SEVEN
Rynason spent the next two hours in town, moving through the windystreets and thinking about what Manning had said. He was right, in away: this was no more than a foothold for the Earthmen, a touchdownpoint. It wasn't even a community yet; buildings were still going up,prices varied widely not only between landings of spacers but alsoaccording to who did the selling. A lot of the men here were trying somemining out on the west Flat; their findings had so far been small butthey brought the only real income the planet had so far yielded. Therest of the town was rising on its own weight: bars, rooming houses,laundries, and diners--establishments which thrived only because therewere men here to patronize them. Several weeks before a few of the menhad tried killing and eating the small animals who darted through thealleys, but too many of those men had died and the practice had beenquickly abandoned. And they had noticed that when those animals foragedin the refuse heaps outside the town, they died too.
A few of the big corporations had sent out field men to look around, butit was too soon for any industry to have established itself here; allthe planet offered so far was room to expand. Despite the wide expansionof the Earthmen through the stars, a planet where conditions were at allfavorable for living was not to be overlooked; the continuing populationexplosion, despite tight regulations on the inner worlds, had kept upwith the colonization of these worlds, and new room was constantlyneeded.
But the planetfall on Hirlaj was still new. A handful of Earthmen hadcome, but they had not yet brought their civilization with them. Theystood precariously on the Flat, waiting for more settlers to come in andbuild with them. If there should be trouble before more men arrived....
At 600 Rynason walked out on the dirt-packed street to Manning'squarters. He met Marc Stoworth and Jules Lessingham coming out the door.They looked worried.
"What's wrong?" he said.
They didn't stop as they went by. "Ask the old man," said Stoworth,going past with an uncharacteristically hurried step.
Rynason went on in through the open door. Manning was in the front room,amid several crates of stunner-units. He looked up quickly as Rynasonentered and waved brusquely to him.
"Help me get this stuff unloaded, Lee."
Rynason fished for his sheath-knife and started cutting open one of thecrates. "Why are you unloading the arsenal?"
"Because we may need it. Couple of the boys were just out at thehorse-pasture, and they say the friendly natives have disappeared."
"Jules and Stoworth? I met them on the way in."
"They were doing some follow-up work out there ... or at least they weregoing to. There's not a single one of them there, not a trace of them."
Rynason frowned. "They were all there this morning."
"They're not there now!" Manning snapped. "I don't like it, not afterwhat you've told me. We're going to look for them."
"With stunners?"
"Yes. Right now Mara is out at the field clearing several of the fliersto use in scouting for them."
Rynason stacked the boxes of weapons and power-packs on the floor whereManning indicated. There were about forty of them--blunt-barrelled gunswith thick casing around the powerpacks, weighing about ten pounds each.They looked as statically blunt as anvils, but they could stun anyanimal at two hundred yards; within a two-foot range, they could shake arock wall down.
"How many men are we taking with us?" Rynason asked, eying the stacks onthe floor.
Manning looked up at him briefly. "As many as we can get. I'm calling amilitia; Stoworth and Lessingham went into town to round up some men."
So he was going ahead with the power-grab; Malhomme had been right. Nodanger had been proven yet, but that wouldn't stop Manning--nor thedrifters he'd been buying in the town. Killing was an everyday thing tothem.
"How many of the Hirlaji do you think we'll have to kill to make it lookimportant to the Council?" Rynason asked after a moment, his voicedeliberately inflectionless.
Manning looked up at him with a calculating eye. Rynason met his gazedirectly, daring the man to take offense. He didn't.
"All right, it's a break for me," Manning shrugged. "What did youexpect? There's precious little opportunity on this desert rock forleadership in any sense that you might approve of." He paused. "I don'tknow if it will be necessary to kill any of them. Take it easy and we'llsee."
Rynason's eyes were cold. "All right, we'll see. But just remember, I'llbe watching just as closely as you. If you start any violence that isn'tnecessary...."
"What will you do, Lee?" said Manning. "Report me to the Council?They'll listen to me before they'd pay attention to complaints from anobody who's been drifting around the outworlds for most of his life.That's all you are, you know, Lee--a drifter, a bum, like the rest ofthem. That's what everybody out here on the Edge is ... unless he doessomething about it.
"I hold the reins right now. If I decide to do something that you don'tlike, you won't be able to stop me ... neither you, nor your femalefriend."
"So Mara's against you too?" Rynason said.
"She made a few remarks earlier," Manning said calmly. "She may regretit soon enough."
Rynason looked at the man through narrowed eyes for a moment, thenstrapped on a gunbelt and loaded one of the stunners. He snapped it intothe holster carefully, wondering just what Manning had meant by his lastremark. Was it a threat in any real sense, or was Manning just lettingoff steam? Well, they'd see about that too ... and Rynason would bewatching.
* * * * *
Within half an hour close to sixty men had collected outside Manning'sdoor. They were dirty and unshaven; some of them were working in thetown, a few were miners, but most of them were drifters who had followedthe advance of the star frontier, who drank and brawled in the streetsof the town, sleeping by day and raising hell at night. They stole whenthey could, killed when they wanted.
The drifters were men who had been all over the worlds of the Edge, whohad spent years watching the new planets opened for colonization andexploitation, but had never got their own piece. They knew the feel ofthese planetfall towns on the Edge, and could talk for hours about theworlds they had seen. But they were city men, all of them; they had seenthe untamed worlds, but only from the streets. They hadn't taken part inthe exploring or the building, only in the initial touchdowns. When thebuilding was done, they signed on to the spacers again and drifted tothe next world, farther out.
Rynason looked at their faces from where he stood in the doorway,listening to Manning talking to them. They were hard men, mean andsometimes vicious. Nameless faces, all of them, having no place in themore developed areas of the Terran civilization. And maybe that wastheir own fault. But Rynason knew that they were running, not toanything, but from the civilization itself. Running ... because when anarea was settled and started to become respectable, they began to seewhat they did not have. The temporary quarters would come down, to bereplaced by permanent buildings that were meant to be lived in, not justas places for sleeping. Closets, and shelters for landcars; quadsensereceivers and food integrators. They didn't want to see that ... becausethey hated it, or because they wanted it? It didn't matter, Rynasondecided. They ran, and now they were here on the Edge with all theiranger and frustration, and Manning was ready to give them a way to letit out.
At the side of the mob he saw a familiar grey shock of hair--ReneMalhomme. Was he with them, then? Rynason craned his neck for a betterview, and for a moment the crowd parted enough to let him see Malhomme'sface. He was looking directly toward Rynason, holding a dully gleamingknife flat against his thick chest ... and his lips were drawn back intothe crooked, sardonic smile which Rynason had seen many times. No,Malhomme at least was not part of this mob.
"We already know which direction they went," Manning was saying."Lessingham will be in charge of the main body, and you'll follow him.If he gives you an order, _take it_. This is a serious business; wewon't have room for bickering.
"Some of us will be scouting wi
th the flyers. Well be in radio contactwith you. When we find out where they are we'll reconnoiter and make ourplans from there."
Manning paused, looking appraisingly at the faces before him. "Most ofyou are armed already, I see. We have some extra stunners here; if youneed them, come on up. But remember, the men who carry the shockers willbe in front; and their business will be simply to down the horses--anykilling that's to be done will be left to those of you who have knives,or anything lethal."
There was a rising wave of voices from the crowd. Some men came forwardfor weapons; Rynason saw others drawing knives and hatchets, and a fewof them had heavy guns, projectile type. Rynason watched with narrowedeyes; it had been a filthy maneuver on Manning's part to organize thismob, and his open acceptance of their temper was dangerous. Once theywere turned loose, what could stop them?
There was a sudden shouting in the back of the mob; men surged and fellaway, cursing. Rynason heard scuffing back there, and sounds of bonemeeting flesh. The men at the front of the mob turned to look back, andsome tried to shove their way through to the fight.
A scream came from the midst of the crowd, and was answered by anexcited, angry swelling of voices around the fighting men. SuddenlyManning was among them, smashing his way through with a stunner in hishand, swinging it like a club.
"Get the hell out of the way!" he shouted, stepping quickly through themen. They grumbled and fell back to let him by, but Rynason heard themen still fighting in the rear, and then he saw them. There were threeof them, two men and what looked like a boy still in his teens. The boyhad red hair and a dark, ruddy complexion: he was new to the outworlds.The two older men had the pallor of the Edge drifters, nurtured in theartificial light of spacers and sealed survival quarters on the lesshospitable worlds.
The larger of the two men had a knife, a heavy blade of a type that wascommon out here; many of the men used them as hatchets when necessary.This one dripped with blood; the smaller man's left arm was torn openjust below the shoulder, and hanging uselessly. He stood swaying in thedust, hurling a string of curses at the man with the knife, while theboy stood slightly behind him, staring with both fear and hatred in hiseyes. He had a smaller knife, but he held it loosely and uncertainly athis side.
Manning stepped between them. He had sized up the situation already, andhe paused now only long enough to bite out three short, clipped wordswhich told these men exactly what he thought of them. The man with theknife stopped back and muttered something which Rynason didn't hear.
Manning raised the stunner coldly and let him have it. The blast caughtthe man in the shoulder and spun him around, throwing him into thecrowd; several of them went down. The long knife fell to the ground,where dirt mixed with the blood on it. There was silence.
Manning looked around him, swinging the stunner loosely in his hand.After a moment he said calmly, but loud enough for all to hear, "Wewon't have time for fighting among ourselves. The next man who startsanything will be killed outright. Now get these men out of here." Heturned and strode back through the mob while the boy and a couple of theother men took the wounded away.
Malhomme had moved further into the crowd. He was strangely silent;usually he went among these men roughly and jovially, cursing them allwith goodnatured ease. But now he stood watching the men around him witha frown creasing his heavily lined face. Malhomme was worried, andRynason, seeing that, felt his stomach tighten.
Manning faced the men from the front of the crowd. He stared at themshrewdly, holding each man's gaze for a few seconds. Then he grinned,and said, "Save it for the horses, boys. Save it for them."
* * * * *
Rynason rode out to the field with Manning, Stoworth, and a few of theothers. It was a short trip in the landcar, and none of them spoke much.Even Stoworth rode silently, his usual easy flow of trivia forgotten.Rynason was thinking about Manning: he had handled the outbreak quicklyand decisively enough, keeping the men in line, but it had been only atemporary measure. They would be expecting some real action soon, andManning was already offering them the Hirlaji. If the alarm turned outto be a false one, would he be as easily able to stop them then?
Or would he even try?
The flyers were ready when they got to the field, but Mara was gone. LesHarcourt met them at the radio office on the edge of the field; he wasthe communications man out here. He led them into the low,quick-concrete construction office and shoved some forms at Manning tobe signed.
"If there's any trouble, you'll be responsible for it," he said toManning. "The men can look out for themselves, but the flyers areCompany property."
Manning scowled impatiently and bent to sign the papers.
"Where's Mara?" Rynason asked.
"She's already taken one of the flyers out," Harcourt said. "Left tenminutes ago. We've got her screen in the next room." He waved a handtoward the door in the rear of the room.
Rynason went on back and found the live set. The screen, monitored froma camera on the flyer, showed the foothills of the southern mountainsover which Mara was flying. They were bare and blunt; the rockoutcroppings which thrust up from the Flat had been weathered smooth inthe passage of years. Mara was passing over a low range and on to thedesert beyond.
Rynason picked up the mike. "Mara, this is Lee; we just got here. Haveyou found them yet?"
Her voice came thinly over the speaker. "Not yet. I thought I saw somemovement in one of the passes, but the light wasn't too good. I'mlooking for that pass again."
"All right. We'll be going up ourselves in a few minutes; if you findthem, be careful. Wait for us."
He refitted the mike in its stand and rose. But as he turned to the doorher voice came again: "There they are!"
He looked at the screen, but for the moment he couldn't see anything.Mara's flyer was coming down out of the rocky hills now, the Flatstretching before her on the screen. Rynason could see the pass throughwhich she had been flying, but there was no movement there; it took himseveral seconds to see the low ruins off to the right, and the figuresmoving through them.
The screen banked and turned toward them; she was lowering her altitude.
"I see them," he said into the mike. "Can't make out what they're doing,on the screen. Can you see them any more clearly?"
"They're entering one of the buildings down there," she said after amoment. "I've counted almost twenty of them so far; they must all behere."
"Can you go down and see what they're doing? The sooner we find out, thebetter: Manning's got a pretty ugly bunch of so-called vigilantes on theway out there."
She didn't reply, but on the screen he saw the crumbling buildings growlarger and nearer. He could make out individual structures now: a wallhad fallen and was half-buried in the dust and sand; an entire roof hadcaved in on another building, leaving only rubble in the interior. Itwas difficult to tell sometimes when the original lines of the buildingshad fallen: they had all been smoothed by the wind-blown sand, so thatbroken pillars looked almost as though they had been built that way,smooth and upright, solitary.
At last, he saw the Hirlaji. They were slowly mounting the steps of oneof the largest of the buildings and passing into the shadows of theinterior. This building was not as deteriorated as most of the others;as Mara's flyer dipped low over it Rynason could see its characteristiclines unbroken and clear.
With a start, he sat up and said hurriedly, "Mara, take another closepass over that building, the one they're entering."
In a moment she came in again over the smooth stone structure, andRynason looked closely at the screen. There was no mistaking it now: thehigh steep steps leading up to a colonnade which almost circled thebuilding, the large carvings over the main entrance.
"You'd better set down away from them!" he said. "That's the Temple ofKor!" But even as he finished speaking the image on the screen joltedand rocked, and the flyer dipped even closer toward the jumbled ruinsbelow.
"They're firing something!"
He saw that she was
trying to gain altitude, but something was wrong;the buildings on the screen dipped and wavered, up and down, spinning.
"Mara! Pull up--get out of there!"
"One of the wings is damaged," she said quickly, and suddenly there wasanother jolt on the screen and he heard her gasp. The picture spun andrighted itself, seemed to hang motionless for a moment, and then thestone wall of one of the buildings was directly ahead and growinglarger.
"Mara!"
The image spun wildly, the building filled the screen, and then it wentblack; he heard a crash from the speaker, cut off almost before it hadsounded. The room was silent.