Postmarked The Stars Part 5

They did not leave the dragon pen by the rest of the containers. Those they restacked and recovered with many more stones. In the bargain, Ali cut down three fairly good-sized trees and dragged them so that their thick upper branches met and tangled about the cache.

The pen they set closer to the LB, using the saw to clear the underbrush not only around the site they chose but also in a cutting back to the LB, so they were given a clear path to it, should need arise.

Dane had no idea as to what food the mutants would eat. Judging by their teeth, they might be carnivores. So his offering was a panful of squeezed out E-rations, which he left for the creatures when they awakened from the stunner-induced sleep. If they ever did-for it seemed to him that their day-long sleep was ominous, though it made their own task that much easier.

Ali rigged an alarm to awaken them if the pen was approached during the night. They were all almost too tired to eat as they settled in their hammocks for the night. Dane checked the door before he went to his. There had been stirring among the brachs, but he had left out food and water. He only hoped that if they did go roaming, they would be considerate enough to avoid waking the human members of the crew, but there was a small nagging worry in his mind, as a hint of toothache might come and go before a final explosion of pain in the jaw. The brachs had been too quiet, too cooperative during the day. He wondered if they were laying plans of their own.

The fact that it was freezing cold out might deter them from exploration, even if they could master the locking system set up on the hatch door. He did not believe they would really venture out. He was so tired that even the p.r.i.c.k of worry could not keep him awake.

Cold-bitter, bone-reaching cold. He was buried in the glacier looking down into the emerald lake, but the cold was a part of him. He must move, must break the film of ice, gain his freedom-or else he would slide, still in the core of a block, to be lost forever in green water depths. He must break loose. He made a mighty effort.

Under him the block swung and shook. It was giving away-he was falling into the lake! He must get free- The jar of landing on the deck of the LB, the hammock twisted over him, brought Dane awake. He was shivering still with the cold of his dream. But it wasn't from his dream! Cold air did sweep over him. He scrambled to his hands and knees, and in the very subdued light of a single rod over the controls, he saw the hatch door partly open and heard the moan of the wind outside.

The brachs! He shut the hatch first and then turned to the hammock where they had bedded down the aliens. As he expected, that was empty. Only the pile of bedding from their cage lay there, though he wasted a moment to pull that aside, hoping to find them cuddled under it.

He still had that in his hand when the buzz of the warning Ali had rigged sounded loudly through the LB. If the hunter had sniffed them out, the brachs could not only be in the freezing cold but helpless before that menace!

Dane grabbed his thermo jacket even as he saw Rip and Ali begin to pull out of their hammocks.

"The brachs are gone," he told them tersely, "and the cage alarm is on." He need not have added that, with its buzz punishing their ears in that confined s.p.a.ce.

He picked up a hand beamer and snapped it to the fore of his belt, leaving his hands free. The brachs rather than the dragons must be their first concern. Outside the LB it was as cold as he had feared. By his timer it was well past midnight, into the early morning hours. The low ray of his beamer-for he kept it to the low cycle-picked up marks in the frost, not well defined, but which he thought were brach tracks. He could only hope that the thick wall of brush had kept them to the path for a swift escape.

Dane heard the hatch clang shut and knew that the others must be on his heels, but he tried to walk as noiselessly has he could and with what speed the night, the low light, and the rough ground would allow. Luckily they did not have too far to go, always supposing that the brachs had been entrapped in the force field Ali had set by the dragon cage.

Though Dane might be going carefully, there was something ahead that sought no such progress. The thud of the same ponderous tread they had earlier heard was loud.

So the hunter had come back in search of the embryos. Now, as Dane half hesitated, holding his stunner at full charge but ignorant of what protection it would be against an alien life form, he heard a cry-shrill, rising in ululation of fear. And though he had not heard a brach scream before, he was very sure that had come from one of their throats.

Dane snapped the beamer to full and ran, the magnetic plates on his boot soles waking a hollow echo on the frozen ground. It was only seconds before he burst into the clearing they had made for the cage. Around it blazed the haze of the force field. Within that tenuous defense crouched the brachs. One of the kits lay on the ground, its brother or sister huddled against it, while, with their heads down to present nose horns to the enemy, the two adults stood guard.

It was a pitiful guard, for that which confronted them might have smashed both into b.l.o.o.d.y paste with a single swipe of one of its six limbs. It reared high, bracing itself back so that its rounded abdomen touched the ground, four limbs serving as a ship's cradle to anchor it there, while it swung its smaller torso and its long front arms back and forth before the force screen.

Apparently it was wary of that, for it did not try to touch the haze, but the strangeness of the attacker startled Dane into momentary immobility. Ant-beetle? No, it had no hard overskin such as those insects possessed. Instead it was covered, over rounded paunch, back, and thorax with long fur of hair of grayed-black, matted and filled with twigs and leaves, until it almost resembled one of the bushes moving, supposing its head, those waving forelimbs, and its aura of malignancy might be disregarded.

The upper limbs ended in long, narrow, toothed claws, which it constantly opened and shut, making swift darts with them at the force field, though it seemingly still hesitated to reach into that. Dane took aim on the round head in which the fore part was largely covered by great faceted eyes, another insectile resemblance.

The head shook as his stun beam must have caught its center. Then the thing looked down, over its shoulder at an angle he would not have thought possible for any living thing with a backbone or skeleton to a.s.sume.

One of the clawed forelimbs swung, but Dane grimly stood his ground, continuing to pour the full strength of the stun beam at its head. However, its actions were such that he feared he had chosen the wrong way to knock it out. Did it carry what brain it had somewhere else in that monstrous body? Ali and Rip, seeing that Dane's attack did not knock it out, aimed lower, one at the thorax, the other at the barrel abdomen. Some one of the three must have reached a vital part, for the flailing limbs fell, to flap feebly a time or two against the body. It shuffled half around, as if attempting to flee, and then crashed, missing the dragon cage and the beleaguered brachs by only a little.

Ali snapped off the force field, and they hurried to the smaller creatures. Three were unhurt, but the kit lying on the ground had a tear along its shoulder down to its ribs, and it whimpered pitifully as Dane bent over it, the rest of the family drawing back as if they knew he meant to help.

"The dragons"-Ali had gone to peer into the cage-"are gone. Look here!" Under his touch the door swung open as if they had never latched it. But Dane would have taken an oath that they had.

He gathered up the kit with all the gentleness he could and started back for the LB, the other three brachs close behind him, chittering those sounds that, the more one heard them, sounded like words.

"We'll look for the dragons," Rip said, "if you can manage."

"I can." Dane wanted to get the brachs back to the warmth and safety of the LB. Neither Ali nor Rip would take chances with the stunned monster he knew. The first thought must now be for the wounded brach.

Whether remedies intended for humans would heal the wounded kit, he had no way of being sure, but those were all he had to use. So he sprayed the wound with antibiotics, painted it with a thin coat of plasta-heal, and settled the small body in the hammock where its mother speedily joined it, pulling it gently against her and licking its head until its eyes closed and apparently it slept.

The male brach and the other kit still squatted on the shelf where they had all climbed to watch Dane at his doctoring. Now, as he put away the med-kit, the cargo master looked at them. That they seemed able to speak to one another was evident. Could they communicate with him or he with them? There was one provision that was regular equipment on an LB and that he might try. He went to one of the emergency storage pockets and brought out a box, taking up its contents with care. There was a small mike, a voice box to strap to his own throat, and a flat disk. The second set of throat mike and strap he put to one side. Then he set the disk before the male brach.

"I, Dane-" He tried the oldest of all approaches, giving his own name. "I, friend-"

His hopes were so far realized that a series of squeaks did come from the disk. But whether the subtle speech translator had indeed made clear that limited rea.s.surance he could not tell.

The male brach made a startled sidewise leap that almost took it completely off the shelf, and the kit screeched, jumping for the hammock, huddling down beside the female. Her nose had come up to present the horn, her lips drawn back in a warning snarl.

But the male did not retreat any farther. Instead, he hunkered down, looking from Dane to the disk, as if he were a.n.a.lyzing the problem. He hitched closer, watching Dane. The man tried again.

"I, friend-"

This time the chittering did not startle the brach. He advanced to lay a forepaw on the disk, then touched its short antenna wire, looking from that to the mike against Dane's throat.

"My hand, it is empty. I, friend-" Dane moved with infinite care, holding out his hand, palm up and empty as he had said. The brach bent forward, advanced its long nose, and sniffed.

Dane withdrew his hand, got slowly to his feet, brought out the food mixture, and filled the bowl. "Food," he said distinctly. Water was poured into the container. "Water, to drink-" He set them both where the brach could see them.

The female brach called out, and her mate scooped up the food dish, taking it to her. She sat up in the hammock, dipping up some of the mixture, licking it from her paw, pushing more into the mouth of the injured kit, who had also roused. The male took a long drink before he carried the water to those in the hammock, but he did not remain with his family. Instead he leaped once more to the shelf by the disk. Now he squatted with his snout very close to it, chittering at some length. He had the idea, at least half of it, Dane exulted. Now, could he get him to wear the other throat mike so the translator would work both ways? Before he could reach for it, the hatch opened. The male scuttled away from the disk and plumped into the hammock, and Dane turned, with some exasperation, to face Rip and Ali.

At sight of their expressions his attempt to communicate with the brachs was no longer of first importance.

7. ICEBOUND MURDER.

"How large was the thing we stunned?" Ali asked. He made no move to unseal his tunic, and he still carried his stunner ready as if prepared to fight off an attack.

"Taller than any of us." Dane could not give a more concise measurement. What difference did the size of the thing make? It was a menace, but they had proved stunners could handle it.

"By rights"-Rip had bolstered his weapon and now measured in the air another distance, about a foot between his two hands-"it should be no bigger than this, and, well, there are other differences, too."

"Suppose you say what you mean, loud and clear." Dane was in no mood for any more puzzles.

"On Asgard"-Ali took up the explanation-"there's a burrowing creature, not too different really from a Terran ant, except in size and the fact that it does not live in colonies but is solitary. Only it doesn't grow hair or fur, and it is not able to decapitate a man with its claws or stamp him flat. They call it-the settlers do-an antline. What we met out there is an antline with embellishments."

"But-" Dane began a protest when Rip cut in.

"Yes, but and but and but! We're both sure that was-is-an antline with modifications, just as the embryos were modified, just as these brachs are not running true to type."

"Then the box-" Dane's thoughts leaped to the danger they had buried. Stotz's guard must not have been secure. The radiation had worked again on some creature burrowing too near its hiding place.

Rip might have been reading his thoughts. "Not the box," he said flatly. "We went to look. It's undisturbed. Also that thing could not have altered overnight to its present form. We did a little backtracking. It's been here since before we set down."

"What proof have you of that?"

"A lair burrow." Alie's face mirrored his distaste. "Complete with the refuse. No, it's plainly been that size and been resident there for a good deal longer than two days. But it's an antline."

"How can you be so sure? You say there are superficial resemblances between a Terran ant and the antline. There could well be a native animal or insect here with the same general conformation, could there not? And this has differences-you say so yourself."

"Rational reasoning," Ali replied. "If there was not a museum of natural history on Asgard, and if it hadn't happened that we had a shipment for it some voyages back, some Fortian artifacts that Van Ryke wanted given special handling, we wouldn't know. While the curator was signing off our responsibility, we did some looking around. There was an earlier type of antline that died off long before the first settlers arrived. But some got caught in flash floods, were buried deep in peat, and were preserved. Those were large, haired, and enough like that thing out there to be its loving brother or sister! Asgard being a goodly number of pa.r.s.ecs from here, how do you explain the transportation of a living life form that died out on another world about fifty thousand planet years ago?"

"The box-" Dane kept returning to the only rational explanation. But from that it was easy to take the next step. "Another box?"

Rip nodded. "Not only another box, but surely an importation of other life forms. There is no duplication of such an animal from one world to the next. So, someone imported a modern antline, gave it the retrogressive treatment, and produced that thing. Just as we have the dragons-"

"The dragons!" Dane remembered the missing cargo. "Did it eat them?"

"No-little one-freed them-" The words were high pitched with a metallic undernote. Dane stared at his two companions. Neither one of them had said that. And they, in turn, were looking at a point behind him as if they could not believe in what they saw. He turned his head.

Once more the male brach hunched on the shelf where he had sat to listen to the chittering of Dane's voice out of the disk. But now the alien had something in his forepaws, pressed against his throat-the translator.

"Little one freed them." The brach was certainly speaking, and the words issuing from the disk made sense. "He was curious, and he thought that it was not right-those things in our home. They hurt him when he opened cage. He called-we went to him. The great thing came, but the dragons were already gone into the woods. This is so."

"By the brazen hoofs of Kathor!" exclaimed Ali. "It's talking!"

"With the translator!" Dane was almost as startled. He had left that other throat mike some distance away. The brach must have gone after it, working out that Dane's was what made the man's voice intelligible, and was now using it. But what a gigantic upstep in intelligence that action revealed-unless the brachs had never been truly the animals they had seemed and the radiation box had not as far back to take them as the Terrans believed.

"You talk." The brach indicated the mike it held pressed to its throat and then pointed to the disk. "I heard. I talk, you hear. This is true. But the dragon things not eaten by the big one. They were big also-too big for cage place. Pushing on wall, clawing door-Little one thought they be too tight, open to give them room. They fly-"

"Fly?" Dane echoed. It was true the creatures had flapping skin appendages that would in the far future be the wings of the lathsmers. But that they could use them for flying-!

"We have to get them back, and if they are flying in the woods-" he began when the brach added: "They do not fly good, many times on ground-hop, hop-" He gestured with his free paw to represent progress in a jerky manner.

"They could be anywhere," Rip said. The brach looked to him questioningly, and Dane realized the alien could understand only when Dane spoke with the translator.

"They could have gone in any direction," he repeated for the alien.

"Seek water-need water-" the brach replied. "Water there-" He pointed now to the south, as if he could see pond, lake, or streams through the solid wall of the LB.

"But the lake is in that direction." Rip nodded to the northwest, where it lay behind the plateau.

"That direction-lake," Dane translated.

"No, not go there-but there!" And again the alien waved to the south.

"You see them?" Ali asked. Then realizing that Dane alone could voice the question, he added, "Ask him why he is so sure."

But Dane had already begun. If the long-snouted face with its so alien features could have mirrored the emotion surprise, Dane believed he would be reading it. Then the brach's paw touched that part of his head that would be a human forehead and answered, "The dragons want water bad, so we feel-feel the want-"

"Telepathy!" Rip almost shouted.

But Dane was not sure. "You feel what thing thinks?" He hoped that was clear.

"Not what thinks, only what other brach thinks-sometimes. What thing feels, we feel. It feels strong, we know."

"Emotional broadcast of some kind," Ali summed up.

"Little one feel dragons want out, so let them," continued the brach. "Then dragon hurt little one. A thing of badness-"

"The cold," Rip said. "If they went hunting water to the south, the cold will get them."

"So we have to find them first," Dane answered.

"Someone has to stay for the com," Ali pointed out.

"Pilot does that," Dane said swiftly before Rip could protest. "We take travel coms with us. You can signal us back if you have to."

He expected a protest from Shannon, but the other was already hauling out packs, opening the storage cabinets for supplies. It was the brach who spoke.

"Go with. Can feel dragons-tell where-"

"Too cold," Dane returned quickly. He might have lost part of the cargo, but the brachs were infinitely more important than the hatched embryos, and he was not going to risk them.

"I don't know." Rip held one of the supply bags. "Put a small heat unit in this, cut to low, pack our friend in with that"-he nodded toward the padding they had stripped out of the cage-"and he would be warm enough. What he says makes sense. If he can give you a guide to the dragons, you could save a lot of time and energy."

Dane took the bag from Rip. It was watertight, pressurized in part, meant to carry supplies on wholly inimically atmosphered planets, another of the save-life equipment of the LB, and it was certainly roomy enough to hold the brach, even with the warming factors Rip had listed. If what the brach boasted was the truth-that he could keep in touch with the lathsmer changelings by some kind of emotional direction finder-then his company would keep them from losing time. And Dane had the feeling, which grew stronger every time he left the LB, that the sooner they were out of this wilderness, the better.

Ali's trained hands carried out Rip's suggestion. A small heat unit went into the bottom of the bag, and the padding was wrapped around and around the sides, leaving a center core in which the brach could be inserted. The shoulder straps on the side could be easily lengthened to fit Dane, while Ali himself could carry the other supply bag. They each had a personna com clipped to the hoods of their jackets, and in addition Dane's translator was fastened close to his cheek in his.

The brach had gone to his family in the hammock, and from the subdued murmur there Dane guessed he was explaining his coming absence. If there were protests from the others, Dane was not to know, for the male had left the translator to be affixed in the bag.

It was midmorning when they set out, taking the path back to the cage. The door swung open, and the antline, if mutated antline the thing really was, had gone. Marks, deep grooved in the ground, suggested that it had crawled rather than walked to the eastward.

"Lair is that way," Ali observed. "I think that the lie out in the cold for so long didn't do it any good. At least you can hear it coming."

"If it is an antline returned to an earlier form-" Dane still found it difficult to accept that.

"Then who brought it here and why?" Ali ended his question for him. "That is something to think about. I believe we can a.s.sume that ours was not the first box, also that they were too hurried over shipping this one. Looks almost as if they were being rushed in some way. The Combine didn't have any trouble on this mail run. Which means if another box came through, it was better shielded, or else there was no live cargo to cause suspicious complications. And that I can't believe. The settlers have regular embryo shipments, not only of lathsmers, but other livestock."

"They may not be using regular transportation-whoever 'they' are," Dane pointed out.

"True. There's only one main port here, and they don't keep a planet-wide radar system. There's no need for it. There's nothing here to attract any poachers, jacks, or smugglers-or is there?"

"Drugs," ventured Dane, supplying the first and easiest answer, some narcotic easily raised in virgin ground, a small, light cargo bringing a fantastic return for growers' and suppliers' trouble.

"But why the box? Unless it is used to force growth in some way. Drugs might be the answer. If so, we may be facing some blaster-happy jacks. But why import an antline and turn it into a monster? And why did that dead man come on board wearing your face? That seems more like a frame for the Queen. I can suggest a good many different solutions-"

"Water ahead-" The pipe of the brack rang in Dane's ear.

"Do you sense the dragons?" Dane attended to the matter now at hand.