Slaves of The Klau Read online

  "Two cases of accr?"

  "Correct. The rest is loaded aboard the space-hull."

  "Good. Now you're sure you've done what I wanted?"

  "There is a detonator fixed at each comer of the bow, connected to the cargo."

  "Good. I'll get the men to open out the cave, then we'll be off."

  Porridge made a vague whining sound. "I do not care to go. The journey is unnecessary."

  Barch's face muscles twitched. He controlled his temper. "Show me how to operate the barge."

  Porridge jumped with great eagerness aboard. "It is very simple. Here is the speed. To go anywhere on the planet, set the target on the locator, throw this switch. This ball controls the barge when the locator-guide is not in operation." He spoke on, touching knobs and bars and finger-guides. Barch asked questions, sat in the seat, made sure he understood.

  He climbed back down to the ground. "I'll go get the men to take down the wall; you bring the barge out through the hole."

  Barch stood in the flat watching the rocks fall away from the opening. A black aperture appeared. Chevrr yelled down, a hoarse cry, "The Klau!"

  The men at the mouth to Big Hole froze; Barch looked up. Slipping down over Mount Kebali came a great black ship.

  Hysterical wailing broke out everywhere around the cave-loud sobs of mortal unabashed fear. "Shut up!" yelled Barch. "Get inside the cave!"

  Barch took Chevrr's place at the gun, crouching behind the edge of the rock.

  The ship cruised easily down the valley, past the flat, then rose over the narrow mouth, circled, came slowly back. The aperture into Big Hole was a shadow, facing away from the valley; it would hardly attract attention.

  The ship once more passed before the flat. A great crackling filled the air; the flat jarred, shimmered. The crackling ceased. The wrecked barge, the Podruod corpses were gone. Barch's diaphragm convulsed.

  The crackling sounded again. The forest below the flat collapsed. The rock by Barch's face quivered. Behind, in the cave, the wailing recommenced. Barch growled over his shoulder, "Stop that racket!" He turned back. So far no harm done; they were shooting at random. Only a lucky shot could hurt them. He hoped the Klau commander would come to the same conclusion.

  The ship passed almost overhead; Barch followed it in the gunsights. Perhaps the hull was immune to this relatively feeble piece; he held his fire.

  The Klau commander acted as Barch had hoped. The ship circled down the valley once again, paused over the commanding bluff, settled slowly.

  In high excitement Barch ran into the cave. "Porridge! Where's Porridge?"

  Komeitk Lelianr sitting at the table, pointed to an alcove. Barch ran over to find the Lenape wound together in a tight sweating ball. "Porridge, get out of there!" He reached in with his hand, tore the cluster of bodies apart. Porridge's red blinking face appeared. "Come out of there. Hurry!"

  Porridge struggled clear.

  "Get to that remote-control box. When I give you the word-let go number one. Understand?"

  Porridge shuffled to the box on the back table, Barch returned to the crevice.

  The ship alighted softly on the bluff; instantly a ramp fell down, a corps of Podruods sprang out. Barch ducked back into the cave. "Now!"

  Violet light flashed through the crevice; an instant later the face of the cliff rang as if with the impact of shrapnel.

  Barch cautiously peered out across the valley. The bluff was gouged and splintered; in the valley below were the broken pieces of the warship.

  Barch pushed back into the cave. "Porridge, where are you?" He ran across the room, caught the chunky shoulders. "Back to work! We count our time in minutes now." He swung around. "Ellen!"

  "Yes?"

  "I'm going now."

  " Roy -"

  "Don't argue with me. If I don't go, we have three or four hours of life ahead of us. They'll take us seriously now, they'll do the job right-unless I get in the first lick."

  "But, Roy, the ship must be almost ready…"

  "Keep Porridge busy until I get back. It's the only way to give us a few hours grace."

  "And if you don't come back?"

  "I'll come back. But if I don't-good-by."

  "Good-by."

  Barch ran up the passage into the Big Hole. "Porridge, climb into that barge, back it out, push open a hole."

  Porridge wordlessly climbed into the dome. The stern of the barge brushed the wall; it fell open. The barge slid out into the air.

  Barch stood a moment looking at the sky. Twilight was falling through the valley. Overhead the sky was mottled, like watered gray silk. The trees stood quiet and still; there was no sound. Barch's voice sounded loud. "Sure you won't come with me, Porridge?"

  Porridge shuffled his feet. "I am needed to work."

  "Very well. Work hard."

  "We will be done soon."

  Barch jumped into the little raft, slid it up to the catwalk behind the control dome. He looked into the hold, saw a satisfactory bulk of boxes. "Enough to do a little damage, eh, Porridge?" he called down jocularly.

  Porridge threw up his hands, walked away.

  Barch looked around the flat, looked up to the sky. In the cave mouth he saw a slim slight figure. Ellen? He waved. The shape vanished within.

  Barch entered the control dome, seated himself in the unfamiliar seat Gingerly he put into practice Porridge's instructions. The barge rose vertically up. Barch twisted the locator index, looking into the viewer. There-a green square on an irregular blue shape. But before he snapped the switch he manipulated the controls to get the feel of the barge. Up, down, sideways, ahead, turn. Nothing too difficult. Barch snapped the switch on the automatic pilot, pushed home the speed button, sat back.

  The barge slipped like a shadow over Mount Kebali. Ahead was Quodaras District, a horizon-to-horizon blur of light. Below, the stone quarry showed a lonesome cluster of lights; how long ago it seemed that he and Kerbol had slid down to waylay Tick. Tick was dead, Kerbol was dead: fruitless, unsatisfactory, curtailed lives.

  The stone quarry vanished astern like a pearl in the fog. Below Barch saw the glimmer of the Tchul Sea, the reflection from the far band of lights glistening on the surface.

  The barge suddenly slipped sideways, steadied; Barch realized that now he moved in a traffic stream. Other barges floated past, alongside, over. Incurious faces showed dimly: faces with dead souls.

  The barge flew over the glaring lights, the fiery pots, the churning arms, the incalculable shapes of Magarak.

  Suddenly it occurred to him, how would he find his way home? There was no locator on the raft. He must remember to unclip it, take it with him.

  On the locator he gauged the progress of his voyage. Not yet half-way to Central Organ. Below, the buildings, the shapes, the moving arms, the fantastic fires, took on proportions more enormous than he had yet seen. The air reeked with acrid odors; the clatter and jangle of the processes reached up to astonish him. How could men survive such a nightmare?

  And yet men did survive. Men had survived ice-ages, pestilences, wars, and now they survived Magarak. Human will-to-live approached the infinite.

  He sank back into the seat, feeling strangely at peace. The chips were down; the hay was in the barn. His problems were behind him now; no more straining or worry. He either succeeded in his mission, returned to the cave, and left Magarak behind-or he died.

  For a few minutes he lay drowsily back in the seat, then bestirred himself, checked distances in the locator. Two-thirds of the distance. He looked behind. Lights, swinging black shapes blurred in the distance. The same to all sides, all around the horizon. Without the locator he would be lost.

  Minutes passed; Barch began to grow tense. Easy, he told himself. Either you do or you don't.

  At the extreme edge of the locator the green square became visible. Barch looked ahead. There-that tall blocky tower, that irregular bluish shape.

  Barch snapped off the locator, pulled the speed-control out to slow, dropped to a
lower level. The tower soared above him, and Barch saw that it indeed glowed faintly green.

  He started a circle, carefully threading the vertical avenues and lanes. Barges cut across his course; he caught the flash of startled faces. Easy, Barch, watch what you're doing. You don't want to meet any traffic cops now.

  At the foot of the tower, he saw a wide opening-a ground-level landing deck.

  He lowered the barge. A raft with a crystal dome drew alongside and Barch could see the pilot peering curiously in his direction. Barch paid no heed. The raft drifted reluctantly away.

  A vast sound like a siren rattled the air. Alarm? Danger signal? Barch raised in his seat, looked in all directions. Nothing untoward seemed under way.

  The ground was close; the opening, lit by greenish-yellow light, was on his level. He flicked off the anti-collision circuit; started the barge toward the opening. Slowly, give him time to get clear. He watched a moment. Dead center. Good.

  He opened the door, clambered back to his raft, climbed aboard. He stopped; my God, the locator! He ran back. The hole was very close. With his one hand he fumbled with the clips. One came loose, then the other. He caught it under his arm, sprinted back. The hole almost engulfed him. Aboard the raft, cast loose, away…

  The air bit into his face; he hunched down, urging the raft ahead. Faster, faster. Better lie flat. He fell forward on his face.

  Light splattered the sky, painted the overcast dazzling violet-white. Ah, thought Barch, the explosion. Success! He clung to the raft. Faster, faster.

  There came a great wind, lifting the raft like a chip on the surf, flinging it high and miles ahead. Barch glimpsed the great tower toppling, falling, smashing. There came a second explosion. Barch saw a blue blast, a tremendous fan-shaped flare, reaching instantaneously up, breaking through the overcast. Where the tower stood was a seething puddle of lava. The massive structures beside were mangled, torn awry, and as the great blue blast quietly died, the buildings glowed red and slumped.

  The second air-wave caught Barch now, a milder, sharper impact, one which he heard as sound. Looking behind once more he wondered how many people had died, how many Klau, how many slaves. The Klau-Barch shrugged. The slaves -death was small loss to the slaves.

  The raft was riding on an even keel, under control. Barch looked into the locator-peered in astonishment. The viewer showed blackness, nothing. Barch shook it, pounded it to no avail.

  In sudden thought he looked behind. Did the Central Organ control the locator? In disgust and panic he tossed the mechanism behind him. He looked ahead. How had he come? Was this the right direction? All directions looked alike. There was no moon, no stars.

  He looked over the side, searching for some half-noticed landmark.

  The buildings bulged up, the myriad lights and vast motions were the same.

  He looked behind. The tower was gone. But-there was something subtly different about the approach. Barch got the raft around, circled to the left, looking toward the former tower. Building planes shifted, flares and fires took on different patterns. Now, this looked right. It was a gamble-but the whole exploit had been a gamble. So far he had won.

  Barch turned the raft away from the tower, set out at full speed.

  Now the minutes dragged where before they had sped. Surely he had not been so long over these monstrous shapes, with the bristling trusses like moth antenna. He kept on. The buildings seemed to diminish. By now he should be nearing Tchul Sea, but there was no Tchul Sea in sight. He had gone wrong. Now-turn to the right or turn to the left? No. Straight ahead. With anxiety gnawing at him, one minute was like ten minutes. In every direction sprawled the man-hating bulk of Magarak.

  He had come wrong. And yet-a few more miles. And what was that vague blankness ahead? "Thalasse, thalasse!" had shouted Xenophon's myriad. "The seal" muttered Barch. "Good old Tchul Sea!"

  The mud flats gleaming with murky phosphorescence like dead fish passed below; ahead was the mass of the Palamkum. It was almost like home, thought Barch. Now rest. His fingers relaxed. If they spent five years in space, he'd sleep the first year. Rest, sleep. No more driving, no more plotting and planning.

  Below passed the lonely lights of the stone quarry; there was the ridge of Mount Kebali. He slid down the long slant into Palkwarkz Ztvo, noticing that there was grayness in the sky. Had the night passed so soon?

  There was the blasted bluff, there the seared flat, there the black opening into Big Hole.

  Barch landed the raft, jumped to the ground, ran up the hill toward the cave mouth. He whistled in case anyone should be on guard, but there was no challenge.

  He reached the crevice, stopped short. He frowned. Where was the thin trickle of firelight that always glowed from the gap. Had they let the fire die? Had they extinguished the lamps?

  He stepped into the hall. The hearth glowed with dull coals. "Hey," Barch cried out. "Is everybody dead?"

  No response, no whisper, no murmur, no slightest stir of sound. Barch ran up the passage into Big Hole. Gray light poured in through the opening. The double-barge was gone. Big Hole was empty.

  Barch walked slowly to the opening. Wide. He looked up into the sky. The overcast came racing fast across Mount Kebali.

  He returned to the hall, sat on the bench, held his hand to his head. The coals glowed, winked, and one by one died out. Barch sat in the cool silence.

  Gray light seeped in through the crevice. Barch rose, went slowly outside. He banged the stump of his left arm on the stone and felt no pain. "Well," said Barch aloud, "so much for that."

  CHAPTER XI

  Barch stood in the cave opening. Light rain fell slanting down the wind, so cold as to be near-sleet; perhaps the Magarak winter was beginning. Purple-gray overcast, heavy and twisted, scraped the black ridges. The notch at the mouth of the valley was blurred; the black fronds of the forest shook and rattled.

  He returned inside the cave, threw wood on the coals, watched the smolder start up into little flames, grow to a blaze.

  He turned away, and without reason climbed the passage into Big Hole. Watery gray light entered through the gap, twenty feet high, fifty feet wide; he could not possibly fill it in alone. He shrugged turned away, looked around the cavern.

  He was still lord of vast properties-the cargo of sustenators, less the three for the ship and one in the hall. There were crates of welding tape, the igniter, the cutting tools, spools of cable, a respectable pile of decking. The explosives were used up, all the accr had gone with the double-barge. Oddments, scrap, broken crates littered the uneven half of the floor. Nothing of value or immediate usefulness.

  Barch started back down to the hall, then stopped. Something had to be done about the hole. With only one hand, piling up a wall of rocks was out of the question. But he could rig a makeshift screen, lashing up the deck-sheets with cable and maybe throwing a few branches against the outside for camouflage.

  He returned to the hall, fed himself from the sustenator. The fire was warm, the rain hissed outside. He felt drowsy, torpid. He dozed for a few moments, then awoke with a start. Voices? Sweet woman-voices? Heart thumping like a hammer, he jumped up, peered around the hall. Nothing. He looked down the back passage, listened. Silence. He went out to the crevice, scanned the sky. The rain had become a heavy lashing torrent; the black fronds bowed, shivered; the forest sighed, wind moaned down the valley.

  Barch went up to Big Hole, worked furiously, half in the rain, half out. When he finished, a double row of panels hung across the hole, flapping and bumping. Not good, but better than nothing.

  He went back to the hall, sat staring into the fire, and so the day passed.

  On the fourth morning, overcome by restlessness, he took up the raft. He landed precariously on the summit of Mount Kebali, stood looking out across Quodaras District. A smell of smoke hung in the air. Along the horizon Barch saw no less than twenty plumes of leaden vapor sweeping down the dank wind. As he watched a star-shaped flash of red fire burst up in the middle distance. Ha
lf a minute later, he felt a dull shock on his face, heard a rumble like thunder. Resisting the temptation to fly out over the city, Barch returned to the cave.

  He spent half a day piling fronds of vegetation against the Big Hole panels. Backing off to inspect his work, he saw a barge sliding down into the valley.

  Barch ran to the cave mouth, ducked behind his gun. He sighted through the finder; his hand went to the trigger… He frowned, squinted. These were no Podruods; in fact, there were women standing at the rail as well as men. Fifty or sixty of them, a bedraggled lot, apparently all of the same race, with skin and features not unlike his own.

  The barge settled to the flat. The stairs snapped out; a thin bald man with a shrewd round face jumped to the ground, followed by a tall youth with dark hair. Barch could hear the voices, but not the words.

  After a moment the rest of the passengers climbed down the ladder, stood looking uncertainly around the flat. The thin bald man spied Barch and the gun. He crouched. The others, following his gaze froze in consternation, their voices dwindled.

  Barch called out in the Magarak pidgin-tongue, "Come up here where I can talk to you." The thin bald man and the dark-haired youth approached warily. "What brings you here?" Barch asked gruffly.

  The thin man looked carefully behind Barch into the crevice. "You might call us fugitives. What about you?"

  "The same."

  The dark-haired youth said quietly aside, "If wild men come any wilder, let's go back to Podinsiras where it's safe."

  "Might be he's a little off his rocker." Barch smiled bitterly. "I speak English myself." The newcomers stared at him.

  "Forget it," said Barch wearily. "So I am a wild man; so I am off my rocker." He nodded toward the barge. "All of you from Earth?"

  "We're what's left of Oakville, Iowa."

  "Never heard of it."

  "The Klau dropped an army around town, herded us into their ship. This was two, three months ago. What's been going on since, we don't know; the slave revolt gave us a chance to bust loose."

  "Slave revolt?"

  "Yep, started about four days ago. Somebody blew up the main headquarters with most of the Klau big shots. Ever since Magarak's been a madhouse."