Starman Jones

19 A FRIEND IN NEED

For the first time they were turned loose. Their master tickled their bonds, which dropped from their ankles. Max said softly to Ellie, "If you want to run for it, I'll keep them busy."

Ellie shook her head. "No good. They'd have me before I went fifty feet. Besides--I can't find my way back."

Max shut up, knowing that she was right but having felt obliged to offer. The chief centaur inspected them with the characteristic expression of gentle surprise, exchanged bugling comments with their captor. They were under discussion for some time, there appeared to be some matter to be decided. Max got out his knife. He had no plan, other than a determination that no centaur would approach either one of them with that electric-shock creature, or any other menace, without a fight.

The crisis faded away. Their captor flicked their leashes about their ankles and dragged them off. Fifteen minutes later they were again staked out in the clearing they had occupied. Ellie looked around her after the centaur had gone and sighed. "'Be it ever so humble ...' Max, it actually feels good to get back here."

"I know."

The monotony that followed was varied by one thing only: fading hope and mounting despair. They were not treated unkindly; they were simply domestic animals--fed and watered and largely ignored. Once a day they were given water and plenty of the native papayas. After the first night they no longer had the luxury of "artificial" light, nor did the hobgoblin hang over their clearing. But there was no way of escape, short of gnawing off a leg and crawling away.

For two or three days they discussed the possibility of rescue with mounting anxiety, then, having beaten the subject to death they dropped it; it simply added to their distress. Ellie rarely smiled now and she had quit her frivolous back talk; it seemed that it had finally gotten through her armor that this could happen to Eldreth Coburn, only daughter of the rich and almost all-powerful Mr. Commissioner Coburn--a chattel, a barnyard animal of monsters themselves suitable only for zoos.

Max took it a little more philosophically. Never having had much, he did not expect much--not that he enjoyed it. He kept his worst fear secret. Ellie referred to their status as "animals in a zoo" because most of their visitors were small centaurs who came sniffling and bleating around with a curiosity that their elders seemed to lack. He let her description stand because he believed their status worse than that--he thought that they were being fattened for the table.

One week after their capture Eldreth declined to eat breakfast and stayed silent all morning. All that Max could think of to say evoked only monosyllables. In desperation he said, "I'll beat you at three-dee and spot you two starships."

That roused her. "You and who else?" she said scornfully. "And with what?"

"Well, we could play it in our heads. You know-- blindfold."

She shook her head. "No good. You'd claim your memory was better than mine and I wouldn't be able to prove you were cheating."

"Nasty little brat."

She smiled suddenly. "That's better. You've been too gentle with me lately--it depresses me. Max, we could make a set."

"How?"

"With these." She picked up one of many tree cones that littered the clearing. "A big one is a flagship. We can pick various sizes and break the thingamajigs off and such."

They both got interested. The water bowl was moved aside so that it no longer occupied the center of the space marked by the limits of their tethers and the no-man's-land between them was brushed free of needles and marked with scratches as boards. The boards had to be side by side; they must stack them in their minds, but that was a common expedient for players with good visualization when using an unpowered set--it saved time between moves.

Pebbles became robots; torn bits of cloth tied to cones distinguished sides and helped to designate pieces. By midafternoon they were ready. They were still playing their first game when darkness forced them to stop. As they lay down to sleep Max said, "I'd better not take your hand. I'd knock over men in the dark."

"I won't sleep if you don't--I won't feel safe. Besides, that gorilla messed up one board changing the water."

"That's all right. I remember where they were."

"Then you can just remember where they all are, Stretch out your arm."

He groped in the darkness, found her fingers. "Night, Max. Sleep tight."

"Good night, Ellie."

Thereafter they played from sunup to sundown. Their owner came once, watched them for an hour, went away without a snort. Once when Ellie had fought him to a draw Max said, "You know, Ellie, you play this game awfully well--for a girl."

"Thank you too much."

"No, I mean it. I suppose girls are probably as intelligent as men, but most of them don't act like it. I think it's because they don't have to. If a girl is pretty, she doesn't have to think. Of course, if she can't get by on her looks, then--well, take you for example. If you ..."

"_Oh!_ So I'm ugly, Mr. Jones!"

"Wait a minute. I didn't say that. Let's suppose that you were the most beautiful woman since Helen of Troy. In that case, you would ..." He found that he was talking to her back. She had swung round, grabbed her knees, and was ignoring him.

He stretched himself to the limit of his tether, bound leg straight out behind him, and managed to touch her shoulder. "Ellie?"

She shook off his hand. "Keep your distance! You smell like an old goat."

"Well," he said reasonably, "you're no lily yourself. You haven't had a bath lately either."

"I know it!" she snapped, and started to sob. "And I hate it. I just ... h- h- _hate_ it. I look _awful_."

"No, you don't. Not to. me."

She turned a tear-wet and very dirty face. "Liar."

"Nothing wrong that some soap and water won't fix."

"Oh, if only I had some." She looked at him. "You aren't at your best yourself, Mr. Jones. You need a haircut and the way your beard grows in patches is ghastly."

He fingered the untidy stubble on his chin. "I can't help it."

"Neither can I." She sighed. "Set up the boards again."

Thereafter she beat him three straight games, one with a disgraceful idiot's mate. He looked at the boards sadly when it was over. "And you are the girl who flunked improper fractions?"

"Mr. Jones, has it ever occurred to you, the world being what it is, that women sometimes prefer not to appear too bright?" He was digesting this when she added, "I learned this game at my father's knee, before I learned to read. I was junior champion of Hespera before I got shanghaied. Stop by sometime and I'll show you my cup."

"Is that true? Really?"

"I'd rather play than eat--when I can find competition. But you're learning. Someday you'll be able to give me a good game."

"I guess I don't understand women."

"That's an understatement."

Max was a long time getting to sleep that night. Long after Eldreth was gently snoring he was still staring at the shining tail of the big comet, watching the shooting star trails, and thinking. None of his thoughts was pleasant.

Their position was hopeless, he admitted. Even though Chipsie had failed (he had never pinned much hope on her), searching parties should have found them by now. There was no longer any reason to think that they would be rescued.

And now Ellie was openly contemptuous of him. He had managed to hurt her pride again--again with his big, loose, flapping jaw! Why, he should have told her that she was the prettiest thing this side of paradise, if it would make her feel good--she had mighty little to feel good about these days!

Being captive had been tolerable because of her, he admitted--now he had nothing to look forward to but day after day of losing at three-dee while Ellie grimly proved that girls were as good as men and better. At the end of it they would wind up as an item in the diet of a thing that should never have been born.

If only Dr. Hendrix hadn't died!

If only he had been firm with Ellie when it mattered.

To top it off, and at the moment almost the worst of all, he felt that if he ate just one more of those blasted pawpaws it would gag him.

He was awakened by a hand on his shoulder and a whisper in his ear. "Max!"

"What the--?"

"_Quiet!_ Not a sound."

It was Sam crouching over him--Sam!

As he sat up, sleep jarred out of him by adrenalin shock, he saw Sam move noiselessly to where Ellie slept. He squatted over her but did not touch her. "Miss Eldreth," he said softly.

Ellie's eyes opened and stared. She opened her mouth, Max was terrified that she might cry out. Sam hastily signed for silence; she looked at him and nodded. Sam knelt over her, seemed to study something in the shadow-laced moonlight, then took out a hand gun. There was the briefest of low-energy discharges, entirely silent, and Ellie stood up--free. Sam returned to Max. "Hold still," he whispered. "I don't want to burn you." He knelt over Max's bound ankle.

When the gun flared Max felt an almost paralyzing constriction around his ankle, then the thing fell off. The amputated major part contracted and jerked away into the shadows. Max stood up. "How--"

"Not a word. Follow me." Sam led off into the bushes with Ellie behind him and Max following closely. They had gone only twenty yards when there was a whimpering cry of "Ellie!" and the spider puppy landed in Eldreth's arms. Sam turned suddenly.

"Keep her quiet," he whispered, "for your life."

Ellie nodded and started petting the little creature, crooning to it voicelessly. When Chipsie tried to talk, she silenced it, then stuffed it inside her shirt. Sam waited these few moments, now started on without speaking.

They proceeded for several hundred yards as near silently as three people who believe their lives hang on it can manage. Finally Sam stopped. "This is as far as we dare go," he said in a low voice. "Any farther in the dark and I'd be lost. But I'm pretty sure we are outside their sleeping grounds. We'll start again at the first light."

"How did you get here in the dark, then?"

"I didn't. Chips and I have been hiding in thick bushes since midafternoon, not fifty feet from you."

"Oh." Max looked around, looked up at the stars. "I can take us back in the dark."

"You can? It 'ud be a darn good thing. These babies don't stir out at night--I think."

"Let me get in the lead. You get behind Ellie."

It took more than an hour to get to the edge of the tableland. The darkness, the undergrowth, the need for absolute silence, and the fact that Max had to take it slowly to keep his bearings despite his photographic memory all slowed them down. The trip downhill into the valley was even slower.

When they reached the edge of the trees with comparatively flat grassland in front Sam halted them and surveyed the valley by dim moonlight. "Mustn't get caught in the open," he whispered. "They can't throw those snakes too well among trees, but out in the open--oh, brother!"

"You know about the throwing ropes?"

"Sure."

"Sam," whispered Ellie. "Mr. Anderson, why did ..."

"Sssh!" he cautioned. "Explanations later. Straight across, at a dogtrot. Miss Eldreth, you set the pace. Max, pick your bearings and guide us. We'll run side by side. All set?"

"Just a minute." Max took the spider puppy from Eldreth, zipping it inside his shirt as she had done. Mr. Chips did not even wake up, but moaned softly like a disturbed baby. "Okay."

They ran and walked and ran again for a half hour or more, wasting no breath on words, putting everything into gaining distance from the centaur community. Knee-high grass and semi-darkness made the going hard. They were almost to the bottom of the valley and Max was straining to spot the stream when Sam called out, "Down! Down flat!"

Max hit dirt, taking it on his elbows to protect Chips; Ellie flopped beside him. Max turned his head cautiously and whispered, "Centaurs?"

"No. Shut up."

A hobgoblin balloon, moving at night to Max's surprise, was drifting across the valley at an altitude of about a hundred feet. Its course would take it past them, missing them by perhaps a hundred yards. Then it veered and came toward them.

It lost altitude and hovered almost over them. Max saw Sam aim carefully, steadying his pistol with both bands. There was momentarily a faint violet pencil from gun to hobgoblin; the creature burst and fell so close by that Max could smell burned meat. Sam returned his weapon and got to his feet. "One less spy," he said with satisfaction. "Let's get going, kids."

"You think those things spy?"

"'Think'? We know. Those polo ponies have this place _organized_. Pipe down and make miles."

Ellie found the stream by falling into it. They hauled her out and waded across, stopping only to drink. On the other bank Sam said, "Where's your left shoe, Miss Eldreth?"

"It came off in the brook."

Sam stopped to search but it was useless; the water looked like ink in the faint light. "No good," he decided. "We could waste the whole night. You're due for sore feet--sorry. Better throw away your other shoe."

It did not slow them until they reached the far ridge beyond which lay Charityville and the ship. Soon after they started up Ellie cut her right foot on a rock. She did her best, setting her jaw and not complaining, but it handicapped them. There was a hint of dawn in the air by the time they reached the top. Max started to lead them down the arroyo that he and Ellie had come up so many year-long days ago. Sam stopped him. "Let me get this straight. This isn't the draw that faces the ship, is it?"

"No, that one is just north of this." Max reconstructed in his mind how it had looked from the ship and compared it with his memory of the photomap taken as the ship landed. "Actually a shoulder just beyond the next draw faces the ship."

"I thought so. This is the one Chips led me up, but I want us to stay in the trees as long as possible. It'll be light by the time we'd be down to the flat."

"Does it matter? There have never been any centaurs seen in the valley the ship is in."

"You mean you never saw any. You've been away, old son. We're in danger now--and in worse danger the closer we get to the ship. Keep your voice down-- and lead us to that shoulder that sticks out toward the ship. If you can."

Max could, though it meant going over strange terrain and keeping his bearings from his memory of a small-scale map. It involved "crossing the furrows," too, instead of following a dry water course--which led to impasses such as thirty-foot drops that had to be gone painfully around. Sam grew edgy as the light increased and urged them to greater speed and greater silence even as Ellie's increasingly crippled condition made his demands harder to meet.

"I really am sorry," he whispered after she had to slide and scramble down a rock slope, checking herself with bare and bloody feet. "But it's better to get there on stumps than to let them catch you."

"I know." Her face contorted but she made no sound. It was daylight by the time Max led them out on the shoulder. Silently he indicated the ship, a half mile away. They were about level with its top.

"Down this way, I think," he said quietly to Sam.

"No."

"Huh?"

"Chilluns, it's Uncle Sam's opinion that we had better lie doggo in those bushes, holding still and letting the beggar flies bite us, until after sundown."

Max eyed the thousand yard gap. "We could run for it."

"And four legs run faster than two legs. We've learned that lately."

The bushes selected by Sam grew out to the edge of the shoulder. He crawled through them until he reached a place where he could spy the valley below while still hidden. Ellie and Max wriggled after him. The ground dropped off sharply just beyond them. The ship faced them, to their left and nearer was Charityville.

"Get comfortable," Sam ordered, "and we'll take turns keeping guard. Sleep if you can, this will be a long watch."

Max tried to shift Mr. Chips around so that he might lie flat. A little head poked out of his collar. "Good morning," the spider puppy said gravely. "Breakfast?"

"No breakfast, hon," Ellie told her. "Sam, is it all right to let her out?"

"I guess so. But keep her quiet." Sam was studying the plain below. Max did the same.

"Sam? Why don't we head for the village? It's closer."

"Nobody there. Abandoned."

"What? Look, Sam, can't you tell us now what's happened?"

Sam did not take his eyes off the plain. "Okay. But hold it down to whispers. What do you want to know?"

That was a hard one--Max wanted to know everything. "What happened to the village?"

"Gave it up. Too dangerous."

"Huh? Anybody caught?"

"Not permanently. Daigler had a gun. But then the fun began. We thought that all they had were those throwing snakes and that we had scared them off. But they've got lots more than that. Things that burrow underground, for example. That's why the village had to be abandoned."

"Anybody hurt?"

"Well ... the newlyweds were already in residence. Becky Weberbauer is a widow."

Ellie gasped and Sam whispered sharply to be quiet. Max mulled it over before saying, "Sam, I don't see why, after they got my message, they didn't ..."

"What message?"

Max explained. Sam shook his head. "The pooch got back all right. By then we knew you were missing and were searching for you--armed, fortunately. But there was no message."

"Huh? How did you find us?"

"Chips led me, I told you. But that was all. Somebody stuffed her into her old cage and that's where I found her yesterday. I stopped to pet her, knowing you were gone, Miss Eldreth--and found the poor little thing nearly out of her mind. I finally got it through my head that she knew where you two were. So ..." He shrugged.

"Oh. But I can't see," Max whispered, "why you risked it alone. You already knew they were dangerous; you should have had every man in the ship with you, armed."

Sam shook his head. "And we would have lost every man. A sneak was possible; the other wasn't. And we had to get you back."

"Thanks. I don't know how to say it, Sam. Anyhow, thanks."

"Yes," added Ellie, "and stop calling me 'Miss Eldreth.' I'm Ellie to my friends."

"Okay, Ellie. How are the feet?"

"I'll live."

"Good." He turned his head to Max. "But I didn't say we _wanted_ to get you back, I said we _had_ to. You, Max. No offense, Ellie."

"Huh? Why me?"

"Well ..." Sam seemed reluctant. "You'll get the details when you get back. But it looks like you'll be needed if they take the ship off. You're the only astrogator left."

"Huh? What happened to Simes?"

"_Quiet!_ He's dead."

"For Pete's sake." Max decided that, little as he liked Simes, death at the hands of the centaurs he would not have wished on any human; he said so.

"Oh, no, it wasn't that way. You see, when Captain Blaine died ..."

"The Captain, _too?_"

"Yes."

"I knew he was sick, I didn't know he was that sick."

"Well, call it a broken heart. Or honorable hara-kiri. Or an accident. I found an empty box for sleeping pills when I helped pack his things. Maybe he took them, or maybe your pal Simes slipped them in his tea. The Surgeon certified 'natural causes' and that's how it was logged. What is a natural cause when a man can't bear to live any longer?"

Ellie said softly, "He was a good man."

"Yes," agreed Sam. "Too good, maybe."

"But how about Simes?"

"Well, now, that was another matter. Simes seemed to feel that he was crown prince, but the First wouldn't stand for it. Something about some films the Chief Computerman had. Anyhow, he tried to get tough with Walther and I sort of broke his neck. There wasn't time to be gentle," Sam added hastily. "Simes pulled a gun."

"Sam! You aren't in trouble?"

"None, except here and now. If we--quiet, kids!" He peered more sharply through the bushes. "Not a sound, not a movement," he whispered. "It may miss us."

A hobgoblln was drifting down from north, paralleling the ridge above and out from it, as if it were scouting the high land. Max said in Sam's ear, "Hadn't we better scrunch back?"

"Too late. Just hold still."

The balloon drifted abreast of them, stopped, then moved slowly toward them. Max saw that Sam had his gun out. He held his fire until the hobgoblin hovered above them. The shot burned needles and branches but it brought down the thing.

"Sam! There's another one!"

"Where?" Sam looked where Max pointed. The second hobgoblin apparently had been covering the first, higher and farther out. Even as they watched it veered away and gained altitude.

"Get it, Sam!"

Sam stood up. "Too late. Too far and too late. Well, kids, away we go. No need to keep quiet. Sit down and slide, Ellie; it'll save your feet some."

Down they went, scattering rocks and tearing their clothes, with Mr. Chips on her own and enjoying it. At the bottom Sam said, "Max, how fast can you do a half mile?"

"I don't know. Three minutes."

"Make it less. Get going. I'll help Ellie."

"No."

"You get there! You're needed."

"No!"

Sam sighed. "Always some confounded hero. Take her other arm."

They made a couple of hundred yards half carrying Eldreth, when she shook them off. "I can go faster alone," she panted.

"Okay, let's go!" Sam rasped.

She proved herself right. Ignoring her injured feet she pumped her short legs in a fashion which did not require Max's best speed to keep up, but nevertheless kept him panting. The ship grew larger ahead of them. Max saw that the cage was up and wondered how long it would take to attract attention and get it lowered.

They were half way when Sam shouted, "Here comes the cavalry! Speed it up!"

Max glanced over his shoulder. A herd of centaurs--a dozen, two dozen, perhaps more--was sweeping toward them from the hills on a diagonal plainly intended to cut them off. Ellie saw them too and did speed up, with a burst that momentarily outdistanced Max.

They had cut the distance to a few hundred yards when the cage swung free of the lock and sank lazily toward the ground. Max started to shout that they were going to make it when he heard the drum of hooves close behind. Sam yelled, "Beat it, kids! Into the ship." He stopped.

Max stopped too, while shouting, "_Run_, Ellie!

Sam snarled, "Run for it, I said! What can _you_ do? Without a gun?"

Max hesitated, torn by an unbearable decision. He saw that Ellie had stopped. Sam glanced back, then backhanded Max across the mouth. "Get moving! Get her inside!"

Max moved, gathering Ellie in one arm and urging her on. Behind them Sam Anderson turned to face his death ... dropping to one knee and steadying his pistol over his left forearm in precisely the form approved by the manual.