Doworn.o.bb knew it was a trap, but he could not forsake his mate. He bounded after the headstrong female.

Hudson heard thudding footfalls behind him; his own strides widened in fear. He tried not to look back but could not help himself. One monstrous alien was on his heels. It had fallen into a gentle trot, easily matching his pace. The other giant had stopped to pick up the discarded weapon and was galloping frantically to catch up.

Hudson breathlessly led the aliens down the forested hillside, quickly reaching the clearing, where he found Buccari, sitting in the sun with her back against a tree, dressed only in her thermal underwear. She attended the stricken alien, holding its great head in her lap, the alien's shattered helmet at her side. Buccari had used her jumpsuit as a bandage; the material, black with seeping blood, covered the alien's huge neck and shoulder. Across the clearing, Jones's body lay in the cool shadows, limbs composed and face covered with his fur jacket. Nearby, two cubs fretted and pulled on the carca.s.ses of the destroyed she-bears, whining and mewling.

"You were right, Sharl. They had crewmates-good grief, the smell!" Hudson gasped. "They must of lost control of their bowels!"

Buccari nodded silently, hair falling in her eyes.

"You okay, Sharl?" Hudson asked, glancing over his shoulder. Buccari looked up, wet tracks running down her grimy face. She wiped away tears with the back of a hand.

"We were a team, Nash. Jones and me," she wept. "Jones was... my..."

"I'm sorry, Sharl, but...we got visitors."

Buccari shook the hair from her face and lifted her chin. She sighed heavily, firm resolve returning to her strong features. "Yeah, I guess we have other things to worry about now, don't we?" she said, her voice growing louder. She grimaced in pain.

"Yeah! You sure you're okay?"

"Shoulder's killing me," she groaned.

"What do we do now, Sharl?" he said, turning to face the aliens.

The monsters had stopped at the edge of the clearing and were slowly making their way on all fours. They communicated quietly, a low-pitched, melodious sound with infrequent word breaks. Helmet amplifiers gave their speech a hollow, mechanical tone. The spectacle of injury and death did not seem to deter them as much as did the human presence. They looked nervously at the activity of the cubs and at the sundered carca.s.ses of the dead bears.

"What now?" Kateos asked, edging closer to Et Avian.

Doworn.o.bb lifted onto his hinds and walked over to Lollee' s gruesome corpse. He sniffed the dead kone and delicately touched the side of the scientist's mutilated neck, a perfunctory search for a pulse.

"Scientist Lollee is expired," he said.

He bravely approached Et Avian, wary of the pet.i.te alien. Kateos followed closely. Doworn.o.bb was touched by the alien's obvious compa.s.sion for their leader.

"Et Avian is injured grievously," Kateos said. "The wounds are deep and the bones of his shoulder are crushed. He must receive treatment, and soon, or he, too, will die."

"What are we to do?" Doworn.o.bb asked helplessly. "Scientist Lollee is dead. There is no pilot other than Et Avian, and he certainly cannot manage the task."

"I know not," the female replied. "Can we fly the abat ourselves?"

"I cannot. Can you?" Doworn.o.bb moaned.

Kateos shook her head. She removed her breathing unit and slipped it over the n.o.blekone' s head, securing the pressure fittings around his neck. The long-haired alien made efforts to help, its spindly fingers hardly able to span the helmet locking lever.

"Let us carry Et Avian to the abat," Kateos said. "We must get him out of the cold."

The compressed air revived Et Avian. He stirred; his eyes bulged opened in fear and pain, but then he saw the alien and lay still. He slowly raised his hand toward the alien's white face but shuddered in evident pain, his arm dropping heavily to his side. He turned his head, recognizing Kateos.

"Aliens-saved my life," he gasped. "One of them died-ddied in our behalf. We-must be-"

Et Avian fainted-merciful unconsciousness.

Brappa gained alt.i.tude on the rising currents. He dropped a wing and crabbed to the north, toward Craag's marshaling signal and the rest of the hunter scouting party. Brappa knew not what to make of the furious activity. The flying machine was ominous enough, but the incredible death struggle was frightful beyond words. Short-one-who-leads was again proven to be a brave and fierce warrior. They would have much to report. Brappa wished he understood more about what he had seen. Of one thing only was he certain: the bear people had returned.

MacArthur, lungs burning, topped the spruce-lined ridge and stopped short as Tatum ran up his heels. He recoiled at the carnage spread across the clearing below; the blend of putrescent odors was staggering. He detected a human body-Jones-laid out on the opposite side of the clearing, not far from a trio of cubs whining among the fly-infested carca.s.ses of three adult bears; but it was the monstrous, gory ma.s.s of a dead alien that dominated MacArthur's attention. The hulking creature lay slumped at the base of small tree, its thick s.p.a.cesuit shredded, its bowels eviscerated, its fleshy, gross-featured face contorted in death. Chastain, gasping and sucking for air, joined MacArthur and Tatum, breaking their morbid trance. The Marines stumbled across the b.l.o.o.d.y clearing and up the wooded slope opposite, following the trail of blackened needles and leaves-and the horrible smell.

They climbed upward for an eternity. MacArthur's frantic thoughts focused only on Buccari. He burst from the tree line, and stopped-relieved and astounded. Tatum and Chastain staggered to a halt behind him. In the distance, walking through knee-high gra.s.s, Buccari, Hudson, and two hulking alien beings struggled under the weight of a third alien. A crisp breeze had risen, but the bitter, cloying stink hung in the air. MacArthur, forgetting his cramping muscles and burning lungs, sprinted toward Buccari, shouting her name.

Buccari snapped around, dark hair swirling in the breeze, glinting copper in the sunlight. "Stop!" she yelled. "Put down your weapons. We need to help them." They set the injured alien next to the airplane. Buccari and Hudson stepped quickly away from the aircraft. The ponderous aliens stood with their backs to the plane, watching nervously.

"Put down your rifles!" Buccari ordered. "Drop the d.a.m.n rifles, now!" now!"

MacArthur let his piece fall and signaled for the others to drop theirs. Tatum and Chastain carefully placed their rifles on the ground.

"d.a.m.n!" MacArthur gasped, stepping away from his weapon. The fetid smell was overwhelming. "They're smelly. And big! What happened?" He approached Buccari, observing her carefully. The thick fabric of her underwear was torn away from her pale shoulder, and a b.l.o.o.d.y contusion glared angrily through the opening. Her left arm hung straight, immobile. MacArthur winced in empathy, feeling her pain and wishing he could transfer it to his own body, sparing her.

"You okay?" he asked, returning a wary eye to the aliens.

"I'll live," she said, her voice barely audible. "I think my shoulder's dislocated. One of those bears took a swipe at me."

"You sure made them pay for it," MacArthur bl.u.s.tered, striving to overcome his own fear. "Don't ever get that mad at me." He peeled off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders, daring to put an arm around her waist. She accepted his embrace.

"Geezus, Mac! Boats is dead!" she suddenly cried, tears gushing. She clenched her eyes shut and twisted away, holding her face with a grimy, blood-stained hand. MacArthur withdrew his arm and watched as she waged an internal battle to regain her composure.

The aliens stirred; they opened the plane's cargo door and bent to pick up their injured comrade. Buccari, her emotions under control, stepped forward to help, but MacArthur gently pulled her away. He and Hudson each grabbed a tree trunk leg and a.s.sisted in hoisting the injured alien into the aircraft's commodious cargo area. The aliens began administering medical aid while the curious humans milled around outside. The cargo door eased shut.

Suddenly the door swung open. One of the aliens, holding Buccari' s blood-stained jumpsuit, tentatively stepped from the aircraft. MacArthur stared at the alien. It was huge! Taller even than Chastain or Tatum and easily twice Chastain's bulky weight! Its face could be discerned through the wide helmet visor-a gentle monster's face, with fleshy, rounded bovine features. Its skin resembled grainy leather-hairless except for wiry tufts over bulging brown eyes. Its mouth was a lipless gash under a bulbous snout with widely spread nostrils. The alien handed the b.l.o.o.d.y garment to Buccari and leaned over onto its front legs, putting its face on the ground. Buccari looked at MacArthur in embarra.s.sed confusion and then cautiously tapped the creature on its tremendous shoulder, indicating it should return to the airplane. With surprising agility, the ma.s.sive alien hopped aboard the aircraft.

Kateos pulled Et Avian's garments from his wounds and was encouraged. The bleeding had abated, and the n.o.blekone' s pulse was steady, albeit weak. She cleansed the wounds with antiseptic, applied a sterile dressing, and covered his prostrate form, trying to keep him warm.

"He is in great pain but seems to be resting now," she said as Doworn.o.bb climbed into the airplane, shutting the cargo door to keep in the warmth. Kateos had taken note of her mate's activities, with approval. They owed much to the tiny, long-haired alien.

"More aliens approach!" Doworn.o.bb reported, his fear smell gushing forth. Kateos saw aliens in dark green striding across the field. All carried weapons, and Kateos discerned fear in their features. The little long-haired one walked up to the newcomers and began talking, pointing down the hill. The green-garbed alien with one arm grabbed a weapon and waved it fiercely at the abat.

"Now's our chance!" Tatum shouted, brandishing his rifle. "They're helpless. We got 'em! I say we kill the bugs and push the plane into the trees. They'll never be found." The Marines nodded in affirmation.

"At ease, Tatum!" Buccari ordered.

"Put the rifle down, Sandy," Shannon ordered softly, inspecting the airplane. The aircraft was huge, with long, drooping slab wings and ma.s.sive low-pressure tires-representations of a technological society capable of employing deadly weapons and effective search techniques.

"You might be right, Sandy," Shannon said, "and then again, they may have already reported in on the radio. Listen to the lieutenant. There's no harm in checking things out first, and everyone on their toes-these guys have lasers."

"Bulls.h.i.t, Sergeant!" Buccari barked, the sun reflected angry red highlights from her hair. "We've already gone over this ground!" She s.n.a.t.c.hed Hudson's pistol and walked up to Tatum. Tatum stood his ground.

"Anyone even thinks about hurting these-these bugs, is going to have to come through me." Her eyes were furious. Shannon stepped toward the confrontation, but Buccari took another step closer to Tatum. She pounded the pistol b.u.t.t against the tall Marine's chest, pointing the barrel straight up to Tatum' s chin. Tatum did not move.

"Tatum, think about it!" she cried. "We saved an alien's life. Now we have have to help them, so their leaders will know we mean no harm. It's the clearest, most unambiguous message we can send. We got real lucky, and Bosun Jones has already paid with his life. Jones doesn't need revenge. We both know what Boats would have wanted us to do. Think about it, Tatum! Think! Don't screw it up!" to help them, so their leaders will know we mean no harm. It's the clearest, most unambiguous message we can send. We got real lucky, and Bosun Jones has already paid with his life. Jones doesn't need revenge. We both know what Boats would have wanted us to do. Think about it, Tatum! Think! Don't screw it up!"

Tatum retreated a half step and nodded sharply. Shannon eased closer, took the rifle from Tatum' s hand, and softly clasped the Marine's shoulder. MacArthur gingerly reached in and removed the pistol from Buccari's grasp.

"What transpires?" Doworn.o.bb asked. "How can they stand the cold?"

"The smallest one argues our cause," Kateos replied, donning a spare breathing unit. "But what now? How will we get Et Avian back to Ocean Station? He needs medical a.s.sistance. The cold will kill him if his injuries do not."

"They are coming in," Doworn.o.bb said. He shut off the cargo section, sealing in warm air for Et Avian, and opened the smaller crew door forward. He stepped back from the door and watched the aliens climb awkwardly up the forward ladder. They were so delicate, their legs and arms like plant stems, their skulls unbelievably tiny. They chattered rapidly, frequently at the same time. Showing great curiosity, they looked everywhere. They gawked at the flight deck and, using crude sign language, requested permission to go forward. Doworn.o.bb did not know what to do. He nodded.

The aliens moved into the seats. They pointed at instruments, and then the small one, using only one arm, pulled on the flight controls. The taller one, using both arms, was able to move them full travel. It was impossible for the small one to see over the instrument panel, or to reach the foot pedals. The taller one could just manage, but his attention was captured by a map case.

"The small one is female," Kateos said knowingly.

"Whew, it's stuffy," Buccari said. "Why don't they open a window?"

"Look! Charts!" Hudson cried. "Take a look! They aren't stopping us."

"You're right. Wha-Wait a minute!" Buccari exclaimed, glancing at the monsters. "Something's wrong. They should be in a hurry to take off. Their friend's seriously hurt. Why aren't they pushing us out of here? Why aren't they starting the engines?"

"Maybe he's not hurt that bad?" Hudson said with a shrug.

"He's in bad shape," Buccari said. "I don't care how big and strong he is. He's going to die without some medical treatment. And soon." She stood and approached the aliens. Grimacing in pain, she used her hands to make takeoff motions. The aliens watched her carefully and talked anxiously. She was not getting through. She pulled the charts from Hudson-satellite composite topography overlaid with a nav grid and strange markings. One was dog-eared from use, a flight track lined across it. Buccari recognized the scratches and notations, not understanding the words but knowing for certain their purpose: landing points, fuel consumptions, enroute times, headings. She traced the flight track to its origin, noting that it followed the river all the way. The chart hypnotized her; she stared with fascination at the depiction of the terrain and the scaled distances.

Buccari broke her concentration from the chart and confronted the smaller giant. She pushed the chart in front of the alien, her finger on the point of origin. She dragged her finger along the flight track on the chart and pointed to the controls. She pointed at each of the aliens, making flight control motions with her hands. The smaller alien looked at Buccari and pointed in the distance, downhill in the approximate direction where the murdered member of their crew still lay, and then the alien pointed to the pilot's seat. After a short hesitation, the alien pointed at the injured alien and immediately thereafter to the other forward seat.

"They have no pilot," Buccari moaned. "Tatum' s going to get what he wants."

Hudson sat silently. His face brightened. "We could fly it back. It's an airplane isn't it?" he asked.

Buccari stared straight ahead. "You're right! d.a.m.n straight! You You can fly it back," she said, turning toward Hudson. "But you'll have to do it alone, Nash. I can't go with you." can fly it back," she said, turning toward Hudson. "But you'll have to do it alone, Nash. I can't go with you."

"Me? Alone? Without you?"

"Yes! Yes, it's got to be," she insisted. "Nash, they need me here, and my shoulder's screwed up! I'd be worse than useless. I'd be in your way. I can't reach the rudders. I can't even see over the panel. You can fly this truck. We have to get the injured alien to a doctor, and fast!" She moved from the pilot's seat, making room for Hudson.

"Sharl!" he cried. "I need help to figure out the systems."

Buccari patted him on the head as if stroking a spaniel. "You've already figured most of them out. Once you get this hog into the air, all you have to do is follow the river."

"What about fuel?" Hudson asked. "This thing's going to need refueling."

"I bet that's what these markings indicate here, here, and here," she said, excitedly pointing to the chart. "They have prestaged fuel, or airfields, and I bet these two can help. Get in that seat and figure out how to start the engine. I'm going to tell Mac to bring up your gear and some food. I'll be back. Okay?"

Hudson looked down at the chart and then out the front windshield.

"Sharl! This is crazy," he groaned, sliding into the pilot's seat. "It was your idea," she shouted as she went out the crew door.

Doworn.o.bb followed the alien's uncertain movements. The engine was revved high, vibrations rattling the abat. Doworn.o.bb watched the alien fumble with the controls, apparently looking for the parking brake. Doworn.o.bb reached down and disengaged the lever. The plane lurched forward. As the craft bounced and jostled down the gra.s.sy hill the skinny alien r.e.t.a.r.ded the throttle, shouted with glee, and slapped Doworn.o.bb on the shoulder. The alien chattered to himself, and Doworn.o.bb answered, so as not to seem rude. The alien looked at him strangely, and Kateos giggled.

Their craft shuddered and jolted over the rough terrain. The alien turned the airplane and headed it up the grade, adding power to keep it moving over the soft, steep ground. After opening up enough clear area for a takeoff run, the alien turned the abat and accelerated downhill, into a stiff breeze. The plane gained speed and, after a short bouncing run, slipped into the air, wallowing into a climbing turn. The aircraft banked over on a wing, and Doworn.o.bb caught a lingering glimpse of the skinny aliens left behind on the ground, still waving. The alien pilot turned his somber countenance to the serious business of flying the airplane. The river ran under their left wing, and they were on course for Ocean Station. The golden-haired alien stopped talking.

Eventually Hudson established limited communications with the helmeted aliens, primarily due to the persistence of the smaller of the monsters. Its-her-name was Kateos; her voice was deep and resonant, made even more so by the artificial amplification of her helmet speaker. The larger alien answered to "Doork.n.o.b." They called him 'Huhsawn.'

Hudson watched as Doork.n.o.b talked on the radio, wondering what the alien was telling his friends. The flight down the river had been awesome, and endless. Refuelings had gone without incident, and they had spent an uncomfortable and sleepless night on the ground at their first stop. Now, their destination was nearing, and not soon enough; the late summer sun was sinking below the horizon, and Hudson was exhausted and frightened by the prospects of flying the strange aircraft at night over the surface of an unexplored planet. Fuel was uncomfortably low; his back ached from stretching to see over the instrument panel, and his eyelids felt like sandpaper. The last hour had been the worst, fighting toovercome the fierce bucking and jostling turbulence of the mountain pa.s.ses. He needed to land and to get some sleep.

The sight of a limitless ocean spreading to the south revived him. Doork.n.o.b pointed to the right, away from the river, and Hudson saw the last rays of sunlight reflecting from unnatural structures. A chill fluttered across the back of his neck; his gut tightened-he recognized his own fear. Pumping up his resolve, he banked the plane and pulled power, heading for the bittersweet signs of civilization. Bright sparks of electricity-artificial light- floodlights-beckoned. His physical discomfort evaporated, replaced by dread.

The sun disappeared behind the high northern mountains, but the indigo twilight provided ample illumination as he circled the alien compound. What looked like a rocket booster was erected near the center of a brightly lighted metal ramp equipped with gantry cranes and rail tracks. A large blocky hanger and two smaller structures squatted at the edge of the matting, and a round, two-story building stood by itself in a small cl.u.s.ter of foliage. Aliens ran from the buildings, moving toward the ramp area. As Hudson watched, white lights popped aglow, outlining the perimeter of a runway.

Piece of cake! Hudson thought, pumping up his courage. He extended his flight path away from the buildings and descended. The controls were stiff, but the big plane was rock steady. Hudson dropped an increment of flaps and pulled power to idle; the aircraft floated onto the gra.s.s strip and quickly slowed to taxi speed. A ponderous alien, waving signals, galloped from the waiting cl.u.s.ter of giants. The hand signs were understandable, particularly the final signal-the signal to kill the engine-a slicing motion with the flat of the hand across the neck. Hudson wondered if his own neck was in danger. He closed the throttle, secured the fuel, and switched off the battery.

It was uncomfortably quiet. The endless vibrations of the long flight no longer rattled his entire being. Hudson turned to Doork.n.o.b, and the smiling alien slapped him on the shoulder, extremely hard. Hudson attempted a smile, but fear eclipsed all emotions.

Cargo doors opened roughly, and warm, humid air flowed into the c.o.c.kpit. Hudson smelled the long-forgotten scent of ocean. A crowd of shouting aliens clambered noisily and heavily into the cargo compartment, all grabbing at the injured alien and hoisting him onto a stretcher. All stole lingering glances at Hudson, broad noses swelling and twitching behind face masks. Left alone in the aircraft, Hudson slowly rose from his seat and moved to the crew door. Doork.n.o.b stood at the foot of the ladder, holding up a ma.s.sive hand.

Chapter 31.

Turning Point Gorruk's hordes climbed the thinly defended gorge and a.s.saulted the high mountain pa.s.ses, streaming onto the fertile alluvial plain of the valley Kingdom of Penc. Its defenders, in total disarray, fell back into the crescent-shaped valley-a rout. Devious sabotage and fifth column infiltrators had undercut their defenses, and the first a.s.saults had overrun forward positions. The southern troops were pushed aside and hacked apart by northern commandos. With the mountain roads clear of defenses, Gorruk' s armored columns motored through the main pa.s.s, grinding relentlessly over the rich fields. Phalanxes of hungry, battle-hardened soldiers radiated outward from the narrow mountain trails. Artillery blasted screeching sh.e.l.ls overhead while engineers established bridgeheads. The northern armies advanced, pillaging and sacking.

The Supreme Leader called his victorious general home to celebrate the great victory. The imperial capital had turned out to welcome General Gorruk, and a formal audience was held to decorate the military heroes of the campaign. The court of Jook the First was resplendent in banners and battle flags.

"Hah, that old toad Barbluis a.s.sumed we would press him from the bloodstained heights of Rouue," Gorruk gloated, addressing the court. "He never dreamed we would attack to the west. And Penc is a worthy prize. My armies will eat like n.o.blekones this winter, thanks to that senile n.o.blefool's complacency." Gorruk glared with ill-concealed contempt at Et Kala.s.s.

"A glorious victory, General Gorruk," stated Jook the First. "Your armies have achieved much. A most glorious victory."