The new road dwindled into the faintest of tracks within a mile or so. From the exasperated comments voiced about him Kana gathered that none of the lower rank Combatants knew where they were headed or why. And more than once he caught muffled suggestions about the mysterious troubles which had recently overwhelmed other Hordes and Legions light years from home. In spite of their usual fatalism, the morale of the mercenaries might be seriously affected if the situation continued.
Perhaps this new move was the result of that visit the Mech had paid their camp in the early morning. But the confidence the Terrans had shown after Skura was slain was fast changing to a growing uneasiness.
After a space the trace they followed grew so narrow that it seemed they must abandon the carts. Two of the scouts came in to report, a native with them, a Llor of the petty officer class, wearing a stained bandage about his head, one arm in a grimy sling. Rumor rippled down the ranks.
“There’s a big river ahead—and no bridge—”
Before that news had reached the tail of the last team the call to general council was whistled. Yorke’s voice, clippy and tinny, came through the speakers.
“Men, the situation is not promising. We were informed that S’Tork has enlisted the services of Mech renegades—how many we do not yet know. We have not been offered safe conduct, and we cannot return to Tharc without it. Until we can make a treaty and enforce the recognition of our position under general Combat usage, we must mark time. We shall send a message to Secundus—”
“And who’s going to grow a space drive and fly it there through space?” Kana heard someone ask grimly in a half whisper.
“We have information,” Yorke was continuing, “that there is another mountain gap to the north which we may cross if we cannot come to terms—we are now heading toward that. In the meantime we must do nothing to arouse the enmity of the royalists, give them any reason for declaring that we fought on after the death of Skura. Under no provocation, no matter how severe, is any Swordsman to use his weapon against a Llor—until this order is countermanded. We shall continue in ‘hostile country, plan three’ until further notice. Change the loads on the large carts to back-packs for the guen. Only the three small handcarts can be used from this point on. We shall establish a night camp beside the river—”
The use of resisting guen for pack animals was not easy. And it was nearly twilight before the detachment of which Kana was one, pulling and batting their snarling beasts down to the lighted area of the camp the van had set up, gained the river. The site of the Terran position was on a bluff above the dark, oily water which washed the clay bank with unwholesome ripples. And an almost vertical descent plunged into a powerful current. They need not fear a surprise attack from that direction.
Kana strode along the bank, looking at the flood. From the white foam collars wreathing the rocks there he judged that the current was too swift to grant them an easy crossing. As his eyes trailed bubbles downstream he saw dancing dots of light moving through the blackness of the night, coalescing on the same bank farther east. Another camp? Then the Horde’s line of march must have been paralleled by a detachment of Llor.
Luckily the Horde carried their own rations. Natives who themselves depended upon the natural produce of their land could not readily gauge the superior mobility of an army for whom the supply problem consisted of a relatively small amount of condensed food tablets and other concentrated rations, weeks’ needs being carried easily in an individual’s own belt pouch. The ancient “scorched-earth” policy would not be effective against Terrans—unless they could be kept from their base for a period comprising months.
“Dumb woolly heads!” As Kana dropped down by Mills and Mic he heard Sim’s thick voice rumble, “What do they think they can do—”
“It’s not what the fur faces are gonna do.” That was Bogate. “Skura wasn’t killed by no fur face. I was there. I tell you, fellas, he got burned right through the middle—neat and clean! Me, I’m a Swordsman, and a ten-year man, and I know better’n to spit in the face of a flamer!”
“Flamer?” questioned someone. “But if they have flamers they’d have cut us to pieces back there. And we were winning until Skura took it.”
“Lissen.” Bogate’s voice overbore the other’s. “I saw what I saw! That was a Mech that was marched in to see Yorke last night. And he wasn’t no observer either! What if S’Tork has a whole renegade Legion hid back there?”
“You’re talking feathers and fluff!” challenged one of his companions. “A whole Legion turned bad—why, they couldn’t have set course for here without Prime knowing it!”
Bogate’s sardonic bark of laughter cut that down. “There’s a million-trillion ways you can beat the High Brass back at base—and you know it. Just because it ain’t never been done before, is no sign that some smart guy can’t pull it off. Lookit here, a Mechmaster what wanted to, could grab hisself off a world like this—set up as Control Commissioner or something. Ain’t that right, Mills?”
Deke Mills slapped away one of the flyers drawn by the lamps. “Entirely true, Bogate. And you’re also right in that exactly that is what may be happening now. If so”—he paused and then continued—“if so we must be prepared to fight our way off-world.”
Several voices protested and then sank to silence under Bogate’s growl.
“Ain’t you bumble-wits got it into your heads yet that when a fella breaks the top laws he ain’t gonna let tongues wag if he can help it? We go back to Secundus and shoot off our mouths about flamers and Mechs here and the mop-up crew is gonna head straight to Fronn to see what’s what. Think, can’t you. Who’s liable to have flamers—what kinda support these here renegade Mechs got?”
The sudden tense silence which answered him was that of men who were beginning to think and didn’t like it.
Due to Hansu’s use of Mills as his aide, Kana’s acquaintance with his double was not a deep one. He messed with and shared the quarters of Rey and Mic, meeting with Mills only when duty brought them together. But now he ventured to ask his quiet companion a question.
“This could reach clear to Prime, couldn’t it?”
Mills did not turn his head. But a second later he snapped:
“Explain that!”
Kana described the actions of the Mech in the information library, retailing his belief that the man was waiting for the pak on Fronn.
“No Legion badge on his helmet?”
“No, sir. I thought he might have just signed up. But why—” He fell silent but his thoughts were very busy.
How could any Mech be recruited for illegal service on Prime? S’Tork must be backed by more than a mere handful of renegades!
“Yes—why and how.” Mills’ whisper added to his formless apprehension. “This is a case of going into battle blindfolded.” The veteran got to his feet and Kana trailed him.
They were, the younger Swordsman discovered, making a circuit of the camp, passing from post to post. When they reached the east Mills gave the password and stepped beyond the brilliance of the lamps into the night. As their eyes adjusted Kana located the bluish haze of the Llor encampment. Contrary to their usual custom the Fronnian forces were keeping their torches ablaze. But they had not advanced any toward the Terran site.
A single moment of study was enough to satisfy Mills. He tramped south, stopping now and then to study the darkness. Farther off was another barrier of lights across the road over which they had just come. The Llor had cut off any possible retreat.
To the west stood the mountain wall. There were no gleams of blue on the heights. The Terran camp was not yet ringed in—or did the Llor believe that the mountains themselves were barrier enough? They might consider that they had the off-world army pinned down with the mountains and the river and the two bodies of their own troops.
Mills reached the last post, but he did not turn back into camp. “Hansu tells me,” he began abruptly, “that you’re an AL man. What do you make of the Llor—of this situation? Surely they must know they haven’t bottled us up. We could blow them out of our way whenever we wanted to show strength. They have something in reserve—they must have!”
“You can never tell about a feudal civilization with alien natives. Skura was inclined to overestimate his own powers. This is the first time a Combat force has been on Fronn.” Kana shrugged. “You know that X-Tee, Alien Liaison, is pure guesswork at times. We can’t get inside the skull of a creature whose whole mental processes may be different. The Llor, it’s my guess, are either just what they outwardly appear to be—simple barbarians—or else—”