The Time Traders

  CHAPTER 13

  Ross swayed against a guard, was fended off, and bounced against thewall as the man shouted words Ross could not understand. A determinedroar from the leader brought a semblance of order, but it was plain thatthey had not been expecting this. Ross was hustled out of the room backto his cell. His guards were opening the cell door when a second shockwas felt and he was thrust into safekeeping with no ceremony.

  He half crouched against the questionable security of the wall, waitingthrough two more twisting earth waves, both of which were accompanied orpreceded by dull sounds. Bombing! That last wrench was really bad. Rossfound himself lying on the floor, feeling tremors rippling along theearth. His stomach knotted convulsively with a fear unlike any he hadknown before. It was as if the very security of the world had beenjerked from under him.

  But that last explosion--if it was an explosion--appeared to be the end.Ross sat up gingerly after several long moments during which no moreshocks moved the floor and walls. A line of light marked the door,showing cracks where none had previously existed. Ross, not yet ready totry standing erect, was heading toward it on his hands and knees when asharp noise behind him brought him to a stop.

  There was no light to see by, but he was certain that the scrape ofmetal against metal sounded from the far side of the wall. He crawledback and put his ear to the surface. Now he heard not only thatscraping, but an undercurrent of clicks, chippings....

  Under his exploring hands the surface remained as smooth as ever,however. Then suddenly, perhaps a foot from his head, there sounded arip of metal. The wall was being holed from the other side! Ross caughta flicker of very weak light, and moving in it was the point of a toolpulling at the smooth surface of the wall. It broke away with a brittlesound, and a hand holding a light reached through the aperture.

  Ross wondered if he should catch that wrist, but the hope that thedigger might just possibly be an ally kept him motionless. After thehand with the light whipped back beyond the wall, a wide section gaveaway and a hunched figure crawled through, followed by a second. In thelimited glow he saw the first tunneler clearly enough.

  "Assha!"

  Ross was unprepared for what followed his cry. The lean brown man movedwith a panther's striking speed, and Ross was forced back. A hand like asteel ring on his throat shut the breath away from his bursting lungs;the other's muscular body held him flat in spite of his struggles. Thelight of the small flash glowed inches beyond his eyes as he fought tofill his lungs. Then the hand on his throat was gone and he gasped, alittle dizzy.

  "Murdock! What are you doing--?" Ashe's clipped voice was muffled byanother sudden explosion. This time the earth tremors not only hurledthem from their feet, but seemed to run along the walls and across theceiling. Ross, burying his face in the crook of his arm, could not ridhimself of the fear that the building was being slowly twisted intoscrap. When the shock was over he raised his head.

  "What's going on?" He heard McNeil ask.

  "Attack." That was Ashe. "But why, and by whom--don't ask me! You are aprisoner, I suppose, Murdock?"

  "Yes, sir." Ross was glad that his voice sounded normal enough.

  He heard someone sigh and guessed it was McNeil. "Another diggingparty." There was tired disgust in that.

  "I don't understand," Ross appealed to that section of the dark whereAshe had been. "Have you been here all the time? Are you trying to digyour way out? I don't see how you can cut out of this glacier that we'reparked under----"

  "Glacier!" Ashe's exclamation was as explosive as the tremors. "So we'reinside a glacier! That explains it. Yes, we've been here--"

  "On ice!" McNeil commented and then laughed. "Glacier--ice--that'sright, isn't it?"

  "We're collaborating," Ashe continued. "Supplying our dear friends witha lot of information they already have and some flights of fancy theynever dreamed about. However, they didn't know we had a few surprisepackets of our own strewn about. It's amazing what the boys back at theproject can pack away in a belt, or between layers of hide in a boot. Sowe've been engaged in some research of our own----"

  "But I didn't have any escape gadgets." Ross was struck by theunfairness of that.

  "No," Ashe agreed, his voice even and cold, "they are not entrusted tofirst-run men. You might slip up and use them at the wrong moment.However, you appear to have done fairly well...."

  The heat of Ross's rising anger was chilled by the noise which crackedover their heads, ground to them through the walls, flattened andthreatened them. He had thought those first shocks the end of this iceburrow and the world; he knew that this one was.

  And the silence that followed was as threatening in its way as theclamor had been. Then there was a shout, a shriek. The space of lightnear the cell door was widening as that barrier, broken from its lock,swung open slowly. The fear of being trapped sent the men in thatdirection.

  "Out!"

  Ross was ready enough to respond to that order, but they were stopped bya crackle of sound that could be only one thing--rapid-fire guns.Somewhere in this warren a fight was in progress. Ross, remembering thearrogant face of the bald ship's officer, wondered if this was not anattack in force--the aliens against the looting Reds. If so, would theship people distinguish between those found here. He feared not.

  The room outside was clear, but not for long. As they lay watching, twomen backed in, then whirled to stare at each other. A voice roared frombeyond as if ordering them back to some post. One of them took a stepforward in reluctant obedience, but the other grabbed his arm and pulledhim away. They turned to run, and an automatic cracked.

  The man nearest Ross gave a queer little cough and folded forward to hisknees, sprawling on his face. His companion stared at him wildly for aninstant, and then skidded into the passage beyond, escaping by inches ashot which clipped the door as he lunged through it.

  No one followed, for outside there was a crescendo of noise--shouting,cries of pain, an unidentifiable hissing. Ashe darted into the room,taking cover by the body. Then he came back, the fellow's gun in hishand, and with a jerk of his head summoned the other two. He motionedthem on in a direction away from the sounds of battle.

  "I don't get all this," McNeil commented as they reached the nextpassage. "What's going on? Mutiny? Or have our boys gotten through?"

  "It must be the ship people," Ross answered.

  "What ship?" Ashe caught him up swiftly.

  "The big one the Reds have been looting----"

  "Ship?" echoed McNeil. "And _where_ did you get that rig?" In the brightlight it was easy to see Ross's alien dress. McNeil fingered the elasticmaterial wonderingly.

  "From the ship," Ross returned impatiently. "But if the ship people areattacking, I don't think they will notice any difference between us andthe Reds...."

  There was a burst of ear-splitting sound. For the third time Ross wasthrown from his feet. This time the burrow lights flickered, dimmed, andwent out.

  "Oh, fine," commented McNeil bitterly out of the dark. "I never did carefor blindman's buff."

  "The transfer plate--" Ross clung to his own plan of escape--"if we canreach that--"

  The light which had served Ashe and McNeil in their tunneling clickedon. Since the earth shocks appeared to be over for a while, they movedon, with Ashe in the lead and McNeil bringing up the rear. Ross hopedAshe knew the way. The sound of fighting had died out, so one side orthe other must have gained the victory. They might have only a fewmoments left to pass undetected.

  Ross's sense of direction was fairly acute, but he could not have goneso unerringly to what he sought as Ashe did. Only he did not lead themto the room with the glowing plate, and Ross stifled a protest as theycame instead to a small record room.

  On a table were three spools of tape which Ashe caught up avidly,thrusting two in the front of his baggy tunic, passing the third toMcNeil. Then he sped about trying the cupboards on the walls, but allwere locked. His hand falling from the last latch, Ashe came back to thedoor where Ross waited.


  "To the plate!" Ross urged.

  Ashe surveyed the cupboards once more regretfully. "If we could havejust ten minutes here----"

  McNeil snorted. "Listen, you may yearn to be the filling in an icesandwich, but I don't! Another shock and we'll be buried so deep even adrill couldn't find us. Let's get out now. The kid is right aboutthat--if we still can."

  Once more Ashe took the lead and they wove through ghostly rooms to whatmust have been the heart of the post--the transfer point. To Ross'sunvoiced relief the plate was glowing. He had been nagged by the fearthat when the lights blew out the transfer plate might also have beenaffected. He jumped for the plate.

  Neither Ashe nor McNeil wasted time in joining him there. As they clungtogether there was a cry from behind them, underlined by a shot. Ross,feeling Ashe sag against him, caught him in his arms. By the reflectedglow of the plate he saw the Red leader of the post and behind him, hishairless face hanging oddly bodiless in the gloom, was the alien. Werethose two now allies? Before Ross could be sure that he had really seenthem, the wracking of space time caught him and the rest of the roomfaded away.

  "... free. Get a move on!"

  Ross glanced across Ashe's bowed shoulders to McNeil's excited face. Theother was pulling at Ashe, who was only half-conscious. A stream ofblood from a hole in his bare shoulder soaked the upper edge of hisBeaker tunic, but as they steadied him between them, he gained somemeasure of awareness and moved his feet as they pulled him off theplate.

  Well, they were free if only for a few seconds, and there was noreception committee waiting for them. Ross gave thanks silently forthose two small favors. But if they were now returned to the Bronze Agevillage, they were still in enemy territory. With Ashe wounded, the oddsagainst them were so high it was almost hopeless.

  Working hurriedly with strips torn from McNeil's kilt, they managed tostop the flow of blood from Ashe's wound. Although he was still groggy,he was fighting, driven by the fear which whipped them all--time was oneof their foremost enemies. Ross, Ashe's gun in hand, kept watch on thetransfer plate, ready to shoot at anything appearing there.

  "That will have to do!" Ashe pulled free from McNeil. "We must move." Hehesitated, and then pulling the spools of tape from his bloodstainedtunic, passed them to McNeil. "You'd better carry these."

  "All right," the other answered almost absently.

  "Move!" The force of that order from Ashe sent them into the corridorbeyond. "The plate...."

  But the plate remained clear. And Ross noted that they must havereturned to the proper time, for the walls about them were the logs andstone of the village he remembered.

  "Someone coming through?"

  "Should be--soon."

  They fled, the hide boots of the other two making only the faintestwhisper of sound, Ross's foam-soled feet none at all. He could not havefound the door to the outer world, but again Ashe guided them, and onlyonce did they have to seek cover. At last they faced a barred door. Asheleaned against the wall, McNeil supporting him, as Ross pulled free thelocking beam. They let themselves out into the night.

  "Which way?" McNeil asked.

  To Ross's surprise Ashe did not turn to the gate in the outer stockade.Instead he gestured at the mountain wall in the opposite direction."They'll expect us to try for the valley pass. So we had better go upthe slope there."

  "That has the look of a tough climb," ventured McNeil.

  Ashe stirred. "When it becomes too tough for me"--his voice was dry--"Ishall say so, never fear."

  He started out with some of his old ease of movement, but his companionsclosed in on either side, ready to offer aid. Ross often wondered laterif they could have won free of the village on their own efforts thatnight. He was sure their resolution would have been equal to theattempt, but their escape would have depended upon a fabulous run ofluck such as men seldom encounter.

  As it was, they had just reached a pool of shadow beside a small hutsome two buildings away from the one they had fled, when the fireworksbegan. As if on signal the three fugitives threw themselves flat. Fromthe roof of the building at the center of the village a pencil ofbrilliant-green light pointed straight up into the sky, and around thatspear of radiance the roof sprouted tongues of more naturalred-and-yellow flames. Figures shot from doors as the fire lapped downthe peak of the roof.

  "Now!" In spite of the rising clamor, Ashe's voice carried to his twocompanions.

  The three sprinted for the palisade, mingling with bewildered men whoran out of the other cabins. The waves of fire washed on, providinglight, too much light. Ashe and McNeil could pass as part of the crowd,but Ross's unusual clothing might be easily marked.

  Others were running for the wall. Ross and McNeil boosted Ashe to thetop, saw him over in safety. McNeil followed. Ross was just reaching todraw himself up when he was enveloped in a beam of light.

  A high, screeching call, unlike any shout he had heard, split theclamor. Frantically Ross tried for a hold, knowing that he waspresenting a perfect target for those behind. He gained the top of thestockade, looked down into a black block of shadow, not knowing whetherAshe and McNeil were waiting for him or had gone ahead. Hearing thatstrange cry again, Ross leaped blindly out into the darkness.

  He landed badly, hitting hard enough to bruise, but thanks to the skillhe had learned for parachuting, he broke no bones. He got to his feetand blundered on in the general direction of the mountain Ashe hadpicked as their goal. There were others coming over the wall of thevillage and moving through the shadows, so he dared not call out forfear of alerting the enemy.

  The village had been set in the widest part of the valley. Behind itsstockade the open ground narrowed swiftly, like the point of a funnel,and all fugitives from the settlement had to pass through that channelto escape. Ross's worst fear was that he had lost contact with Ashe andMcNeil, and that he would never be able to pick up their trail in thewilderness ahead.

  Thankful for the dark suit he wore which was protective covering in thenight, he twice ducked into the brush to allow parties of refugees topass him. Hearing them speak the guttural clicking speech he had learnedfrom Ulffa's people, Ross deduced that they were innocent of thevillage's real purpose. These people were convinced they had beenattacked by night demons. Perhaps there had only been a handful of Redsin that hidden retreat.

  Ross pulled himself up a hard climb, and pausing to catch his breath,looked back. He was not overly surprised to see figures moving leisurelyabout the village examining the cabins, perhaps in search of theinhabitants. Each of those searchers was clad in a form-fitting suitthat matched his own, and their bulbous hairless heads gleamed white inthe firelight. Ross was astonished to see that they passed straightthrough walls of flame, apparently unconcerned and unsinged by the heat.

  The human beings trapped in the town wailed and ran, or lay and beattheir heads and hands on the ground, supine before the invaders. Eachcaptive was dragged back to a knot of aliens near the main building.Some were hurled out again into the dark, unharmed; a few others wereretained. A sorting of prisoners was plainly in progress. There was noquestion that the ship people had followed through into this time, andthat they had their own arrangements for the Reds.

  Ross had no desire to learn the particulars. He started climbing again,finding the pass at last. Beyond, the ground fell away again, and Rosswent forward into the full darkness of the night with a vast surge ofthankfulness.

  Finally, he stopped simply because he was too weary, too hungry, to keepon his feet without stumbling, and a fall in the dark on these heightscould be costly. Ross discovered a small hollow behind a stunted treeand crept into it as best he could, his heart laboring against his ribs,a hot stab of pain cutting into his side with every breath he drew.

  He awoke all at once with the snap of a fighting man who is alert toever present danger. A hand lay warm and hard over his mouth, and aboveit his eyes met McNeil's. When he saw that Ross was awake McNeilwithdraw his hand. The morning sunlight was warm about them. Movingclumsily because of
his stiff, bruised body, Ross crawled out of thehollow. He looked around, but McNeil stood there alone. "Ashe?" Rossquestioned him.

  McNeil, showing a haggard face covered with several days' growth ofrusty-brown beard, nodded his head toward the slope. Fumbling inside hiskilt, he brought out something clenched in his fist and offered it toRoss. The latter held out his palm and McNeil covered it with a handfulof coarse-ground grain. Just to look at the stuff made Ross long for adrink, but he mouthed it and chewed, getting up to follow McNeil downinto the tree-grown lower slopes.

  "It's not good." McNeil spoke jerkily, using Beaker speech. "Ashe is outof his head some of the time. That hole in his shoulder is worse than wethought it was, and there's always the threat of infection. This wholewood is full of people flushed out of that blasted village! Most ofthem--all I've seen--are natives. But they have it firmly planted intheir minds now that there are devils after them. If they see youwearing that suit----"

  "I know, and I'd strip if I could," Ross agreed. "But I'll have to getother clothing first; I can't run bare in this cold."

  "That might be safer," McNeil growled. "I don't know just what happenedback there, but it certainly must have been plenty!"

  Ross swallowed a very dry mouthful of grain and then stooped to scoop upsome leftover snow in the shadow of a tree root. It was not asrefreshing as a real drink, but it helped. "You said Ashe is out of hishead. What do we do for him, and what are your plans?"

  "We have to reach the river, somehow. It drains to the sea, and at itsmouth we are supposed to make contact with the sub."

  The proposal sounded impossible to Ross, but so many impossible thingshad happened lately he was willing to go along with the idea--as long ashe could. Gathering up more snow, he stuffed it into his mouth before hefollowed the already disappearing McNeil.