Down to a Sunless Sea

9 The Flight

While the older scientist went to order Agila to pack their gear as unobtrusively as possible, Brant sauntered casually over to the other tents to inform the women of this decision.

Zuarra listened without comment, and nodded grim agreement. She did not question the urgency of the problem, neither did she bother to remark on the risk and danger involved in flight.

Suoli, of course, was timid and reluctant, and needed more reassurance than Brant felt inclined to give.

“Listen,” he said roughly, “I can’t make any guarantees! Sure, we’re taking a big chance, but we’re already in trouble and this looks like the best, maybe the only, way out.”

“But to leave the tents!” the little woman wailed, wringing her soft plump hands. “In the night we will freeze—!”

“So we bundle together for warmth, or look for a cave where we can set up one of the heaters. We don’t have much choice in the matter, don’t you understand?”

Zuarra spoke up. “Is it that you intend abandoning your f’yagha energy barrier, when we ride out?” she asked. Brant nodded somberly.

“Too much of a problem dismantling it,” he pointed out. “Too much chance of them seeing us at it, and realizing what we’re going to do.”

“Then wherever we make camp, we will be in danger of beasts,” said Zuarra.

Brant shrugged impatiently.

“So we’ll take turns standing guard!” he growled. “C’mon, we’re wasting time—pack your stuff. Since we’re all going to have to ride, we can’t load down the lopers. Bring bedding, all the food, and the pressure-still. Leave everything else.”

With those curt words, he strode out of the tent to pack his own gear.

Thirty minutes later they were riding across the sands.

The lopers hadn’t had much work to do recently, and were fresh and well-rested. Doubling up in the saddle was uncomfortable, but there was no alternative. If one or another of them had to travel on foot, the pace of their flight would be slowed.

Suoli cast a wistful backward glance at the dim lights in the warm tents, and began sobbing breathlessly to herself. Save for her muffled weeping, they rode in silence.

It was Brant’s plan to strike out at angles from the cliffwall, and ride some considerable distance into the dustlands. This would make it exceedingly difficult for the watchers on the ridge to spot them, for the moaning winds of Mars had carved the fine, dustlike powder into rolling dunes taller than a grown man.

When they had gone far enough to his liking, they angled directly south and followed the curving line of the now-distant cliffs.

As far as they could tell, the unknown watchers had not discovered their quarry to be in flight. Probably (grinned Brant sourly to himself) they were huddled in uncomfortable slumber on the cold rock far above, envying those in the encampment below, whom they assumed sleeping cozily in the insulated tents.

Well, come morning, they were in for a surprise.

Brant was almost sorry that the watchers had not discovered their plan and begun firing, for it would be a vast relief to know just what the watchers intended. However, the ink-black darkness had concealed their furtive departure from the watchful eyes above and it did not seem likely that their absence would be discovered before morning.

There was one problem which bothered him and made him a trifle uneasy. And that was, quite simply, that in order to leave the encampment they had been forced to switch off the power fence. There was no alternative to this, for the lopers would have suffered from the energy-laden wires when they rode over them as much as would beasts of prey, for whom the energy fence was designed. But if a predator should choose to enter the camp during the night, to rip open the tents in search of food, surely the rumpus would attract the attention of the watchers, and their flight would be known.

Brant shrugged the problem aside. “The hell with it,” he grumbled to himself. “You can’t take every damn precaution— and maybe our luck will hold.”

By this time they had put several miles between them and the abandoned camp, and the lopers were weary of laboring through the talcum-fine dust. So Brant headed in to the shelter of the cliffs, where rock outcroppings and pulverized shale would give the beasts easier footing, and enable them to make better time.

It was his intention to ride all night long, and then, when morning came, to hole up somewhere, seeking shelter in the side of the cliffs, where caves and crevices could easily be found. He just hoped that these wouldn’t already be affording shelter to rock dragons or something even bigger, more powerful and more dangerous. But, as he’d just decided, you have to take some risks.

Zuarra was sharing the saddle with him, as she disdained to ride with Agila. For all the danger of their precipitous night ride, and all the various hazards and problems he had on his mind, Brant could not help feeling uncomfortably aware of the proximity of her body to his.

Her hair held a faint trace of perfume—bitter, musky, a dry, spicelike scent that reminded him vaguely of cinnamon.

Her arms were tightly wound about his waist, for she was riding behind him so that he could more easily handle the reins. So close was her embrace, that even through his clothing he could feel the soft pressure of her firm breasts nuzzling into his back.

He tried not to notice that her smooth thigh was pressed against his leg, and that her warm breath panted against his nape. But Brant was only a man, not a priest or a saint, and the warm closeness of their bodies aroused hungers within him, as did the delicious fragrance of her hair.

Muttering an uncomfortable curse, he moved his big shoulders restively, trying to turn his attention to other matters.

It is doubtful whether Zuarra could have understood his words, for they were in English. But women possess certain instincts, and in the windy dark she smiled a slow little smile to herself, understanding the cause of his irritable agitation.

The night seemed endless, and as they swayed in the saddle to the rhythm of the beast’s awkward gait, they found themselves being lulled into sleep. Brant almost fell from the saddle at one point, but Zuarra’s grasp restrained him, and he straightened, stiffening his back, forcing sleepiness from his mind by an act of will.

The lopers themselves were beginning to founder by this time, for the beasts were unaccustomed to being driven for so long at their best pace. Eventually, and with reluctance, Brant had to give the signal to slow down and let the beasts canter at an easier pace, to conserve their vigor.

Dawn took them all by surprise. On this harsh desert world, where the air is incredibly thin, sunrise does not advertise its coming by the slow brightening of light, as it does on Earth, with its thicker, more humid atmosphere. No, dawn is like a vast, silent explosion, which comes upon you with no advance warnings.

One moment they were riding through pitch-black gloom. And, in the next instant of time, daylight flooded the sky and they blinked sleepy eyes against the unexpected brilliance.

Brant pulled up and let Zuarra dismount. Then he got down from the saddle himself, stretching weary legs with a jaw-cracking yawn.

“We’ll take a brief rest stop here,” he advised the others. After a long night spent in the saddle, they were all thankful for an opportunity to relieve their bladders.

Brant and Harbin scanned the ridgeline narrowly, through powerful binoculars, but nowhere could they discern the slightest sign of the unknown watchers. That was one problem off Brant’s mind, at least.

“How far do you think we traveled, Doc?” inquired Brant, wetting his lips with a drink from his canteen. The scientist pursed his lips and hazarded a guess.

Brant grunted. “Better than I could have hoped,” he said. “Well, we’re all worn out, and the lopers are in bad shape. What say we find a place to hole up and get some shut-eye?”

“I could use some,” admitted Harbin with a rueful grin. “Not as young as I used to be… .”

Brant chuckled at that. “You’re made out of whipcord and steel wire, and you know it,” he quipped. “Matter of fact, you look like you’re in better shape than I am.”

This part of the shoreline of the prehistoric continent was grooved and worn into deep gullies, and it didn’t take the travelers very long to find a snug cave. Fortunately, although the crusted droppings suggested it had once served as a rock dragon’s lair, the beast was no longer in residence, and had not been for many years.

The women unrolled the bedding and Harbin asked the younger man as to the wisdom of mounting guard.

Brant stifled another huge yawn, and shook his head blearily, “Naw, I don’t think so. They’re just now realizing we skipped out last night, and have no way of knowing which way we rode, or how far we went. It’ll be quite a while before they catch up to us, that is, if they bother with pursuit. And that shale we were riding over most of the night won’t show tracks.”

They went to bed and almost instantly fell asleep.