Slaves of The Klau

"Earth?" said Barch. "That is the name of my planet."

"Earth?" Kerbol rolled the word on his tongue. "I have never heard of it." He ruminated a moment. "You must be wild and fanciful dreamers on Earth. I have slaved twelve years on Magarak, lived a free man in Palkwarkz Ztvo for two; never have I known anything so daring."

"It seems to me the first thing a man would think of."

The lights of the stone quarry shifted, spread slowly apart like the opening of a marvelous bright night-flower. Barch looked down at the quarry. "They must work all night."

"The quotas are hard; much stone goes for ocean reclamation. Notice," Kerbol pointed, "that north face is next on schedule; they drill now for blasting. And there"-once more he pointed-"is the explosive's depot. The barge comes loaded, slides into the depot; empty, it slides out, and in slides a new load."

"And what precautions are taken?"

Kerbol shrugged. "First, an electrified fence which we will fly over. If there are alarm lines, we will avoid them also. Inside the warehouse will be a few Podruods, gaming or asleep, and Bornghaleze dispatchers who load orders onto an outgoing belt."

"We'll take them as they come."

The raft dropped, the quarry lights expanded. Ticking of hammers, intermittent grate of machinery came loud across the damp night. Bright blue points of fire showed where torches melted blast-pockets into rock. On the roof of the warehouse were outlined four dull squares of light-ventilation cupolas.

Barch lowered the raft to the roof, stepped off, walked carefully to a cupola. He eased his head into the light, looked down. He felt a tread behind him: Kerbol. Barch said, "There's nothing here; The place is clean, empty."

Kerbol bent his head. "True," he muttered. "There's not even a sack of blow powder." He straightened, looked at the rock face a half-mile away, then bent his head over the ventilator again. "Even the barge is gone."

Barch eyed the sky. "How soon will new supplies get here?"

Kerbol shrugged. "Tomorrow, tonight…"

"Look," said Barch, "those red lights."

"That's the new load."

"Come on," said Barch. He sprinted to the raft. "What now?" asked Kerbol, as Barch swung the raft into the air.

"Maybe we'll get more done tonight than we bargained for." He pushed the speed pedal down hard, swept out wide, circled, approached the barge from the stern. "Where's the pilot?"

Kerbol pointed. "In the dome at the prow."

"Be ready with your gun." He skimmed in over the barge, dropped to the deck. "I'll take the pilot, you handle the rest of the ship." He ran stealthily forward; the pilot was a sharp-featured silhouette, eyes on the lighted rectangle of the warehouse. Barch wrenched open the door to the dome.

"Take the barge up-quick!" He pointed the gun. The pilot, a beady-eyed little man with a thin, dark face cast a startled look over his shoulder. Barch said, "Quick-up!"

The pilot turned reluctantly to the controls. "I must follow my schedule, or the dispatcher will-"

"You're a dead man," growled Barch, "unless we're moving up right now!" He jabbed hard with the gun barrel. "Up!"

"We're going up!" said the pilot peevishly.

"Faster!" Barch looked over the side. "Now, back the way you came."

The barge swept away from the quarry. "Now-out with those side lights," said Barch.

"I'm not allowed to," protested the pilot. "It's punishable offense."

Barch gri

"No crew. I load at Phrax District chemical complex, discharge at the warehouse."

"What's your cargo?"

"Explosives, general supplies."

Barch heard footsteps: Kerbol looked in.

"All in order?"

"Nobody aboard."

"Good." Barch backed out of the dome, motioned Kerbol in. "You steer him; you know the lay of the land."

Barch went over by the edge of the barge, looked out into the darkness. Step one. Achievement. He felt the bulwark-cold hard metal, the same hard metal which one day would lift him clear of Magarak out into great space.

CHAPTER VII

The barge slid up the slopes of Mount Kebali. The sounds of the quarry faded; the lights contracted to a tight cluster. The sea of trembling luminescence, the factories, furnaces, mills and yards of Quodaras District now lay astern.

Barch circled the catwalk, looked into the dome. "Faster!" The barge lurched under his feet; he staggered back into the cargo. The craft has quite a power plant, he thought-all to the good if they reached space.

Moisture suddenly sprayed his face; they were driving through fine rain. He stumbled up into the lee of the dome.

The rain stopped, the barge broke out of the mist into a biting wind. Palkwarkz Ztvo lay below, a dark wilderness. Barch strained his eyes for the wan flicker of light. Like a faint star at the horizon, it eluded him. He put his head into the dome, asked Kerbol, "Can you see our light?"

Kerbol pointed. "There." He nudged the pilot. "Land beside that light."

"Impossible," muttered the pilot. "We are over Palkwarkz Ztvo-wild-man country. They'll put us in their pots."

"No, they won't," said Barch. "Land beside the light."

The barge sank. Blackness reached up past them; there was a crash, a snapping of foliage. The raft reached ground.

Barch looked warily out into the darkness. All was quiet. He turned to the pilot. "Get out."

The pilot hesitated, clinging to the protection of his dome. "What are you going to do with me?"

"Nothing."

The pilot jumped, made a quick dash for the underbrush. Barch tackled him around the knees; both fell into the soggy humus. Barch rose, seized the man by the collar of his jacket, marched him back past the barge, up the slope. Kerbol came after like a stealthy gray bear.

Barch entered the hall with the pilot. The entire tribe was huddled around the great table talking heatedly; Barch stood watching the play of firelight on the un-Earthly features.

There was a hiss, the talk halted; faces swung around as if operated by a lever.

Barch gave the pilot to Kerbol. "Lower him into one of the potholes on a rope." He turned back to the big table. "We've two or three hours work outside. Let's get it over with. Bring out your knives and axes."

There was uneasy movement, slow uncomfortable rising to the feet. Barch watched impassively.

Flatface said in a surly voice, "Work is for daytime. This is night. Let the work wait." The others watched anxiously, poised and uncertain as rabbits.

This was the first test, the most important. Barch made no sudden move. He waited, let the suspense build up. Flatface nervously glanced at Barch's gun. Barch said softly, "Where is your axe, Flatface?"

Flatface motioned to the wall. "There it lies."

"Get it!"

Flatface slowly gained his feet. Barch jumped two quick steps forward. There was a startled swaying back. "Everybody! Outside!" He took the two lamps, went to the entrance, waited while the tribesmen filed out past him.

In the lamplight the barge was a large dark shape, vastly more impressive than words Barch could have used inside the cave. "There's your spaceship."

The tribesmen muttered with awe, excitement.

"Tomorrow we'll unload the cargo, but tonight we've got to cover it over with branches so it can't be seen from above."

Barch pulled himself up from his couch with the first glimmer of light. He pulled on the Modok smock, went out to inspect the barge. It seemed to fill half the flat, like a whale in the front yard.

To check the camouflage he mounted the raft, floated up into the sky. The forest was a matted black tangle, the barge an extension of the same tangle. Satisfied, he dropped back to the ground.