"We must watch for that one on our way back."
"Is he going down to the sea for a drink?"
"Yes." I knew Taylor Sea was only slightly brackish, so I wasn't surprised that the local fauna drank from it.
Even though I knew the oecusaurus was a plant-eater and easily dodged, its passage took some of the carefree jollity out of our expedition. I found myself speaking in lowered tones and stopping to listen. When I got my mind off the fauna and back on Nouvelle-Arcadie, I asked:
"How many are there in Liberté now?"
"A hundred and eighty — nearly two hundred. I can find you ,the exact number. There are so many births that it changes from week to week."
"How about Elysée?"
"About twice our population."
"Has the whole human community grown?"
"But yes, it has more than doubled. Monsieur Wyss says we are increasing faster than any terran group. It's a healthy climate; the local diseases don't affect us; and we were all chosen for perfect health at the start. Besides, Vaud has insisted that we take full advantage of modern medicine."
"That, and the fact that there's nothing much else to do on these long nights," I added.
"None of your decadent terran cynicism, you big fat pataud," she said, "though it would be nice to go where the young men sometimes think of something else. I'm tired of beating them off."
"How do you manage that?"
"In the case that you, monsieur, should get any such ideas, I broke two ribs in the side of Maurice Rahn last year. And —"
Bang! There was a loud explosion and a big puff of gray smoke. Something hit a tree a foot from me and showered me with bits of bark.
I yelped and jumped away from the tree. I tripped over a big root of this tree that wound across the trail like a half-buried snake and fell into muck and shrubbery. I'm an awkward sort of ass in anything that takes agility.
Three Cimbrians popped out on to the trail, each carrying a short-barreled gun. Sure enough, they were muzzle-loading flintlocks. Cimbrians are taller than men — about six and a half feet — but much slenderer, so they weigh less on the average. They have silvery-gray fur all over, catlike faces, and long bushy tails with black rings like a raccoon.
They came so quickly that Adrienne had no time to move. One reached for her with its free hand. She jerked back and turned to run. Another Cimbrian tripped her and the third dropped his musket to jump on her back.
During these seconds I was struggling up. I charged into the group, roaring "Unhand that maiden!" or something as silly.
Out of the side of my eye, I saw one of the Cimbrians swing his gun by the barrel. I was trying to change direction when the gun-butt hit me over the head. This time I went down cold.
Of course you never know, when you wake up, how long you've been unconscious. I guess it was several minutes. When I came to, I could see, up the trail, two Cimbrians, with their guns slung across their backs, tying Adrienne to the back of a horse while the third stood by, holding the bridles of two other horses with one hand and swinging his musket this way and that with the other. The horses wore funny-looking saddles with big bags tied to them. While I was still blinking, one Cimbrian twittered something. They mounted the two unoccupied horses, one on one and two on the other, and off they rode as fast as the mounts could take the grade.
I stumbled to my feet and ran after them but never got in sight of them again. I ran until I had to stop; then some more, and so on. When I came out on the height to which Adrienne had been leading me, I could only sink down with my back to a tree and sit panting while the sweat ran down me and flying things buzzed round me.
When I could stand again I looked at the scene. To the west lay Taylor Sea, with Nouvelle-Arcadie in the foreground. Nearer yet, almost at the foot of the rise I had climbed, was Liberté and its fields. To the east I couldn't see much because of the trees, but it seemed to be more forested hills. Overhead loomed the huge yellow ball of Groombridge 1618. The wind whipped through the treetops around and below me, making them ripple like a field of wheat back home, while clouds swooped by close overhead.
Maybe it was cowardice that made me decide not to run on after Adrienne. I told myself, however, that my chances of rescuing her by plunging into an unknown forest, without food or any sort of equipment, would be poor. I had better go back to Liberté and raise a posse.
I ran most of the way back. It was downhill until I reached the beach. I met the oecusaurus coming up the trail again, but I dodged past it without trying to hide. It snorted at me but kept on about its business.
Louis Motta stroked his chin and said: "So, one transgressor of the law expects me to overturn the village to succor another from the results of your joint folly, no?"
"Yes, monsieur," I said.
"Then, you mistake yourself. Such an expedition would fail in view of the Cimbrians' superiority of armament. If they have not killed her already, they would do so if attacked. The attack would cost many of our lives, which we cannot afford, with all two of the Cimbrians and the Activists at enmity with us."
"But if you let them think they can carry off anybody they meet with impunity —"
"That's my responsibility, monsieur, and I pray you not to concern yourself with it. I may add that Mademoiselle Herz will not be an insupportable loss to our community. She was always a malcontent and a railer, without due respect for the will of the people as embodied in their chief officer. Now if you will excuse me, I have business."
I left Motta's office and started back towards the guest house, wondering what to do next. Then — well, this just shows how little my own initiative had to do with the happenings on this planet. I ran into Carl Adorn, who said:
"What passes, monsieur? Has there been a calamity?"
I told him about Adrienne, Motta, and the Cimbrians.
He tut-tutted. "This is a grave matter. Come to my house — not now, with me, lest it rouse our good president, but in an hour or so."
When I got there I found he had rounded up a few like-minded Passivists, who had brought an assortment of gear and supplies. Adorn explained:
"We dare not go out ourselves against the orders of Motta. Even if we did, he probably has reason about the futility of an attack on the Cimbrian camp. But you are a free agent, and nobody is likely to stop one of your size in any case. So, if you will try a rescue all alone, we can furnish you with all the means we have. Here are a map, a compass, a knife, a hatchet, matches, food, and everything else we can think of. I regret only that we cannot add a rapid-fire gun or a few grenades."
"Thanks," I said. (I never argued, which shows what a wishy-washy character I have.) "When would be a good time to go?"
"During the hour of the siesta, after dinner. And here is a package for Adrienne, in case they are holding her for ransom. It contains soap, brush and comb, and such things. Do you speak Intermundos?"
"After a fashion."
"Good. Some of these Cimbrians might also."
I looked over the supplies and said: "Can somebody fasten a good strong knife blade to a pole?"
"I can," said a man. "I make the knives. What sort of pole?"
"I'll get it," I said.
I went into the forest and cut a sapling. When the siesta-time came I slipped out, carrying my spear and other junk. I wore my bush-shirt and shorts, and to hell with Utopian customs. I needed the pockets, and besides I didn't want to be stung again.
It took a week of floundering, getting lost, escaping the local fauna, and eating most of my food before I found the Cimbrian camp. The time, however, was not wasted. Every day, as I tramped the game trails, I practiced throwing my spear. I must have thrown that thing at five thousand trees. The first day I could hit nothing. The second day my arm was so sore I could hardly throw. By the fifth day I was getting pretty good.