The Fury Out of Time (24 page)

“I made an agreement with the Overseer,” the leader said firmly. “The Overseer does not break his agreements, and neither do I. You will take the twelve men, or I shall not permit the departure of any of them, or the passengers either.”

The pilot surrendered with a gesture of disgust. “If they don’t mind being packed in, I don’t see why I should care. Any that aren’t wanted I’ll dump wherever I touch down next, and you can worry about collecting them.”

Karvel motioned the men into the Shuttle. He’d had to take the Galdu leader’s word that these were the sturdiest physical specimens available. They were agile enough— they looked as though they could easily pole-vault twenty-five feet—but he distrusted their slender, willowy builds. On this operation he would have preferred a few fullbacks.

He also would have preferred more time for training. They’d learned the simple forms of mayhem easily enough, but they applied them as if they were maneuvering to embrace their sweethearts.

He slung his rifle, gave a last, affectionate pat to the blackjack hidden in his clothing, and followed them aboard. The pilot looked curiously at the rifle, but said nothing. Marnox bounded after him and took the seat next to the pilot. Karvel had told Marnox flatly that if he couldn’t operate the Shuttle by the time they reached the moon they might have to remain there, and as they shot upward he was straining against the force of acceleration to scrutinize the pilot’s every move.

Karvel was able to relax for the first time in two days. He slipped the moccasin off, and scratched futilely at his nonexistent, itching toe. “Two hundred and forty thousand miles,” he mused, “and perhaps five hours for the trip.” He dozed off thinking that these Shuttles would be worth an investigation, if only he had the time.

When Marnox nudged him awake they were above the moon and descending rapidly. He twisted in his seat to see if the Galds were in fighting condition. For a first trip into space they had borne up very well. There was not an upset stomach among them, which surprised Karvel until he remembered that there were no stomachs among them.

The vast, familiar panorama of craters and
maria
flashed toward them. The braking began—not the sharp, crushing deceleration of a rocket-driven ship, but a light, sustained pressure as of automobile brakes carefully applied. The base still lay in darkness, but sunlight flickered on the jagged fingertips of the surrounding mountains and the curved edge of day was approaching. To the north the vast circle of Plato was dark; to the south a strange-looking crater within a crater was ringed with light, and stared up at them like a ludicrously misfocused eye.

The landing dome had a large central berth for the great ships of deep space, and lesser compartments around the circumference for smaller craft. They hovered over the dome until one of the smaller openings yawned beneath them, and they drifted into it.

The safety lock clicked as air flowed back into the landing compartment. The pilot opened both air-lock doors and jumped out. With a nod to Marnox, Karvel followed him.

The landing engineer appeared, rubbing his eyes.

“Twelve men for Franur,” the pilot said.

“Twelve? I thought it was six.”

“They had twelve ready, so I brought them.”

“Maybe Franur can use them. He wants to rearrange his stock on the lower levels. Take them over to him.”

“You
take them,” the pilot said.

Marnox had joined them. Karvel fingered his blackjack and flashed signal to the Shuttle. One of the Galds slumped in the air lock, uttering a piercing scream. Pilot and engineer whirled in one motion, and Karvel flattened the pilot with an expert stroke. Marnox was only a second behind him in felling the engineer. He stood over his victim, laughing delightedly.

“We’re in business,” Karvel said.

The Galds poured out of the Shuttle and leaped into action with a heartening efficiency. Two of them produced lengths of rope, and trussed and gagged the pilot and engineer. The others moved to cover the doors. Karvel unslung his rifle and walked cautiously into the next compartment. A large cargo carrier rested there.

“Can you take us back in that?” Karvel asked.

“I don’t know,” Marnox said.

“Suppose you find out now. We couldn’t get the U.O. into the Shuttle.”

Karvel circled the landing dome. He found two more cargo carriers and another Shuttle, but no personnel. Marnox caught up with him and cheerfully declared himself ready and eager to pilot the cargo carrier. The Galds had the inert pilot and engineer hidden in the Shuttle when they returned, and Karvel nodded approvingly, and said, “Let’s go.”

They moved in single file toward the larger dome, with Karvel leading. Franur, the obese supply administrator, heard them coming and waddled to meet them.

“Are these my men?” he demanded.

“How many of them do you want?” Karvel asked.

Franur turned to count them and collided with Marnox’s blackjack. The Galds spread out through the supply depot to find his workers. It took only a few minutes to round up the bewildered Earthmen, but Franur’s assistant resisted, and was brought back tied up and unconscious.

“Behave yourselves,” Karvel told the Earthmen, “and nothing will happen to you.”

They placed Franur and his assistant in one room and the Earthmen in another, and blocked the doors with packing cases.

“It’s easy,” Marnox said, sounding disappointed.

“It hasn’t even started yet,” Karvel told him.

He summoned the Galds with a wave of his hand, and began the long, cautious climb to the administration levels.

They met no one on the ramps, and at the Overseer’s level they crept silently along the last corridor to look into an empty administration room. Puzzled, Karvel angled across to the message center, rifle held at the ready. He halted in the entrance, and a gasp whistled shrilly in his ear as Marnox came to a stop behind him.

Sirgan lay near the door, clothing ripped away, his body crisscrossed with deep slashes that terminated in gruesome ribbons of flesh. His face was torn almost unrecognizably. The body of an Earthwoman lay nearby, untouched except for a crushed skull. The horribly mutilated bodies of two communications technicians lay among their scattered instruments, their slashed faces still oozing blood. Equipment, smashed and spattered with gore, littered the room.

The Galds hung in the doorway, dazed and speechless. Karvel turned his back on the carnage, and thrust them away. “Did the Overseer keep some kind of animals here?” he asked.

They gazed at him dumbly.

“We’d better stay together,” Karvel said. He led them out through the administration room, hesitated for a moment in the corridor, and then resolutely turned toward the ramps. On the ground level they released the supply personnel, and Karvel hurried everyone back to the landing dome and placed them in the cargo carrier.

“Don’t open up to anyone or anything until I come back,” he said. “If I don’t come back—you work it out. You’d best return to Earth, I suppose.”

“What was it?” Marnox asked.

“I don’t know. I’ll tell you when I find out—if I’m in any condition to tell you.”

He turned away, checking his rifle again. A leopard or a tiger could have made wounds like that. If a ferocious beast were loose in the dome’s maze of corridors, he didn’t want his hunt impeded by thirteen unarmed men.

He found two more of the Overseer’s staff in their quarters. Dead. Slashed horribly. He found another in a corridor beyond the administration room, and two in a small storage room. They had sought refuge there, but the light sliding door had been crushed in.

Reluctantly he turned toward the women’s quarters. Where the corridor forked into two sections Karvel found the body of a man, so flayed with claw marks that only surmise told him it was the Overseer. He stepped gingerly over the body and the pool of blood that surrounded it.

In the farthest room he found the women, at least thirty of them—alive, huddled together, most of them with blood-soaked clothing, though their faces were miraculously untouched. All were in deep shock, some sobbing tearlessly, some moaning inanities, some staring sightlessly at nothing at all.

Then he noticed their hands, and their long, knifelike, blood-caked fingernails, and he understood.

He found Wilurzil in a room on the other corridor, crumpled in a corner as though flung there. The orange beard hung loosely from one side of her face. He straightened out her body and carefully rearranged her torn clothing before he realized that she was only unconscious.

He went for water and sprinkled it onto her face. Her eyes opened. She regarded him with horror, and raised her arms to defend herself before she recognized him.

“Is he. . .dead?” she asked.

“Yes,” Karvel said. “What happened?”

She shuddered. “I don’t know. Did you kill him?”

“No.”

“The others. . .the women—”

“Yes.”

“I talked to them about their cities, the way you talked to the Unclaimed People about their trees. They hated him, but they were afraid.”

She lapsed into a fit of coughing. Karvel offered water to her, but she pushed it away. “He taught me the silent speech,” she said. “It is very simple, once the symbols are understood.”

“Yes,” Karvel said. Simple for a highly talented linguist.

“I found the franchise, and was. . .was listening to it, listening to the silent speech—”

“Was it in an Earth language?”

“It was in all of the Earth languages. For the people of Earth to listen to, only the Overseer concealed it.”

Karvel nodded. “He wouldn’t want the people of Earth to know what it said.”

“He found me listening to it. I ran, but he caught me and was choking me, and then the women came. They killed him?”

“Yes. Is the U.O. still here?”

“I. . .think so.” She covered her face with her hands, and spoke haltingly. “The franchise. Don’t you want to know about the franchise? You said it was important.”

“It might be very important.”

“He did not want to teach me the silent speech. He was suspicious, but I insisted. . .I refused—”

She broke off, and with a gesture the symbolism of which Karvel could only guess at, she stripped the beard from her face and flung it aside. “I should have done it before,” she whispered, “but he liked me to wear it.”

Gently Karvel pulled her hands away from her face, and held them. “What is in the franchise?”

“It is very long and difficult to understand. Many of the words are strange, and I cannot remember them exactly. It says the. . .something. . .is empowered—”

“Trading organization?” Karvel suggested.

“The something with a strange name. . .is empowered— no, is. . .something. . .to supply the needs of the planet Earth, and is empowered to accept in return—it is very complicated.”

“Products?”

“Many things. The produce of mines, agriculture, manufacturing, forests—many, many things.”

“Does it mention people?”

“I don’t think so. No. Is that important?”

“Very important. Don’t you understand? There
is
a government somewhere, and Earth is of special concern to it. The franchise is supposed to protect and help the people of Earth. The Overseer and his trading organization perverted it into an instrument of exploitation. If what you remember is correct, Earth can refuse to trade its people, and the trading organization will have to accept whatever is offered. How do vou feel? Can you walk?”

“I think so.”

“I’ll go after Marnox and the others. Do you want to come with me, or would you rather wait here?”

She shuddered. “I’ll come with you.”

They found the U.O. in a storage room, still sealed, wedged to a circular platform. “How do we move it?” Karvel asked.

“It moves itself,” Marnox said with a grin, and he stepped onto the platform and flew it slowly down the tunnel to the landing dome and aboard the cargo carrier.

The Galds searched the administrative levels for the dead, and brought them to the administration room. Finally there were fourteen—twelve men and two women. Six men were found alive in remote corridors where they had taken refuge. The three scientists in the distant research dome were unaware that anything had happened.

While they worked Wilurzil resumed her decipherment of the franchise. She spoke into a voice recorder what she could read of the strange symbols that were embossed on a long strip of flexible metal.

Karvel conferred with Marnox. “I’m placing you in charge of the base,” he said. “I’ll take the women and some of the Overseer’s men back with me, and leave you enough Galds to look after the rest. If they give you any trouble—”

“They won’t give me any trouble,” Marnox said, caressing his blackjack. “But who’ll fly you back?”

“The same pilot who brought us up.”

“What if he won’t?”

“Once he sees what’s in the administration room, he’ll be just as eager to leave as I am. There are a couple of Shuttles out, and at least one cargo carrier, so be on the lookout for them. I’ll send more men to you just as soon as I can. The cargo carrier will transport at least fifty.”