The Great Hydration

CHAPTER ELEVEN

No description by Karvass could have prepared Hrityu for the underground camp of the Artaxa.

They had travelled far from the World Market. Continuing to follow the Artaxa, whose prowed craft ploughed its way endlessly through the shifting sand, Hrityu had been almost disappointed not to encounter more Gaminte patrols—or even better, Crome warbands. He would have liked the chance to try out the weapon given him by the mysterious moss-headed stranger.

At length, a cluster of hills appeared in close formation, the sand having been blown off their peaks to reveal multi-hued ochre rock. Karvass steered his sand-boat on a winding course among them, losing himself to Hrityu’s view several times, until entering a box canyon. Hrityu was puzzled that he should make for so obvious a dead end; until he noticed, at the far end, a shadow cast by a broad overhanging shelf of rock.

Straight into that shadow plunged the sand-boat. More cautiously, Hrityu followed, coming to a halt on finding himself at the top of a wide bank which sloped dawn into underground darkness.

Karvass’s craft was already out of sight. Hrityu motivated his outer wheels again, setting off down the slope.

Soon he was in pitch blackness, carefully holding back his vehicle as it slid and slithered on loose shale. He did not know how far underground he was when a greenish glow appeared below him, slowly swelling into a steady, soft light. And then he was nearly at the bottom of the incline, looking down into a huge cavern.

And what a cavern! In the light streaming from radium lamps placed all round the curving walls, the roof was a great vault of massed down-jutting crystals of enormous size, many of them phosphorescing in response to the radiation and adding brilliant colours to the general illumination: purple, orange and ghostly yellow. On the floor of the cavern was as large a camp as any Hrityu had seen. Artaxa were present in large numbers, swirling in the ritual dances of their tribe, working at countless tasks, hammering at pieces of metal which, presumably, had been forged and smelted elsewhere, or shaping naturally occurring glass and crystal. Visible here and there were also the white sinuous forms of Sawune lizards. This was an odd sight. Hrityu had never witnessed close cooperation between humanoids and lizards before, leaving aside trade relations at the World Market.

That was not all. Also present were a number of black humanoids, lacking head crests. Toureen. Nussmussa must already have brought in his tribe as allies. Presumably they had brought the secret of eruptionite with them. Provided its ingredients were available close at hand, stocks of the violent mixture were no doubt already being built up.

Neither would it take Hrityu long to impart the secret of the long distance radiators. Essentially the device was simple; one need only understand the principle of its working, and what kind of resonating crystals to use. There was no time now, of course, to arrange negotiations with the elders of the Analane. For all he knew the Crome might at this very moment be launching their final attack on his home territory! It was urgent that he persuade the Artaxa to mount an expeditionary force almost immediately.

As he took in the incredible sight he saw that the giant cavity was in fact only the first of a series. On either side were arched openings leading to similar caverns. A shiver went through him. This was as impressive as the World Market, if not more so! Almost as impressive as the giant hydroriums in which the Tlixix lived! (Though he had never seen these and knew them only by repute; Gaminte patrols kept all other dehydrate tribes well away.)

He could truly believe in what the Artaxa proposed. The days of the Tlixix were numbered!

True, the thought cost him unwelcome feelings. He had been raised to revere the Tlixix. They were part of the world, like the deserts and the hills. To betray them, even not to obey them, were unthinkable concepts.

Until, that was, the Tlixix themselves betrayed the Analane!

He descended to the floor of the cavern and climbed out of his vehicle. Karvass approached accompanied by an elderly, venerable-looking Artaxa. Hrityu went through the name-exchanging ceremony. Then, at Karvass’s behest, pulled the cover off the pair of radiators.

Hrityu and Karvass spent some time trying to explain what the radiator could do. Finally, inspecting it at length with puzzled interest, the elder gestured his understanding.

“A remarkable invention, but where is its advantage to us?”

“It is not a weapon in itself,” Karvass admitted. “But it will be invaluable for coordinating strategy.”

The elder turned to Hrityu. “What is your price for the secret of this invention?”

“Assistance for my tribe, and immediately!” Hrityu said eagerly. “The Tlixix have given our enemies the Crome permission to effect our extermination, and this may in fact already be in process of commission!”

“Extermination?” the Artaxa repeated thoughtfully. “That is not a common policy, even for the Tlixix.”

“It may be that the Tlixix are recruiting the Crome for the same role as the Gamintes,” Karvass put in. “We were attacked by a mixed force on our way here.”

“All who join with the Tlixix are our enemies, all who join with us against the Tlixix are our friends,” the Artaxan elder exclaimed. He then said to Hrityu, “Do you pledge your tribe in alliance with us?”

“Even though I am not an elder, I believe I can promise that every Analane will be with you,” Hrityu said fervently. “If any survive!”

“Then our help is also pledged. How long will it take you to instruct our artisans in the manufacture and use of your device?”

“Not long—it must be done quickly, for I am determined to accompany your force and take part in the battle—with this!”

Hrityu pulled the beamer given him by ‘Roncie’ from his weapons belt, where it kept company with his three knives.

The elder stared at it with incomprehension.

Karvass spoke. He described the attack in the desert, and how a humanoid of an unknown type had come to their rescue, killing several of the attackers with the weapon Hrityu now possessed. He described, too, the tiny pavilion, and how uncomfortable they had been inside it, ‘like being in the Pavilion of Audience.’

“I wish to see this for myself,” the Artaxan elder pronounced. “Come with me.”

They followed him through the throng to the side of the cavern. Guards standing at the entrance of a narrow passage stood aside, then trooped after them as they entered it and emerged into a chamber which, like the passage itself, had obviously been carved from the rock by hand.

Here was yet another strange sight. Gamintes, stripped of weapons, were chained to the walls. Their glowing red eyes turned to the newcomers. The radium lamp fitted in the roof gave their silvery hair a greenish glow.

To see the favoured police force of the Tlixix in such a situation was a shock in itself. The Gamintes’ faces, too, showed their outrage that such a thing could happen to them, as well as their trepidation as to what their fate was to be. They were half starved, their bodies thin and wasted. That meant that they had been here for quite a long time. Energy-economical dehydrate bodies needed food only at infrequent intervals. Hrityu himself had eaten only once since leaving his home camp, although his wheeled vehicle carried plentiful supplies.

The elder issued clipped orders. The shackles were thrown off one of the Gamintes, who was pushed roughly into the centre of the chamber.

The Artaxan elder made a gesture. “Proceed. Kill the captive.”

An unsettling thought came to Hrityu, put there by the unfamiliarity of events. What would the Tlixix do if they learned of this vast camp and of the plot being concocted there?

Why they would muster all the resources at their command to destroy it!

And what gratitude might they show to the tribe which informed them of such a threat?

No! Hrityu pushed the thought aside. Even if he could now warn the Tlixix, he could not rely on them. They had proved that were not to be trusted. The only hope of survival for the Analane lay with the Artaxa.

Slowly Hrityu lifted the weapon. Remembering the attack in the desert, his reluctance vanished. The Gamintes stared at him blankly, including the one offered him for target practice.

The weapon did not look like a weapon. It was not a flinger, and simply looked like an arbitrarily shaped object.

Hrityu strove to recall what the moss-headed humanoid had said. Press this stud.

He did so. Nothing visible issued from the square-nosed device, but the effect on the Gaminte was instantaneous. He recoiled, seemed to convulse, then fell to the floor of the chamber and was still.

Karvass stepped forward, knelt and examined him.

“He is dead.”

“A flinger could have done as much,” pointed out the elder skeptically.

“There is more,” Hrityu said. “Stand aside, Karvass. Let us see if this works, too.”

With the fingers of his free hand, he turned the ring Northrop had shown him. He pointed the beamer at the line of prisoners directly in front of him.

Only the Gaminte directly in line with the gun knew that he was doomed and glared his hatred. Those on either side failed to appreciate that their turn had also come. They hung their heads in shame at not being able to help their comrade and uttered keening noises.

Again Hrityu pressed the stud.

The beam encompassed five Gamintes, though unlike the first victim they took some moments to die. First they went rigid, shivered, then slumped in their chains. While the surviving Gamintes looked on with horror Karvass announced them all, on inspection, to be dead. The elder gestured and led the way from the chamber.

He spoke first to Karvass.

“You have acquitted yourself well, Karvass. You have provided us with three new inventions, as well as with alliances with two more tribes. Your praises will be shouted at the next mass convocation.”

He spoke then to Hrityu. “You, too, have performed excellently for your tribe. Your praises too will be shouted, if we are in time to help save your people from extinction. By the way, could not your radiator tell us what the situation is at your camp?”

“Only if we are within a hundred langs.”

“I see… Well, a hundred langs is certainly a useful distance.”

“There is something else that you should know,” Hrityu said, making up his mind to reveal everything. “Karvass has described to you the strangers who gave me my weapon. That there are of an unknown tribe is not perhaps so unusual, for there are many tribes, and for that matter few know of the Artaxa. But I have seen members of this tribe before—in the Pavilion of Audience at the World Market. They were talking with the Tlixix. And they were consuming water, just as the Tlixix do!”

“Water? Did you say water?”

“Yes, elder!”

The Artaxa paused for long thoughtful moments. “That is hard to believe, for water is a deadly poison to all humanoids. Who is there to back up your word? Did you see this, Karvass?”

“No, elder, I did not. But I believe the Analane.”

The elder’s voice fell to a mutter. “What can it mean? What can it mean?”

He seemed to be in a reverie. “There is a possibility. The Tlixix may have bred a new type of servant race more like themselves, even though humanoid. Perhaps they are beginning to doubt the loyalty of the Gamintes.” He pondered further. “But then they would have to share their water with them… puzzling…”

Suddenly he seemed to come to life again. “There must be an immediate convocation. This is what will be proposed. Hrityu of the Analane, you will without delay instruct our artisans in the manufacture and use of your ‘radiator’. Meanwhile a force will be assembled to speed to the aid of your tribe. Karvass, there is also a task for you. Lead a raiding force to the water-eating strangers. We need to know more about them. Capture one, and bring him back here!”

Though their pleasure was to slosh luxuriously in abundant water, Tlixix could also make their way on dry land—though preferably, of course, on spume-drenched land, being adapted for clambering over rocky shoreline. On a dozen stalk-like legs the visiting VIP dragged himself through the corridors of the Enterprise, blue-tinged chitin scraping on the floor, shelled head with its four white eyes turning this way and that.

The welcoming party consisted of O’Rourke, looking irritated as usual, Spencer the planetologist, and most of the engineering team that was assembling the shock tubes. The protocol, though a trifle perfunctory, was adequate enough, the eminent personage being treated with utmost deference—though Castaneda, the only one wearing a translation necklace, found himself being called on to act as interpreter. “You’ll know how to talk to them,” O’Rourke had muttered hurriedly. “You’ve had the experience.”

So Castaneda did his best. He had been present at a number of such courtesy tours in the past, usually conducted by the partners in person. On one occasion he had asked whether planet-bound aliens might not go into shock on being taken into space. Krabbe had scowled, dismissing the point with a wave of his hand.

“Anybody that feeble won’t do business anyway, Carlos. They’ll clam up, go into fugue.”

Castaneda took the Tlixix on a circuitous route through the starship, giving the maximum impression of its size, showing the propulsion section, the engineering departments including shock tube assembly—this he carefully explained—and finally finishing up on the navigation bridge. There he put Tenacity on the main screen. He knew the effect this would have. He had seen it before, more than once. It did not matter what the species; the astonishment was the same.

“That is our world?”

The voice of the Tlixix came through the translator as a breathless whisper.

“That’s your world,” Castaneda confirmed flatly. “The one we’re going to transform for you.”

The four milk-white eyes were fixed on the screen as though hypnotised. Castaneda could almost hear the creature’s thoughts.

His was a deliberate ploy. The vision of one’s home world as an object, rather than a limitless environment, with dark space all around it, made the idea that it could be altered much more believable.

Finally the Tlixix pulled himself out of his trance. “I will inform my colleagues that you speak the truth,” he said hoarsely.

Smiling faintly, O’Rourke nodded when Castaneda relayed the words. He turned to his secretary who stood behind him.

“Tell them to start drilling,” he murmured.