Star Guard

13. Life or Death Trade

Po'ult rose out of the sea abruptly — the toothed rock walls of the island's rim lifting vertically from the sea without any softening fringe of beach. And on the crest of those walls were no signs of buildings.

Having afforded its passengers a single good look at the island the ship submerged until even the conning tower was under water. The Terrans were led down close to the keel, to wedge themselves into a smaller craft with two of the Venturi. Vibration sang in the walls of that tiny boat but there was no other indication that they had left the parent vessel.

Kana tensed. The sensation of being confined far below the surface of the sea oppressed him. But their voyage did not last long and when the hatch was raised they were in an underground port, a large-scale copy of the subcellar landing place back on the continent.

They saw but little of the Venturi city, being taken along passages chiseled through the native rock to a room near the top of the cliff, one side of which was transparent. Their guide withdrew and Kana went over to that window, craving the feeling of freedom it gave.

"Volcano crater," Hansu observed.

The center of the island was a cup, its walls terraced and planted, a grove of trees extending into a miniature woodland in the depth of the hollow. But there were no signs of buildings.

"But where — "

The Blademaster looked beyond the peaceful carpet of vegetation to the crater walls.

"We're in their city now," he explained. "They've hollowed out the cliffs — "

In a moment Kana saw the evidences of that — the regular openings in the rock which must equal such windows as the one before which he now stood.

"What a scheme!" he marveled. "Even a bomber would have a hard time putting this out of commission — unless it dropped hot stuff — "

At the corner of the Blademaster's jaw a tiny muscle pulled tight.

"When the law is broken once, it can be easily fractured again."

"Use hot stuff?" Kana's horrified amazement was genuine. He could accept the enmity of the Mechs, even the struggle for power backed in some mysterious way by Central Control Agents, but the thought of turning to nuclear weapons against — ! Terra had learned too bitter a lesson in the Big Blow-up and the wars which followed. Those had occurred a thousand years ago but they had scarred the memories of his species for all time. He could not conceive of a Terran using nukes — it was so unnatural that it made his head reel.

"We've had evidence enough that this is not just a Mech plot," Hansu pointed out relentlessly. "We may be conditioned against hot stuff because of our past history — but others aren't. And we daren't overlook any possibility — "

That was an axiom of the corps he should have remembered. Never overlook any possibility, be prepared for any change in prospects — in the balance of force against force.

"War Lord" — one of the frog people had come up silently behind them — "the Masters would speak with you."

No hospitality had been offered them before that meeting, Kana noted, disturbed, no gesture made which could be termed friendly. He fell a step behind the Blademaster and stood at attention as they entered a room where four Venturi, their robes laid aside, awaited them.

The soft fabric of their short tunics was a somber blue-purple and there were gems set in their belts and in the broad bracelets they wore encircling all four upper limbs. At some distance squatted a fifth, writing pen in one hand and a block of the mirror stuff on the floor before him.

A single seat pad was placed facing the court and Hansu took his seat there, Kana standing behind him.

"We have been informed of what you wish." The Ventur whose tunic boasted a symbol stitched upon its breast opened the meeting without ceremony. "You wish a place of refuge for your men until you can make contact with your superiors off-world. Why should we be interested in what happens to interlopers, introduced on Fronn through no fault of ours? And since you are now being hunted by the Llor and these new allies of theirs, it might mean that in giving you sanctuary we would bring upon us the wrath of those at Tharc."

"Does not a state of war already exist between you and Tharc?" countered Hansu. "When we crossed the mountains we were met by a party of Llor driven off from an attack on the Landing. From them we rescued one of your men."

The frog-man's broad face displayed no emotion the Terrans could read.

"The Venturi do not war, they trade. And when it is not time to trade, when the world is disturbed, we withdraw until the mainland is sane again. So has it been in the past and that system has always worked to our advantage."

"But before did the Llor ever ally with those who could bring war through the air? Perhaps Po'ult cannot be captured from the sea — but what if you are attacked from above, Master of Many Ships?"

"You have no machine which can ride the wind, are these others then more powerful than you?"

"They are ones who have been trained in a different mode of making war. And it is against our custom for them to use that warfare upon such a world as Fronn. With the weapons they have they can make themselves master of this whole planet if they wish. Do you think that your withdrawal will avail you if that is their plan? One by one they shall search out your island strongholds and rain destruction upon you from the air. They may even bring to subdue you the burning death — which is a weapon forbidden to all living creatures — a weapon so terrible that its use once wrecked my own world and sent my race back to barbarism for centuries. For" — Hansu repeated the warning he had voiced to Kana earlier — "when the law is once broken, it is easily fractured again. These renegades have broken our law by coming to Fronn, and from that they may go on to worse things — "

"If you do not fight as do these others, then why or how could you be of service to us?"

"Just this — " Hansu held himself stiffly erect, braced as if facing an enemy charge. "The news of what has occurred here must be carried to our first rank Masters. Only they have the power to deal with these outlaws. And that message must be carried by one to whom they will listen. Give my men refuge and I, myself, will take the message off-world. And I promise you that when I am heard by our inner Council there shall be a reckoning and Fronn shall be cleansed. So that here off-world men shall be forbidden to land — as has happened on other planets — and you shall be left to manage your affairs as you wish. Do you not know that there are those who do not wish to see the trade of Fronn only Venturi trade? They would help the Llor to break you as they would a rotten stick for a night campfire — for the Llor are ignorant of the mysteries of your craft and those from off-world would speedily take it all into their own hands — to hold forever! You have never welcomed the alien traders and they would be free of your restrictions."

Was the Blademaster making an impression? Kana could not tell. And his hopes sank when the spokesman of the Masters answered:

"You say much which we must consider in council. Be thou becalmed in our waters this night — "

That last had the flavor of some formula of hospitality. And the Terrans discovered that it meant escort to a room overlooking the valley where two of the treasured smoke braziers filled the air with spicy scent. One of the Masters came in, followed by a lesser trader bearing a tray on which were set out three cups and a ewer. The Master poured out a small measure of the same liquid Kana had been given in the hidden room, and proffered the cups to the Combatants with his own hands. Again Kana sipped the icy stuff and felt it seep through him, bringing once more the heightened senses, the alertness of mind and body. The ceremonial drink was borne away and small tables set up on which were laid a series of dishes, none containing more than a mouthful or so of that particular viand.

"These foods have been exported off-world," the Master assured them. "They can be safely eaten by those of your species."

The Terrans ate, thankful for the change from rations, finding the subtle flavors intriguing. The Venturi were artists in food, striving for strange effects — substances were hot and cold at the same time, a sharp sour was followed by a bland sweet, the whole blending into a feeling of gastronomic content such as Kana, for one, had never before experienced.

"Your city is well concealed." Hansu gestured toward the bucolic scene in the crater valley.

"The plan was not intended to conceal," corrected the Master. "When our far-off ancestors first crawled from water to land they lived in caves within the cliffs of these sea islands. So, instead of building in the open, our race built within the land — for it is our nature to wish our living space to be enclosed and close to water. As our intelligence and civilization grew our cities became such as Po'ult. We are uncomfortable on the dry plains of the large continents — each of us must serve his apprenticeship there as a duty but he is joyful when he may return to his home island. Are you of a race which lives in the open as do the Llor?"

Hansu nodded, and began to describe Terra, her blue skies, green hills, and open, changeable seas.

"Tell me, since you appear to be one who thinks upon matters beyond his duties for the day, why do you sell your skill to war? You are not barbarian as are the Llor, who are a young race. You must come of an old people, perhaps older than we. Why have you not realized that what you do is a waste, a negation of growth and good?"

"We are born with a will to struggle, a desire to match our strength against that of others. Among our kind when that inner urge is stilled the tribe or nation which has lost it declines. We broke into outer space — and that was a struggle and goal which absorbed us for centuries — we were eager for the stars. But we discovered that space was not ours — that there we were deemed as young and barbaric as the Llor. There were many races and species before us and they had fashioned a code of law and order to control newcomers. Those who exercised that control judged us and ruled that we were, because of our temperaments, unfit for space except within the boundaries they set. Since it was in our nature to fight, we were to provide the mercenaries for other planets. We were geared to that service, a small piece fitted into their pattern. And so it is with us — the price we must pay for the stars since there is this guard upon the stellar lanes."

"To me that does not sound like an equal bargain," commented their host. "And when any bargain is uneven, there comes a day when it will be declared no bargain and he who has been defrauded will go elsewhere to trade. Does the time come when you of Terra will go elsewhere?"

"Perhaps. And what happens here on Fronn may decide that."

"May your trading be even, the profit good!"

"May your ships ever return filled from far voyaging." Hansu made the proper answer as the Master left them.

The Combatants were not summoned to attend the Masters again that day. Soon the storm closed in for a second prolonged buffeting and the window through which they watched the crater was obscured most of the time by foam and flying debris caught up by the gusts.

"D'you think we have a chance?" Kana ventured to interrupt the silence as Hansu stared into the wildness without.

"At least they're now giving us the attention due honored guests. When they fed us they acknowledged equality. And when you win one point you have advanced that far. But their logic is not ours. We cannot deduce what they are going to do by what we would do in their place. You, as an AL man, should know that. This is your first enlistment?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why did you try for AL rating?"

"I liked the basic course, sir. There was a Zacathan instructor — he made me think a lot. And the way his mind worked fascinated me. Through him I met other X-Tees. So I signed for specialization testing and I passed the prelim. It isn't too popular a course — too many extra hours. But — well, sir — it never really seemed like work to me. And visiting around in the X-Tee quarters was more interesting than taking town leave — at least I liked it better though we weren't encouraged to — "

"Make off-world friends, no. Just to learn the minimum enabling us to get around on other planets — I know!"

"Deke said something like that once, sir," mused Kana. "That Central Control had a mental picture of us and it was so well established that they didn't see the real Terrans at all — "

"Mills knew what he was talking about. We're breaking law and custom right now — daring to treat with these Venturi on our own. And it's about time we did more of this."

When Kana curled up on the pads for sleep he left the Blademaster still brooding by the window. Outside the night was a black whirlwind but here the roar was the faintest of murmurs.

In the morning they were shown a bathing place with a pool of sea water deep enough for swimming. And afterward they dined again lavishly. Their visit with the council did not come until mid-morning.

"We have considered this problem," the foremost Master began when the Blademaster had taken his seat, "and your argument has within it many points with which we must agree. However, the future is always chance. We cannot transport your men here, our economy is a tight one, our space limited — we could not house such a number of off-world beings for an indefinite period. We cannot, in fact, use sea transport at all, except for short intervals, until the peak storms of this season are over. But then, neither can your enemy move against you. Therefore you have about ten dytils in which to study the situation and make your plans. At the end of that time, if you can see a chance to get off-world with your message, we agree to transport your men, not here to Po'ult, but to a larger island south of here, farther asea, on which we pasture our caravan guen during the stormy season. We will undertake, moreover, to supply your men with food and instructions in the art of netting such sea creatures as they may safely devour."

"And in return you ask of us?"

"And in return we ask your word that you will speak with your Masters so that off-world men be forbidden to land on Fronn to fight our battles. And that those who may come be granted that right only after the Venturi has had their application and know the purpose for which they wish to visit us. We do not wish Fronn to become tributary to another world, or be possessed by some trading combine of distant stars."

"To this I agree, not only as a bargain, but because it is what I believe myself," Hansu retorted. "We return now to the Landing?"

"Within two light periods of this dytil there will be a second lull. Then you shall return, and with you one of our Those-who-talk-for-many to be a link with us across the distance. Fair winds and a good profit to you, Lord of Many Swords."

"And to you, Master of Ten Thousand Ships, a smooth sea."

The lull which gave opportunity for their return to the Landing came at last and was longer than the previous one. In fact, the calm continued so long after their arrival on the main continent that, had it not been for the advice of the Venturi communications expert, the Terrans might have made the mistake of trying to reach the space field. But his warning kept them close to the buildings and the predictions he made were fulfilled when a scream arose out of the dark, whistling above the thud of waves on the shore — the opening cry of a new storm.

"We have received no off-world signals from any starship." The Ventur sipped at a drink made from Terran ration pellets dissolved in water. "It is the belief of the Masters that none may planet here again. Why should they? If Tharc is now open to their use and the Llor encourage them to think that in the future they shall not have to deal with us — why then should they come here?"

"True enough." Hansu swallowed the warm broth.

"And if there is no chance of finding a ship here, you will make other plans?"

"We may have to go to Tharc."

The frog-man had no eyebrows to raise, but he did radiate polite incredulity. Only courtesy kept him from asking how that was to be done. But Hansu did not volunteer any explanation.

The storm did not last as long as the previous one and Kana knew that the series of such strong blows was now on the wane. It was noon on the following day when the Ventur announced that it was safe to go into the open. The Combatants were eager to get out, to draw the chill fresh salt air into their lungs and poke about in the curious rubbish the winds had piled against corners of the warehouse courts.

A shout from the farthest-ranging exploring party brought all those within earshot. Jammed at a crazy angle between outlying buildings, where none of the Horde had been stationed, was the mashed wreckage of a machine — looking as if some giant had caught it up and wrung it around as a man might a wet under-tunic.

"A crawler — that's a crawler!" the awed voice of its discoverer repeated. And, while no one disputed him, they could hardly believe the evidence of their own eyes.

A crawler — not as large as a land fortress certainly, but in its way as formidable a piece of mechanized war machinery — to be so mangled and tossed here as if it were constructed of straw.

The outer hatch was open, forced straight up by the impact, and now Kosti climbed up the battered metal shell to look in. When he pulled out of the hole his face was greenish beneath its tan and he swallowed convulsively.

"She — she had a full crew on board — " he reported. Thereafter no one was in any hurry to join him at his vantage point.

"How many?" Hansu appeared below and started to climb.

Unwillingly Kosti peered into the wrecked crawler for the second time. His lips moved as he counted.

" — four — five — six. Six, sir."

Hansu called down over his shoulder, "Larsen, Bogate, Vedic, lend a hand. We want them out."

Reluctantly the men he had summoned scaled the mound of the tipped crawler as the Blademaster lowered himself into the machine. Even when they had the grisly job complete and the six bodies were laid out in the nearest shelter Hansu did not seem satisfied.

Five were Mechs and the Blademaster carefully studied their service armlets. But the sixth, though he wore the uniform of a veteran Mechmaster, was alien. And Hansu stood staring down at his crumpled form for a long minute after he arose from searching the torn and stained clothing.

"Sarm," he said so low that if Kana had not been at his elbow he would not have caught the word at all. "Sarm!"

And his bald astonishment at that identification would have been the reaction of any Terran. Of all the Galactic races the Sarm from Sarmak would be the least likely to associate with the mercenaries they held in the deepest contempt as barbarians. They were not openly rude about it as were the Ageratans or the Dzaraneans, they merely ignored Combatants. Yet here was a Sarm, in a Mech uniform, perhaps in command of a Mech crawler —

"Sir — "

Hansu was shaken out of his trance by the urgent summons from Kosti now hanging half out of the plundered machine. "What — ?"

"Cargo aboard her, sir. Looks like arms — "

The dead Sarmakan was left to himself as not only the Blademaster but every man within hearing hurried back to the side of the wreck. Larsen appeared in the hatch, handing through a box which Kosti lowered to the pavement. They clustered in a circle while Hansu squatted down to break the sealing with his sword-knife.

Inside, rolled in oiled fabric, was a series of bundles. And the Blademaster lost no time in freeing the first of its wrappings. As the last strip of stuff dropped away he held, plain to their recognition, a flamer of Galactic design.

"How many more boxes inside?" he asked Kosti in a flat voice.

"Three, sir."

Hansu arose. There was a bleak look on his face. But a grim determination overrode other emotion.

"Any way of telling where this thing was when the storm hit?" he asked Kosti. "Do these operate on route tapes the way a ship does?"

"I don't think so, sir. It has manual controls. But I can check — " He edged back into the crawler.

"Pretty far from Tharc, sir." Larsen broke the quiet. "And a scout wouldn't be hauling cargo — "

"Just so." But Hansu had already turned to the Ventur who witnessed the whole scene curiously from the doorway of the warehouse. "You're sure no spacer planeted near here?"

"None at the place we have used. Our mirrors of seeing would have told us — "

"And there is no other landing space within a day's travel? This crawler was carrying cargo. It would not have been carrying arms away from Tharc — not in the windy season. But it might have been trying to reach there from a ship which planeted elsewhere."

The Ventur's nod agreed to the logic in that. "This is a heavy and well-built machine. Those within it, if they did not know the full fury of our winds, might believe themselves safe in its belly. It is true that so they might try to travel to Tharc. But it is equally true that those in Tharc — where the Llor know well the strength of the winds and would warn them — would not venture forth. Let me signal the Masters. It may well be that a ship has made a landing elsewhere."

He vanished into the building. And a few moments later Kosti brought discouraging news from the machine.

"They were on manuals when they smashed up, sir. No tapes. But I don't think she was scouting. The heavy guns were all still under wraps — two of them in storage cradles. She might just have come off a ship and they were driving her in."

"Why not land at Tharc?" Hansu mused. He brought his balled fist down on the edge of the broken caterpillar tread by his shoulder. "I want every bit of her cargo, everything on the bodies of her crew, anything which may give us a clue, brought over to headquarters. And I want it done now!"