Deathworld Vol2 Part 8

Small crocks were filled with the most combustible of the refinery's fractions and were wrapped around with cloth that he had soaked in the same liquid. The stench made him dizzy, and he hoped that they would repay his efforts when the time came. He could only hope, for they were completely untried. In use, one lit the outer covering and threw them. The crockery burst on impact and the fuse ignited the contents. Theoretically.

Getting back in proved to be as easy as getting out, and Jason felt a twinge of regret. His subconscious had obviously been hoping that there would be a disturbance and he would have to retreat to save himself-his subconscious obviously being very short on interest in saving the slave girl and his nemesis, particularly at the risk of his own skin. But he was back in the building where his quarters were, and was trying to peer around the corner to see if a guard was at the door. There was, and he seemed to be dozing, but something jerked him awake. He had heard nothing, but he sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose; the powerful smell of water-of-power from Jason's molotails had roused him and he spotted Jason before the latter could pull back.

"Who is there?" the guard shouted, and he advanced at a lumbering run.

There was no quiet way out of this, and Jason leaped out with an echoing shout and lunged. The blade went right under the man's guard -it must have been that he had never seen a sword before-and the tip caught him full in the throat.

He expired with a bubbling wail that stirred voices deeper in the building. Jason sprang over the corpse and tore at the multifold bolts and locks that sealed the door. Footsteps were running in the distance when he finally threw the door open and ran in.

"Get out, and quick, we're escaping!" he shouted at them and pushed the dazed Ijale towards the door. He took a great deal of pleasure in landing a tremendous kick that literally lifted Mikah through the opening, where he collided with Edipon, who had just run up waving a dub. Jason leaped over the tumbled forms, rapped Edipon behind the ear with the hilt of his sword, and dragged Mikah to his feet.

"Get out to the engine works," he ordered his still uncomprehending companions. "I have a caro there that we can get away in." They finally broke into clumsy motion.

Shouts sounded behind him and an armed mob of d'zertanoj ran into view.

Jason pulled down the hall light, burning his hand on the hot base as he did so, and applied its open flame to one of his molotails. The wick caught with a burst of flame and he threw it at approaching soldiers before it could b.u.m his hand more seriously. It flew towards them, hit the wall, and broke; inflammable fuel spurted in every direction but the flame went out.

Jason cursed, and grappled for another molotail, for if they didn't work he was dead. The d'zertanoj had hesitated a moment rather than walk through the puddle of spilled water-of-power, and in that instant he hurled the second fire bomb. This one burst nicely too, and lived up to its maker's expectations when it ignited the first molotail as well, and the pa.s.sageway filled with a curtain of fire.

Holding his hand around the lamp flame so it wouldn't go out, Jason ran after the others.

As yet, the alarm had not spread outside of the building. Jason bolted the door from the outside; by the time this was broken open and the confusion sorted out they would be clear of the buildings. There was no need for the lamp now and it would only give him away, so he blew it out. From the desert came a continous ear-piercing scream.

"He's done it," Jason groaned. "That's the safety valve on the steam engine!"

He b.u.mped into Ijale and Mikah, who were milling about confusedly in the dark, kicked Mikah again out of sheer hatred of all mankind, and led them towards the worksite at a dead run.

They escaped unharmed, mainly because of the confusion on all sides of them. The d'zertanoj seemed to have never experienced a night attack before, which they apparently thought this was, and they did an incredible amount of rushing about and shouting. The burning building and the unconscious form of Edipon that was carried from the blaze made the general excitement and disorder even worse. All the d'zertanoj had been roused by the scream of the safety valve, which was still bleeding irreplaceable steam into the night air.

In the confusion, the fleeing slaves were not noticed, and Jason led them around the guard post on the walls and directly towards the worksite. They were spotted as they crossed the empty ground, and after some hesitation the guard ran in pursuit. Jason was leading the enemy directly to his precious steam wagon, but he had no choice. In any case, the thing was making its presence known, and unless he reached it at once the head of steam would be gone and they would be trapped. He leaped the rec.u.mbent guard at the entrance and ran towards his machine. Snarbi was cowering behind one wheel, but there was no time to give him any attention. As Jason jumped onto the platform the safety valve closed, and the sudden stillness was frightening.

Frantically he spun valves and shot a glance at the indicator: there wan't enough steam left to roll ten meters. Water gurgled and the boiler hissed and clacked at him, while cries of anger came from the d'zertanoj as they ran into the enclosure and saw the bootleg caro. Jason thrust the end of a molotail into the firebox; it caught fire and he turned and hurled it at them. The angry cries turned into screams of fear as the tongues of flame licked up at the pursuers, and they retreated in disorder. Jason ran after them and hastened their departure with another molotail. They seemed to be retreating as far as the refinery walls, but he could not be sure in the darkness whether some of them weren't creeping around to the sides.

He hurried back to the caro, tapped on the unmoving pressure indicator, and opened the fuel feed wide. As an afterthought he wired down the safety valve, since his reinforced boiler should hold more pressure than the valve had been originally adjusted for. Once this was finished, he could only wait, for there was nothing else that could be done until the pressure built up again. The d'zertanoj would rally, someone would take charge, and they would attack the worksite. If enough pressure built up before this happened, they could escape. If not.

"Mikah-and you too, you cowering slob Snarbi, get behind this thing and push," Jason said.

"What has happened?" Mikah asked. "Have you started the revolution? If so, I will give no aid. . ."

'We're escaping, if that's all right with you. Just I, Ijale, and a guide to show us the way. You don't have to come."

"I will join you. There is nothing criminal in escaping from these barbarians."

"It's very nice of you to say so. Now push. I want this steamobile in the center, far from all the walls, and pointing towards the desert. Down the valley, I guess-is that right, Snarbi?"

"Down the valley, sure, that's the way." His voice was still rasping from the earlier throttling, Jason was pleased to notice.

"Stop it here, and everyone aboard. Grab on to those bars I've bolted along the sides so you won't get bounced off-if we ever start moving, that is."

Jason took a quick look through his workshop to make sure everything they might need was already loaded, then reluctantly he climbed aboard. He blew out the lantern and they sat there in the darkness while the tension mounted, their faces lit from below by the flickering glow from the firebox. There was no way to measure time; each second seemed to take an eternity to drag by. The walls of the worksite cut off any view of the outside, and within a few moments imagination had peopled the night with silent creeping hordes, huddling about the thin barrier of leather, ready to swoop down and crush them in an instant.

"Let's run for it," Snarbi gurgled, and he tried to jump from the platform.

"We're trapped here, we'll never get away."

Jason tripped him and knocked him flat, then pounded his head against the floor planks a few times until he quieted.

"I can sympathize with that poor man," Mikah said severely. "You are a brute, Jason, to punish him for his natural feelings. Cease your s.a.d.i.s.tic attack and join me in a prayer."

"If this poor man you are so sorry for had done his duty and watched the boiler, we would all be safely away from here by now. And if you have enough breath for a prayer, put it to better use by blowing into the firebox. It's not going to be wishes, prayers, or divine intervention that gets us out of here-it's a head of steam. .

A howled battle cry was echoed by ma.s.sed voices, and a squad of d'zertanoj burst through the entrance. At the same instant the rear of the leather wall went down and more armed men swarmed over it. The immobile caro was trapped between the two groups of attackers, who laughed in glee as they charged. Jason, cursing, lit four molotails at the same time and hurled them, two and two, in opposite directions. Before they hit, he had jumped to the steam valve and wound it open; with a hissing clank the caro shuddered and got under way.

For the moment the attackers were held back by the walls of flame, and they screamed as the machine moved away at right angles from between their two groups. The air whistled with crossbow bolts, but most were badly aimed and only a few thudded into the baggage.

With each revolution of the wheels their speed picked up, and when they hit the walls the hides parted with a creaking snap. Strips of leather whipped at them, then they were through. The shouts grew fainter and the fires grew dimmer behind them as they streaked down the valley at a suicidal pace, hissing and rattling over the b.u.mps. Jason dung to the tiller and shouted for Mikah to come relieve him. For if he let go of the thing they would turn and crash in an instant, and as long as he held it he couldn't cut down the steam. Some of this finally got through to Mikah and he crawled forward, grasping desperately at every handhold, until he crouched beside Jason.

"Grab this tiller and hold it straight, and steer around anything big enough to see."

As soon as the steering was taken over, Jason worked his way back to the engine and throttled down; they slowed to a clanking walk, then stopped completely. Ijale moaned, and Jason felt as if every inch of his body had been beaten with hammers. There was no sign of pursuit; it would be at least an hour before they could raise steam in the caro, and no one on foot could possibly have matched their own headlong pace. The lantern he had used earlier had vanished during the wild ride, so Jason dug out another one of his own construction.

"On your feet, Snarbi," he ordered. "I've cracked us all out of slavery, and now it is time for you to do some of the guiding that you were telling me about. I never did have a chance to build headlights for this machine, so you will have to walk ahead with this light and pick out a nice smooth track going in the right direction."

Snarbi climbed down unsteadily and walked out in front of them. Jason opened the valve a bit and they clattered forward on his trail as Mikah turned the tiller to follow. Ijale crawled over and settled herself against Jason's side, shivering with cold and fright. He patted her shoulder.

"Relax," he said. "From now on this is just a pleasure trip."

10 They were six days out of Putl'ko and their supplies were almost exhausted. The country, once they were away from the mountains, became more fertile, and undulating pampas of gra.s.s with enough streams and herds of beasts to a.s.sure that they did not starve. It was fuel that mattered, and that afternoon Jason had opened their last jar. They stopped a few hours before dark, for their fresh meat was gone, and Snarbi took the crossbow and went out to shoot something for the pot. Since he was the only one who could handle the clumsy weapon with any kind of skill, in spite of his ocular deficiencies, and who knew about the local game, this task had been a.s.signed to him. With longer contact, his fear of the caro had lessened, and his self-esteem rose with his ability as a hunter recognized. He strolled arrogantly out into the kneehigh gra.s.s, crossbow over his shoulder, whistling tunelessly through his teeth. Jason stared after him and once again felt a growing unease.

"I don't trust that wall-eyed mercenary. I don't trust him for one second,"

he muttered.

'Were you talking to me?" Mikah asked.

"I wasn't, but I might as well now. Have you noticed anything interesting about the country we have been pa.s.sing through, anything different?"

"Nothing. It is a wilderness, untouched by the hand of man."

"Then you must be blind, because I have been seeing things the last two days, and I know just as little about woodcraft as you do. Ijale," he called, and she looked up from the boiler over which she was heating a thin stew of their last krenoj. "Leave that stuff-it tastes just as bad whatever is done to it, and if Snarhi has any luck we'll be having roast meat. Tell me, have you seen anything strange or different about the land we pa.s.sed through today?'

"Nothing strange. just signs of people. In which pa.s.sed places where gra.s.s was flat and branches broken, as if a caro pa.s.sed two or three days ago, maybe more. And once there was a place where someone had built a cooking fire, but that was very old."

"Nothing to be seen, Mikah?" Jason said, with raised eyebrows. "See what a lifetime of kreno hunting can do for the sense of observation and terrain."

"I am no savage. You cannot expect me to look out for that sort of thing."

"I don't. I have learned to expect very little from you besides trouble. Only now I am going to need your help. This is Snarbi's last night of freedom, whether he knows it or not, and I don't want him standing guard tonight, so you and I will split the shift."

Mikah was astonished, "I do not understand. What do you mean when you say this is his last night of freedom?"

"It should be obvious by now, even to you, how the social ethic works on this planet. What did you think you were going to do when we came to Appsala- follow Snarbi like sheep to the slaughter? I have no idea what he is planning; I just know he must be planning something. When I ask him about the city he only answers in generalities. Of course he is a hired mercenary who wouldn't know too much of the details, but he must know a lot more than he is telling us. He says we are still four days away from the city. My guess is that we are no more than one or two. In the morning I intend to grab him and tie him up, then swing over to those hills there and find a place to hole up. I'll fix some chains for Snarbi so he can't get away, and then I'll do a scout of the city."

"You are going to chain this poor man, make a slave of him for no reason!"

"I'm not going to make a slave of him, I'm just going to chain him to make sure he doesn't lead us into some trap that will benefit him. This souped-up caro is valuable enough to tempt any of the locals, and if he can sell me as an engine- mechanic slave his fortune is made."

"I will not hear this!" Mikah stormed. "You condemn the man on no evidence at all, just because of your mean-minded suspicions. Judge not lest ye be judged yourself! And you play the hypocrite as well, because I well remember your telling me that a man is innocent until proven guilty."

"Well, this man is guilty, if you want to put it that way, guilty of being a member of this broken-down society, which means that he will always act in certain ways at certain times. Haven't you learned anything about these people yet? . . . Ijale!" She looked up from her contented munching on a kreno, obviously not listening to the argument. "Tell me, what is your opinion? We are coming soon to a place where Snarbi has friends, or people who will help him. What do you think he will do?"

"Say h.e.l.lo to the people he knows? Maybe they will give him a kreno." She smiled in satisfaction at her answer, and took another bite.

"That's not quite what I had in mind," Jason said patiently. "What if we three are with him when we come to the people, and the people see us and the caro. . ."

She sat up, alarmed. "We can't go with him! If he has people there they will fight us, make us slaves, take the caro. You must kill Snarbi at once."

"Bloodthirsty heathen . . ." Mikah began in his best denunciatory voice, but he stopped when he saw Jason pick up a heavy hammer.

"Don't you understand yet?" Jason asked, "By tying up Snarbi, I'm only conforming to a local code of ethics, like saluting in the arms', or not eating with your Fingers in polite society. In fact, I'm being a little slipshod, since by local custom I really should kill him before he can make trouble for us."

"It cannot he. I cannot believe it. You cannot judge and condemn a man upon such flimsy evidence,"

"I'm not condemning him," Jason said with growing irritation. "I'm just making sure that he can't cause us any trouble. You don't have to agree with me to help me; just don't get in my way. And split the guard with me tonight.

Whatever I do in the morning will be on my shoulders and no concern of yours."

"He is returning," Ijale whispered, and a moment later Snarbi came through the high gra.s.s.

"Got a cervo," he announced proudly, and dropped the animal down before them. "Cut him up, makes good chops and roast. We eat tonight."

He seemed completely innocent and without guile; the only thing that appeared guilty about him was his shifty gaze, which could be blamed on his crossed eyes. Jason wondered for a second if his a.s.sessment of the danger was correct; then thought of where he was and lost his doubts. Snarbi would be committing no crime if he tried to kill or enslave them; he would just be doing what any ordinary slave-holding barbarian would do in his place. Jason searched through his toolbox for some rivets that could be used to fasten the leg-irons on the man.

They had a filling dinner and the others turned in at dusk and were quickly asleep. Jason, tired from the labors of the trip and heavy with food, forced himself to remain awake, trying to keep alert for trouble, both from within the camp and from without. When he became too sleepy, he paced around the camp until the cold drove him back to the shelter of the still warn-i boiler. Above him, the stars wheeled slowly, and when one bright one reached the zenith he estimated it was midnight, or a bit after. He shook Mikah awake.

"You're on now. Keep your eyes and ears open for anything stirring, and don't forget a careful watch there." He jerked his thumb at Snarbi's silent form.

"Wake me up at once if there is anything suspicious."

Sleep came instantly, and Jason barely stirred until the first light of dawn touched the sky. Only the brightest stars were visible, and he could see a ground fog rising from the gra.s.s around them. Near him were the huddled forms of the two sleepers; the further one shifted in his sleep and Jason realized it was Mikah.

He bounded out of his skin covers and grabbed the other man by the shoulders. "What are you doing asleep?" he raged. "You were supposed to be on guard!"

Mikah opened his eyes and blinked with majestic a.s.surance. "I was on guard, but towards morning Snarbi awoke and offered to take his turn. I could not refuse him."

"You couldn't what? After what I said-"

"That was why. I could not judge an innocent man guilty and be a party to your unfair action. Therefore I left him on guard."

"You left him on guard!" The words almost choked Jason. "Then where is he? Do you see anyone on guard?"

Mikah looked around in a careful circle and saw that there were only the two of them and the wakening Ijale. "He seems to have gone. He has proved his untrustworthiness, and in the future. we will not allow him to stand guard."

Jason drew his foot back for a kick, then realized he had no time for such indulgences and dived for the steamobile. The firemaker worked at the first try for a change, and he lit the boiler. It roared merrily, but when he tapped the indicator he saw that the fuel was almost gone. There should be enough left in the last jug to take them to safety before whatever trouble Snarbi was planning arrived-but the jug was gone.

"That tears it," Jason said bitterly after a hectic search of the caro and the surrounding plain. The water-of-power had vanished with Snarbi, who, afraid as he was of the steam engine, apparently knew enough from observing Jason fueling the thing to realize that it could not move without the vital liquid.

An empty feeling of resignation had replaced Jason's first rage: he should have known better than to trust Mikah with anything, particularly when it involved an ethical point. He stared at the man, now calmly eating a bit of cold roast, and marveled at his unruffled calm.

"This doesn't bother you," he said, "the fact that you have condemned us all to slavery again?"

"I did what was right. I had no other choice. We must live as moral creatures, or sink to the level of the animals."

"But when you live with people who behave like animals-how do you survive?"

"You live as they do-as you do, Jason," he said with majestic judgment, "twisting and turning with fear, but unable to avoid your fate no matter how you squirm. Or you live as I have done, as a man of conviction, knowing what is right and not letting your head be turned by the petty needs of the day. And if one lives this way, one can die happy."

"Then die happy!" Jason snarled, and he reached for his sword, but he settled back again glumly without picking it up. "To think that I ever thought I could teach you anything about the reality of existence here, when you have never experienced reality before, nor ever will until the day you die. You carry your own att.i.tudes, which are your reality, around with you all the time, and they are more solid to you than this ground we are sitting on."

"For once we are in agreement, Jason. I have tried to open your eyes to the true light, but you turn away and will not see. You ignore the Eternal Law for the exigencies of the moment, and are therefore d.a.m.ned."

The pressure indicator on the boiler hissed and popped out, but the fuel level was at the absolute bottom.

"Grab some food for breakfast, Ijale," Jason said, "and get away from this machine. The fuel is gone and it's finished."

"I shall make a bundle to carry, and we will escape on foot."

"No, that's out of the question. Snarbi knows this country, and he knew we would find out at dawn that he was missing. Whatever kind of trouble he is bringing is already on the way, and we wouldn't be able to escape on foot. So we might as well save our energy. But they aren't getting my hand-made, super- charged steamobile!" he added with sudden vehemence, s.n.a.t.c.hing up the crossbow. "Back, both of you, far back. They'll make a slave of me for my talents, but no free samples go with it. If they want one of these hot-red steam wagons they are going to have to pay for it!"

Jason lay down fiat at the maximum range of the crossbow and his third quarrel hit the boiler. It went up with a most satisfactory bang and small pieces of metal and wood rained down all around. In the distance he heard shouting and the barking of dogs.

When he stood up he could see a distant line of men advancing through the tall gra.s.s, and when they were closer large dogs were also visible, tugging at their leashes. Though they must have come far in a few hours, they approached at a steady trot-experienced runners in thin leather garments, each carrying a short laminated bow and a full quiver of arrows. They swooped up in a semicircle, their great hounds slavering to be loosed, and stopped when the three strangers were within bow range. They notched their arrows and waited, alert, staying well clear of the smoking ruins of the caro until Snarbi finally staggered up, half supported by two other runners.

"You now belong to. . . the Hertug Persson. . . and are his slaves.

." Snarbi said. He seemed too exhausted to notice his surroundings. "What happened to the caro?" He screamed this last when he spotted the smoking wreck, and would have collapsed except for the sustaining arms. Evidently the new slaves decreased in value with the loss of the machine.

Snarbi stumbled over to it and, when none of the soldiers would help him, gathered up what he could find of Jason's artifacts and tools. When he had bundled them up, and the foot cavalry saw that he suffered no harm from the contact, they reluctantly agreed to carry them. One of the soldiers, identical in dress with the others, seemed to be in charge, and when he signaled a return they closed in on the three prisoners and nudged them to their feet with drawn bows.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Jason said, gnawing on a bone, "but I'm going to finish my breakfast first. I see an endless vista of krenoj stretching before me, and I intend to enjoy this last meal before entering servitude."

The lead soldiers looked confused and turned to their officer for orders.

"Who is this?" he asked Snarbi, pointing at the still seated Jason. "Is there any reason why I should not kill him?"

"You can't!" Snarbi choked, and turned a dirty shade of white. "He is the one who built the devil-wagon and knows all of its secrets. Hertug Persson will torture him to build another."

Jason wiped his fingers on the gra.s.s and stood up. "All right, gentlemen, let's go. And on the way perhaps someone can tell me just who Hertug Persson is and what is going to happen next."