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play John Carter just as he had when he was a kid on a Hoosier farm. Well, Wolff wasn’t going to all the labor and pains and time of making a living, breathing, thinking green Martian or red Zodan-gan just so Kickaha could run him through with a sword. Or vice versa.
Kickaha had sighed and then grinned and thanked Wolff for what he had done and gated on up to the moon and had a fine time for a week. He had hunted banth and roped a small thoat and broken it in and prowled through the ruins of Korad and Thark, as he called the cities which Wolffs taloses had built. Then he became lonely and went back to the planet. Several times he came back for “vacations,” once with his Drache-lander wife and several Teutoniac knights, and once with a band of Hrowakas. Everybody except him had been uneasy on the moon, close to panic, and the vacations had been failures.
XVII
IT HAD BEEN three years since he had gated through to the moon. Now he was back in circumstances he could never have fantasied. The Harpy and eagles were outside the room and he was trapped inside. Standoff. He could not get out, but they could not attack without serious, maybe total, loss. However, they had an advantage. They could get food and water. If they wanted to put in the time, they could wait until he was too weak from thirst and hunger to resist or until he could no longer fight off sleep. There was no reason why they should not take the time. Nobody was pressing them.
Of course, somebody soon could be. It seemed likely, or at least somewhat probable, the Bellers would be returning through other gates. And this time they would come in force.
If Podarge thought he’d stay in the room until he passed out, she was mistaken. He’d try a few tricks and, if these didn’t work, he’d come out fighting. There was a slight chance that he might defeat them or get by them to the pits. It wasn’t likely; the beaks and talons were swift and terrible. But then he wasn’t to be sneered at, either.
He decided to make it even tougher for them.
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He rolled the wheel-like door from the space between the walls until only a narrow opening was left. Through this, he shouted at Podarge.
“You may think you have me now! But even if you do, then what? Are you going to spend the rest of your life on this desolate place? There are no mountains worthy of the name here for your aeries! And the topography is depressingly flat! And your food won’t be easy to get! All the animals that live in the open are monstrously big and savage fighters!
“As for you, Podarge, you won’t be able to queen it over your hundreds of thousands! If your virgin eagles do lay their eggs so your subjects may increase, they’ll have a hard time with the little egg-eating animals that abound here! Not to mention the great white apes, which love eggs! And flesh, including eagle flesh, I’m sure!
“Ah, yes, the great white apes! You haven’t met up with them yet, have you?”
He waited a while for them to think about his words. Then he said, “You’re stuck here until you die! Unless you make a truce with me! I can show you how to get back to the planet! I know where the gates are hidden!”
More silence. Then a subdued conversation among the eagles and the Harpy. Finally, Podarge said, “Your words were very tempting, Trickster! But they don’t fool me! All we have to do is wait until you fall asleep or become too thirst-torn to stand it! Then we will take you alive, and we will torture you until you tell us what we need to know. Then we kill you. What do you think of that?”
“Not much,” he muttered. He yelled, “I will kill myself first! Podarge, slut-queen of the big bird-brains, what do you think of that?”
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Her scream and the flapping of huge wings told him that she thought as little of his words as he of hers.