Brain World

Chapter Twenty

You will prepare yourselves to enter the arena, the voice that came into their minds said.

The two foot soldiers manually opened the heavy wooden door that led out into the arena and the six Earthlings, followed by the dogs, filed out. Simultaneously, a door on the opposite side of the arena opened and six Dawnmen came running through.

Ronny said, “All right, get in line as I told you. We’ll wait for them here, with the wall behind us, so they won’t be able to get to our rear. Besides that, they’ve already been fighting and are a little tired. Plodding through the sand to come at us will increase that.”

“Good thinking,” Dorn called over to him.

The Dawnmen, seeing that the Earthlings were waiting for them to take the initiative, formed a straight line of their own and broke into a trot.

Gil said bitterly, “Maybe they fight as individuals when fighting against each other, but they’re a team now.”

That wasn’t the only thing that went wrong in Ronny’s calculations.

The whole thing lasted a few minutes.

Charles was the first to go down. While still some ten meters off, one of the Dawnmen came to a sudden halt, threw back his arm and heaved he javelin he carried.

“Look out!” Ronny barked.

But too late, the Einstein man shrieked and went down, completely transfixed through the solar plexus area.

The javelin thrower drew his sword and came on again, heading for Ronny. All of a sudden the Section G agent had no more time to observe his comrades. He advanced his boar spear cautiously, as the other came in to the attack. The spear was primarily a defensive weapon, while the sword was offensive.

He prodded and was confounded by the reflexes of his opponent. The other jumped back, hacked quickly and splintered the end of Ronny’s spear so that its iron tip broke off and fell to the ground.

But it was then that Boy came in, running low and fast and snarling. He sped around the startled Dawnman and grabbed him by the naked calf of his right leg and ripped savagely, tearing the fleshy calf completely away. The Dawnman swung his sword down cutting the dog across the back.

The diversion gave Ronny his opportunity. He stepped in quickly and ran the splintered end of his boar spear into the other’s belly. The warrior fell, taking the broken spear with him. Ronny stooped down and grabbed up the other’s sword. He shot an agonized look at Boy who was down on the sand panting in agony.

He had no time for the dog. He spun and reentered the fray, sword in hand.

Of the four from Einstein, only Roy was still on his feet and even he had obviously taken a blow or two. He was jabbing at one of the Dawnmen with his spear, desperately.

But it was Dorn who won the day. Dorn and Plotz. The big man, his pince-nez glasses firmly on the bridge of his nose, was swinging his gigantic sword like a madman, flailing away like a windmill, gone berserk. His very lack of finesse, his ignorance of every principle of swordsmanship, was his greatest advantage. The others were highly trained, even instinctively trained, to know that for each blow there was a parry and a counterblow. Swordsmanship is an art, a very highly honed art.

It was no art the way Doctor Dorn Horsten played it. It was mayhem. His sword had three times the weight of any of theirs and Dorn Horsten had at least three times the strength of any of them.

But Plotz was the ultimate factor.

As members of the Kshatriya caste, they were warriors born. For megayears fighting had been bred into them. They practiced with every weapons known and they excelled in them. But none had ever seen a dog, much less a Magyar war dog. Plotz too had her fighting instincts, bred into her race a double thousand years and more.

Snarling, her mouth slavering, her canine teeth gleaming white, she zipped around among them, behind them, sometimes right between their legs to upset them. She was astonishingly fast, considering her heavy-set body. One went down in a ludicrous pratfall, and she had ripped out his throat almost before he hit the sand.

Roy fell from the blow of a mace but gave Ronny the time to finish off his killer with a sword thrust into his kidneys. Ronny was probably the most experienced of the Earthlings so far as personal, hand to hand combat, was concerned. His judo hobby was now paying off. Not that he was able to practice it—cold steel was involved now—but his reflexes were good, and he was able to think fast in action.

But it was Dorn and Plotz who won the day.

And suddenly there were no more Dawnmen on their feet, save one who was staggering, a hand to his throat, blood spurting from a severed artery. He wouldn’t stand long, as his life ebbed away, ebbed away.

Dorn dropped his sword and quickly went over to the four inept fallen men from Einstein. One by one, he checked them.

Ronny was down on his knees beside Boy, who looked up at him and tried to wag his tail. It didn’t come off.

He panted, “Sorry I didn’t last very long, Boss. I can’t move my back legs.”

Ronny closed his eyes in agony. The dog’s spine was severed.

He said, “Dorn’s a doctor. He’ll fix you up.”

Boy lolled his tongue from the side of his mouth and said, his voice losing strength even as he talked, “He doesn’t even have his little black bag and I suspect that vet materials are in short supply on this planet.”

Plotz was looking down on him. She said, woefully, “Boy, I’m sorry I was so mean to you.”

He looked at her and his lips thinned back over his teeth as though he was trying to smile. “You weren’t mean to me, Puppy. Name one of the litter after me.”

Dorn came up. He said to Ronny, his shoulders slumping, “They’re all dead.”

“So is Boy,” Plotz said, her voice so low as hardly to be heard.

A voice in their heads said, “You will return to the room from which you departed.”

Ronny came to his feet. “Okay, you Dawnman bastard,” he said, looking down one last time at his dog, the animal who had saved his life.

They returned to the dungeon-like room where they had left the Kshatriya officer and his two men.

The Kshatriyas looked thunderstruck. It was the first time that any of them had depicted expression on their faces. They had expected the Earthlings to go down to a man before the onslaught of their Dawnman opponents. The officer looked at Plotz with profound respect.

She snarled at him, “I’d call you a son-of-a-bitch, but I wouldn’t insult my species.”

This way, the voice in their heads said and the officer led to the point where the aperature had allowed them to enter.

The strange doorway opened again and they passed through to the living room where they had left Lee Chang and Rosemary such a short time ago, but so long ago.

The two women had been seated, misery on their faces, but they shot instantly erect, their eyes in relief.

Lee Chang blurted, “You made it!”

Rosemary said, “But where are the others?”

Dorn shook his head sadly at her. “My dear, they are dead.”

“All four of them; Roy, David, Gil, Charles?” She was aghast.

Ronny said, “They fought like… men. But they were inexperienced, Rosemary. Boy’s dead, too. He went down saving my life.”

“I see,” Rosemary said, and slumped back into her chair. “And I’ll go next. Lee Chang and I.”

The Kshatriyas officer took one last admiring look at Plotz and, followed by his two men, went to the front door of the building. It opened automatically and they left.

Lee Chang said, “What happened?”

Ronny slumped down on the couch, feeling exhaustion in spite of the brief period of the action. He said, “We fought six of them. The dogs threw them off balance. Dorn and I, and Plotz, survived.”

The voice of the one they identified as a Brahmin came to them in their minds. It said: Ronald Bronston, Dorn Horsten, Plotz—you have triumphed in the arena. By our traditions, you are free to leave. Reassure yourselves; the planets of your origin are not endangered by us, since you have won survival, and if we destroyed them, we would destroy you as well. However, in the future if other representatives of your race attempt to land on one of our worlds, the spacecraft carrying them will be destroyed and all occupants.

Ronny said grimly, “Thanks. What about Lee Chang Chu and Rosemary?”

By our traditions, they must be sacrificed on the Sacred Altar Stone. There is no traditional means by which they can redeem themselves.

Rosemary moaned.

The voice went on: We were astonished by your success. We assumed, particularly in view of the fact that you were not acquainted with the weapons of the Kshatriya caste, that you would die in the arena and the problem of your knowing of the location of our worlds would die with you. We then planned to destroy the spacecraft you have in orbit about this planet. But now you have won your freedom and hence the spacecraft cannot be destroyed or you would have no means of leaving us. We have been highly impressed by the conduct of your war dogs, and particularly Plotz, who confounded our Kshatriyas.

A quick inspiration came to Ronny Bronston. He said, “She is yours.”

We do not understand.

“By tradition, on the planet of her birth, Einstein, if one admires a possession, the owner gives it to him.”

There was a long silence. Finally the telepathic voice said, Probing your mind tells us that what you have said is true. We are a race that is fully aware of the importance of tradition. We accept the gift.

“Hey,” Plotz said in protest. “Are you humans selling me down the river?”

The Brahmin’s voice said, A gift for a gift, Ronald Bronston, it is one of our own traditions. What do you request ?

Ronny said evenly, “The lives of our two women.”

Lee Chang said quickly, “Wait a minute, Ronny. The matter converter, or the anti-gravity. They’d revolutionize technology in United Planets. We’re only two persons. This involves billions of people.”

Ronny shook his head. “What the Brahmin told Rosemary and her colleagues was correct. The human race isn’t ready as yet for matter converters, anti-gravity, personal travel through underspace, and so forth. When we’re ready, we’ll discover them. It’s the old story. When there was a need, in turn, for the steamship, the railroad, the automobile, the airplane, the spaceship, they were discovered.”

Correct, the mind-voice said. And now you are free to leave.

Ronny nodded wearily and said, “The dog is pregnant. She will have young. You will be able to reproduce her species indefinitely.”

Yes. We are aware of this. And now, farewell.

The mental presence was suddenly gone. How they knew, they couldn’t know. But it was gone.

Ronny looked at Plotz. He said, “I don’t know if I’m sorry or not. It became instantly clear when the Brahmin admired you—and Boy—that if I presented you to him, he would be obligated to give something in return. It was the one way to save Lee Chang and Rosemary.”

The dog put out her tongue and gave a few quick pants and said, “Yes, I’ve figured that out by now and I agree. Besides, it’s not as bad as all that. My pups… ” she hesitated a moment before adding, “and Boy’s, will spread all over these worlds. We’re the equivalents of Adam and Eve—in a canine sort of way. Who knows what the future holds? I heard you explaining once that these Dawnworlders aren’t really intelligent. All they’ve got is accumulated knowledge. Well, we Einstein Vizslas are smart.” She hesitated a moment and then added, “Besides, we’re Magyar war dogs and they killed Boy.”

“Holy Ultimate,” Dorn said.

A door opened and Boy walked in, an elaborate bandage on his back and looking exhausted.

“Hello, everybody,” he said, and slumped down.

They ogled him.

“You’re dead!” Ronny blurted. “That man severed your spine.”

“Don’t write me off so easy. Boss,” Boy panted. “I was dead for only a few minutes. They liked my style, so they went to work on me. I guess they’ve got pretty advanced medicine.”

Rosemary blurted, “But Gil, Roy, David, Charles… ”

Boy looked at her. “Sorry,” he said. “I guess the Dawnmen didn’t like their style.” He gave a weary double pant. “Asa matter of fact, it was pretty bad. I watched the whole thing after I took my hit. Plotz and the Boss and Dorn were the only ones that counted.”