"Deke said something like that once, sir," mused Kana. "That Central Control had a mental picture of us and it was so well established that they didn't see the real Terrans at all — "
"Mills knew what he was talking about. We're breaking law and custom right now — daring to treat with these Venturi on our own. And it's about time we did more of this."
When Kana curled up on the pads for sleep he left the Blademaster still brooding by the window. Outside the night was a black whirlwind but here the roar was the faintest of murmurs.
In the morning they were shown a bathing place with a pool of sea water deep enough for swimming. And afterward they dined again lavishly. Their visit with the council did not come until mid-morning.
"We have considered this problem," the foremost Master began when the Blademaster had taken his seat, "and your argument has within it many points with which we must agree. However, the future is always chance. We cannot transport your men here, our economy is a tight one, our space limited — we could not house such a number of off-world beings for an indefinite period. We cannot, in fact, use sea transport at all, except for short intervals, until the peak storms of this season are over. But then, neither can your enemy move against you. Therefore you have about ten dytils in which to study the situation and make your plans. At the end of that time, if you can see a chance to get off-world with your message, we agree to transport your men, not here to Po'ult, but to a larger island south of here, farther asea, on which we pasture our caravan guen during the stormy season. We will undertake, moreover, to supply your men with food and instructions in the art of netting such sea creatures as they may safely devour."
"And in return you ask of us?"
"And in return we ask your word that you will speak with your Masters so that off-world men be forbidden to land on Fronn to fight our battles. And that those who may come be granted that right only after the Venturi has had their application and know the purpose for which they wish to visit us. We do not wish Fronn to become tributary to another world, or be possessed by some trading combine of distant stars."
"To this I agree, not only as a bargain, but because it is what I believe myself," Hansu retorted. "We return now to the Landing?"
"Within two light periods of this dytil there will be a second lull. Then you shall return, and with you one of our Those-who-talk-for-many to be a link with us across the distance. Fair winds and a good profit to you, Lord of Many Swords."
"And to you, Master of Ten Thousand Ships, a smooth sea."
The lull which gave opportunity for their return to the Landing came at last and was longer than the previous one. In fact, the calm continued so long after their arrival on the main continent that, had it not been for the advice of the Venturi communications expert, the Terrans might have made the mistake of trying to reach the space field. But his warning kept them close to the buildings and the predictions he made were fulfilled when a scream arose out of the dark, whistling above the thud of waves on the shore — the opening cry of a new storm.
"We have received no off-world signals from any starship." The Ventur sipped at a drink made from Terran ration pellets dissolved in water. "It is the belief of the Masters that none may planet here again. Why should they? If Tharc is now open to their use and the Llor encourage them to think that in the future they shall not have to deal with us — why then should they come here?"
"True enough." Hansu swallowed the warm broth.
"And if there is no chance of finding a ship here, you will make other plans?"
"We may have to go to Tharc."
The frog-man had no eyebrows to raise, but he did radiate polite incredulity. Only courtesy kept him from asking how that was to be done. But Hansu did not volunteer any explanation.
The storm did not last as long as the previous one and Kana knew that the series of such strong blows was now on the wane. It was noon on the following day when the Ventur announced that it was safe to go into the open. The Combatants were eager to get out, to draw the chill fresh salt air into their lungs and poke about in the curious rubbish the winds had piled against corners of the warehouse courts.
A shout from the farthest-ranging exploring party brought all those within earshot. Jammed at a crazy angle between outlying buildings, where none of the Horde had been stationed, was the mashed wreckage of a machine — looking as if some giant had caught it up and wrung it around as a man might a wet under-tunic.
"A crawler — that's a crawler!" the awed voice of its discoverer repeated. And, while no one disputed him, they could hardly believe the evidence of their own eyes.
A crawler — not as large as a land fortress certainly, but in its way as formidable a piece of mechanized war machinery — to be so mangled and tossed here as if it were constructed of straw.
The outer hatch was open, forced straight up by the impact, and now Kosti climbed up the battered metal shell to look in. When he pulled out of the hole his face was greenish beneath its tan and he swallowed convulsively.
"She — she had a full crew on board — " he reported. Thereafter no one was in any hurry to join him at his vantage point.
"How many?" Hansu appeared below and started to climb.
Unwillingly Kosti peered into the wrecked crawler for the second time. His lips moved as he counted.
" — four — five — six. Six, sir."
Hansu called down over his shoulder, "Larsen, Bogate, Vedic, lend a hand. We want them out."
Reluctantly the men he had summoned scaled the mound of the tipped crawler as the Blademaster lowered himself into the machine. Even when they had the grisly job complete and the six bodies were laid out in the nearest shelter Hansu did not seem satisfied.
Five were Mechs and the Blademaster carefully studied their service armlets. But the sixth, though he wore the uniform of a veteran Mechmaster, was alien. And Hansu stood staring down at his crumpled form for a long minute after he arose from searching the torn and stained clothing.
"Sarm," he said so low that if Kana had not been at his elbow he would not have caught the word at all. "Sarm!"
And his bald astonishment at that identification would have been the reaction of any Terran. Of all the Galactic races the Sarm from Sarmak would be the least likely to associate with the mercenaries they held in the deepest contempt as barbarians. They were not openly rude about it as were the Ageratans or the Dzaraneans, they merely ignored Combatants. Yet here was a Sarm, in a Mech uniform, perhaps in command of a Mech crawler —
"Sir — "
Hansu was shaken out of his trance by the urgent summons from Kosti now hanging half out of the plundered machine. "What — ?"
"Cargo aboard her, sir. Looks like arms — "
The dead Sarmakan was left to himself as not only the Blademaster but every man within hearing hurried back to the side of the wreck. Larsen appeared in the hatch, handing through a box which Kosti lowered to the pavement. They clustered in a circle while Hansu squatted down to break the sealing with his sword-knife.
Inside, rolled in oiled fabric, was a series of bundles. And the Blademaster lost no time in freeing the first of its wrappings. As the last strip of stuff dropped away he held, plain to their recognition, a flamer of Galactic design.
"How many more boxes inside?" he asked Kosti in a flat voice.
"Three, sir."
Hansu arose. There was a bleak look on his face. But a grim determination overrode other emotion.
"Any way of telling where this thing was when the storm hit?" he asked Kosti. "Do these operate on route tapes the way a ship does?"
"I don't think so, sir. It has manual controls. But I can check — " He edged back into the crawler.