Mission of Gravity

XII: WIND RIDERS

Much of what had happened had been seen from Toorey; the radio sets, like most of the less prominent articles about the Bree’s deck, had remained lashed in position. Not much had been distinguishable, of course, while the vessel had been whirling in the brief maelstrom; but her present situation was painfully clear. None of the people in the screen room could find anything helpful to say.

The Mesldinites could say little, either. They were used to ships on dry land, since that happened fairly often during late summer and fall as the seas receded in their own latitudes; but they were not accustomed to have it happen so suddenly, and to have so much high ground between them and the ocean. Barlennan and the mate, taking stock of the situation, found little to be thankful for.

They still had plenty of food, though that in the canoe had vanished. Dondragmer took occasion to point out the superiority of rafts, neglecing to mention that the supplies in the canoe had been tied down carelessly or not at all owing to a misplaced confidence in the high sides of the boat. The little vessel itself was still at the end of its towline, and still undamaged. The wood of which it had been made shared the springiness of the low-growing plants of the higher latitudes. The Bree herself, constructed of similar materials though in much less yielding form, was also intact, though the story might have been different had there been many rocks in the wall of the round valley. She was and had remained right side up, owing to her construction — Barlennan admitted that point without waiting for the mate to bring it up. The complaints were not in any way connected with lack of ship or supplies, but with lack of an ocean to float them on.

“The surest way would be to take her apart, as we did before, and carry her over the hills. They’re not very steep, and there still isn’t enough weight to matter.” Barlennan made this suggestion after long thought.

“You’re probably right,? Captain; but wouldn’t it save time to separate the rafts only lengthwise, so that we have rows the full length of the ship? We could carry or drag those over to the stream, and surely they’d float before we went down very far.” Hars, now his former self after his encounter with the rock, made this suggestion.

“That sounds promising. Hars, why don’t you find out just how far down that would be? The rest can start unlashing as Hars suggested, and unloading where we have to. Some of the cargo will be in the way of the lashings, I’m afraid.”

“I wonder if the weather is still too bad for those flying machines?” Dondragmer asked, of no one in particular. Barlennan glanced upward.

“The clouds are still low and the wind high,” he said. “If the Flyers are right — and they ought to know, I should think — the weather is still too bad. However, it won’t hurt to look up occasionally. I rather hope we see one again.”

“One I wouldn’t much mind myself,” replied the mate dryly. “I suppose you want a glider to add to the canoe. I’ll tell you right now that I might, in extremity, get into the canoe, but the day I climb onto one of those flying machines will be a calm winter morning with both suns in the sky.” Barlennan did not answer; he had not consciously considered adding a glider to his collection, but the idea rather struck his fancy. As for flying in it — well, changed as he was, there were limits.

The Flyers reported clearing weather, and the clouds obediently thinned over the next few days. Greatly improved though the flying weather was, few crew members thought to watch the sky. All were too busy. Hars’s plan had proved feasible, the stream being deep enough for the rafts only a few hundred yards toward the sea and wide enough for a single raft very little farther down. Barlennan’s statement that the additional weight would mean little proved wrong; every component was twice as heavy as it had been where they last saw Lackland, and they were not accustomed to lifting anything. Powerful as they were, the new gravity taxed their hoisting abilities to the point where it was necessary to unload the rafts before the rows of little platforms could be nartlv carried and dragged to the stream. Once they were

partly immersed, the going was much simpler; and after a digging squad had widened the banks up to the point nearest the Bree’s resting place the job became almost easy. Not too many hundred days passed before the long, narrow string of rafts, reloaded, was being towed once more toward the sea.

The flying machines appeared just after the ship had entered that portion of the stream where its walls were steepest, shortly before it emptied into the lake. Karondrasee saw them first; he was on board at the time, preparing food while the others pulled, and his attention was freer than theirs. His hoot of alarm roused Earthmen and Mesklinites alike, but the former as usual could not see the approaching visitors since the vision sets were not aimed high enough.

Barlennan saw all too clearly, however. There were eight of the gliders, traveling fairly close together but by no means in tight formation. They-came straight on, riding the updraft on the leeward side of the little valley until they were almost over the ship; then they changed course to pass in front of her. As each swooped overhead, it released an object, turned, and swung back to the lee side to recover its altitude.

The falling objects were distinct enough; every sailor could see that they were spears, very much hike those the river dwellers had used but with much heavier tips. For a moment the old terror of falling objects threatened to send the crew into hysteria; then they saw that the missiles would not strike them, but fall some distance in front. A few seconds later the gliders swooped again, and the sailors cowered in expectation of an improved aim; but the spears fell in about the same place. With the third pass it became evident that their aim was deliberate; and presently their purpose became apparent. Every projectile had fallen in the still narrow stream, and penetrated more than half its length into the firm clay bottom; by the end of the third run, two dozen stakes formed by the spear handles were effectually blocking the ship’s passage downstream.

As the Bree approached the barricade, the bombardment stopped. Barlennan had thought it might be continued to prevent their approaching and clearing the obstacle away, but when they reached it they found tibis to be superfluous. The spears were there to stay; they had been dropped from nearly a hundred feet with superlative aim in a field of seven gravities, and nothing short of power machinery was going to extract them. Terblannen and Hars proved that in five minutes of fruitless upward tugging.

“Can’t you cut them?” Lackland asked from his distant observation point. “Those pincers of yours are pretty powerful, as I know.”

“These are wood, not metal,” Barlennan replied. “We would need one of your hard metal saws, which you claimed would attack even our wood — unless you have some machine for pulling them out.”

“You must have tools which will cut it; how do you do repair work on your ship? The rafts certainly didn’t grow in that shape.”

“Our cutting took are Snade of animal teeth set in strong frames, and most of them are not very portable. What we have we will use, but I doubt that we’ll be given time to do much.”

“I should think you could keep attackers away by fire.”

“We can, if they come from downwind. I find it hard to imagine their being that stupid.” Lackland fell silent, while the crew fell to work on the stakes with such edged tools as they could find. Their personal knives were of hardwood and would make no impression on the spears, but as Barlennan had intimated, there were a few bone and ivory cutters, and these began to chip away at the incredibly tough wood. Digging was also attempted by some of the crew who lacked tools; they took turns in sinking to the bottom of the inches-deep brook, working the clay loose, and letting its particles wash away in the sluggish current. Dondragmer watched these workers for a time, then pointed out that it would probably be easier to dig a canal around the obstruction than to grub out two dozen sticks from a depth of some four feet. This suggestion was eagerly adopted by the members of the crew who had nothing to cut with, and work progressed at a remarkable rate.

The gliders kept circling while all this was going on; apparently they either remained overnight or were replaced by others during the minutes of darkness — no one could tell which. Barlennan kept a sharp watch on the hills to either side of the stream, expecting ground forces to appear at any moment; but for a long time his own crew and the gliders formed the only moving parts of the scenery. The crews of the gliders themselves remained invisible; no one could even tell how many or what sort of creatures rode in the machines, though both human beings and Mesklinites had come to take more or less for granted that they belonged to Barlennan’s race. They showed no evident anxiety about the sailors’ digging activities, but it became apparent finally that the excavation had not gone unnoticed. The job was about three quarters finished when they took action; another series of bombing runs left the path of the new waterway as completely staked off as the original. As before, pains were apparently taken to avoid transfixing any of the crew. The action, however, was about as discouraging as if it had been a personal assault; quite evidently the digging process was useless, since the work of days could be nullified in a matter of minutes. Some other line of procedure must be devised.

At the Earthmen’s advice, Barlennan had long since ordered his men not to gather in large groups; but now he drew them in toward the ship, establishing a loose cordon parallel to the string of rafts on each side of the creek. The men were far enough apart so there was no really tempting target from above, and close enough to support each other in case an attack actually developed. There they stayed; Barlennan wished it made evident that the next move was up to the personnel of the gliders. They failed to make it, however, for several more days.

Then a dozen more of the flimsy craft appeared in the distance, swooped overhead, split into two groups, and landed on the hilltops to either side of the imprisoned ship. The landings were made as the Flyers had foretold, into the wind; the machines skidded to a stop in a few feet from their point of touchdown. Four beings emerged from each, leaped to the wings, and hastily tied the gliders down, using the local bushes as anchors. What had been assumed all along now proved to be a fact; they were identical in form, size, and coloring with the sailors of the Bree.

Once the gliders were secured, their crews proceeded to set up a collapsible structure upwind from them, and attach cords equipped with hooks to this. They appeared to be measuring quite carefully the distance from this device to the nearest glider. Only when this task was completed did they pay any attention to the Bree or her crew. A single prolonged wail that sounded from one hilltop to the other apparently served as a signal that the work was complete.

Then the glider crews on the leeward hill began to descend the slope. They did not leap, as they had during the action subsequent to landing, but crawled in the caterpillarlike fashion which was the only means of locomotion Barlennan’s people had known prior to his exploration of the Rim. In spite of this they made good speed and were within reasonable throwing distance — as several of the more pessimistic sailors regarded it — by sundown. They stopped at that point and waited for the night to pass; there was just enough light from the moons for each party to see that the other did nothing suspicious. With the coming of sunlight the advance was resumed, and eventually terminated with one of the newcomers only a yard or so from the nearest sailor, while his companions hung a few feet farther back. None of the party seemed to be armed, and Barlennan went to meet them, first ordering two sailors to swing one of the vision sets so that it pointed directly at the place of meeting.

The glider pilot wasted no time, but began speaking as soon as Barlennan stopped in front of him. The captain failed to understand a word. After a few sentences the speaker appeared to realize this; he paused and after a moment continued at somewhat slower speed in what Barlennan judged to be a different language. To save the time that a random search through the tongues known to the other would consume, Barlennan this time indicated his lack of comprehension verbally. The other shifted languages once more, and rather to his surprise Barlennan heard his own speech, uttered slowly and badly pronounced, but quite comprehensible.

“It is long since I have heard your tongue spoken,” the other said. “I trust I can still be understood when I use it. Do you follow me?”

“I can understand you perfectly well,” replied Barlennan.

“Good. I am Reejaaren, linguist for Marreni, who is Officer of the Outer Ports. I am ordered to find out who you are and where you are from, and your purpose in sailing the seas about these islands.”

“We are on a trading journey, with no particular destination.” Barlennan had no intention of talking about his connection with the creatures of another world. “We did not know of the existence of these islands; we simply were heading away from the Rim, of which we had had enough. If you wish to trade with us we are willing to do business; if not, we ask only to be allowed to continue our journey.”

“Our ships and gliders trade on these seas — we have never seen others,” replied Reejaaren. “I fail to understand one point. The trader far to the south from whom I learned your language said that he came from a country that lay on the farther side of a sea across the western continent. We know that there is no sea passage from that ocean to this between here and the ice; yet you were sailing from the north when we first sighted you. That would suggest that you were quartering back and forth through these seas in deliberate search of land. How does that square with your story? We do not like spies.”

“We came from the north, after crossing the land between this ocean and ours.” Barlennan had no time to think up a convincing lie, though he realized that the truth was likely to be unbelievable. Reejaaren’s expression showed that he was right.

“Your ship was obviously built with large tools, which

you do not have. That means a shipyard, and there is none to the north on this ocean. Do you want me to believe you took her apart and dragged her across that much land?”

“Yes.” Barlennan felt that he saw his way out.

“How?”

“How do you fly? Some would find that much harder to believe.” The question was not quite as good a one as Barlennan had hoped, judging by the interpreter’s reaction.

“I am sure you do not expect me to tell you that. Mere trespassers we may tolerate; but spies receive much harder treatment.”

The captain covered up as well as he could. “I did not expect you to tell me. I was simply pointing out as tactfully as possible that perhaps you should not have asked me how we crossed the land barrier.”

“Oh, but I should — and must. You do not yet seem to realize your position, stranger. What you think of me is unimportant; but what I think of you counts a great deal. To put it simply, to leave here as you desire you will have to convince me that you are harmless.”

“But what harm could we do you — the crew of a single ship? Why should you fear us so?”

“We do not fear you” The answer was sharp and emphatic. “The damage you could do is obvious — one person, let alone a shipload, could take away information which we do not wish to give. We realize, of course, that the barbarians could not learn the secret of flight unless it were very carefully explained to them; that is why I laughed at your question. Still, you should be more careful.”

Barlennan had not heard any laughter, and began to suspect a good deal about the interpreter and his people. A half-truth that seemed like yielding on Barlennan’s part would probably be the best move.

“We had much help pulling the ship across the land,” he said, putting a little sulleness in his tone.

“From the rock-rollers and river-dwellers? You must have a remarkably persuasive tongue. We have never received anything but missiles from them.” To Barlennan’s relief, Reejaaren did not pursue the subject any farther. He returned to more immediate matters.

“So you desire to bade with us, now that you are here. What have you to trade? And I suppose you wish to go to one of our cities?” Barlennan sensed the trap, and answered accordingly.

“We will trade here, or anywhere else you desire, though we would rather not go any farther from the sea. All we have to trade at the moment is a load of foods from the

isthmus, which you doubtless have in great quantity already because of your flying machines.”

“Food can usually be sold,” the interpreter replied non-committally. “Would you be willing to do your trading before you got any closer to the sea?”

“If necessary, as I said, though I don’t see why it should be necessary. Your flying machines could catch us before we got very far, if we tried to leave the coast before you wanted, couldn’t they?” Reejaaren might have been losing his suspicions up to this point, but the last question restored them in full force.

“Perhaps we could, but that is not for me to say. Marreni will decide, of course, but I suspect you might as well plan on lightening your ship here. There will be port fees, of course, in any case.”

“Port fees? This is no port, and I didn’t land here; I was washed up.”

“Nevertheless, foreign ships must pay port fees. I might point out that the amount is determined by ‘the Officer of the Outer Ports, and he will get much of his impression of you through me. A little more courtesy might be in order.” Bar-lennan restrained his temper with difficulty, but agreed aloud that the interpreter spoke the clearest truth. He said it at some length, and apparently moDified that individual to some extent. At any rate he departed without further threats, overt or implied.

Two of his fellows accompanied him; the other remained behind. Men from the other gliders hastily seized the two ropes attached to the collapsible framework and pulled. The cords stretched unbelievably, until their hooks were finally fastened to an attachment in the glider’s nose. The aircraft was then released and the ropes contracted to their original length, hurling the glider into the air. Barlennan instantly formed a heartfelt desire for some of that stretching rope. He said so, and Dondragmer sympathized. He had heard the entire conversation, and sympathized also with his captain’s feelings toward the linguist for the Officer of the Outer Ports.

“You know, Barl, I think we could put.that lad in his place. Want to try it?”

“I’d love to, but I don’t think we can afford to let him get mad at us until we’re good and far away. I don’t want him and his friends dropping their spears on the Bree now or any other time.”

“I don’t mean to make him angry, but afraid of us. ‘Barbarians’ — hell eat that word if I have to cook it personally for him. It all depends on certain things: do the Flyers know how — these gliders work, and will they tell us?”

“They probably know, unless they’ve had better ones for so long they’ve forgotten — ”

“So much the better, for what I have in mind.”

“— but I’m not sure whether they’ll tell. I think you know by now what I’m really hoping to get out of this trip; I want to learn everything I possibly can of the Flyers’ science. That’s why I want to get to that rocket of theirs near the Center; Charles himself said that it contained much of the most advanced scientific equipment they have. When we have that, there won’t be a pirate afloat or ashore who’ll be able to touch the Bree, and we’ll have paid our last port dues — we’ll be able to write our own menus from then on.”

“I guessed as much.”

“That’s why I wonder whether they’ll tell what you want; they may suspect what I’m after.”

“I think you’re too suspicious yourself. Have you ever asked for any of this scientific information you want to steal?”

“Yes; Charles always said it was too difficult to explain.”

“Maybe he was right; maybe he doesn’t know it himself. I want to ask one of his people about these gliders, anyway; I want to watch that Reejaaren grovel.”

“Just what is this idea of yours, anyway?”

Dondragmer told him, at length. The captain was dubious at first, but gradually grew more enthusiastic; and finally they went over to the radios together.