"The Space Barbarians" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reynolds Mack)

Chapter Two

But John of the Hawks was upon him.

He threw both arms around the smaller man and carried him flat to the ground.

Even as he did so, a beam of sizzling light reached out from the roof of the longhouse and, in a sweep, literally cut in two the sublieutenant and his three men. Troopers began to pour from the entry of the skimmer, arms in hand, the last two stumbling as the skycraft began to ascend.

The beam flamed them down and then touched as though with a magic finger the skimmer, which fell back to the ground in two parts and began to burn furiously.

John of the Hawks wrenched from the struggling cornet’s holster the handgun and rolled aside to direct the weapon at the door of the longhouse and the two remaining soldiers who came running forth. He cut them down, before they could bring their own weapons to bear.

All was death in the square now, save for John of the Hawks and Cornet DeRudder, both of whom now came to their feet.

John of the Hawks snapped, “Don’t move!”

From the longhouse came two of his fellow Caledonians, both of them shrugging out of their black robes. Beneath, they wore kilts. One of them contemptuously wiped his skean on the robe before he tossed it away.

When they came up, John snapped, “Quickly, both of you. Into the vehicle of the air before it is entirely consumed. Any weapons, especially, and books or tapes. Throw them out the door. Remain inside searching as long as you can bear the heat.”

The two ducked into the smoking, burning skimmer, and shortly various objects began to be tossed out onto the ground.

The remaining two Caldonians, also now in kilts, rather than black robes, issued from the longhouse and came up.

John said, “All are dead?”

One shrugged. “Why not? They are puny men. In close combat, any clannsman is worth a half dozen of such.”

John of the Hawks said, “Don’t be overconfident, Thomas of the Davidsons. It seldom becomes a matter of close combat with these men from Beyond. They deal their death at great distance.”

He looked at the skimmer, which was beginning now to burn more fiercely. “I had thought to build a signal fire for Don of the Clarkes,” he said. “But it will hardly be necessary. Aüi, their so-called laser rifles are a deadly tool.”

Thomas of the Davidsons looked at the silent, deep breathing Cornet DeRudder. “This is the one for the assembly of the Dail?”

“None else are left. Besides, he is a chief and hence more suitable.” He looked at the dead men. “You had best gather up their weapons. Then return to the longhouse and begin to gather such books and tapes, weapons and charges for the weapons as are here. And also their medicines. But above all, the books and weapons.”

The second of the two clansmen looked at him strangely but turned and followed Thomas of the Davidsons to obey his superior’s orders.

John turned back to DeRudder, even as his other two clannsmen stumbled out of the destroyed skimmer, coughing, their faces flushed from the fire.

One called, “We can do no more, John of the Hawks.”

DeRudder said, “We’d all better get away from the vicinity of the ship. It might go up at any time. Explode.”

John rapped, “Gather up the weapons. Get them away. They are the most valuable things on all Caledonia. They and the books.”

The others followed his command hurriedly, while John and DeRudder made their way to the side of the square.

“So we meet again, Mister of the DeRudders,” John said.

DeRudder, who was obviously shaken by the precipitous actions of the past ten minutes, said, “Mister is a title, something like your sachem or sagamore. My name is Samuel DeRudder, and my rank is cornet, somewhat similar to your rank of raid cacinue.”

“And what has happened to your companions of ten years and more ago? They who first came in the skyship Golden Hind and tried to cozen from us the products of our mines?”

DeRudder looked at him. “Harmon’s, ah, fate, I understand you are familiar with. He showed up at New Sidon and for a time spread the faith of the Shrine of Kalkin—since you stuffed soma down his throat. The skipper of the Golden Hind ? He died several years ago. He wasn’t a young man, and this exploitation of Caledonia didn’t go as quickly as we first hoped it would. Manola Perez? Manola is still with us. He holds down an executive position with United Interplanetary Mining.”

“And you?” John said. “You also hold a position with United Planetary Mining?”

“Yes, of course, and a military position with the Sidonian forces as well.”

A cloud of dust was beginning to manifest itself on the skyline. John looked in that direction, diverting his attention from DeRudder for the moment.

Approximately sixty clannsmen, carbines in hand, came riding up. Leading them was Don of the Clarks. His eyes went around the square, as did those of the whole troop.

“Aüi,” he blurted to John. “All succeeded. I hardly expected it to.”

He looked at the prisoner and scowled in memory. “It is Mister of the DeRudders. Older, but the same.”

The clannsmen were whooping and laughing in exuberation.

John snapped orders. “To the roof. Dismantle those two guns behind the emplacements. Rig litters on horses so that we can carry them. Get all the charges for them they have on hand. Go through the longhouse with care. I want every weapon, every book, all the medicine.”

One of the clannsmen, a sagamore of the Clann Fielding, said, “But we have no spare horses for such plunder as this.”

John looked at him. “We will dismount sufficient men to make room.”

Don said unhappily, “It is a poor place to be dismounted. We can ride two men on a horse. Double up.”

John shook his head at him. “No. We must ride hard, for these posts of the men from Beyond are in continual contact with the forces in New Sidon City. When communication is interrupted, they will send out additional craft to check on the reason. We must get these weapons and the prisoner back to the assembly of the Dail.”

He turned to one of his subchiefs. “Richard, Sagamore of the Coopers, choose twenty men to be dismounted. We need their steeds.”

Richard of the Coopers said blankly, “But what will they do?”

John said, “They can make their way on foot to Nairn and raid the Nairn herds. The whole town is composed of clannless slinks, by now. It will be nothing.”

Richard said, “There are precious few horses left in the Nairn herds.” But he turned to obey the command, calling for volunteers. There were few of these, however. The Caledonian is all but born on horseback and does not walk save in dire necessity. To volunteer for an action meaning certain death, yes; but to volunteer to give up one’s battle steed? No.

DeRudder said, “What are you going to do with me?” His throat was dry.

John looked at him in calculation. “You are the reason for this raid, Samuel, Cornet of the DeRndders.”

“The name is Cornet Samuel DeRudder,” the other said sourly. “What do you mean, I am the reason? Obviously, you never expected to see me when I emerged from the skimmer.”

“The Loch Confederation convenes in its annual Dail. The sachems and caciques wish to speak to a man from Beyond, to send a message to the Dail of the city of New Sidon.”

“There is no Dail of New Sidon City.”

“Whatever then is the equivalent.”

DeRudder looked at the men pouring in and out of the longhouse, laden down with spoil, which they were loading onto the beasts. “However, you don’t seem averse to doing a little looting whilst securing your messenger.”

John didn’t answer him. Instead, he began shrugging out of the orange robe. One of his clannsmen came up, carrying shoes and a belt with sword and skean. The supreme raid cacique sat on a rock, took off the sandals he had worn in his guise as a Shrine of Kalkin monk and replaced them with the shoes.

However, he took the belt, with its sword and dagger, and threw it away, to the ground. He said to DeRudder, “Your sidearm holster, please.” He still carried the other’s laser pistol in his hand.

DeRudder silently unbuckled his belt and handed it over.

John of the Hawks slipped the gun into the holster.

The clannsmen in the vicinity were staring at him.

The one who had brought him his shoes and sword belt offered him a carbine.

John of the Hawks shook his head dourly. “Keep it, if you wish.”

The other stared at him. “But it is your carbine, issued to you when you came to first manhood.”

“No longer.” John patted the handgun he had appropriated from DeRudder. “Not with weapons like this available.” He brought the gun forth again. “See that tree, up the slope?”

He pointed the gun and squeezed the trigger. A beam of light penciled forth and reached for the tree. It missed by a yard or more. He moved the gun infinitesimally, and the beam cut through the tree, toppling it. He released the trigger and looked about at the dozen or so clannsmen who were watching him.

John said, “A man with a carbine would hit the tree, surely enough, but a hundred rounds of cartridges would never cut it down.”

There was a hush.

John looked at the young clannsman who had had custody of his things. “What is that in your belt?”

“Why, my coup stick.”

“Break it. Throw it away.”

“But suppose I have an opportunity to count honorable coup on one of the strangers from Beyond.”

“Kill him instead.”

If possible, the hush deepened. Even Don, Raid Cacique of the Clarks, blinked.

“But… it is not against the bann, but it is unseemly to shed the blood when it is possible to count coup instead.”

“Not with Sidonians. These are not clannsmen, they are clannless ones, and they come from the planet Sidon not in honorable raid, but to strip our world. They know no banns and never count coup. They only kill and kill and kill, and they will do so until there are no clannsmen left on all Caledonia, save only slinks and slaves.”

John returned the gun to its holster and said to Don of the Clarks, “There is another such weapon on the body of the dead sublieutenant over there. I suggest you arm yourself with it.”

His blood companion hesitated. “I’ll… I’ll think about it,” he said. “As you know, such weapons are against the bann.”

John snorted and turned to one of the other clannsmen who had pulled off his leather shoes and was busily donning a pair he had brought from the longhouse.

“What do you have there?” John said coldly.

“Shoes from Beyond. Boots of the soldiers from Sidon.”

“What is wrong with your own shoes, made of good leather?”

The young clannsman grinned. “It is well-known that the material from Sidon wears forever, or nearly so.”

“Do you realize that if you become used to these articles from Beyond, your desire for them will continue to grow? Soon you will wish your kilts to be of the textile from Beyond, soon you will develop taste for the delicate food from Beyond, for the drink, rather than our own uisgebeatha of our fathers.”

One of the sagamores laughed. “That last, at least, I can understand. The drink of the otherworldlings is the drink of the Holy!”

John turned his cold eye on him. “Develop such tastes and ultimately you will seek this method of barter they have, money. To get money you must needs work for the Sidonians, in their mines, in their cities, as a clannless one works. In time, given such tastes and desires, you will become as though clannless yourselves.”

The one who had liberated the boots grinned again and said, “Not so long as I can take these things in raid.”

The looting of the longhouse converted into barracks had been completed, and the laughing, shouting clannsmen were tying the foreign weapons, books and tapes to the horses they had comandeered from the twenty unhappy raiders. The litters for the two laser rifles gave them some trouble but didn’t present an insurmountable problem, although the clumsy rig slowed the animals down considerably.

John of the Hawks said to DeRudder, “You can ride?”

DeRudder said, “On the planet of my birth, it is a sport. I can ride.” He swung into the saddle of the horse the other had indicated.

John of the Hawks shouted, “Quickly, now! We ride hard, or we will be overtaken by the Sidonians before we reach the shelter of the hills.”

With John, Don of the Clarks and the prisoner in the lead, the column galloped off, the pack animals between the advance elements and the rear guard.

DeRudder said, “How did you know how to operate the laser rifles?”

John, whose eyes were most often on the sky, in the direction of New Sidon City, said, “Clannsmen of the Highland Confederation, some months ago, seized some of your weapons in a raid. They also took prisoners some of your soldiers and, ah, convinced them it would be well to give instructions in the use of your weapons from Beyond.”

“But you are of the Loch Confederation.”

John looked at him. “We are beginning to learn, Samuel of the DeRudders. A delegation of the Highland Confederation came to us and showed us the workings of your laser guns.”

DeRudder looked unhappy. He was a small man, by Caledonian standards, but even in his middle years, well proportioned, and even as a prisoner of these barbarians, possessive of a cool dignity. Cornet Samuel DeRudder was no coward, whatever else he might be.

Don of the Clarks grinned at him mockingly. “It does not sit well, that in the future you will perhaps be faced with your own weapons that break the bann, eh, man from Beyond?”

DeRudder growled, “If you dullies weren’t so empty, you’d voluntarily come to our cities or mining towns and get with it. This planet is one of the richest in the system. Once under full exploitation and you’d have a paradise on your hands. This world could be a garden.”

John’s eyebrows went up cynically. “A garden for whom, Samuel of the DeRudders? Those who work in the mines are almost all, save for a few of your technicians, as you call them, Caledonians. I have never been in a mine, but from what I hear they are not gardens, Samuel of the DeRudders.”

“Just Samuel DeRudder,” the other said. “You’ve got to work before you enjoy all the things we’ve introduced from Sidon; better food, better medical care, better education, better entertainment, better clothes, better houses—better everything.”

Don laughed at him mockingly. “Perhaps you think these things from Beyond are better, Samuel, Cornet of the DeRudders, but for us, perhaps we prefer our own food and clothing and the longhouses in which we were born. Perhaps we prefer to spend our days in honorable raid upon our enemies, rather than the blackness of the mines.”

DeRudder looked at him scornfully. “And do you prefer the mumbo jumbo medicine of your bedels, when you’ve been wounded in one of those endless skirmishes of yours? I understand, you yourself were once’ cured in one of our autohospitals.”

Don was silent to that.

John said, “Some things, admittedly, that you have brought from Beyond are desirable. One of these is your medicine. But these things we can learn to use, without becoming slaves and spending our years toiling for your United Interplanetary Mining.”

DeRudder was still scornful. “And you’d prefer to get it by stealing, rather than decent work.”

John of the Hawks was irritated. He let his eyes sweep the far sky again, before answering. Then he said, “This work that you are so keen that we Caledonians take up—if it is so decent, so desirable, why do you not do it yourself? I do not note, Samuel of the DeRudders, that you spend time in the mines personally.”

“I’ve worked in my time, John. For long years I was a ship’s officer in the Exploratory Service.”

John snorted. “Until one day your ship stumbled upon Caledonia, and you saw the great opportunity to rob a whole world of its treasures. Then you stopped working yourself and began to scheme to get others to work for you, even though it meant the destruction of whole towns and the dishonorable killing of thousands of women and children.”

DeRudder looked at him. “You’ve been doing some reading. I don’t think I’ve ever met a clannsman with what you could call an education.”

John said in a low voice, “That is one of the other things worthwhile that you have brought from Beyond, Samuel of the DeRudders. And we of the clanns are beginning to realize that if we are to be able to expel you from our world we must adapt to some of your ways.”

Don of the Clarks scowled at his words. He said sourly, “Actually, as the Keepers of the Faith continually say, all necessary knowledge is in four Holy Books.”

DeRudder allowed himself the luxury of a chuckle.

John was shaking his head. “No, Don of the Clarks. The Keepers of the Faith are wrong. The four Holy Books are only the small remnant of the books that must have come to Caledonia on the Inverness Ark. On this planet Sidon, and on all the other worlds Beyond, there must be…” John looked at the otherworldling for confirmation. “There must be dozens of other books.” He added sharply, “Why do you laugh?”

“A joke of my own,” DeRudder said wryly.

One of the sagamores behind called, “A vessel of the sky!”

John of the Hawks shot a quick glance back and upward.

“Scatter!” he shouted. “Make for the caves in the hills! Those who have weapons of the Sidonians, rally with me here. We will take the animals with the two laser rifles. Otherwise, all scatter and make for the assembly of the Dail!”