Planet Of No Return

17: The Killers

The other armed men were opening their faceplates now.

“Does he understand you, sergeant?” one of them called out.

“That’s a wicked looked knife he’s wearing.”

“Tell him to drop it.”

Brion understood well enough; they were speaking Universal Esperanto, the interstellar language that everyone used in addition to their native tongue. He raised his hand slowly and placed it carefully on his knife. “I’m going to put this on the ground. Just keep your fingers easy on those triggers.”

The Sergeant watched closely, gun pointed, as Brion dropped the knife. When it was on the ground he lowered his gun and stepped forward. He was a grim looking man with slitted eyes, his skin pale above the black smudge of his unshaven jaw.

“You’re not a Gyongyos tech,” the Sergeant said. “Not in that outfit. What are you doing here?”

“I was about to ask you the same question, Sergeant,” Brion said. “Explain yourself. I have more questions than you do …”

“Not for me you don’t. I don’t like this at all.” He called back over his shoulder, “Corporal. Jump back and get a pressure suit, a big one. Tell the captain what we’ve found, tell him to let the War Department know at once.”

The crackling explosion sounded again. Brion realized it had something to do with their appearance and disappearance, as though they moved so fast they displaced the air, or left a vacuum like a lightning bolt. Military ranks, reporting to the War Department — they must surely have some connection with the mechanized army that had originated here. Perhaps the machines had materialized just the way they did!

“You’re responsible for the tanks and all the armoured vehicles, aren’t you?”

The Sergeant raised his gun. “I’m responsible for nothing — except following orders. Now just shut up until you are off my hands. If you want to talk, talk to Intelligence. That’ll make everybody happy.”

Despite the threat of the guns, Brion was overwhelmed by a feeling of success. There had to be a relationship between these people and this embattled planet. The solution was close at hand; he must control his impatience. He watched intently while the technicians, the first group to arrive, worked on the instrument that had been concealed in the heart of the metal column. They hooked leads and meters to it, and appeared to be testing various units and functions. It must have operated correctly because they quickly disconnected their machines, then lifted the metal cover back into place. When it was seating firmly they aligned the opening, then replaced the sealing bolt he had removed. Brion itched to question them, but forced himself to silence. The opportunity would come soon enough. He turned as the familiar crackling bang sounded again. The Corporal had returned with a bundled suit under his arm.

“Lieutenant says to bring him in, got a reception waiting. Here’s the suit.”

The promised reception sounded ominous, but Brion had little choice under the muzzles of the pointing guns. He put the suit on as directed, sealing himself into it. The sergeant slammed the faceplate shut and reached for one of the controls on at Brion’s waist. There was a twisting sensation, impossible to describe, and everything changed on the instant. The valley and the soldiers were gone — and he was standing on a metal platform. Bright lights glared down and uniformed soldiers were running towards him. They unsealed the suit and stripped it from him under the supervision of a young officer.

“Come with me,” he ordered Brion. There was no point in protesting at this point; he went quietly. He had a quick glimpse of massive machinery, with heavy wires looping from insulators as thick as his body, before being hustled through a metal door and down the corridor beyond. It was painted a neutral grey, with a number of doors along its length. They stopped before one labelled CORPS 3, opened it and waved Brion inside. He went in and heard it shut behind him.

“Sit in that chair, if you please,” a man said in a quiet voice. He was in a chair of his own, no more than two yards away from Brion. A thin man with pale, drawn skin, his cheekbones clearly outlined below his deep-set eyes, dressed in neutral grey. He smiled at Brion, but it was only a gesture, a movement of the face with no warmth or sincerity behind it. Brion could hear him clearly although they were separated by a transparent wall that divided the small room in half. Brion lowered himself into the chair, the only object of any kind on his side of the barrier.

“I have some questions for you,” Brion said.

“I am sure that you do. And I for you. Shall we do our best to satisfy one another? I am Colonel Hegedus, Opole People’s Army. And you?”

“My name is Brion Brandd. Do I take it then that Corps 3 is military intelligence?”

“It is. How very observing of you. We have no intention of causing you any harm, Brion. We are just very interested in what you planned to do with the Delta Beacon that you had dismantled.”

“Is that what it is called? I was investigating it because I thought it might have something to do with the war on Selm-II.”

“Are you telling me that you are a spy of some kind?”

“Are you telling me that there is something on this planet for me to spy upon?”

“Please, Brion, don’t let us play games. The area where you were found is of great strategic importance as you well know. If you are with Gyongyos intelligence you had better tell me — you know how easily we can find out the truth from you.”

“I’m afraid that I haven’t the slightest idea what you are talking about. The truth is that I am completely mystified by what has happened. I arrived on this planet in the midst of a devastating war …”

“Excuse me, but there is no war on this planet, you know that…” For the first time real emotion shown on Hegedus’s face; sudden shock. “No, you don’t know that, do you. You still think you are on Selm-II. You are not from Gyongyos …”

He reached a sudden decision and leaned over to press a button on the instrument console near his chair. Brion was aware of a sudden jab of pain in his forearm and jerked it upwards. Too late. The gleaming needle sank back into the arm of his chair, its work done. He tried to stand, then realized that he could not. Nor could he keep his eyes open. He plunged into blackness …

For the first day, Lea had not minded waiting alone in the forest. It was a joy to rest after the ceaseless walking, a profound pleasure to just sit on the bank of the stream and cool her feet in the running water. Through the tall trees she could see the drifting white clouds and the occasional flock of flying lizards calling out as they went by. The rations were as tasteless as ever, but they were filling and took care of her appetite. As the sun set the air cooled down, so she shook out her sleeping bag and slipped into it. Placing the gun by her head as Brion had instructed her. She was worried about him, but she tried not to think about it. The trees made dark patches against the star-lit sky above. Her eyes closed and she drifted off to sleep.

Some time during the night an animal called out hoarsely in the forest and she woke up, startled, reaching for the gun. She had heard these same cries often enough before after dark, but they had not bothered her. Because Brion had been there. His silent bulk had given her the security to go back to sleep, knowing that she could rely on his protection at all times. Only he wasn’t with her any more. She had trouble getting back to sleep after that — and woke up more than once to listen to the alien sounds in the darkness. It was a disturbed night from then on, and she did not rest easy until after dawn.

Lea kept busy for most of the next day by going over and revising the record. The computer in the ship played it back to Her and she added to it and modified it, bringing it up to date. And tried not to think of Brion going up that narrow canyon, alone. Forced away all thought of what would happen if he encountered any of the tanks. The second night passed as badly as the first, and dawn found her bleary with fatigue. She washed in the cold mountain stream, then used the comb to do what little was possible with her hair. The dried rations were just as bad as ever, and she was just washing them down with some of the water when she saw the flicker of motion among the trees. There was something there!

She had promised Brion that she would follow his instructions and she did so at once. Seizing up the pistol and sending a hail of explosive slugs into the forest. When she had stopped firing a voice called out to her in Esperanto.

“We are friends …”

More bullets followed the first. She had no friends here! Dropping behind the barrier of stones she watched for movements among the trees. Something coughed mechanically deep in the forest and there was a sudden explosion behind her — then another. Clouds of pungent smoke billowed out, washing over her. She held her breath, but then had to breathe. Coughed, sat down, coughing, lay over on her side with her eyes closed, still coughing. She was silent and unmoving when the masked men filed out of the forest, to stand and look down at her body.