Star Soldiers

  And before Wulf had half finished that speech a bolt of mental force struck Kartr. If Cummi had not betrayed himself by words he might have had a better chance. But the ranger was armed and prepared. And into him flowed Zinga's support, so that he stood smiling faintly in the firelight as he parried and thrust in the silent motionless duel.

  Cummi did not try heavy assaults, instead he used quick rapier stings of attack which one must guard against constantly. But Kartr's confidence grew. And he was doing all the work, he realized with mounting exultation—Zinga was only in watchful support. Let Cummi be a mutant of unknown powers, he was going to meet his match now in a frontier barbarian from a vanquished planet. The ranger had a second's flicker of new knowledge—Ylene had been burnt off because an Ageratan had realized the threat of that world.

  His confidence grew. Perhaps Ylene had been the check upon the growing Ageratan ambition. Very well, a man from Ylene was about to avenge both his people and his world!

  14 — PLAGUE

  But that confidence was to be suddenly shaken. The pressure exerted by Cummi stopped as quickly as if some force blade had cut it. And in place of that darting attack there was a confused boiling of unrelated thoughts and impressions. Was that to lure him from behind his block, to set him up for some more subtle attack? But Kartr remained wary, ready to meet what came—and it came with a wild blast of desperation as if the Ageratan must win at once.

  That ebbed and still the sergeant was on guard, believing that the other had withdrawn to gather his forces for another assault. And by thinking that he almost died.

  For the attack which came was not mental but physical—a lance of blaster fire.

  With a choked cry of pain Kartr dropped. He lay flaccid in the glow of the flames.

  The chieftain shook his head and stared almost stupidly at the limp body of the ranger. He was still in the process of getting to his feet when another came out of the shadows and approached the fire, a gleaming blaster in his hand.

  "Got—got him!" There was an odd hesitation in those words of triumph. And before he reached the body the newcomer stopped and half raised his hand to his head. Then his face twisted and he cried out. The blaster fell to the ground, bounced, and landed close to the body of his victim. And a second later he, too, had crumpled up.

  Kartr raised himself. His hand went to his left shoulder. The vlis hide jerkin had taken some of the force of the blast, and it had not been well aimed. He had a nasty burn, but he was still alive, scooping up Cummi's blaster as he got to his feet.

  That blaster—why had Cummi tried to burn him down? The sergeant was sure that the Ageratan relied on mental power—the weapon was entirely out of character—Cummi was too civilized, too self-confident. And how in the world had he been able to knock the Ageratan out so easily just a minute ago? Why—Cummi had reacted to his bolt as if he had had no mind blocks up at all!

  As the ranger bent over him Cummi stirred and moaned faintly. The Ageratan's breath came in painful gasps, his chest laboring as if he were fighting hard for every lungful of air. But that was not natural—what was wrong with the man?

  "Koomee? What does—?"

  Wulf hovered timidly by the two. Kartr shook his head.

  "Turn him over," he ordered briefly.

  The chieftain obeyed gingerly, as if he dreaded touching the man on the ground. Kartr went down on one knee, setting his teeth against the sharp twinge of pain that motion cost him. In the firelight the Ageratan's sharp features were plain to see, his mouth was open and he was gasping. There was a faint, dark shadow pinching in above his beaked nose and about his lips—Kartr stiffened.

  "Emphire fever!" he broke out though Wulf could not understand.

  It was a common enough disease, he had had a bout with it once himself. The remedy was galdine. But before the medicos had discovered that drug, emphire had been serious all right. A man who caught it strangled to death because muscles locked against breathing. Galdine! But where could one find galdine here? Did they carry it in their packs of ranger equipment? He tried to remember if it were included. It might not be—their immunity shots were supposed to leave them free from the necessity of carrying such supplies.

  In the meantime Cummi was going to die unless he could get air. And he, Kartr, couldn't apply artificial respiration with a blast-burned shoulder.

  "You"—he turned to Wulf—"put your hands here. Then push hard and let go, like this—one, two, one, two—"

  With visible reluctance the chieftain obeyed orders. Kartr contacted Zinga.

  "Okay," came the calm response. "Will try for galdine in camp if you can hold on. Give me two hours—maybe three—"

  Kartr bit hard on his lower lip; little hot waves of pain spread from the burn.

  "Get going!" he flashed back.

  Wulf glowered at him from under the tangle of his thick hair.

  "Why must I do this to Koomee?"

  "If you fail to do it he will die."

  For a moment the rhythm ceased as the chieftain looked at the ranger in open surprise.

  "But there is no wound upon him. And he is a sky god—one of those of all knowledge. Have you laid a spell upon him—being his enemy?"

  "There is no spell." Hurriedly Kartr discarded two possible explanations and gave a third which this clansman might not only understand but accept. "Cummi has swallowed certain demons which cannot be seen. They do not wish to come forth, but they must be forced to do so—or they will slay him as surely as if your knife had torn him open—"

  Wulf considered this and went back to his task. The manpower—and womanpower—of the camp ringed them in. And, as Wulf began to tire, Kartr arbitrarily chose the nearest and strongest of the men and set him to work in the chieftain's place. The sergeant watched Cummi's face narrowly. He could not be sure but he was almost certain that some of the strain was passing.

  It might be that the first attack would be over before Zinga returned. Emphire came in cycles, he recalled. If the first disastrous paralysis of the disease did not kill, there was a period of relief before the second attack began. For that second crisis only galdine was the answer. If not treated with it the patient generally succumbed. The fever, which had faded in four generations to light attacks of mild discomfort, had once been a plague which had devastated whole planets.

  Yes, Cummi was definitely breathing easier. At a sign from the ranger the man now working over the Ageratan stopped, but the Vice-Lord continued to draw shallow breaths. Kartr touched the dank skin of the sick man's face; the characteristic cold sweat was beading on forehead and upper lip.

  "Bring robes to cover him," he told them.

  Wulf pulled at his sleeve. "Are the demons out?"

  "They have withdrawn; they may yet return."

  A woman squirmed by the line of men and tossed a tanned skin in the general direction of Cummi. But she came no closer to draw it over the unconscious man. Kartr pulled it awkwardly into place himself. The natives were edging away. Wulf had retreated to the other side of the fire where he hovered nervously as if in two minds about whether to follow his people into the tight group of whisperers by the tents.

  Two hours, Zinga had said, maybe three. And perhaps no galdine after all. Kartr didn't like to see the natives gathering that way, to hear the whispers hissing in the dark. They couldn't start any trouble without his knowledge. But he was one man against twenty or more of them. He had two blasters—which he could only use as a very last resort. The years-long conditioning of the rangers would not permit him to fire until it was absolutely necessary in order to save his life.

  "You—"

  That weak thread of voice came from beside him. Cummi was awake.

  "What—?" The Ageratan began with a question.

  Kartr answered with one word: "Emphire."

  "Beaten—by—by a virus!" There was self-contempt in that. "Galdine?"

  "Maybe. I have sent someone to see if it is among our supplies."

  "So? Then there were two of you!" Cummi's
voice was gaining strength. "But you are alone now—"

  "I am alone."

  The Ageratan's eyes closed wearily. He was holding a complete mind block. Perhaps behind it he was planning. But emphire affected the mental powers as well as the muscles. He could do little to start trouble now.

  "You are going to have difficulties with the clan, you know." He was continuing in a conversational tone, a sort of malicious amusement just below the surface. "I've had time to indoctrinate them pretty thoroughly. They are not going to take kindly to my collapse—they'll believe that you've tried to murder me."

  Kartr did not answer and his silence appeared to sting Cummi to another effort.

  "You won't win this bout, Ranger, any more than you won the last. If I die you'll go down under their knives and spears—a fitting end for a barbarian."

  The sergeant shrugged although that motion almost wrung a cry of pain from him. Cummi's half-open eyes narrowed and a grin drew back his lips in an animal snarl.

  "So I did mark you! Well, that will make you easier meat for Wulf and his men when the time comes."

  "You have it arranged very neatly, I suppose." Kartr dared to yawn. He might not be able to read what was going on behind the Ageratan's block, but he could guess how he himself would answer such an impasse and he gave Cummi credit for devising something as easy. "I will be taken care of and then you will lay an ambush for whoever comes with the galdine. It will be simpler to get it from a dead man."

  But Cummi's eyes were closed again and he gave no sign that the other might have scored. Kartr looked to Wulf. The chieftain was sitting cross-legged again, staring into the fire. Was Cummi busy now making mind contact with that hunched figure? The sergeant sighed. During the past few days he had discovered that there were vast unexplored possibilities tied up with this gift of his. Why, the adept who had schooled him had known practically nothing—he knew that after meeting with Zicti, discovering communication with Zinga. If he had their ability now he might well be able to intercept any orders or suggestions the Ageratan was trying to plant in Wulf's mind. He had no idea of the extent of Cummi's power—if he were a mutant, anything was possible.

  The rest of the clan were still bunched in the dark by the tents. But they were squatting down, there was no immediate danger of attack. He had only to be alert and ready—

  Time passed leadenly. Now and again someone crept up to feed the fire. Wulf drowsed and awakened with a jerk of the head. To all appearances Cummi either slept or was unconscious. But Kartr stayed on guard. Fortunately the pain in his shoulder would not let him rest.

  At last the sound he had been straining to hear came—the faint swish of the lifeboat's air passage. He drew a deep breath of relief and straightened. Then he glanced down. Cummi's eyes were open, dark holes of evil malevolence. What was the Ageratan going to try?

  Wulf stirred and Kartr's hand reached for the blaster Cummi had dropped. The chieftain arose stiffly to his feet. Three more men came out of the shadows to join him.

  "Kartr!" That mental call was imperative and it came from Zicti not Zinga. "There is no galdine!"

  Even as the message reached the ranger Cummi uncoiled, his legs flailing out in a move which might have brought Kartr down had he not sprung backward at the same instant. The Ageratan was crazy if he thought he could ever surprise a sensitive. But by his maneuver the Vice-Lord had been able to get to his hands and knees.

  This was it! Kartr lurched to the left, keeping the fire between him and the clansmen who were moving to come up to him. They had their knives out. And he couldn't turn his blaster on the poor fools, he couldn't!

  He lashed a kick at Cummi, who, reflexes weakened by the fever, could not dodge the blow. As the Ageratan sprawled flat on his face, the ranger hurdled his body and began to back toward the woods in the general direction of the hidden aircraft.

  Seconds later he heard a welcome voice behind him.

  "I have them covered, Kartr—"

  "Cummi controls them—"

  "Okay. I've got him, too. Fall back to the trees, Zicti is waiting for us." Rolth spoke calmly as he stepped out of the shadows to stand shoulder to shoulder with the sergeant.

  Cummi caught at Wulf as the chieftain passed him. Using the native as a support he pulled himself up on his feet.

  "So you don't have galdine," he spat at them. His face was no longer malevolent. It was twisted and white with pure fear.

  "I may be a dead man," he went on softly, "but I still have time to finish you, too." He released Wulf suddenly and pushed him at the rangers. "Kill—!" he screamed.

  "We'll do what we can for you—" Kartr said slowly.

  The Ageratan was holding himself erect with an effort which was draining the last resources of his strength. "Still living by the code, fool! I shall live to see your blood—barbarian!"

  "Ahhhhhhhh!" The scream was shrill and it bit rawly at the nerves. It could only have been torn from a woman's throat.

  Wulf and his men half turned just as a second scream broke. There was a frenzied gabble of words which Kartr did not catch. But Zicti's thought translated for them.

  "One of this tribe—a maiden—has fallen ill. They believe that the demons of Cummi have entered into her—"

  Wulf had gone to the source of the screaming; now he came back into the firelight walking heavily.

  "The demons"—he spoke directly to the Ageratan—"are in Quetta. If you are truly a sky god—bring them forth."

  Cummi swayed, conquering the weakness of his body by sheer power of will.

  "It is their doing." He pointed to the rangers. "Ask them."

  But Wulf's attention did not waver.

  "Koomee is a sky god, he has sworn it. These have not sworn it. Koomee brought the devils hither in his body. They are the devils of Koomee, not the devils of my people. Now let Koomee summon them forth out of the body of my daughter!"

  Cummi's ravaged face, gaunt and hollowed, was a mask of pain in the flickering light. His black eyes held on the rangers.

  "Galdine." Kartr saw the Ageratan's lips form the word. Then slowly, as if he were fighting to the last, he lost control and toppled forward into the trampled dirt and ashes on the very edge of the fire.

  Wulf stooped and twisted his fingers in the Ageratan's cropped hair, fumbling for a hold, and then he jerked up the head. But Cummi had not lost consciousness. And, before either of the horrified rangers could move, the chieftain drew his knife in a quick stroke across the stretched throat of the Vice-Lord.

  "Here is an open door for the devils to enter," he remarked, "and also much blood for them to drink. May they speedily find it." He wiped the knife on Cummi's tunic. "Sometimes it takes very much blood to satisfy the thirst of a strong demon," he ended as he looked up at the rangers.

  Rolth's blaster was ready but Kartr shook his head. Together they backed into the darkness under the trees.

  "They will follow—" suggested the Faltharian.

  "Not yet," came Zicti's reassurance. "I think that they are still a little daunted by their chieftain's act. After all, it is not every day that one slays a god—or ex-god. Now, let us make haste to the lifeboat."

  It was morning again and there was a sun bright and hot across Kartr's knees but his thoughts were dull and gray.

  "We couldn't do anything to help them." Smitt was making his report. "If we had had the galdine—maybe—if they would let us near them. But we have tried during these last three days. When Dalgre and I went there two hours ago one of them crawled out just to throw a knife at us. Most of them must be already dead." He spread out his hands in a gesture of defeat. "I do not think any will be alive by nightfall."

  "Twenty people—maybe more—murdered. It was murder," Kartr returned bleakly.

  "We don't catch it," Dalgre wondered.

  "Immunity shots—and the Zacathans have never come down with emphire. But this is the way it used to hit—when it was a plague. It hasn't been like this for years—"

  "We've had galdine. And w
e've known emphire a long time, remember. It struck us just after the Ciran worlds were explored. Through generations," Rolth pointed out, "we may have built up some natural immunity to it, also. Man does, by natural selection. But how do we know how many other germs we may carry with us—harmless to us but devastating to this world. The best thing we can do from now on is to stay away from the natives."

  "And that move may not be altogether altruistic," added Zinga. "Suppose they have bred some pleasant little viruses of their own. Let us pray that our immunity shots continue to work."

  "It is a tragedy, but one we can do nothing to end." Zicti pulled off his traveling cloak and let the sun beat warmly on his shoulders. "From now on we shall keep away from these people. I gather that they are not a numerous race—?"

  "I believe not," answered Kartr. "From the little I was able to learn there are only a few small family clans—but they unite once a year at—"

  "The Meeting Place of the Gods, yes, that is a most interesting point. These `gods' who departed into the sky—who were they, some galactic colony later withdrawn? That would account for the city left in order to wait a return. Pardon me, gentlemen, I am being swept away again by my own subject." The hist-techneer smiled.

  "But there was no space ship landing field near the city," protested Dalgre.

  "That was only one city. There may be others," Fylh pointed out. "Suppose they had only one or two space ports on the whole planet. That could be true of a colonial outpost."

  "The Meeting Place of the Gods," mused Zicti. "What does that suggest?"

  "We've got to go there!" Dalgre sat up eagerly. "The city machinery, what I saw of it, was in an amazing state of preservation. If we find a space port we might even find a ship we can use!"

  A ship to use. Kartr frowned. And then he could only be surprised at the instant protest those words had sparked in him. Didn't he want to leave this world?

  Zacita and her daughter came out of the makeshift tent that was their own domain and joined the group by the fire. Kartr noted with an inner tickle of amusement how quick Zinga was to heap up the grass intended for seating.