"Coombs!"
The figure lounging against one of the pillars snapped to attention.
"You will take the road vehicle and drive these Patrolmen to their ship. I do not say good-bye, Sergeant." The Lord turned to Kartr with the graciousness of a great man addressing an admitted inferior. "We shall meet again soon. You have done a very good night's work and we are exceedingly grateful to you. Please inform your commanding officer that we shall be eagerly waiting to hear from him."
Kartr saluted. At least the Ageratan was not insisting upon going with them to the sled. But he did stand there until they had taken their places in the small car and the driver put it into motion.
As they moved away from the building Kartr turned his attention to the driver. That bristling shock of black hair with its odd brindling of brown showed up clearly as they swept beneath one of the banners of city light—the long jaws, too. So—that was why Cummi let them go off alone! No wonder he had not thought it necessary to accompany them himself. He would be with them in one way if not bodily. Their driver was a Can-hound, the perfect servant whose mind was only a receiving set used for the benefit of his master.
Kartr's skin roughened as if something slimy trailed across him. He had the sensitive's inborn horror for the creature before him—a thing he would not dignify as either human or Bemmy. And now he would have to—have to—! The very thought made him so sick that his empty stomach twisted. This was the worst, the lowest task he had ever had forced upon him. He would have to go into that mind, skillfully enough not to be detected by the distant master, and there implant some false memories—
"Which way?" Even that voice rasped sickeningly along his nerves.
"Along this wide street here," he ordered with stiff lips. His hand closed over Rolth's. The Faltharian did not move but he answered with a light return pressure.
Kartr began, while his mouth twisted into a tortured ring of disgust and his mind and body alike fought wildly against the will which forced him to do this thing. It was worse than he had expected, he was degraded, soiled unspeakably by that contact. But he went on. Suddenly the car pulled to the side of the street, wavered into an open space between buildings, came to a stop in a courtyard. They remained in it while Kartr fought the miserable battle to the end. That came when the Can-hound's head fell forward and he slumped limply in the driver's seat.
Rolth got out. But Kartr had to steady himself with his hands as he followed. He reeled across the court and hung retching on a window sill. Then Rolth reached him and steadied his shaking body. With the Faltharian's arm still around him, the sergeant wavered out on the street.
"Just ahead—" Kartr got out the words painfully between spasms of sickness.
"Yes, I have seen."
The faint gleam of radiation was undoubtedly clearer to Rolth's light-sensitive eyes than it was to his own. They were about four blocks now from the point where the robot had fired at the doorway. And from there they could easily find their marked trail back to the sled.
Rolth asked no questions. He was there, a hand ready to support, a vast comforting glow of clean friendship. Clean—! Kartr wondered if he would ever feel clean again. How could a sensitive—even an Ageratan—deal with and through a creature such as that? But he mustn't think of the Can-hound now.
He was walking steadily again by the time they detoured around the nuclear fire in the doorway. And he turned the walk into a ground-covering lope as the Faltharian retraced the trail he had earlier marked. When they got to the sled Kartr made a single suggestion.
"Lay a crossed course out of here—they may have some sort of scanner on us—"
Rolth grunted an assent. The sled took to the air. A cold wind, heralding the dawn, cut into them. Kartr wanted to wash in it, wash away the filth of the encounter with the Can-hound.
"You do not want them to know about us?" That was half question, half statement.
"It isn't up to me—that's Jaksan's problem," returned Kartr, out of a vast and overwhelming weariness. The drain of that mind battle had almost meant a drain of life force too. He wanted to lie down and sleep, just sleep. But he couldn't. And he forced himself to give Rolth an explanation of what they had been pitted against—what they might have to fear in the future.
"That driver was a Can-hound. And there is something very wrong—completely wrong back there."
Rolth might not be a sensitive but as a ranger he knew a lot. He snapped out a biting word or two in his own tongue.
"I had to get into his mind—to make him a set of false memories. He will report back that he took us to the sled, certain things we were supposed to have said during the trip—the direction in which we departed—"
"So that was what you were doing!" Rolth's dark eyes lifted from the course indicator long enough to favor his companion with a look in which respect and awe were mingled.
Kartr relaxed, his head drooped to rest on the back of the seat. Now that they were out of the glare of the city the stars shone palely overhead. How was Jaksan going to handle this? Would he order them in to unite with the castaways in the city? If so—what about Cummi? What was he doing—planning right now?
"You distrust the Ageratan?" Rolth demanded as they streaked north on the evasive path Kartr had suggested.
"He is an Ageratan—you know them. He is a Vice-Sector Lord, there is no doubt he is in complete command in the city. And—he would not take kindly to having his rule disputed—"
"So he might not be in favor of the Patrol?"
"Maybe. Sector Lords are uneasy enough nowadays—there is a pull and tug of power. I would like very much to know why he was making a trip on an ordinary passenger ship anyway. If he—"
"Were getting away from some local hot spot he would be only too glad to found a new kingdom here? Yes, that I can well understand," said Rolth. "Now we go home—"
The sled made a long curve to the right. Rolth shut off the propulsion rockets, kept on only the hover screens. They drifted slowly on the new course. It would take time, add an extra hour or so to their return journey. But unless the city had something new in scanners they were now off every spy screen.
They did very little talking for the rest of the trip. Kartr dozed off once and awoke with a start from a black dream. The need for complete rest drugged his mind when he tried to flog his weary brain into making plans. He would report the situation to Jaksan. The arms officer was hostile to the impressions of a sensitive—he might not welcome Kartr's description of the unease in the city. And the sergeant had no proof to back his belief that the farther they stayed away from Cummi the better. Why did he fear Cummi? Was it because he was an Ageratan, another sensitive? Or was it because of the Can-hound? Why was he so sure that the Vice-Sector Lord was a dangerous enemy?
7 — THE RANGERS STAND TOGETHER
"You must admit that his account was plausible enough—"
Kartr faced Jaksan across the flat rock which served the camp as a table.
"And the city," persisted the arms officer mercilessly, "is in an excellent state of preservation. Not only that, but this party from the X451 includes mech-techneers who have been able to start it functioning again—"
The sergeant nodded wearily. He should have brought to this contest of will a clear mind and a rested body. Instead he ached with both mental and physical fatigue. It was an effort to hold his stand against the hammering disapproval of the other.
"If all this is true"—Jaksan reached what he certainly believed to be a logical and sensible conclusion—for the third time—"I cannot understand this reluctance of yours, Kartr. Unless—" he was radiating hostility again but the sergeant was almost too tired to care—"unless you have taken a dislike to this Ageratan for personal reasons." Then he paused and his hostility was broken for an instant by an emotion close to sympathy. "Wasn't it an Ageratan who gave the order to burn off Ylene?"
"It might have been for all I know. But that is not the reason why I distrust this Joyd Cummi," began Kartr with such remnant
s of patience as he could muster.
There was no use in making an issue of Cummi's use of the Can-hound. Only another sensitive could understand the true horror of that. Jaksan had settled on an explanation for Kartr's attitude which was reasonable to him and he would hold to it. The sergeant had learned long ago that those who were not sensitives had a deep distrust of perception and the mind touch and some refused to even admit its existence as a fact. Jaksan was almost of that group—he would believe in Kartr's ability to meet and deal with animals and strange non-humans, but he inwardly repudiated the sergeant's being able to contact or read his fellow men. There was no arguing with him on that point. Kartr sighed. He had done what he could to prevent what he knew would be Jaksan's next move. Now he could only wait for the menace he believed was in the city to show itself.
So they made the journey to join the X451's survivors, and they admitted, against all Kartr's pleas, their own shipwrecked condition. Joyd Cummi greeted them with urbane and welcoming ease. There was a ship's medico to attend to Vibor—there were luxurious quarters in, as Kartr noted with suspicion, corridors adjacent to the Vice-Sector Lord's own, for the crewmen and the officers.
The welcome granted the rangers was, however, somewhat cooler. Kartr and Rolth were accepted, given subtly to understand that, as humans, they would stand equal with the commoners of Cummi's kingdom. But the Ageratan had given Zinga and Fylh no more than a nod and made no suggestions for their lodging. Kartr gathered his small command together in the center of a large bare room where no eavesdropper could possibly listen in.
"If," Zinga said as they settled themselves cross-legged on the floor, "you still maintain that the odor issuing through these halls is far from flower-like, I shall agree with you! How long"—he turned to Kartr—"are you going to let some ragged tails of loyalty pull you into situations such as this?"
Fylh's claws rasped along the hard scales on the other's forearm.
"Rangers should only speak when spoken to. And Bemmy rangers must let their superiors decide what is best for them. Such must be dutiful and humble and keep their places—"
The close guard which Kartr had kept upon his temper ever since his warning had been so quickly disregarded vanished at Zinga's remark.
"I've heard enough of that!"
"Zinga has a point," Rolth paid no attention to Kartr's outbreak. "We either accept the prevailing conditions here—or we leave—if we can. And maybe we can't wait too long or be halfway about it."
" `If we can,' " repeated, Zinga with a grin displaying no humor but many sharp teeth. "That is a most interesting suggestion, Rolth. I wonder if there were—or are—any Bemmys numbered in the crew or among the passengers of the X451. You notice that I am inclined to use the past tense when I refer to them. Indications would make that seem proper."
Kartr studied his two brown hands, one protruding from the dirty sling, the other resting on his knee. They were scratched and calloused, the nails worn down. But though he was examining each one of those scratches with minute attention he was really absorbed in the nasty implications of Zinga's words. No—he didn't have to accept matters as they were. He should make a few preparations of his own.
"Where are our packs?" he asked Zinga.
Both eyelids closed in a slow wink. "Those creatures are under our eye. If we have to leave in a hurry we'll be able to do so with full tramping equipment."
"I shall suggest to Jaksan that the rangers take quarters on their own—together—" Kartr said slowly.
"There is a three-story tower on the west corner of this building," cut in Fylh. "Should we withdraw to that lofty perch—well, it may be that they will be so glad to be rid of us that they will permit it."
"Let ourselves be bottled up?" asked Zinga with some sting in his hissing voice.
Fylh clicked his claws with an irritated snap. "No one is going to be bottled up. Please remember we are dealing with highly civilized city dwellers, not explorers. To them all possible passages in and out of a building are accounted for by windows and doors only."
"Then this tower of yours boasts some feature not included in that catalogue which would serve us in a pinch?" There was a little smile curving Rolth's pale lips.
"Naturally. Or I would not have seen its possibilities as our stronghold. There are a series of bands projecting in a pattern down the outer walls. As good as a staircase to someone who knows how to use fingers and toes—"
"And keep his eyes closed while he does it," groaned Zinga. "Sometimes I wish I were civilized and could lead a sane and peaceful life."
"We could allow"—Fylh had talked himself back into his best humor again—"these people to believe that we are safely out of mischief. They can put a guard at the single stairway leading up in that tower if they wish."
Kartr nodded. "I'll see Jaksan. After all, we may be rangers, but we are also Patrol. And if we want to stick together no civilian has any right to question us—Vice-Sector Lord or not! Stay out of trouble now."
He got up and the three nodded. They might not be sensitives—though he suspected that Zinga had some power akin to his, but they knew that they were only four in a potentially dangerous environment. If they could just get themselves exiled into Fylh's tower!
But he had to wait a long time to see Jaksan. The arms officer had accompanied Vibor to the medico. And when he at last returned to his quarters and found Kartr waiting for him, he was anything but cordial.
"What do you want now? The Vice-Sector Lord has been asking for you. He had some orders—"
"Since when," Kartr interrupted, "has even a Vice-Sector Lord had orders for one of the Patrol? He may advise and request—he does not order any wearer of the Comet, patrolman or ranger!"
Jaksan had crossed to the window and now he stood there, tapping his nails against the casing, his shoulders and back stubbornly presented to the sergeant. He did not turn when he answered:
"I do not believe that you take our position now into proper consideration, Sergeant. We do not have a ship. We—"
"And since when has a ship been necessary?" But maybe that was the exact truth, right there. Maybe to Jaksan and the crew the ship was necessary—without it they were naked, at a loss. "It is because I feared this very thing," he continued more quietly, "that I was against our coming here." Whether it was politic or not he had to say that.
"Under the circumstances we had very little choice in the matter!" Jaksan showed some of his old fire in that burst. "Great Space, man, would you have us fight the wilderness for food and shelter when there was this to come to? What of the Commander? He had to have medical attention. Only a—" He stopped in mid-sentence.
"Why not finish that, sir? Only a barbarian ranger would argue against it. Is that what you want to say? Well, I maintain, barbarian that I am, that it is better to be free in the wilderness than to come here. But let me have this clear—am I to understand that you have surrendered the authority of the Patrol to Joyd Cummi?"
"Divided authority is bad." But Jaksan refused to turn and face him. "It is necessary that each man contribute his skills to help the community. Joyd Cummi has discovered evidence that there is a severe cold season coming. It is our duty to help prepare for that. I think he wishes to send out hunting parties as food may be a problem. There are women and children to provide for—"
"I see. And the rangers are to take over the hunting? Well, we shall make a few plans. In the meantime we will take quarters for ourselves. And it might be well to arrange those with an eye to the future—unless there is also a butcher to be found among these city men."
"You and Rolth were assigned rooms here—"
"The rangers prefer to remain as a unit. As you know, that is only Patrol policy. Or has the Patrol totally ceased to exist?" If Kartr had not been needled by increasing uneasiness he might not have added that.
"See here, Kartr." Jaksan turned away from the window. "Isn't it about time that you looked straight at some hard facts? We're going to be here for the rest of our lives.
We are seven men against almost two hundred—and they have a well-organized community going—"
"Seven men?" queried Kartr. "We number nine if you count the Commander."
"Men." Jaksan stressed the word.
There it was—out in the open. Kartr had feared to hear it for a long time now.
"There are four qualified Patrol rangers and five of you," he returned stubbornly. "And the rangers stick together."
"Don't be a fool!"
"Why shouldn't I have that privilege?" Kartr's rage was ice cold now. "All the rest of you seem to enjoy it."
"You're a human being! You belong with your kind. These aliens—they—"
"Jaksan"—Kartr repudiated once and for all the leadership of the arms officer—"I know all those threadbare, stock arguments. There is no need to run through them again. I have had them dinned into me by your kind ever since I joined the Service and asked for ranger detail—"
"You young idiot! Since you joined the Service, eh? And how long ago was that? Eight years? Ten? You're no more than a cub now. Since you joined the Service! You don't know anything at all about it—this Bemmy problem. Only a barbarian—"
"We'll admit that I'm a barbarian and that I have odd tastes in friends, shall we? Admit it and leave it out of this conversation!" Kartr was gaining control of his temper.
It was plain that Jaksan was attempting to justify some stand he had taken or been forced into agreement with, not only to Kartr but to himself.
"Suppose you allow me to go to perdition my own way. Is this `All humans stand together' a rule of Cummi's?"
Jaksan refused to meet the sergeant's demanding gaze. "He is very prejudiced. Don't forget he is an Ageratan. They had an internal problem in that system when they had to deal with a race of alien non-humans—"
"And they solved that problem neatly and expediently by the cold-blooded massacre of the aliens!"
"I forgot—your feeling against Ageratans—"
"My feeling for Ageratans, which, I might say, is different from the one you deem it to be, has nothing to do with this case. I simply refuse now or ever to hold any such views against any stranger, human or Bemmy. If the Vice-Sector Lord wants the rangers to do his hunting—all right. But we shall stick together as a unit. And if to continue to do so means trouble—then we might oblige in that direction also!"