. A hundred years from now perhaps--or athousand--but not yet. And remembering what had summoned the flitterwinging toward him, Raf drew a deep breath. What would the men ofAstra accomplish in a hundred years? What could those of Terra do tomatch them in knowledge? It was a challenge, and he alone knew justhow much of a challenge. Homeport must remain his own secret. He hadbeen guided to this place, saved by the mermen alone. Dalgard and hispeople must not exist as far as the crew of the _RS 10_ wereconcerned.

  For the last time he experienced the intimacy of the mind touch. "Thatis it--brother!" Then the sensation was gone as the black blot of theflitter buzzed out of the clouds.

  From behind the rocks Dalgard watched the pilot enter the strangemachine. For a single moment he had an impulse to shout, to runforward, to surrender to his desire to see the others, the ship whichhad brought them through space and would, they confidently believed,take them back to the Terra he knew only as a legend of the past. Buthe mastered that desire. He had been right. The road had alreadyforked and there was no going back. He must carry this secret all therest of his life--he must be strong-willed enough so that Homeportwould never know. Time--give them time to be what they could be. Thenin a hundred years--or a thousand--But not yet!

  * * * * *

  "Nobody today is telling better stories of straight-forward interstellaradventure."

  --_New York Herald-Tribune_

  When Raf Kurbi's Terran spaceship burst into unexplored skies of the far planet Astra and was immediately made welcome by the natives of a once-mighty metropolis, Kurbi was unaware of three vital things:

  One was that Astra already harbored an Earth colony--descended from refugees from the world of the previous century.

  Two was that these men and women were facing the greatest danger of their existence from a new outburst of the inhuman fiends who had once tyrannized Astra.

  Three was that the natives who were buying Kurbi's science know-how were those very fiends--and their intentions were implacably deadly for all humans, whether Earth born or STAR BORN.

  _It's an Andre Norton space adventure--and therefore the tops in its field!_

  * * * * *

  Quotes from the reviews:

  "All science-fiction fans will thrill to these new adventures created byAndre Norton.... All who enjoy a good adventure about the unknown partsof our galaxy will find this an enchanting story."

  --_Jackson _(_Tenn._) _Sun_

  "Superb science-fiction."

  --_Montgomery Advertiser_

  "Andre Norton adds another star to her literary laurels."

  --_Cleveland Press_

  "A good, clearly thought-out story."

  --_New York Times_

  "Exciting and adventure-laden."

  --_Library Journal_

  "Suspense and excitement.... A storyteller of the first class, this isone of her best."

  --_Fantasy & Science Fiction_

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