Up to this time, most of the hills had
been gentle, smooth slopes, their irregularities long since worn
off by weather. There had been no sign of the holes and crevasses
which Lackland somewhat feared before starting. The hilltops had
been smoothly rounded, so that even had their speed been much
higher the crossing of one would hardly have been noticed. Now,
however, as they topped such an acclivity and the landscape ahead
came into view, a difference in the next hill caught every eye at
once.
It was longer than most they had
crossed, more a ridge across their path than a mound; but the great
difference was in the top. Instead of the smooth, wind-worn curve
presented by its fellows, it seemed at first glance actually
jagged; a closer look showed that it was crowned with a row of
boulders spaced with regularity that could only mean intelligent
arrangement. The rocks ranged from monstrous things as big as
Lackland’s tank down to fragments of basketball size; and all,
while rough in detail, were generally spherical in shape. Lackland
brought his vehicle to an instant halt and seized his glasses—he
was in partial armor, but was not wearing the helmet. Barlennan,
forgetting the presence of his crew, made a leap over the twenty
yards separating the Bree from the tank and
settled firmly on top of the latter. A radio had been fastened
there for his convenience long before, and he was talking almost
before he had landed.
“What is it, Charles? Is that a city,
such as you were telling me about on your own world? It doesn’t
look very much like your pictures.”
“I was hoping you could tell me,” was
the answer. “It certainly is not a city, and the stones are too far
apart for the most part to be any sort of wall or fort that I could
imagine. Can you see anything moving around them? I can’t with
these glasses, but I don’t know how keen your eyesight
is.”
“I can just see that the hilltop is
irregular; if the things on top are loose stones, I’ll have to take
your word for it until we’re closer. Certainly I can see nothing
moving. Anything my size would be impossible to see at that
distance anyway, I should think.”
“I could see you at that range without
these glasses, but I couldn’t count
your eyes or arms. With them I can say pretty certainly that that
hilltop is deserted. Just the same, I’ll practically guarantee that
those stones didn’t get there by accident; we’d better keep eyes
open for whoever set them up. Better warn your crew.” Lackland
mentally noted the fact of Barlennan’s poorer eyesight; he was not
physicist enough to have predicted it from the size of the native’s
eyes.
For two or three minutes, while the sun
moved far enough to reveal most of the areas previously in shadow,
they waited and watched; but nothing except the shadows moved, and
finally Lackland started the tank once more. The sun set while they
were descending the slope. The tank had only one searchlight, which
Lackland kept aiming at the ground in his path; so they could not
see what, if anything, went on among the stones above. Sunrise
found them just crossing another brook, and tension mounted as they
headed uphill once more. For a minute or two nothing was visible,
as the sun was directly ahead of the travelers; then it rose far
enough to permit clear forward vision. None of the eyes fastened on
the hilltop could detect any change from its appearance of the
night before. There was a vague impression, which Lackland found
was shared by the Mesklinites, that there were now more stones; but
since no one had attempted to make a count of them before, this
could not be proved. There was still no visible
motion.
It took five or six minutes to climb
the hill at the tank’s five-mile speed, so the sun was definitely
behind them when they reached the top. Lackland found that several
of the gaps between the larger stones were wide enough for the tank
and sled, and he angled toward one of these as he approached the
crest of the ridge. He crunched over some of the smaller boulders,
and for a moment Dondragmer, on the ship behind, thought one of
them must have damaged the tank, for the machine came to an abrupt
halt. Barlennan could be seen still on top of the vehicle, all his
eyes fixed on the scene below him; the Flyer was not visible, of
course, but after a moment the Bree’s mate decided that he, too,
must be so interested in the valley beyond as to have forgotten
about driving.
“Captain! What is it?” Dondragmer
hurled the question even as he gestured the weapons crew to the
flame tanks. The rest of the crew distributed themselves along the
outer rafts, clubs, knives, and spears in readiness, without
orders. For a long moment Barlennan gave no answer, and the mate
was on the point of ordering a party overboard to cover the tank—he
knew nothing of the nature of the jury-rigged quick-firer at
Lackland’s disposal—when his captain turned, saw what was going on,
and gave a reassuring gesture.
“It’s all right, I guess,” he said. “We
can see no one moving, but it looks a little like a town. Just a
moment and the Flyer will pull you forward so that you can see
without going overboard.” He shifted back to English and made this
request to Lackland, who promptly complied. This action produced an
abrupt change in the situation.
What Lackland had seen at first—and
Barlennan less clearly—was a broad,
shallow, bowllike valley entirely surrounded by hills of the type
they were on. There should, Lackland felt, have been a lake at the
bottom; there was no visible means of escape for rain or melted
snow. Then he noticed that there was no snow on the inner slopes of
the hills; their topography was bare. And strange topography it
was.
It could not possibly have been
natural. Starting a short distance below the ridges were broad,
shallow channels. They were remarkably regular in arrangement; a
cross section of the hills taken just below where they started
would have suggested a very pretty series of ocean waves. As the
channels led on downhill toward the center of the valley they grew
narrower and deeper, as though designed to lead rain water toward a
central reservoir. Unfortunately for this hypothesis, they did not
all meet in the center—they did not even all reach it, though all
got as far as the relatively level, small floor of the valley. More
interesting than the channels themselves were the elevations
separating them. These, naturally, also grew more pronounced as the
channels grew deeper; on the upper half of the slopes they were
smoothly rounded ridges, but as the eye followed them down their
sides grew steeper until they attained a perpendicular junction
with the channel floors. A few of these little walls extended
almost to the center of the valley. They did not all point toward
the same spot; there were gentle curves in their courses that gave
them the appearance of the flanges of a centrifugal pump rather
than the spokes of a wheel. Their tops were too narrow for a man to
walk on.
Lackland judged that channels and
separating walls alike were some fifteen or twenty feet wide where
they broke off. The walls themselves, therefore, were quite thick
enough to be lived in, especially for Mesklinites; and the
existence of numerous openings scattered over their lower surfaces
lent strength to the idea that they actually were dwellings. The
glasses showed that those openings not directly at the bottoms of
the walls had ramps leading up to them; and before he saw a single
living thing, Lackland was sure he was examining a city. Apparently
the inhabitants lived in the separating walls, and had developed
the entire structure in order to dispose of rain. Why they did not
live on the outer slopes of the hills, if they wanted to avoid the
liquid, was a question that did not occur to him.
He had reached this point in his
thoughts when Barlennan asked him to pull the Bree over the brow of the hill before the sun made good
seeing impossible. The moment the tank began to move, a score of
dark figures appeared in the openings that he had suspected were
doorways; no details were visible at that distance, but the
objects, whatever they were, were living creatures. Lackland
heroically refrained from stopping the tank and snatching up the
glasses once more until he had pulled the Bree into a good viewing position.
As it turned out, there was no need for
him to have hurried. The things remained motionless, apparently
watching the newcomers, while the towing maneuver was completed; he
was able to spend the remaining minutes before
sunset in a careful examination of the beings. Even with the
glasses some details were indistinguishable—for one reason, they
seemed not to have emerged entirely from their dwellings; but what
could be seen suggested strongly that they belonged to the same
race as Barlennan’s people. The bodies were long and
caterpillarlike; several eyes—they were hard to count at that
distance—were on the foremost body segment, and limbs very similar
to if not identical with Barlennan’s pincer-equipped arms were in
evidence. The coloration was a mixture of red and black, the latter
predominating as in the Bree’s
complement.
Barlennan could not see all this, but
Lackland relayed the description to him tensely until the city
below faded from sight in the dusk. When he stopped talking the
captain issued a boiled-down version in his own language to the
tensely waiting crew. When that was done Lackland
asked:
“Have you ever heard of people living
this close to the Rim, Barl? Would they be at all likely to be
known to you, or even speak the same language?”
“I doubt it very much. My people become
very uncomfortable, as you know, north of what you once called the
‘hundred-G line.’ I know several languages, but I can’t see any
likelihood of finding one of them spoken here.”
“Then what shall we do? Sneak around
this town, or go through it on the chance its people are not
belligerent? I’d like to see it more closely, I admit, but we have
an important job to do and I don’t want to risk its chances of
success. You at least know your race better than I possibly can;
how do you think they’ll react to us?”
“There’s no one rule, there. They may
be frightened out of their wits at your tank, or my riding on
it—though they might not have normal instincts about height, here
at the Rim. We’ve met lots of strange people in our wanderings, and
sometimes we’ve been able to trade and sometimes we’ve had to
fight. In general, I’d say if we kept weapons out of sight and
trade goods in evidence, they would at least investigate before
getting violent. I’d like to go down. Will the sled fit through the
bottom of those channels, do you think?”
Lackland paused. “I hadn’t thought of
that,” he admitted after a moment “I’d want to measure them more
carefully first. Maybe it would be best if the tank went down alone
first, with you and anyone else who cared for the ride traveling on
top. That way we might look more peaceful, too—they must have seen
the weapons your men were carrying, and if we leave them
behind—”
“They didn’t see any weapons unless
their eyes are a great deal better than ours,” pointed out
Barlennan. “However, I agree that we’d better go down first and
measure—or better yet, tow the ship around the valley first and go
down afterward as a side trip; I see no need to risk her in those
narrow channels.”
“That’s a thought. Yes, I guess it
would be the best idea, at that. Will you tell your crew what we’ve
decided, and ask if any of them want to come down with us
afterward?”
Barlennan agreed, and returned to the
Bree for the purpose—he could speak
in a lower tone there, although he did not feel that there was any
real danger of being overheard and understood.
The crew in general accepted the
advisability of taking the ship around rather than through the
city, but from that point on there was a little difficulty. All of
them wanted to see the town, but none would even consider riding on
the tank, often as they had seen their captain do so without harm.
Dondragmer broke the deadlock by suggesting that the crew, except
for those left to guard the Bree, follow the
tank into the town; there was no need to ride, since all could now
keep up the speed the vehicle had been using up to this
time.
The few minutes this discussion
consumed brought the sun once more above the horizon; and at
Barlennan’s signal the Earthman swung the tank ninety degrees and
started around the rim of the valley just below its coping of
boulders. He had taken a look at the city before starting, and saw
no sign of life; but as the tank and its tow swung into motion
heads appeared once more at the small doors—many more of them, this
time. Lackland was able to concentrate on his driving, sure now
that their owners would still be there when he was free to examine
them more closely. He attended to his job for the few days required
to get the sled around to the far side of the valley; then the tow
cable was cast off, and the nose of the tank pointed
downhill.
Practically no steering was required;
the vehicle tended to follow the course of the first channel it
met, and went by itself toward the space which Lackland had come to
regard—wholly without justification—as the market place of the
town. Approximately half of the Bree’s crew
followed; the rest, under the second mate, remained as guards on
the ship. Barlennan, as usual, rode on the tank’s roof, with most
of the small supply of trade goods piled behind him.
The rising sun was behind them as they
approached from this side of the valley, so the seeing was good.
There was much to see; some of the town’s inhabitants emerged
entirely from their dwellings as the strangers approached. Neither
Lackland nor Barlennan attached any significance to the fact that
all who did this were on the far side of the open space; those
closer to the approaching travelers remained well under
cover.
As the distance narrowed, one fact
became evident; the creatures were not, in spite of initial
appearances, of the same race as Barlennan. Similar they were,
indeed; body shape, proportions, number of eyes and limbs—all
matched; but the city dwellers were over three times the length of
the travelers from the far south. Five feet in length they
stretched over the stone floors of the channels, with body breadth
and thickness to match.
Some of the things had reared the front
third of their long bodies high into the air, in an evident effort
to see better as the tank approached—an act that separated them
from Barlennan’s people as effectively as their size. These swayed
a trifle from side to side as they watched, somewhat like the
snakes Lackland had seen in museums on Earth. Except for this
barely perceptible
motion they did not stir as the strange metal monster crawled
steadily down the channel it had chosen, almost disappeared as the
walls which formed the homes of the city dwellers rose gradually to
its roof on either side, and finally nosed its way out into the
open central space of the town through what had become an alley
barely wide enough for its bulk. If they spoke, it was too quietly
for either Lackland or Barlennan to hear; even the gestures of
pincerbearing arms that took the place of so much verbal
conversation with the Mesklinites Lackland knew was missing. The
creatures simply waited and watched.
The sailors edged around the tank
through the narrow space left—Lackland had just barely completed
emerging from the alley—and stared almost as silently as the
natives. Dwellings, to them, consisted of three-inch-high walls
with fabric roofs for weather protection; the idea of a covering of
solid material was utterly strange. If they had not been seeing
with their own eyes the giant city dwellers actually inside the
weird structures, Barlennan’s men would have taken the latter for
some new sort of natural formation.
Lackland simply sat at his controls,
looked, and speculated. This was a waste of time, really, since he
did not have enough data for constructive imagination; but he had
the sort of mind that could not remain completely idle. He looked
about the city and tried to picture the regular life of its
inhabitants, until Barlennan’s actions attracted his
attention.
The captain did not believe in wasting
time; he was going to trade with these people, and, if they
wouldn’t trade, he would move on. His action, which focused
Lackland’s attention on him, was to start tossing the packaged
trade goods from the roof beside him, and calling to his men to get
busy. This they did, once the packages had stopped falling.
Barlennan himself leaped to the ground after the last bundle—an act
which did not seem to bother in the least the silently watching
giants—and joined in the task of preparing the goods for display.
The Earthman watched with interest.
There were bolts of what looked like
cloth of various colors, bundles that might have been dried roots
or pieces of rope, tiny covered jars and larger empty ones—a good,
varied display of objects whose purpose, for the most part, he
could only guess at.
With the unveiling of this material the
natives began to crowd forward, whether in curiosity or menace
Lackland could not tell. None of the sailors showed visible
apprehension—he had come to have some ability at recognizing this
emotion in their kind. By the time their preparations seemed to be
complete an almost solid ring of natives surrounded the tank. The
way it had come was the only direction unblocked by their long
bodies. The silence among the strange beings persisted, and was
beginning to bother Lackland; but Barlennan was either indifferent
to it or able to conceal his feelings. He picked an individual out
of the crowd, using no particular method of choice that the
Earthman could see, and began his selling program.
How he went about it Lackland was
utterly unable to understand. The
captain had said he did not expect these people to understand his
language, yet he spoke; his gestures were meaningless to Lackland,
though he used them freely. How any understanding could be
transmitted was a complete mystery to the alien watcher; yet
apparently Barlennan was having some degree of success. The trouble
was, of course, that Lackland in his few months’ acquaintance with
the strange creatures had not gained more than the tiniest bit of
insight into their psychology. He can hardly be blamed;
professionals years later were still being puzzled by it. So much
of the Mesklinite action and gesticulation is tied in directly with
the physical functioning of their bodies that its meaning, seen by
another member of the same race, is automatically clear; these
giant city dwellers, though not of Barlennan’s precise species,
were similar enough in make-up so that communication was not the
problem Lackland naturally assumed it would be.
In a fairly short time, numbers of the
creatures were emerging from their homes with various articles
which they apparently wished to trade, and other members of the
Bree’s crew took active part in the
bargaining. This continued as the sun swept across the sky and
through the period of darkness—Barlennan asked Lackland to furnish
illumination from the tank. If the artificial light bothered or
surprised the giants at all, even Barlennan was unable to detect
any signs of the fact. They paid perfect attention to the business
at hand, and when one had gotten rid of what he had or acquired
what he seemed to want, he would retire to his home and leave room
for another. The natural result was that very few days passed
before Barlennan’s remaining trade goods had changed hands, and the
articles freshly acquired were being transferred to the roof of the
tank.
Most of these things were as strange to
Lackland as the original trade materials had been; but two
attracted his attention particularly. Both were apparently living
animals, though he could not make out their details too well
because of their small size. Both appeared to be domesticated; each
stayed crouched at the side of the sailor who had purchased it, and
evinced no desire to move away. Lackland guessed—correctly, as it
turned out—that these were creatures of the sort the sailors had
been hoping to raise in order to test possible plant
foods.
“Is that all the trading you’re going
to do?” he called, as the last of the local inhabitants drifted
away from the neighborhood of the tank.
“It’s all we can do,” replied
Barlennan. “We have nothing more to trade. Have you any
suggestions, or do you want to continue our journey
now?”
“I’d like very much to find out what
the interiors of those houses are like; but I couldn’t possibly get
through the doors, even if I could discard my armor. Would you or
any of your people be willing to try to get a look inside?”
Barlennan was a trifle hesitant.
“I’m not sure whether it would be wise.
These people traded peacefully enough, but there’s something about
them that bothers me, though I can’t
exactly put a nipper on it. Maybe it’s because they didn’t argue
enough over prices.”
“You mean you don’t trust them—you
think they’ll try to get back what they’ve given, now that you’re
out of trade goods?”
“I wouldn’t say precisely that; as I
said, I don’t have actual reason for my feeling. I’ll put it this
way; if the tank gets back to the valley rim and hooked up to the
ship so that we’re all ready to go, and we’ve had no trouble from
these things in the meantime, I’ll come back down and take that
look myself. Fair enough?”
Neither Barlennan nor Lackland had paid
any attention to the natives during this conversation; but for the
first time the city dwellers did not share this indifference. The
nearer giants turned and eyed, with every indication of curiosity,
the small box from which Lackland’s voice was coming. As the talk
went on, more and more of them drew near and listened; the
spectacle of someone talking to a box too small, they knew, to
contain any intelligent creature seemed, for the first time, to
break down a wall of reserve that not even the tank had been able
to affect. As Lackland’s final agreement to Barlennan’s suggestion
came booming from the tiny speaker, and it became evident that the
conversation was over, several of the listeners disappeared hastily
into their homes and emerged almost at once with more objects.
These they presented, with gestures which the sailors now
understood quite well. The giants wanted the radio, and were
willing to pay handsomely for it.
Barlennan’s refusal seemed to puzzle
them. Each in turn offered a higher price than his predecessor. At
last Barlennan made an ultimate refusal in the only way he could;
he tossed the set onto the roof of the tank, leaped after it, and
ordered his men to resume throwing the newly acquired property up
to him. For several seconds the giants seemed nonplused; then, as
though by signal, they turned away and disappeared into their
narrow doorways.
Barlennan felt more uneasy than ever,
and kept watch on as many portals as his eyes could cover while he
stowed the newly bought goods; but it was not from the dwellings
that the danger came. It was the great Hars who saw it, as he half
reared himself over his fellows in imitation of the natives to toss
a particularly bulky package up to his captain. His eye chanced to
rove back up the channel they had descended; and as it did so he
gave one of the incredibly loud hoots which never failed to
amaze—and startle—Lackland. He followed the shriek with a burst of
speech which meant nothing to the Earthman; but Barlennan
understood, looked, and said enough in English to get the important
part across.
“Charles! Look back uphill!
Move!!”
Lackland looked, and in the instant of
looking understood completely the reason for the weird layout of
the city. One of the giant boulders, fully half the size of the
tank, had become dislodged from its position on the valley rim. It
had been located just above the wide mouth of the channel down
which the
tank had come; the slowly rising walls were guiding it squarely
along the path the vehicle had followed. It was still half a mile
away and far above; but its downward speed was building up each
instant as its tons of mass yielded to the tug of a gravity three
times as strong as that of the Earth!