Barch made his way slowly up to Big Hole, where he leaned back against the wall, legs like wet rags. With gloomy satisfaction he listened to the sounds of activity. Barges One and Two sat side by side on the flat, with the four floodlights that had cost so much blood hanging overhead. Barge Three rested askew down at the far end, with the boxes and crates of three cargoes in between.
Barch calculated up into the regions above. Stalactites glittered and twinkled; the ceiling was gloomy, complex, Gothic -but there seemed to be enough room, when the time came, to invert Barge two over Barge One. A delicate maneuver, but Tick had a completely sure touch… As if Tick were telepathic, he looked up from where he squatted beside Pedratz, the welder, who was cutting pipe into stanchion lengths. He came bounding over the rocks like a cat. "Well?" asked Barch.
"When will you give me my charm?"
"You'll get it as soon as we're out in space."
Tick tugged desperately at his braided sideburn. "Too late, too late." His voice rose to a neighing. "I feel the bulk of terror-my brain aches, my knees are weak at wading through imagined blood."
Barch said in a cracked voice, "You'll ache all over if you don't stop that croaking. I've got your charm in my pocket; as long as I'm safe, it's safe. Think that over. Now go tell Porridge I want to talk to him."
Tick went crouch-backed across the stone floor; a moment later Porridge's round head pushed cautiously over the edge of Barge One. The opal eyes fixed on Barch a ruminative ten seconds, then he climbed up to the catwalk, backed down the ladder, trotted across the cave. "What do you want?"
"I want to talk with you about defending ourselves."
"I know nothing about fighting. The Podruods are the great fighters." He started to turn away.
"Just a moment," said Barch, grinning sourly. "We don't have any Podruods handy at the moment."
"True."
"From what you know of the Klau mind, how do you suppose they'll attack us?"
"I would assume that armored Podruod troops would be sent to kill us."
"And suppose that failed?"
Porridge's eyes bulged thoughtfully. "They might send a monitor with torpedoes to break open the mountain. Or they might establish a cone of lethal radiation against the cave opening and then we would be trapped like mice in a shoe."
"Come inside a minute," said Barch. "To send in troops, they have these alternatives. They can land a barge-load outside the valley, march them in, the same way the Klau come hunting. They can land a barge-load on this flat, in front of the cave. Or they can land them somewhere else in the valley, which is unlikely, because there are no other flat landing places within convenient distance."
Porridge looked uninterestedly along the damp black mountainside, then pointed across the valley. "A barge might land on the knoll of that bluff."
"Then the Podruods would have to climb down the steep slope and across those sharp rocks. However," said Barch, "that bluff would make a fine place to command the mouth of the cave. So that makes three areas we want to guard: the valley mouth, that bluff, and the flat here in front of the cave."
Porridge fidgeted. "Yes, yes. On Lenau we would convert the ground to a gel with vibrators."
"This happens to be the Palkwarkz Ztvo," said Barch. "I'm going to fly a load of explosive over to that bluff and bury a few mines. Can you build me a long-range detonator?"
"First, I must see the explosive."
"Let's go back to Big Hole," said Barch. He gave a last look up and down the valley. "A gray day; notice how high and thin the clouds are? Klau come hunting on such days."
They returned to Big Hole, went to the crates taken from Barge One. "Kerbol knew these explosives," said Barch, "I don't."
He pried open a crate, looked down at shiny gray bars lodged on a rack of rust-colored plastic. "This is super. Very powerful. We've got about sixty crates. Enough to blow up half Magarak."
He found a second box. "This is the stuff Kerbol used- abiloid. And this string is the fuse, or detonator."
"Yes, yes," said Porridge. "Quite common."
"Can you work out a remote control?"
Porridge glanced down to the dome of Barge two. "There are instruments which could easily be adapted."
"Good," said Barch. "Suppose you get at it right now."
"Very well."
Barch watched Porridge march briskly off. He felt eyes upon him-Tick's. When Barch turned his head, Tick looked away. Barch Watched Pedratz the welder a moment.
Each length of pipe made one stanchion, with about five feet of waste. The sight of the pile of five-foot lengths gave Barch an idea. He crossed the cave, tapped Pedratz's taffy-yellow shoulder. "Pedratz, seal off one end of about four of these." Barch pointed to the pipes.
Pedratz nodded, turned, prodded Tick with his toe. "Hoist four of those lengths into the dolly."
Barch's stump began to ache. He turned, left the Big Hole, started down the passage toward the hall. In the dark something sprang ferociously at him, threw him to the ground. Barch fell on his stump, felt the flesh squash, the blood squirt, lay in a daze. He felt nimble hands at his pouch, a hiss. Then there was a kick at the nape of his neck, a scuffle of footsteps.
Barch lay quietly, doing nothing more than existing. After a moment, with a whirling head, he gained his knees; his thoughts began to assume form again… Tick? He clasped a hand into his pouch. No charm.
Barch ran limp-legged down into the hall. Komeitk Lelianr, seated at one of the tables, looked up at him in consternation. "Who came through here?" croaked Barch.
"Tick…"
Barch ran to the crevice. Tick would make instinctively for the raft. If he escaped, if he added his story to what the Magarak Brain already knew… Barch pulled out his gun. Tick was at the raft, tugging at the mooring line. He saw Barch, slid off into the forest, sprang into the trees like a monkey. Barch heard his shrill mocking laugh. "Too late, too late, you'll see me nevermore." And there was the rustle of branches, the clatter of black fronds.
Barch went to the raft, sank on it limply. He looked at the stump of his left arm; the gray cloth binding was sticky and dark. The bone ached intolerably.
He swung himself aboard the raft, untied the mooring line. Rising over the treetops, he coasted slanting down toward the river, the course Tick would presumably take. Underneath him the black fronds flapped and rasped, glistening like the scales of a great black fish. Tick was no more visible than if he had been an insect.
Barch lowered the raft to tree level, put his head over the side, listened. A soft crashing, not too far away. Barch manipulated the pedals; the raft slid like a shadow over the treetops. Barch stopped again. Silence. The sound might have been a wild animal. Directly below him Barch heard the crush of feet. He peered through the fronds, gun ready. But he didn't see Tick-he saw a Podruod.
Barch froze. The Podruod, walking as stealthily as his weight and the ground would allow, vanished.
Barch looked swiftly around the sky. Was this the Klau attack he\had expected? Down toward the valley came a sharp hoarse cry, a high-pitched babble in a voice Barch recognized as Tick's. A vibrant bugle call. Below him heavy footsteps pounded, the Podruod running toward the sounds. Barch relaxed. A hunt, and Tick was the quarry. Best take the raft back to the cave before the Klau hunter rounded the bluff.
Barch slid the raft into its accustomed spot, sat listening. The Podruod bugle calls sounded now up at the head of the valley. If Tick gained the wilderness of rocks at the foot of Mount Kebali, he stood a fair chance of escaping. But the trumpeting shifted, sounding ever louder. He's leading them to the cave, thought Barch. He limped painfully across the flat to the opening of the crevice, stood in the shadows.
Over the forest came the long black shape of the Klau raft, the Klau following the chase like a fox-hunter riding to the hounds. The raft came nearer. Barch could see the silhouette of the Klau.
Tick broke out of the forest, ran erratically along the edge of the flat, paused, looked with a passionate eagerness toward the cave. Afraid to come, afraid not to come, thought Barch. Well, give the poor devil a chance. He stepped out. "Hey, Tick." Tick looked up. "Come on."
Tick's face was a mask of indecision. His eyes ran fearfully around the clearing; then overhead came the Klau raft, long and black as a shark. Four Podruods burst out of the forest. Now Tick would have run for the cave but the Podruods cut him off. Barch stood back, silent, his gun ready. The Podruods came at Tick from four directions. Tick stood quiet, and Barch saw his frame grow rigid, his eyes start to pop from their sockets. Look out, Podruods, thought Barch.
Tick ran forward, seemed to run right up the chest of the nearest Podruod. He caught the great red head, set his feet against the chest, performed a peculiar churning motion. The head twisted in three-quarters of a circle; the body fell like a pole. Tick sprang free, raced, dodged, cut in and out. The Podruods lumbered back and forth, and finally Tick was caught. Podruods fell on him from all sides; mastiffs tearing at a badger. Tick was down. The Podruods stepped back, their feet swung up, down, with sodden sounds. Barch turned away.
Behind him he felt the pressure of bodies, heard awed murmurings. "Quiet," whispered Barch. "Go up into Big Hole, tell them to be quiet."
The Podruods at last stepped back, looked up at the raft. The Klau stretched lazily, sat up, stared around the flat. His gaze passed over the shadowed crevice; Barch felt the stab of the four-pronged red eyes. The eyes passed on; the bristling black head swung back to inspect the sky.
Black clouds were scudding across Mount Kebali. A few heavy drops of rain spattered on the leaves. The Podruods called up hoarsely, pointing to the clouds. The Klau ignored them. He waved his hand toward the upper valley. The Podruods shuffled sullenly into the forest.
The dead Podruod and the bloody tatter that had been Tick were left on the flat.
Rain started a tentative tattoo on the black fronds-drops big as marbles. The Klau touched a button and a hood snapped over his head. He moved his foot; the raft slid down over the valley.
Barch turned, pushed back into the hall. "That solves the Tick problem."
Komeitk Lelianr sat at the table, studiously intent at the locator-poring over the index, checking into the viewer.
Barch stood by the fire, absent-mindedly watching the firelight and changing colors across her skin.
Porridge bounded down the passage into the hall, trotted over to the fire, smelt appreciatively of the pot. Then, with a wary glance at Barch, he went to sit opposite Komeitk Lelianr.
After a moment he spoke to her; she looked up, answered briefly. Porridge darted a glance over his shoulder at Barch, spoke at some length. Barch's curiosity could hold out no longer. He crossed the stone floor, seated himself beside Porridge. "How's the job coming?"
"Very well, very well indeed."
"When do you think you'll be ready?"
Porridge considered. "The deck is finished. Tomorrow we fix on the second barge. Next day we build on a double port. Then you can take the affair into space."
"Is the double port necessary? I'd like to get away from here right away."
"It's indispensable in the event of repair to the drive gear and also when refueling becomes necessary."
"Oh." Barch rubbed his chin. After a moment he said, "Tonight I'll go out after the fuel, and-" he paused, glancing from Komeitk Lelianr back to Porridge. "What's the trouble?"
"Nothing, nothing whatever," said Porridge. He turned ostentatiously away. Komeitk Lelianr returned to the locator.
Barch asked her, "Any luck?"
"No. Nothing definite. I have a tentative idea."
The other Lenape came down from Big Hole, sat in a tight circle at the far bench. Porridge arose and joined them; an immediate clatter of voices arose.
Komeitk Lelianr said hesitantly, "Why are you so anxious to locate the Brain?"
"When I find where it is I'll try to destroy it."
Her eyes jerked up, met his. " Roy -don't you think you should rest tonight?"
"Rest? I've got to get the fuel, accr, whatever it's called." He stood up, glanced around the room. Eyes flickered away from his, backs were half-turned Barch sat down. "What's wrong with everyone?"
Komeitk Lelianr's fingers moved nervously along the locator. "They think you're tired."
"Tired? Of course I'm tired! Why shouldn't I be tired, and everybody else for that matter? We can rest out in space."
Komeitk Lelianr said in a low voice, "They remember that Clet called you Crazy Man. "
Barch sat like an iron statue. "So everybody thinks I'm crazy… I might have known. I saw Porridge giving me a couple of wall-eyed looks."
Komeitk Lelianr said in a worried voice, "He can't understand why you want to steal accr when there's enough in the cave to last twenty years."
"Enough to last twenty years!"
"So he says."
Barch slumped, exhaled a great breath. "Where?"
"In Big Hole. In the crates. Kerbol called it super."
Barch's face twitched; he could not choose between laughing or yelling. He forced himself to be calm. "I never knew the stuff was accr. No one ever told me! Do you think I like ducking around through the fog, getting myself shot up?"
"No," said Komeitk Lelianr hurriedly. "No, no… But why are you so anxious to destroy the Brain?"
Barch, riding a heady wave of mingled anger and elation, said, "Think. By now the Brain surely has enough facts to conclude that fugitive slaves are stealing barge-loads of material."
"1 suppose so."
"Any day we can expect to be attacked. If I can plant a bomb under the thing, I'll delay this attack a long time."
Komeitk Lelianr frowned. "I don't think you realize the essential nature of Magarak or its organization."
"You've never said a truer word. I feel like a cat in a stamp-mill every time I take out that raft. Look at it this way. Would the Klau be disturbed if I blew up their Brain?"
"I should think so. It would be a most serious matter."
"What's bad for them is good for us. Call it diversionary tactics. That's simple enough, isn't it?" He took her silence for assent. "Do you think you can find the Brain?"
"I think I've found it."
"Good. And do you still think I'm crazy?"
Her glance went to his left shoulder. "I'm not well-enough acquainted with the norm of your people to judge."
Barch rose to his feet. He said thickly, "About ten more minutes of double-talk, I actually would be crazy."
He went back to the fire. The hell with them all. Explaining motives was useless; his patterns didn't fit their minds. He put his hand to his gun; here was his explanation. He met Komeitk Lelianr's sudden alarmed stare, grimaced. Now she thinks I'm planning to run amok. Very well. No point in explaining anything. Give orders, see that they're obeyed.
He strode across the room to the Lenape. There was a sudden silence; he felt the eyes of the entire tribe on his back.
"Porridge," he said, "you think I'm crazy. That suits me; as long as you work, think anything you like. Tomorrow I want you to load Barge Three with cases of accr. I want you to rig a detonator on the bow, on each forward corner, to go off on contact. I want you to put a cut-out switch in the anti-collision mechanism, so I can disengage it whenever I want. Do you understand?"
Porridge blinked. "Clearly."
"Good." Barch walked across the floor to the entrance, slipped out into the night.
The rain had stopped; the air was strangely calm for the Palkwarkz Ztvo. Barch crossed the clearing, wandered to his raft. For a moment he considered climbing aboard, raising up into the dark sky, riding through the night. But there was no guide-light set out, the locator was in the hall, and ground, and there it stood. Barch shot at the pilot, but the splinter whistled off the dome.
Barch hesitated a moment, then cautiously approached the weapon mounted on the stern. With one eye on the pilot he inspected it, tested the movement. It spun on a swivel. It was a strange pattern-H-shaped with a long central bar, like a naval range-finder. The trigger was in an obvious position. The pilot was climbing out of the dome; Barch swung the H around, focused it as closely as possible, pressed home the trigger. There was a crackling sound; the control dome disappeared. The barge fell flat with a great squash and crush of air.
Barch turned to look at the bodies on the flat. A dozen or so squirmed, one or two crawled moaning along the stone. Barch swung the H, the crackling snapped out; a great oval spot on the flat was gouged out, seared, glossy.
A thousand feet above floated a raft with a crystal top. Barch peered through the sights. Two rafts. He moved the lever, the two merged. He pressed the trigger. The raft became a few flapping, falling pieces. No more targets. Nothing alive. Barch jumped down to the flat. He looked up to the cave mouth, saw nervous motion inside.
He picked his way among the bodies, slid along the crevice to the hall. The Lenape were huddled into an alcove, like puppies in a basket. "Get busy," snapped Barch. "If you can't fight, you can at least work."
He looked around the hall. Pedratz stood by a wall, his face bland and round as the full moon. "Get your equipment, see if you can cut loose that gun."
The Lenape were trooping up the passage to Big Hole, pressing close together, making nervous motions with their hands. "Porridge," said Barch, "have you fixed up Barge Three as I told you?"
"The work of a moment," said Porridge hastily.
"How much more time before we leave Magarak?"
"Difficult to say. The double port is not yet fabricated; the hull welding will be finished before the day is out."
"Well, hurry up with Barge Three. If the Klau start to work on us seriously, we won't last very long. I think I can distract them."
"Dangerous, dangerous."
"Not if you fix everything exactly as I tell you to. Incidentally, you're coming with me. I can't pilot that barge."
Porridge sagged like a loose sack of meal. Without speaking he turned, hurried up the passage. Barch seated himself at the table across from where Komeitk Lelianr worked at the locator.
"Come to anything definite?"
"Yes, I think so. On the index it's called Central Organ."
Barch looked into the viewer, into the jungle of pastel shapes. The target ring encircled a small green square, surrounded by a blue mass shaped like an ink blot. To one side was a rusty-orange rectangle that seemed to quiver and jump as Barch looked at it; to the other a sprinkle of gray dots. Radiating away from the green square was a series of minute red capillaries, so faint as to be hardly noticable. "So that's the Brain."
"Nothing else seems likely. I cannot be sure, of course."
"Is it far?"
"It's a third of the way around the planet, in the Central District."
"Central District? More complicated than Quodaras?"
"Quodaras is a newer development, only a few hundred years old."
"Oh. Well, it makes no particular difference."
There was silence for a moment or so. Then, frowning into the viewer, she said, " Roy -do you still think this plan of yours is feasible?"
Barch made a disgusted sound. "The Klau just lost a barge-load of Podruods. Next time they'll send something heavier. We can't stand up under any serious attack. We've got to get their minds off us long enough to make ourselves scarce. We're walking along a precipice right now. And I've got work to do. I've got to see that there's enough raw material aboard for the sustenators. I've got to get Barge Three loaded with abiloid and a couple crates of accr."
The day passed for Barch like the day before his execution, each second, each minute stretched far out, the hours paradoxically compressed.
The work moved with exasperating slowness; Barch ducked back and forth into Big Hole, standing fretfully over the Lenape, convinced of their inefficiency but unable to comment because he did not understand what they were doing. He barked at the women who were carrying domestic utensils into the barge, raged at Flatface and the labor crew for spending their time gaping at the field of Podruod corpses instead of carrying aboard the logs of green timber they had cut.
Pedratz successfully cut loose the heavy weapon on the stem of the war-barge. Barch carried it slung under the raft to a niche just inside the cave mouth; from here he could command almost the whole of the valley. Suppose the Klau came while he was off on his final mission? He called to Chevrr, the dour Splang. "Come over here a minute."
Chevrr approached suspiciously. Barch explained the working of the gun to him, made Chevrr focus on several objects near and far to his satisfaction.
"Now you stay up here. You're the guard. If you see the Klau coming, don't shoot, call for me. If I'm not here, use your own discretion."
Chevrr made a sound of acquiescence. Barch strode through the hall, climbed the passage into Big Hole.
Porridge was standing beside Barge Three, looking up at the dome. "Porridge!" barked Barch. The Lenape turned his head; the round opal eyes met Barch's hot hazel eyes without expression. "When are you going to have that barge ready?"
"It's all ready now."
"Oh," said Barch. "The explosive aboard?"
"Everything."
"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."