Because beneath the bruises, the bandages, the temporary alterations left by Xik treatment, Storm knew those features. He was facing now not just one of his own general human kind, but a man – a very young man – of his own race! Somehow – by some strange juggling of fate – he was confronting across this dusky cave another of the Dineh.
And the other’s eyes, the only part of him that was not Dineh – those startling blue eyes – were focused back on the Terran with the same unwavering look of complete amazement. Then the swollen lips moved and that other asked his question first:
“Who, in the name of Seven Ringed Thunders, are you?”
“Hosteen Storm – I am Terran –” He repeated his former self-introduction absently.
The other raised a bandaged hand clumsily to his own jaw and winced as it touched the swelling there.
“You won’t believe this, fella,” he said apologetically. “But before I took this workin’ over, you an” I looked somethin’ alike!”
“You are of the Dineh –” Storm slipped into the tongue of his boyhood. “How did you come here?”
The other appeared to be listening intently, but when Storm was finished, he shook his head slowly.
“Sorry – that’s not my talk. I still don’t see how I got me a part-twin on Terra. Nor how he turned up to help pull me out of that mess back there. Enough to make you think the smoke drinkers know what they’re talkin’ about when they say dreams are real –”
“You are —?” Storm, a little deflated by the other’s refusal to acknowledge a common speech, asked in a sharper tone.
“Sorry – there’s no mystery about that. I’m Logan Quade.”
Storm got up, the firelight touching to life the necklace on his breast, the ketoh on his wrist as he moved. He did not know, and would not have cared, what an imposing picture he made at that moment. Nor could he guess how the eagerness mirrored in his face a moment earlier had been wiped away, to leave his features set and cold.
“Logan – Quade –” he repeated without accent, evenly. “I have heard of the Quades –”
The other was still meeting his gaze with equal calmness though now he had to look up to do so.
“You and a lot of others – including our friends back yonder. They seemed to like Quades just about as much as you do, Storm. I can understand their dislike, but when did a Quade ever give you a shove, Terran?”
He was quick, Storm had to grant him that. Too quick for comfort. The Terran did not like this at all. For a moment he felt as if he had a raging frawn bull by the tail, unable either to subdue the animal or to let it free. And that was an unusual feeling of incompetence that he did not find easy to acknowledge.
“You’re on the wrong track, Quade. But how did the Xiks pick you up?” It was a clumsy enough change of subject and Storm was ashamed of his ineptitude. To make matters worse he had a well-founded idea that Quade was amused at his stumbles.
They gathered me in with the greatest of ease after settin’ up some prime bait,” Logan answered. “We’ve a range a little south of the Peaks and our stock has been disappearin’ regularly in this direction. Dumaroy and some of the other spread owners around here yammer about Norbies every time they count noses and miss a calf. There’ve been a lot missin’ lately and Dumaroy’s talkin’ war talk. That sort of thing can blow up into a nasty mess. We’ve had minor differences with some of the wild tribes right enough, but let Dumaroy and his hotheads go attackin’ indiscriminately and we could make this whole planet too hot for anyone who didn’t wear horns on his head!
“So – not swallowin’ Dumaroy’s talk about the terrible, terrible Norbies, I came up to have a look around for myself. I chose the wrong time – or maybe the right, if we consider it from another angle – and found the- trail of a big herd bein’ driven straight back into the mountains where they had no business to be. And, bein’ slightly stupid as my father likes to point out occasionally, I just followed hoofprints along until I was collared. A simple story – with me the simplest item in it.
Then these gentle Xiks thought maybe I could supply some bits of information that they considered necessary to their future well bein’. Some things I honestly didn’t know and, while they were tryin’ to encourage my reluctant tongue, somebody pulled a raid on their horse corral and rather disrupted things. I believe that they had considered their situation entirely safe here and that when they were attacked they came unlaced at the seams for a few minutes. I took advantage of a very lucky break and headed for the hills. Then Gorgol here stumbled on me and so – you know the rest.”
He waved a bandaged hand and added in a far more serious tone, “What you don’t know – and what is goin’ to hurry us out of here – is that we’re sittin’ right on the edge of a neat little war. These Xiks have been deliberately stirrin’ up trouble to set the settlers and the Norbies at each others’ throats. Whether it’s just that they thrive on pure meanness, or whether they have some plans of their own that can only be ripened in a war, is anybody’s guess. But they are plannin’ a full-sized raid on the range below the Peaks, disguised as Norbies. And in turn a couple of raids on Norbie huntin’ camps doublin’ as settlers. I don’t know whether you know about the Nitra tribe or not. But they’re not the type any man with any sense excites. And the Xiks have been twistin’ their tails regularly – in a manner of speakin’ – pushin’ them straight into a stampede that might smash every spread on the Peak Range. Get the Norbies mad enough and they’ll unite in a continent-wide drive. Then” – he waved his hand again – “good-by to a pretty decent little world. With all the best intentions in the galaxy the Peace Officers will have to call in the Patrol. There’ll either be guerrilla warfare for years, with the Norbies against everythin’ from off-world – or else no Norbies. And since I believe that the Norbies are a pretty fine lot, I’m just a little bit prejudiced. So now we’re faced with a big job, fella. We have to try and stop the war before the first shot is really fired!”
12
The pattern fitted, not only with the situation as Storm already knew it, but with tactics the Xiks had used elsewhere in the galaxy. The enemy had apparently learned nothing from their defeat, and were starting their old games over again. Did this handful of holdouts believe Arzor was going to furnish them with a nucleus for a new empire? Yet that vision was no more grandiloquent than the one they had always held and that the Confederacy had had to expend every effort to defeat. Storm sighed. There had been no end after all to the conflict that had wiped Terra from the solar map.
“How many Xiks are there?” He was already occupied with the practical side of the matter.
Logan Quade shrugged, let out a little involuntary yelp of pain, and then added:
They kept me busy, a little too busy to count noses. Five in the bunch that first downed me. But all of those weren’t alien –at least two were outlaws of our own breed. And there was an officer of sorts in command of the questionin’. Him I want to meet again!” The hands in their bandage mittens moved on Logan’s knees. “I saw maybe a dozen aliens – about half as many outlaws – they don’t mix too well –”
They wouldn’t.” The Xiks had had human stooges on other worlds, but it was always an uneasy cooperation and seldom worked. “How many settlers in the Peak country?”
There’re seven ranges staked out. Dumaroy’s the largest so far. He has his brother, nephew, and twelve riders. Lancin –Artur – he has a smaller holdin’ – though his brother’s comin’ out to join him as soon as he’s mustered out of the Service. They have five Norbies ridin’ for them. And our range – six Norbies and two riders m” father sent up from the Basin. Maybe ten-twelve men can be combed out of the small outfits. Not a very big army – at least you’ll figure that after being with the Confed forces –”
“I’ve seen successful move-ins accomplished by even fewer,” Storm returned mildly. “But your Peak people must be pretty well scattered –”
“Just let me get to the first of the line cabins and there’ll be a talker to call ‘em in. We aren’t so primitive as you off-worlders seem to think!”